“I’m going to make a huge leap in logic and assume that Caesar has taken exception to something I’ve done, since I’m damn certain I’ve never been involved in treachery or causing unrest and have always given my complete loyalty to the Julii. Care to give me a clue, Balventius?”
Balventius folded his arms.
“The general is aware of your other patron. You remember Clodius, I presume, since you’re on his client list?”
Paetus nodded, frowning.
“And?”
Balventius grumbled.
“They say no man can serve two masters. It’s certainly true in this case. Clodius and Caesar are not the closest of friends.”
Paetus shrugged.
“I’m aware that Clodius has some unsavoury practices, but surely…”
Balventius cut him off mid-flow.
“Publius Clodius Pulcher has been undermining Caesar in the senate, along with other high profile Patricians. He is the patron of Salonius, who you will remember tried to turn the army against the general last year. Anyone who is on that list is no friend of Caesar. You know that!”
Paetus wandered across to the desk and took a seat.
“Do you really need your escort?” Paetus enquired, gesturing at the legionaries behind the centurion.
Balventius stood silent for a moment, and then gave a curt nod before turning to the two men by the door.
“Go back to the gate and take the others with you.”
One of the legionaries stepped forward slightly.
“Sir?” he said, gesturing at the camp prefect.
Balventius turned his baleful glare on the man.
“Go!”
Hurriedly, the two men left the room, shutting the door behind them. Balventius waited a moment, listening to the brief flutter of conversation and then the soldiers leaving, and then allowed his shoulders to sag slightly.
“Alright, we’re alone now. Go on…”
Paetus placed the flats of his palms on the table and fixed Balventius with a steady gaze.
“I’m Caesar’s man, not Clodius’. I’m no traitor and, truth be told, I would rather stay a thousand miles from Clodius, given the choice.”
The scarred centurion frowned.
“Then why are you on that list?”
Paetus sighed.
“My father in law owed him a lot of money; and I mean a lot of money. He was an idiot and ran up a gambling debt like the loot of the Cilician pirates. He couldn’t pay anything back and when Clodius’ thugs started threatening my wife as well, I stepped in. Problem is: things just sort of spiralled out of control. Clodius is a monster and he’s not above casual violence. One of his other clients went broke and flatly refused to pay him. They burned his house down with his children inside.”
Balventius shrugged.
“Not that I don’t sympathise, Paetus, but that’s not really our concern. You deal with your personal issues and you keep them away from the rest of us. You need to sever your ties with Clodius or with Caesar. If you denounce Clodius, I’ll support you, and I’m pretty sure most of the staff will too. If not, I’ll have to carry out Caesar’s wishes, and I suspect it’ll go badly for you.”
Paetus sighed.
“As I said, Clodius is a monster. I am under no illusion that Caesar is anything other than a political opportunist, but Clodius is in a different class. I would happily walk away from the man, but I can’t tell Caesar anything useful to him, because I simply don’t know anything.”
Balventius frowned and the prefect continued.
“And Clodius isn’t interested in me paying him back now. He wants to have his hooks into people. I tried to pay off my father-in-law’s debts a few months ago but he wouldn’t have it. I suspect I’m too useful to him as I am. And if I renounce him as a patron, Calida and her family will turn up skewered in a ditch and I’ve no intention of allowing that to happen.”
He shrugged.
“You see my problem, centurion?”
Balventius nodded. It was a problem, for certain. Paetus was in trouble whichever way he turned. Unless…
A slow smile began to crawl across his face.
“You find this funny, Balventius?”
“No,” the scarred centurion replied, fixing him with that one good eye. “But I have an idea. There’s a way we could turn this to our advantage, Paetus.”
“Whose advantage?” the man asked suspiciously.
“Largely Caesar’s… and yours.”
He leaned on the table and faced the prefect.
“I need to speak to the staff and then to Caesar when he arrives. In the meantime, I trust you’re happy glossing over this as though it never happened?”
Paetus nodded.
“Then you get back to your work and I’ll get back to mine.”
Turning, he pulled the door open and strode, blinking, out into the sunlight, leaving a dazed prefect sitting in the dark and pondering an uncertain future.
* * * * *
Labienus leaned forward across the desk, his eyes blazing.
“You did what?”
“I let him go” repeated Balventius.
Balbus wandered across and stood next to his primus pilus.
“He’s got good instincts, Labienus. I might have done the same.”
“Oh, very noble” Labienus spat. “All well and good, but Caesar might not see it that way. He gave us specific instructions!”
“If I might interject?” Crispus spoke up from his seat.
“What?”
“The actual instructions Caesar sent were to detain him, which is exactly how the centurion proceeded; to extract a confession, which Balventius did; and to do whatever was necessary to get information. Although it might take a moment for the general to calm down and accept it, we have, in fact, followed his instructions precisely.”
Labienus glared at the young legate.
“Great. Just wonderful. Alright, Balventius. What are you proposing?”
The primus pilus shrugged.
“This could be turned to the general’s advantage, but someone will need to persuade him of that. This Clodius, from what I understand, is trying to undermine Caesar with the senate?”
“Yes.”
“And he believes he has Paetus by the balls.”
“Yes” replied Labienus again, impatiently.
“Then he has no reason to doubt anything Paetus tells him.”
Fronto, freshly bathed and shaved, gave a brief, thoughtful chuckle.
“That could work out very nicely for Caesar. He could send all sorts of misinformation to the man; make him look like an idiot. The general should see the appeal of that.”
He turned to Balventius.
“Has Paetus agreed to this, then? It could put his family in a lot of danger.”
Balventius nodded.
“He hasn’t agreed yet, ‘cause I haven’t asked him yet, sir. But what choice has he got? He’s pretty much got to agree. We ought to work out something to make sure his family are safe first, though, if what I hear about this Clodius is true.”
The room fell into a thoughtful silence.
After a long pause, Crispus sat up with a deep frown.
“I…”
He was interrupted by a hammering at the door.
Labienus turned, irritably.
“Enter!”
The door swung open to reveal a legionary standing in the doorway at an approximation of attention, his face a plum colour and sweat pouring down from his hairline. The man had clearly run fast and hard.
“What is it?” Labienus asked the exhausted soldier.
“Sir…” the man managed, his breathing laboured. “The general is at the gate…” wheeze… “with his praetorians.” Another ragged breath. “He’s on his way now, sir.”
Labienus nodded.
“Thank you, soldier.”
As the legionary closed the door and disappeared, the interim commander pushed his seat back and stood with a sigh.
“Well, gentlemen. It appears things are about to start moving.”
The officers in the room shuffled as they stood, brushing the creases out of their tunics and cloaks and straightening their belts.
Out in the corridor, they heard heavy booted footsteps and soldiers crashing to attention. They stood smartly and waited. Moments later the door opened and the young moon-face of Aulus Ingenuus, commander of the general’s guards, appeared with a broad smile. Fronto stared. Ingenuus was still little more than two years under the eagles, yet he had, though bravery and a little luck, secured one of the most prestigious positions in the army. The change in him over a single winter was noticeable, though. While he still had his air of youthful innocence, his face had taken on a hard edge, defined slightly by an unfashionable but neatly-trimmed beard. Moreover, he had acquired a fine scar that ran down his cheek to his jaw; the reason, Fronto suspected, for his new beard.