Free Marius' Mules IV: Conspiracy of Eagles by S. J. A. Turney

here.”
    Fronto shared a look with Galronus as the camp prefect disappeared inside once more and the two guards saluted and straightened, removing the obstacle from their path.
     
    * * * * *
     
    Priscus had returned to a large desk and was busy trying to gather a pile of wooden writing tablets that had fallen to the floor, though they kept slipping from his grasp in comedic fashion. Fronto and Galronus stood in the tent’s entrance and took in the sight.
    Priscus had the look of a man extremely short on sleep and bothered. Somehow it was extremely odd seeing their old friend dressed in the leather tunic and pteruges of a senior officer, his burnished cuirass and helmet standing on one of a number of wooden cabinets around the tent.
    “You need a hand, Gnaeus?”
    “Just sit down and let me get these put away” Priscus snapped, returning to grumbling under his breath as he replaced the tablets on the table, then rearranged them half a dozen times until he was satisfied that they were in the correct order. His gaze then strayed up from them to his visitors and he slapped his hands down on the oak surface, leaning heavily.
    “Paetus may have been trouble, but the man must have had a mind like a damn librarian. How he kept all this straight, I have no idea. I’d just about got things set over the winter quarters, then we move here and it starts all over again. It’s a never-ending bloody task. The last time I slept we had different Consuls, I’m sure.”
    Fronto smiled benignly. “I suspect you’re taking on more than you need to. I understand you’ve been interfering in the quartermaster’s duties too?”
    “I had to” Priscus snapped irritably. “You have no idea how damn disorganised it all was. Whatever I needed was always ‘on the way’ or ‘snagged up in transport at Massilia’ or ‘not available until next month’. Cita’s organisation is a pissing joke! Caesar’s trying to foist a number of assistants on me to play camp prefect for each legion; says that’s what Pompey always did. But that just means I have eight more disorganised idiots to tidy up after, so I’ve set them all to counting things just to piss off Cita and his assistants.”
    Fronto couldn’t stifle his short laugh and Galronus was starting to smile now.
    “Can you give me a quick rundown on what’s happening before I go see Caesar?”
    Priscus narrowed his eyes. “You haven’t been yet?”
    Fronto shook his head, and Priscus scratched his chin and then slumped into a seat. “You’d best hurry then; he’ll be twitching for you to turn up.”
    “Fine. Just give me a quick list, then. Note form if you need to.”
    Priscus leaned back and scratched his head.
    “Well you’ll see that all eight legions are here, along with the cavalry, thoand Galronhey’re all a bit depleted since Caesar settled his veterans and almost half the Gallic horse have disbanded now that the uprisings have been quashed. Their contract to the general was complete and Caesar thought it politic to let them return to their tribes.”
    “Aye, we’ve seen the forces. And I know there’s some trouble with the Germanic tribes. Go on.”
    “Well, there’s the Seventh. At Caesar’s behest, I’ve spent the entire winter trying to identify any soldier that has any Pompeian connection or uncertain history and transferring them all to the Seventh. Appropriately, most of the veterans and solid men of the Seventh have now been moved out and dispersed among the other legions. It’s been a bureaucratic nightmare.”
    “Who has been given command of this rotten legion, then?” asked Galronus quietly.
    “Who else? Cicero . With his ties to the knobs in Rome who’re speaking out against the general, he was an obvious choice.”
    “I thought Cicero was bound for the Eighth since Balbus left?”
    “Young Brutus has managed to secure the Eighth. Spent half the winter badgering the general by letter, I gather, and started in person as soon as Caesar arrived.