Marius' Mules V: Hades' Gate Read Online Free PDF
Author: S.J.A. Turney
smell that set Fronto's stomach rumbling.
"The organs are good" the old man intoned in a reedy voice. "The liver… phlaaaaw… is particularly good. The Gods bless this union. Let us now devote the heart to Venus and make the libation."
Fronto dutifully stepped forward and took the bronze jug offered by a slave, tipping some of the best quality wine in the city onto the altar's depression where it sat amid the purple stains of previous gifts. Handing back the jug he stepped away.
Quietly he stood, watching the altar as the wretched carcass was hauled away from near his feet by two slaves, leaving a long trail of red. He found he was humming one of the Tenth's favourite marching songs under his breath and forced himself to stop.
"Ring" hissed Lucilia next to him. With a start, he realised that Bucco was watching him intently. Flushing, he produced the gold band and slid it onto the waiting finger, noting the look of triumph and… ownership?... that crossed his new bride's face.
In almost a dreamlike daze he repeated by rote the vows Balbus and he had drafted with the aid of Faleria three nights ago, and only half listened as Lucilia spoke her own. He dutifully smiled whenever it appeared to be appropriate, though he had hardly heard a thing in truth. In fact, the following quarter of an hour passed in a blur of nodding and smiling and speech impediments as his subconscious threw him questions to keep his mind busy.
What was he going to do?
Now that was a question that had been plaguing him ever since he had turned his back on Caesar the previous autumn. Soldiering was all he had ever known, and certainly all he was good at. Faleria and Lucilia would expect him to take a post in the Roman administration. He could very easily fast-track to the senate, given his age and experience. He might even be made a governor. But that would involve politics every day of his life, for as long as he lived. The very thought sent a shiver along his spine.
Balbus had managed a sensible enough suggestion, offering the possibility of simple retirement to the country to manage his estate. Other men his age did it, after all, and with the family name he had it would be a respectable choice.
But soooo boring.
Balbus might be happy cross-breeding vines or snipping roses, but the idea failed to appeal to Fronto. He might as well drop dead now.
He had come up with the possibility of setting up a ludus and obtaining a stable of gladiators. A lanista could make a lot of money and the life would be a little more exciting than trimming flowers or arguing with senators. Lucilia had made her thoughts on the possibility of a future as a lanista's wife quite plain.
So not that, then.
The only other possibility that had been raised by Galronus was to return to Caesar, helmet in hand, and request reassignment. Fronto didn't believe for a moment that Caesar would have him back even if he felt inclined to ask. He did not feel inclined to ask. The Remi chief had then suggested the possibility of Crassus' Parthian army, but the idea of spending a few years out in the expanses of deadly sand beyond Syria was hardly a draw. During winter he had been regaled with tales of that region by Furius and Fabius and everything they said had put him further off the idea.
So what was a man to do?
"Feliciter!" barked the old auspex before sagging and making a strange keening sound, drool dripping to his toes.
Fronto blinked, suddenly aware that the witnesses were cheering him.
It was over. He was a married man.
Lucilia was facing him, her face displaying a curious look which reminded him of that expression Faleria always had while buying slaves. Ah well. From a commander in Gaul to one in Rome. At least there would be fringe benefits from this campaign. Now all he had to do was survive the party and he and Lucilia could retire in peace.
* * * * *
"Have you given any more thought to the life of a country gentleman?"
Fronto felt that nagging itch that
"The organs are good" the old man intoned in a reedy voice. "The liver… phlaaaaw… is particularly good. The Gods bless this union. Let us now devote the heart to Venus and make the libation."
Fronto dutifully stepped forward and took the bronze jug offered by a slave, tipping some of the best quality wine in the city onto the altar's depression where it sat amid the purple stains of previous gifts. Handing back the jug he stepped away.
Quietly he stood, watching the altar as the wretched carcass was hauled away from near his feet by two slaves, leaving a long trail of red. He found he was humming one of the Tenth's favourite marching songs under his breath and forced himself to stop.
"Ring" hissed Lucilia next to him. With a start, he realised that Bucco was watching him intently. Flushing, he produced the gold band and slid it onto the waiting finger, noting the look of triumph and… ownership?... that crossed his new bride's face.
In almost a dreamlike daze he repeated by rote the vows Balbus and he had drafted with the aid of Faleria three nights ago, and only half listened as Lucilia spoke her own. He dutifully smiled whenever it appeared to be appropriate, though he had hardly heard a thing in truth. In fact, the following quarter of an hour passed in a blur of nodding and smiling and speech impediments as his subconscious threw him questions to keep his mind busy.
What was he going to do?
Now that was a question that had been plaguing him ever since he had turned his back on Caesar the previous autumn. Soldiering was all he had ever known, and certainly all he was good at. Faleria and Lucilia would expect him to take a post in the Roman administration. He could very easily fast-track to the senate, given his age and experience. He might even be made a governor. But that would involve politics every day of his life, for as long as he lived. The very thought sent a shiver along his spine.
Balbus had managed a sensible enough suggestion, offering the possibility of simple retirement to the country to manage his estate. Other men his age did it, after all, and with the family name he had it would be a respectable choice.
But soooo boring.
Balbus might be happy cross-breeding vines or snipping roses, but the idea failed to appeal to Fronto. He might as well drop dead now.
He had come up with the possibility of setting up a ludus and obtaining a stable of gladiators. A lanista could make a lot of money and the life would be a little more exciting than trimming flowers or arguing with senators. Lucilia had made her thoughts on the possibility of a future as a lanista's wife quite plain.
So not that, then.
The only other possibility that had been raised by Galronus was to return to Caesar, helmet in hand, and request reassignment. Fronto didn't believe for a moment that Caesar would have him back even if he felt inclined to ask. He did not feel inclined to ask. The Remi chief had then suggested the possibility of Crassus' Parthian army, but the idea of spending a few years out in the expanses of deadly sand beyond Syria was hardly a draw. During winter he had been regaled with tales of that region by Furius and Fabius and everything they said had put him further off the idea.
So what was a man to do?
"Feliciter!" barked the old auspex before sagging and making a strange keening sound, drool dripping to his toes.
Fronto blinked, suddenly aware that the witnesses were cheering him.
It was over. He was a married man.
Lucilia was facing him, her face displaying a curious look which reminded him of that expression Faleria always had while buying slaves. Ah well. From a commander in Gaul to one in Rome. At least there would be fringe benefits from this campaign. Now all he had to do was survive the party and he and Lucilia could retire in peace.
* * * * *
"Have you given any more thought to the life of a country gentleman?"
Fronto felt that nagging itch that
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