There was a sudden crack and a creak as one of the wall timbers began to move outwards and separate from the rest. Alarmed, Fronto ducked forward to see four burly men hauling on the rope, pulling in an attempt to destroy a section of the wall. Almost contemptuously, Fronto leaned over and cut the rope with his gladius, trying not to grin as the four men fell back into the ditch, holding the severed rope.
His attention was neatly returned to the current dangers as the broken haft of the spear smashed into the side of his helmet, ringing it like a bell.
“Right, you little turd!” Fronto snarled, his eyes blurring slightly with the impact and his ears filled with the metallic ringing. Gripping his sword, he resettled the shield and prepared to deal with the attacker.
“Look!” bellowed Priscus as he smashed a man in the face with the bronze edging of his shield and then pulled back to point with his blood-soaked gladius. Fronto followed his gesture and grinned at the sight.
Two columns of gleaming silver and crimson were emerging from the trees to the northeast, with a large force of cavalry on their flank.
“That’s why they were so damn desperate!”
Reaching down, Fronto tried to stab at the man with the broken spear, but the noble had turned and was already scrambling back down the hill. All around the fort cheers were rising from the defenders, as the discordant shrieks of the carnyx — the strange Gaulish horns — called the rebels to flee the field.
“Must be Sabinus and Cotta both, looking at the size of that army!” Priscus said with a grin. Fronto squinted and peered into the distance at the column, trying to hear over the ringing in his ears.
“I can’t make the banners out yet, but I’m willing to bet Caesar’s with them. That looks like the Tenth in formation to me, and the show-off in red on the white horse has to be the general.” Lowering the tip of his blade, he stepped back and blew out a relieved breath. “Looks like we’re saved.”
“I only hope the old man brought several tons of beef stew with him” Priscus grumbled. “I can’t feed the three thousand men we’ve got here, let alone the rest of the army!”
“That’s right,” grinned Fronto, “find the gloomy side to it.”
The general gave Fronto a curious look as he rode through the gate and the Tenth’s legate grinned back at him, blood-soaked and dirty.
“I would ask what happened to you and Brutus, but I haven’t the energy now, Fronto. Come and see me at the headquarters once I’m out of my armour and have a bite to eat.”
Fronto nodded, his attention already locked on something else further down the column.
“You alright?” Priscus asked quietly next to him.
“That’s the banner of the Fourteenth. I’ve words to have and a score to settle with a certain pair of tribunes.”
“Don’t cause me extra work. I don’t want to have to organise your flogging.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t get caught doing anything wrong.”
“Very reassuring” Priscus replied sourly. “I’d best run. Caesar will no doubt have questions and endless requests for me and I have a few things to do first.”
Fronto half-heartedly waved him away, his eyes still on the flag of the Fourteenth. Plancus rode at the front as usual, his armour gleaming and not a spot of dirt on him. Fronto was staring in concern at the Fourteenth’s tribunes, who seemed to number but four with two conspicuously empty saddles, when he felt someone slap him on the shoulder. Turning in surprise, he saw Sabinus standing next to him.
“You took your time.”
“You’re welcome” the staff officer replied with a weary smile. “I’ll catch up with you properly after a debrief, but we visited Nemetocenna on our circuit and there was a courier there looking for you. I told him I’d pass the message on.”
Fronto looked down at Sabinus’ outstretched hand, in which lay a small ivory scroll case. The seal of Balbus was clearly recognisable in the wax.
“Thanks. I’ll have a read as soon as I get a minute’s peace. I’m looking for two of Plancus’ tribunes. Did you lose them in battle?”
Sabinus glanced up at the empty horses as they passed.
“Those two? Hardly! I don’t think Menenius or Hortius would last two minutes in a real fight. They requested to be released of their commission in Nemetocenna so they could use the courier system to head home quickly. Plancus nearly spat teeth but I overrode him. The army will be better off without them, don’t you think?”
Fronto turned a slow, disbelieving gaze on Sabinus.
“You did what?”
“Well they’re hardly a blessing to a military unit, are they? I’d say they can be less harm in Rome. So I let them go.”
“You idiot!”
Sabinus blinked at the venom in Fronto’s voice, but already the legate of the Tenth was stomping away angrily. His thoughts in turmoil, Fronto strode purposefully though without true purpose until he reached the empty granary at the centre of the fort, where he slowed and leaned against the timber wall, breathing heavily.
The pair had gone.
He’d blamed Sabinus, but somewhat unfairly. From a command perspective, it really did make sense, and it certainly removed a threat to Caesar that he wasn’t even aware of. But where did it leave Fronto? He’d been determined to deal with the pair for what they’d done, and military life would probably have presented him with half a dozen opportunities. Would he have those chances in Rome? Would he even be able to find them and get to them?
Angrily, he ground his teeth and finally looked down at the message in his hands. What did Balbus have to say? Perhaps he’d finally agreed the arrangements with Faleria. Despite the reluctance he’d once felt to think of the coming betrothal, he now found himself almost eagerly awaiting news. His thoughts slid happily to Lucilia and he felt himself beginning to calm and relax. Perhaps this was for the best. He would bring the vengeance of Nemesis down on the two tribunes in good time, but there were more important things in life…
He snapped the wax seal and was about to remove the contents when he spotted Fabius and Furius striding towards him, grinning like devils.
“Tullus here worried that Neptune had dragged you to his depths when you got separated from the fleet” Fabius laughed. “I personally doubt that even Neptune has the patience to deal with you!”
Fronto sighed and smiled weakly.
“Sorry. Caught me at a bad time.”
“So I see” Furius frowned, gesturing at the liberal coating of grime and blood across Fronto’s armour.
“No. It’s not that. Menenius and Hortius have left for Rome. Sabinus released them from duty.”
“They won’t hide from you there. You’re a native of the place, right?”
“Puteoli actually, but I know Rome well.”
“Then track them down and let us know when you’re ready. I daresay we’ll be due a furlough.”
Fronto smiled again, this time more genuinely.
“First thing’s first, though: Caesar wants to see me.”
Furius and Fabius nodded and turned to their own business, leaving Fronto staring into space again. With a deep breath, he pushed himself away from the granary wall and began to stroll towards the headquarters, tipping the contents of the scroll case into his free hand as he walked. Trying not to get the expensive parchment too grubby with the mess from his blood-and-mud-stained hands, he gingerly unrolled it and began to read, making sure he was on a clear course across the grass to prevent embarrassing falls while not paying attention.
He was only four yards from the granary when he came to a complete halt.
Three heartbeats later his fingers punched through the delicate parchment as his hand tightened in response to his clenching jaw.