Simon Scarrow - Praetorian

Cato steered aside so that they passed each other by a safe margin and continued following the gang leader. Cestius continued for a short distance before he looked round quickly. Then, seemingly satisfied that no one was watching him, he made for the guarded entrance of one of the warehouse compounds. He nodded a greeting to the man at the gates, who heaved one open to admit his visitor and then drew it shut once Cestius had disappeared from sight. Cato felt a surge of panic at the prospect of losing his quarry. He stopped on the wharf opposite the gates and squatted down and retied the lace of his boot as he looked over the gateway. A sign was painted on the wall next to the heavy timbers of the gates announcing that the warehouses were rented out by Gaius Frontinus. It invited interested parties to apply at his offices in the Boarium.

Cato drew a deep breath to steady his nerves and strode up to the gates. The guard stirred and moved to block his way. He was a thickset man with a scarred face and Cato guessed that he must be one of the many former gladiators who turned up in such roles after they had won their freedom, or been discarded by their trainers.

‘What do you want?’ the guard demanded without any preamble.

‘I’m supposed to meet my master here, sir,’ Cato replied. ‘I saw him enter just a moment ago.’

‘Really? So what’s his name then?’

Cato opened his mouth and caught himself just in time. If Cestius was in disguise then there was a strong possibility that he was using a false name as well. If Cato tried to use his real name the guard would refuse him entry. Worse still, he might mention it to Cestius on the way out and thereby alert him to the fact that he had been followed.

The pause was long enough for the guard to reach a decision. ‘Thought so. You’re a chancer. Now turn away and piss off. Before I make you.’ He patted the studded club swinging from his belt.

Cato knew that there was no sense in provoking any disturbance. He backed off a few paces and then turned and walked back towards the Boarium. Then it occurred to him that there was still something useful that he could discover and he broke into a run. He pushed his legs hard, looking for the man in the yellow cloak and his two bodyguards. There was no sign of his easily distinguishable cloak on the length of the wharf, and Cato ran on into the Boarium. Even though the market was not filled with its usual dense press of bodies, there were enough people to obscure Cato’s view. He pulled himself up on to the pediment of a statue of Neptune and hung on to the shaft of the trident as his gaze swept over the market. Then he saw the yellow tunic, on the far side, close to the hall of the grain traders.

‘Oi! You! Get off!’

Cato looked round and saw a soldier from one of the urban cohorts striding towards him. Cato clambered down and made to leave the spot but the soldier blocked his path.

‘What do you think you’re doing?’

‘Looking for a friend.’

‘Trying to cause trouble more like.’ The soldier growled and slapped the side of Cato’s head, making it ring. Cato blinked as he staggered to one side.

‘Acer!’ a voice cut through the air. ‘That’s enough!’

An instant later an optio stepped up and glared at the soldier. ‘We’re here to keep the peace, you bloody fool. Not to start another fucking riot.’ He turned to Cato. ‘You! Get on your way!’

Cato nodded, and staggered off through the market, heading towards the halls of the merchant guilds on the other side of the Boarium. People who had witnessed the confrontation stared warily after him, as if he carried some kind of frightening mark. It was a sign of the nervous tension that still hung over the city. No one wanted to be associated with any man who fell foul of the military. Cato’s head quickly cleared and he slowed to a steady pace as he crossed the market. He could no longer see any sign of the yellow cloak outside the hall of the grain merchants and feared that he had lost his man. As he reached the portico, topped by a pediment and statue depicting Ceres holding a thick sheaf of wheat, Cato paused and looked round. There was no sign of the bald man, so he continued inside.

After the daylight outside it took a moment to adjust to the gloomier lighting of the hall. There was a large open space in the centre filled with tables and benches. Along each wall stood two storeys of offices from which the merchants conducted their trade. At the far end was an auction podium in front of a large board on which the grain cargoes were chalked up for sale. Only it was clear today, and the merchants were in a depressed mood. Cato saw the man emerge from the colonnade at the side of the hall. He crossed to the clerk sitting on the step beside the podium and began to address him. Cato pulled down his hood and turned to one of the merchants standing close at hand. He indicated the bald man and asked for his name.

‘Him?’ The merchant squinted briefly. ‘Why, that’s Aulus Piscus. Why do you ask?’

Cato thought quickly. ‘My uncle owns a bakery in the Subura. He sent me down here to see if there’s any grain to be had.’

‘You’ll be lucky!’ the merchant snorted. ‘There’s been nothing for days. Your man Piscus snapped up the last cargo.’

‘I see.’ Cato stared at the bald man. ‘I assume Piscus is one of the big dealers in the guild.’

‘Only in the last few months. Before then he was just a small-time trader.’

‘Looks wealthy enough now.’

‘Oh, he’s done all right for himself.’

‘How’s that?’ Cato pressed.

‘Well, either he came into a fortune, or he’s acting as a front for someone who has. Whichever, the lucky bastard’s done well out of it. Well enough to pay for those two thugs that guard his back.’

Cato nodded, stepping away. ‘Thanks. I won’t take up any more of your time.’

‘Time’s a luxury I can afford right now.’ The merchant smiled thinly. ‘There’s not much the likes of me and your uncle can do until the grain supply flows again, eh?’

Cato shook his head and then moved away. He crossed the hall and approached Piscus and the clerk, overhearing the end of their exchange.

‘You let me know the moment the first grain ship reaches Ostia, you hear?’

‘Yes, master.’ The clerk bowed his head.

The bald man leant closer. ‘See that you do, and I won’t be ungrateful. Understand?’

The clerk nodded wearily, as if he had heard the same offer several times already that day. He looked up as Cato approached and the bald man turned round with a quick look of anxiety.

‘Can I help you?’ Piscus asked curtly.

‘As a matter of fact, you can, sir.’ Cato smiled and politely bowed his head. ‘I’m looking for a friend. I missed him in the Boarium a moment ago and then saw him on the wharf, when he stopped to speak to you.’

‘A friend? You?’ Piscus looked at Cato in his worn cloak with undisguised contempt. ‘I don’t think so. Why would a wealthy merchant like him have anything to do with you? Be on your way.’ He clicked his fingers and his bodyguards stepped forward menacingly.

Cato bowed his head and stepped back. ‘My mistake, sir. Perhaps it wasn’t my friend.’

He turned and left the hall, moving off along the paved area in front of the guild halls, deep in thought. What was Cestius up to? The gang leader from the Subura clearly had another identity, or there was another man in Rome who could have passed as his twin brother. Cato discounted the idea at once. The man he had followed looked, moved and sounded just like Cestius. In which case why was he passing himself off as a merchant? And what was he doing down in the warehouse district? There was one way to try to find out. Cato made for the small basilica given as the address of the man who leased the warehouses. Entering the building he saw that it was on a much less impressive scale than the grain merchants’ hall. A score of open-fronted offices lined the walls. He found the sign of Gaius Frontinus easily enough. Below it, the office was fronted by a plain stone counter. A clerk sat on a stool behind it, working through a ledger.