‘You are acquainted with Caesar?’
Fronto scratched his chin. It was a humorous tendency among non-Romans to assume that any nobleman would know any other nobleman. Ridiculous assumption, really, given the population of the city and the size of Rome’s noble houses. And yet, it so happened that the man had selected someone who was closely acquainted with the general. What was he up to? What was the man trying to learn?
‘I have been, yes. I’ve not seen him for over a year, but I have served with him.’
‘Tell me of him. I wish to know of this Roman ‘Brennus’ who would conquer all the lands of my peoples. What is he like?’
Fronto shrugged. ‘His reputation is well known and well-founded. If you are as bright and as well-informed as you appear to be, then I doubt I can tell you anything that you do not already know.’
‘Humour me.’
Fronto shrugged. ‘He is brilliant. A tactical mind like no other, charismatic and loved by his men, capable of the most astoundingly rash decisions — and brutal ones, too — but tempered by the knowledge of his abilities and the certainty that he is capable of succeeding in everything that he attempts. He is not a man to cross, for he has a short temper and a long memory, but those who deal fairly with him he holds in high esteem.’
He laughed. ‘Gods, that sounds like a eulogy! But it’s true, nonetheless.’
The Gaul nodded. ‘I hear he is also a shrewd negotiator and a clever speaker.’
‘I’d say so.’
The Gaul leaned forward and steepled his fingers. ‘Many fleas are biting the back of his army in these troubled times. Might the great Proconsul be persuaded to an advantageous peace which will bring him glory and gold to take back to Rome, if the price is just that: that he takes you all back to Rome?’
Fronto felt a sudden easing of his pulse. This was the nub of the matter. A potential negotiation? No, surely not for such a man. And if he had no interest in a negotiation, why ask?
‘You would offer Caesar money and glory to get him out of Gaul?’
‘It has been suggested before,’ the big Arverni shrugged.
‘I am not sure whether the general would ever accept such an offer, though this war does drag on, while Rome seethes in his absence. Two years ago I would have laughed in your face. Now, I am not so sure. But two things occur to me.’ Fronto took another drink and placed his empty cup on the table. ‘Firstly, you are Arverni, who are allied with us and under no threat, and yet who have no royalty who could legitimately make such an offer. That is why we don’t see you at the annual assembly of the Gaulish chiefs. And I have to point out that no tribe — no matter how big — could manage to gather enough gold and slaves to buy the general off. Even the Arverni and the Aedui together. It would take a meeting of the chiefs at the assembly to do something that big.’
‘But you think it would be possible?’
Fronto tapped his lip in thought. ‘Perhaps. But the more your ‘fleas’ bite the Roman back, the less the general will be inclined to negotiate. I understand from reports that the Eburones under a man called Ambiorix destroyed a whole legion this winter. Not a good first step in negotiation.’
The Gaul laughed again.
‘It seems to me very reminiscent of Roman negotiations. The Arverni have languished half a century in the shadow of tribes that were once our lessers because of what your General Ahenobarbus did to us.’ As Fronto narrowed his eyes and leaned forward, the Gaul held out a placating hand. ‘But I concede your point. Ambiorix is a troublesome pest for your general, but he is something of a difficulty for those who would see our lands free of your iron-nailed boots also. He has too much avarice and need for acclaim and recognition. His failings pushed him into launching his own petty war and he damages both Rome and his own allies, but most of all he damages himself.’
‘How so?’ Fronto asked, genuinely intrigued.
‘His tribe are now fragmented and scattered and he is sought by the Romans and all their allies for what he has done. His time is past. Worry not over Ambiorix for he is naught but a fly and will soon be swatted. Indeed, if you took his head, you would do all the peoples of the land a great favour.’
He laughed again.
‘Look, Roman, how my simple questions have led to my being interrogated by you instead. Such is often the way when my people talk to yours, I find.’
Fronto nodded slowly. ‘I presume you will not tell me who you are?’
‘It is of little matter. I am a warrior of the Arverni, friend of druids, and a wanderer of the ways with my small band. You would not know my name, nor that of my father.’
‘I suspected as much,’ Fronto replied, noting the reference to the druids and connecting it with the potential for peace negotiations. It sounded unlike them, too. ‘Then is there anything else I can help you with, or are we done here?’
Slowly, the warrior stood, stretching.
‘Thank you for your time and your honesty, Roman,’ the big Gaul smiled. ‘I trust we will meet again under happier circumstances.’
‘Somehow I cannot see that being likely,’ Fronto replied quietly, ‘but only the Gods know the future.’
‘Perhaps with your people,’ the man laughed. And, turning to the nearest warrior: ‘Come Vercassivos. We have much to do.’
With a final nod at the four men, the big Gaul strode from the room and the man he had last addressed — a wiry warrior with flame-red hair and moustaches — nodded in turn and followed him out. Slowly the bar emptied until only the four of them remained, along with the tavern’s owner.
‘Now what do you make of that?’ Palmatus asked quietly in the suddenly empty bar.
‘There was so much being conveyed there without words that it’d practically fill a book,’ Fronto sighed. ‘I would say that man is a man to watch carefully if we had the opportunity. I’d give good money to know who he was, but you saw the reaction of everyone when his men entered. No one in Bibracte’s going to tell us. An Arverni nobleman seeking information on the army and its general.’
‘But you said the Arverni were allies of Rome.’
‘Yes, but you’ll note how he said he was a friend of druids, and a ‘wanderer of ways’. I’ve heard that last expression before, more than once, and usually in relation to an exile. Whoever that man is he’s noble-blooded and in with the druids. And he’s here among the Aedui who have stepped up their defences.’
Masgava leaned forward. ‘He spoke of peace? Of negotiation?’
‘Those were his words, yes. But not his intent. He and his men are warriors and ‘free’ Gauls to the hilt. And the way he talked of his people and Ahenobarbus, it sounds as though a grudge is still held. I think he needed to ask the question on behalf of his druid friends or someone else. But that man had no intention of settling peacefully.’
He shivered. ‘Suddenly I am extremely uneasy among the Aedui. I can hardly wait to get going in the morning. Caesar is going to be interested to hear all of this.’
‘Would it not be worth the detour to follow these Arverni and see where they go?’ Masgava asked.
‘No. We’d not find anything out, and we need to head north as quickly as possible and make up time. I have been slow and dawdling, but it seems there is more urgency required in our arrival than I had previously anticipated. We’re only half way to Samarobriva yet, with a long journey still ahead. Let’s have one more drink and then head up for some shut-eye.’
As Galronus strode across to the bar for another jar of wine, Fronto’s eyes slipped once more to the door. Trouble was brewing, and it was far larger even than a revolt that had wiped out a legion.
He shivered again.
Chapter Five
Priscus drummed his fingers irritably on his chair arm as he listened. The more he argued, the less the general listened to him, it seemed.