Read Online Marius' Mules VII: The Great Revolt by S. J. A. Turney - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: S. J. A. Turney
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Tolosa, Arelate and Massilia.
He smiled. The province was almost within his grasp now.
* * * * *
Fronto shifted his arm slightly to distribute the weight more comfortably and reached round, patting young Lucius on the back and then running his hand round in small circling motions.
‘This is not really seemly for a soldier,’ he said, almost under his breath.
Lucilia gave him an arch look and he lowered his eyes under that flinty gaze. ‘I’m just saying.’
‘You’re doing well. Lucius is almost settled. Soon he will be fast asleep. At least I gave you him and not his brother. I wonder if Marcus is so stubborn and difficult because I gave him your name?’
Fronto sighed and continued to circle his hand.
‘I’m hungry.’
His wife opened her mouth to speak, but the sound of slapping feet across marble drew their attention to the doorway that led into the Atrium. Slapping bare feet meant one of Fronto’s singulares bodyguards. Everyone else in the villa complex had soft leather shoes for household time, but the soldiers under Fronto’s command had refused the soft boots in favour of their nail-soled military wear, so in response Lucilia had denied them access to the house with those boots on.
Sure enough, Palmatus appeared in the doorway, clearing his throat on his approach to warn them, as if that were necessary. Fronto smiled as he looked down. Palmatus’ feet, hardened like old oak by decades of marching, rested carefully on the mosaic of branches and grapes. The former legionary had never exhibited strong signs of a superstitious nature, yet Fronto had seen him perform an odd skip in his step so as not to tread on the face of a god as he passed through a room. In fact, Fronto was thinking of having the room’s floor re-laid to make it more challenging and humorous for the commander of his guard.
‘Fronto?’
Palmatus winced as the new parents in the room beyond motioned for him to lower his voice, gesturing to the almost-sleeping twins.
‘Bad night,’ Fronto whispered.
‘I know. We heard. Not so much the boys shouting, but more your own complaining as you kept wandering round the villa trying to get them back to sleep.’
‘Serves you right for setting guards. I told you you didn’t need them here.’
‘What’s the use of a bodyguard that don’t actually guard you?’ Palmatus shook his head as if to wrench himself from the conversation. ‘Stop distracting me,’ he said, and realised his voice had risen again, so dropped it low. ‘You need to come out front and see this.’
Fronto frowned and glanced at Lucilia, who was gently lowering young Marcus into the blankets. She reached out to take Lucius from him. With Fronto she would argue the point, but she knew Palmatus well enough to know that such interruptions were never trivial. Fronto passed his son over to her.
‘What is it?’ he hissed as the pair left and crossed the atrium, Palmatus performing his usual dance routine to avoid the faces.
‘As I said: you need to see it.’
The two men strode through the atrium, nodding their respect to the altar of the lares and penates and to the small shrine of Janus who blessed their comings and goings. Despite the chill in the air, the villa’s main door remained open, as Lucilia vaunted the daily airing of the whole place, pronouncing it good for the health of the children, even though it made Fronto’s knee ache unbearably and made his sleep pattern patchy at best.
The villa’s owner stopped on the doorstep, his eyes rising across the courtyard and the two neat lawns enclosed by the waist-high perimeter wall. The open grassland beyond was being systematically churned to mud by the passage of nailed boots. ‘What in the name of Fortuna?’
‘More Mars, I’d say,’ Palmatus added. The pair watched as neatly turned-out legionaries stomped past the gate in the uncomfortable rhythm of the quick march. Whoever they were and wherever they were going, they seemed to be in a
He smiled. The province was almost within his grasp now.
* * * * *
Fronto shifted his arm slightly to distribute the weight more comfortably and reached round, patting young Lucius on the back and then running his hand round in small circling motions.
‘This is not really seemly for a soldier,’ he said, almost under his breath.
Lucilia gave him an arch look and he lowered his eyes under that flinty gaze. ‘I’m just saying.’
‘You’re doing well. Lucius is almost settled. Soon he will be fast asleep. At least I gave you him and not his brother. I wonder if Marcus is so stubborn and difficult because I gave him your name?’
Fronto sighed and continued to circle his hand.
‘I’m hungry.’
His wife opened her mouth to speak, but the sound of slapping feet across marble drew their attention to the doorway that led into the Atrium. Slapping bare feet meant one of Fronto’s singulares bodyguards. Everyone else in the villa complex had soft leather shoes for household time, but the soldiers under Fronto’s command had refused the soft boots in favour of their nail-soled military wear, so in response Lucilia had denied them access to the house with those boots on.
Sure enough, Palmatus appeared in the doorway, clearing his throat on his approach to warn them, as if that were necessary. Fronto smiled as he looked down. Palmatus’ feet, hardened like old oak by decades of marching, rested carefully on the mosaic of branches and grapes. The former legionary had never exhibited strong signs of a superstitious nature, yet Fronto had seen him perform an odd skip in his step so as not to tread on the face of a god as he passed through a room. In fact, Fronto was thinking of having the room’s floor re-laid to make it more challenging and humorous for the commander of his guard.
‘Fronto?’
Palmatus winced as the new parents in the room beyond motioned for him to lower his voice, gesturing to the almost-sleeping twins.
‘Bad night,’ Fronto whispered.
‘I know. We heard. Not so much the boys shouting, but more your own complaining as you kept wandering round the villa trying to get them back to sleep.’
‘Serves you right for setting guards. I told you you didn’t need them here.’
‘What’s the use of a bodyguard that don’t actually guard you?’ Palmatus shook his head as if to wrench himself from the conversation. ‘Stop distracting me,’ he said, and realised his voice had risen again, so dropped it low. ‘You need to come out front and see this.’
Fronto frowned and glanced at Lucilia, who was gently lowering young Marcus into the blankets. She reached out to take Lucius from him. With Fronto she would argue the point, but she knew Palmatus well enough to know that such interruptions were never trivial. Fronto passed his son over to her.
‘What is it?’ he hissed as the pair left and crossed the atrium, Palmatus performing his usual dance routine to avoid the faces.
‘As I said: you need to see it.’
The two men strode through the atrium, nodding their respect to the altar of the lares and penates and to the small shrine of Janus who blessed their comings and goings. Despite the chill in the air, the villa’s main door remained open, as Lucilia vaunted the daily airing of the whole place, pronouncing it good for the health of the children, even though it made Fronto’s knee ache unbearably and made his sleep pattern patchy at best.
The villa’s owner stopped on the doorstep, his eyes rising across the courtyard and the two neat lawns enclosed by the waist-high perimeter wall. The open grassland beyond was being systematically churned to mud by the passage of nailed boots. ‘What in the name of Fortuna?’
‘More Mars, I’d say,’ Palmatus added. The pair watched as neatly turned-out legionaries stomped past the gate in the uncomfortable rhythm of the quick march. Whoever they were and wherever they were going, they seemed to be in a
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