“For the love of Venus, Marcus, he’s playing with you!” came a muffled voice from beyond the door. Balbus roared with laughter, and Fronto glared at the wooden portal, wishing he was somewhere on a battlefield, up to the knees in gore, facing a thousand screaming Gauls; even on a ship! Anywhere instead of this.
Settling from his laugh, Balbus took on a more serious face and turned to address the door.
“If you do not go and find your mother and leave us to this, Lucilia, the conversation might never happen.”
A huffy noise rose from behind the door, and footsteps pattered away again. Fronto narrowed his eyes. “Is she…?”
“She’s gone. Now calm down, pretend you’re ordering a general advance with cavalry on the wings and auxiliary support, and talk to me, Marcus.”
“Nothing untoward has happened, Quintus. I’ll state that for the record. And I didn’t try to drive a wedge between her and the Caecilius boy.”
Balbus nodded sagely. “She has been writing to her mother, who has in turn been abusing my ears and straining my patience. I am painfully aware of how headstrong the women of my family are. Am I to believe then that Lucilia has succeeded in her quest to entrap you?”
Fronto sighed and, with an apologetic face, tipped the heavily-watered wine from his beaker into a houseplant next to him and replaced it with neat red liquid, taking a sip.
“I was sort of hoping to move things along nice and slowly, but the girl seemed Hades-bent to get me signed up, hog-tied and becoming a father before I can even shave again.”
“It’s in the nature of girls, Marcus.”
“It’s a difficult situation. You’re my friend, Quintus. I know there’s an age difference between us — frighteningly, not as wide as the one between Lucilia and myself — but I never saw you as a father figure. It would be… weird.”
Balbus smiled expansively.
“Don’t forget that Caesar and Pompey are almost the same age and related in the same manner, and yet there’s no discomfort in their relationship.”
Fronto shook his head. He wouldn’t have said that, though he understood the point his friend was trying to make.
“I just don’t want you to have to say yes to anything you don’t approve of, just because we’re friends. Family is family, and she’s your daughter, after all.”
Balbus smiled and looked down. When he raised his head again, his eyes sparkled. “To be honest, Marcus, I’m more than happy with the match. I was more worried that you’d been forced into something you didn’t want. Feel free to tell me now if Lucilia has pushed you into this.”
Fronto laughed weakly.
“Well she certainly pushed me into it, but that doesn’t mean I’m unhappy with it. Are you sure about this, Quintus? You know I’m career military. A career soldier is a poor prospect for a husband.”
Balbus shook his head. “Mars would melt and Fortuna pluck out her eyes before they let anything happen to you on the battlefield, Marcus. The match is approved if you wish it.”
Fronto swallowed. His throat had suddenly gone dry. This felt like handing over his sword to the executioner.
“I do, Quintus. A betrothal of… what? A year, for decency?”
Galronus frowned and leaned forward. “Why delay? Among the Remi, we marry when we find the right match. There is no need for a time to show the people of the tribe first.”
Fronto glared at him.
“If I remember rightly, the Remi don’t even pause to remove their breeches, if you get my drift.”
Galronus shrugged. “When the match is right, the match is right.”
“Let’s say less than a year” interjected Faleria from her couch nearby. “We’ll have to organise everything so that we can fit it in during the winter break between campaigns?”
Fronto suddenly felt his stomach flip again as it had on the ship.
“Errrr… alright then.”
Faleria gave him an encouraging smile, and then turned to Balbus.
“Can I suggest, Quintus, that you and I work out the details later: the ring, the gifts, the money and so on. And, of course, the date, the location, informing those who need to know and all the other minutiae?”
Balbus frowned. “Do you not think that Marcus should have a…” he caught the helpless panic on his friend’s face and nodded instead. “Very well, let’s take all the trouble out of his hands. I’m sure Corvinia and Lucilia will want to involve themselves, of course.”
“Of course.”
“Erm…?” began Fronto, looking slightly wild-eyed.
“Don’t worry about it, Marcus. We’ll sort it all out” Balbus smiled. “Trust your old friend. I’ll see you right, even in the face of all this womanhood!”
Fronto nodded unhappily.
“So” smiled Balbus ”I think that we should settle for a relaxing night of catching up for now. I’ll send word to the trireme’s captain to remain in port for a couple of days. Once you’re safely packed off to the north, I will take the ladies and the girls back to Rome for the summer to organise everything. I was planning on a trip anyway, and besides, after last year’s events, I suspect it would be good if someone were to keep an eye on our interests in the city?”
Fronto nodded.
“Shall we send someone to let Lucilia know she can come back? And it’s time I saw Corvinia and Balbina. And tried some of Corvinia’s pastries again. Those I have missed.”
Faleria rose slowly. “I shall go and find the ladies and bring them here. I may be a few minutes. The evening is warm and the honeysuckle on your veranda smells delightful. I could do with a few minutes of air before we close ourselves in and gorge.”
Fronto frowned at her as though she must have some ulterior motive.
“Don’t wander too far” he said irritably.
Galronus smiled and stretched. “If it is permitted, I shall accompany you. The night air reminds me of my lands and my people. Sometimes it is nice to remember I am Belgae and born to this sky.”
Fronto moved his frown to his friend. “I notice your Gaulish nature gets neatly sealed away when there’s a racing circuit and a bookmaker anywhere in the vicinity!”
Galronus smiled infuriatingly and walked out of the room, leaving just Fronto and Balbus alone. Almost as if they’d requested it, Galronus closed the door with a click as he left.
Balbus leaned forwards conspiratorially and Fronto frowned.
“What?”
“Have you had a visitor, Marcus?”
The frown deepened. “What are you talking about?”
“Vatia?”
“Eh?”
“Publius Servilius Vatia?”
Still no change in the frown. Balbus took a deep preparatory breath.
“How do you not know Vatia? His father’s the censor who wiped the pirates out at Isauria? The lad’s serving as quaestor for Narbonensis and he paid me a visit a couple of months ago. He expressed an interest in you and I wondered if he’d pursued it?”
Fronto pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re circling an important point and trying not to make it, Quintus.”
Balbus had the grace to look a little uncomfortable.
“Servilius is making a few enquiries on behalf of his father… enquiries of those who are known to have disputed Caesar’s command or are clear of ties to him.”
“Quintus…” Fronto said quietly. “You’re talking about something very dangerous there. What’s his interest in it?”
“He never said; just sort of… sounded me out. But I thought long and hard about it, and I seem to remember that his father served as admiral of the Euxine fleet under Pompey in the east, so it’s not hard to put the pieces together.”
Fronto shook his head. “If he had come to me, he’d have left with a broken nose. Quintus, you shouldn’t even be talking to these people!”
Balbus shrugged. “As far as I’m aware this is still a republic and not a kingdom. Dangerous it may be, but I do have the right to at least listen to every side in a debate. It’s what a good Roman does.”