‘Esus?’ Interjected Priscus.
‘No idea what his name was. He’s far too shrewd for that. But he did tell me straight out that Ambiorix was essentially an upstart who had played his move ahead of the great game and threw out the plans of his allies. He intimated that most of Gaul would be happy if Ambiorix were dead.’
Priscus nodded. ‘I think that Fronto’s encounter supports the theory that Ambiorix is not the central power in all this, Caesar.’
‘Perhaps,’ the general conceded. ‘But with no further information, all this does is give us a fresh set of rumours to worry over. I will not turn from the hunt for Ambiorix without something more solid to persuade me, especially given the vow I have undertaken.’
Fronto nodded. ‘Respectfully, Caesar, I don’t think this man who spoke to us was so simple to have told us the plain truth over Ambiorix anyway. I’ve been thinking about some of the things he said all week, and I still cannot decide whether he was trying to persuade us to leave the man alone, or whether he was trying to get us to hunt him. Either way, I think I would like to hear what Ambiorix has to say under the threat of Roman interrogation.’
Caesar raised an eyebrow at this, unused to support from Fronto even before the division had been drawn between them more than a year ago.
‘Still,’ the general went on to the room as a whole, ‘this information does not alter the fact that all the rumours suggest that Ambiorix is somewhere among the north-eastern Belgae, hemmed in and trapped. If he can only rely on the Treveri, the Nervii and the Menapii, then he has the great Rhenus river at his back, Labienus to the south, the Britannic sea to the north and our main force to the west. It seems to me that we have him surrounded and we could utilise what is left of the winter to squeeze those lands until he shows himself. We can chip away at the edges and shrink his region of influence.’
A figure gestured with a raised arm and Priscus noted the younger Crassus brother — current legate of the Tenth — rising from his chair.
‘My father had great success hunting one of his clients who had betrayed him.’
Caesar gestured for him to go on.
‘The criminal hid from father’s men in a maze of insulae on the Celian hill. Problem was that father owned those insulae. He had the outer ones pulled down to create a fire-break, set his men to guard that perimeter, and then began firing the wooden insulae one at a time until the man surrendered, choking on fumes and half burned.’
Priscus shook his head. The somewhat brutal and inhuman tactics of Crassus’ family were well known and he’d had a lot of hope that this young officer might turn out to be the white sheep among the black, but occasionally the fellow dropped something into conversation that chilled the blood.
Caesar, on the other hand, seemed to be nodding his appreciation.
‘It is a costly method both in terms of resources and of reputation, but effective, no less. I must — I will — have Ambiorix, and if I have to burn every house, every tree and every human being I come across until he turns up, I will do it. I still need to hear the reports of a number of scouts who have yet to return, and for now I have much to ponder before I settle on our precise course of action, but be aware that the army will be moving within the week, so I want every legion and auxiliary force ready for the off at short notice. Look to your units, gentlemen, and be prepared for another meeting in the next two days.’
The various officers stood, bowing or saluting the general and filing out of the headquarters. Priscus paused at the door, peering with distaste at the saturating drizzle outside and waiting for Fronto, who was clasping forearms in camaraderie with a number of officers he knew of old. As the travel worn former legate approached, Priscus folded his arms, his lip curling into a smile.
‘I can only imagine that you scraped too hard with a strigil and that in some bath house somewhere there is a pile of blubber you scoured off yourself?’
‘Good to see you too, Gnaeus.’
‘Seriously, what did you do? Wherever that pile is it must be almost half of you.’
‘A friend helped me get into shape.’
‘You were already in shape. Admittedly that shape was ‘circular’!’
Priscus snorted with laughter at the look that passed across Fronto’s face, and behind them Marcus Antonius let out a bark of laughter. ‘Come on you two young lovers, get out of the door and stop blocking everyone’s way.’
As Antonius herded the pair out into the drizzle with his broad hands, Priscus slapped Fronto on the shoulder. ‘In truth, you have no idea how glad I am to see you.’
‘Trouble?’
‘Isn’t there always? But at least Cita’s back now, and he’s taken over the quartermaster chief’s job, so I can concentrate on my own duties. Caesar’s got me back doing the camp prefect role again.’
‘A job you are well suited for Gnaeus, or will be when you put on a little more weight and stop exercising.’
Another snort.
‘I was meaning to ask, by the way:’ Fronto said quietly as they stepped outside, ‘when we passed through Bibracte, the supply depot had gone. Is this a new system?’
Priscus shrugged. ‘We’ve been somewhat short on manpower and our forces have been concentrated in the north-east. We’ve a second supply line now coming over the mountains through Helvetii lands and on to Vesontio, but this one’s still operational occasionally. We’ve left several legs of it in the hands of Aedui merchants. It gives them an opportunity to make a little on the deal, and saves us manpower and endless organisation. I suspect that now Cita’s in charge again, things will change, but it’s worked quite well in the meantime.’
Antonius put an arm around each of their shoulders. ‘This is heart-warming and fascinating, but I am slowly becoming wetter than a fish’s private parts, and I’d rather like to be inside, near a brazier and with a jug of wine in my hands. Any offers?’
Priscus sighed. Antonius had only been in camp for four days, but already his prodigious drinking habits had become a talking point among the officers — only quietly and well out of his earshot, but there nonetheless. Priscus had already had to requisition more wine at an inordinate expense due to the new officer’s evening visits.
‘My quarters, then. It so happens I have a new jar of Rhaetican untried.’
Two figures emerged from a knot of soldiers to one side of the path and stepped in front of the three officers.
‘And who, might I ask,’ Priscus said with quiet force, ‘are you?’
‘These are friends of mine,’ Fronto grinned. ‘Priscus? Meet Palmatus and Masgava. Don’t get into a fistfight with the latter or a war of puns with the former. In fact, you and Palmatus should get on like an insula on fire. Just don’t tell him you used to be a centurion.’
‘This place stinks of sweat and piss and no one can tell me where to get a cold drink, a hot meal, and a warm woman,’ Palmatus grumbled sourly.
‘See?’ said Fronto with a grin. ‘You two are going to get on just fine.’
* * * * *
Fronto lounged in his chair, slumped like a sack of grain. His head felt as though someone had pushed a ferret in through his ear and left it there to nest. He’d intended to be slumbering in his cot not long after dark, but Antonius had had other ideas.
He looked around the tent.
Priscus leaned heavily against the trunk that contained most of Fronto’s gear, still packed from the journey. His eyelids were dark and heavy and hung like saddlebags. Even as Fronto’s gaze played across him, he heard the prefect snore and realised with a start that Priscus was actually asleep but with his eyes open. How long had he been gone?
He would have chuckled if he’d had the energy.
Brutus was still awake and arguing with Antonius, though his speech had sunk into a weary drawl and his wine cup had gone untouched for more than an hour.