Free Marius Mules III: Gallia Invicta (Marius' Mules) by S.J.A. Turney Page A

then it’s worth seeing if he can spare a few men.”
    He rolled his shoulders a couple of times and then smiled.
    “Well, I shall see you fellows later on, at the tavern? I have to go write a letter home.”
     
    Chapter 3
    (Ianuarius: Rome. The house of the Falerii on the Aventine)
     
    “Not long now, Gnaeus, and the general will be back.”
    Priscus sighed and looked at Fronto over the top of the cup.
    “I can’t imagine why anyone would want to spend the winter in Illyricum. From what I hear, the whole place is just mountains, goats and toothless women.”
    Crispus frowned disapprovingly.
    “Ah, now Gnaeus, that’s hardly fair. Illyricum is an ancient region with a rich history and a distinct culture.”
    “Bollocks. It’s a vaguely Greek toilet that never achieved anything notable other than becoming Roman. Name me one great person or thing that ever came from Illyricum.”
    Crispus fell silent and frowned, his head angling slightly. There was a long moment’s silence.
    “See? Goats, mountains and toothless women.”
    Crispus shrugged with a laugh.
    “I simply cannot find an argument; no fault in your logic.”
    Priscus grinned.
    “Anyway, I’ll be pleased when Caesar does come back, cause he’ll drag you two off onto the next mad war he’s planned and I’ll finally be free of people calling me ‘leftie’ and making jokes about me being limp.”
    Fronto nodded, his face suddenly sombre. His former primus pilus was putting a brave face on things and he knew it well. Priscus would be smarting over the situation. His combat career was over and, while he might settle into the role of camp prefect in time, he was on a year’s enforced convalescence and was forbidden from joining the legions until the general’s personal surgeon decided otherwise.
    The three men, along with Galronus of the Remi, had returned to Rome before the winter set in. Crispus had been to visit his family for a while and the other three had descended upon Fronto’s family townhouse, causing his sister to fuss and complain about the lack of warning. Priscus had stayed with them, given that he had no surviving family, and the winter months had been among the most relaxed and interesting that Fronto could remember.
    Every day saw something new. The three Romans showed Galronus the delights of the great city and introduced him to expensive wine and racing in the Circus Maximus, following which the Belgic auxiliary officer had begun his descent into the world of gambling, racing and late night tavern visits. Fronto’s sister Faleria had initially taken a fancy to the striking foreigner, but the lustre had soon worn off when she realised that Galronus was more like her brother than she’d originally imagined and she now treated him with the same loving contempt.
    Priscus left the house rarely to begin with, unsure of his ability to walk any sustained distance. The first few months, however, had seen a tremendous change as his leg strengthened. He still limped, his foot angled uncomfortably inwards, and occasionally had to stop and rest against something but Fronto was convinced, with great relief, that by the end of his convalescence, his old friend would be mobile, if uncomfortable. As Priscus put a brave face on his injuries, so did his companions help by turning the horrific wounds of the previous year into a source of endless humorous jibes.
    “I’m sort of getting used to being back home and not facing screaming Gauls and biting women and having to take a shit in a bucket while the latrines are being dug. I have to admit I’m starting to dread the call in spring.”
    Crispus turned to look at Fronto, frowning.
    “You fool nobody Marcus. If I said such a thing, you would believe me. You, however, have a vine staff for a spine. I have watched you many times, and you’re only truly happy when you stand facing a screaming enemy with a sword in your hand.”
    Fronto winced.
    “Don’t say things like that near Faleria. She already