Robert Fabbri - The Alexandrian Embassy

‘Are you really going to do that?’

‘Bollocks I am. No, I’ve got business with Sempronius to pursue and a patronising middle-man to pull down from his perch.’

‘Postumus disappeared a couple of hours before they found the body soon after dawn,’ Marius informed Magnus when he arrived back at the tavern at midday. ‘They pulled the poker out and took it back to Sempronius who was sacrificing at their lares altar. He left as soon as he’d finished the ritual and arrived back at his headquarters looking as if he wouldn’t mind heating up the poker and using it on someone himself.’

Magnus took a deep draught of the warm, spiced wine that he was cradling in both hands and reflected for a few moments. Servius shuffled his accounts scrolls on the table next to him. ‘So, what happened to Postumus?’

Marius shrugged. ‘We smelt fresh-baked bread, so I gave him some money to go and get a couple of loaves and some hot wine but he never came back. I reckon he spent my money in a brothel on the Vicus Patricius; he was very aroused after the poker episode.’

Magnus nodded in agreement. ‘He’ll turn up and you can shake him for the money. As for Sempronius, I reckon that we can expect a revenge attack. We should double the lads watching our border with the West Viminal and give them some speedy small boys to run messages. Meanwhile, I need Sempronius to come into possession of a piece of information that will, I hope, be too much for him to resist.’

‘What’s that, brother?’

‘I want him to find out that I’m doing business with Tatianus and that I owe him an outstanding thousand denarii for a delivery that is due to arrive tomorrow, but since the theft of that money I’m struggling to raise the cash in time. Tatianus has said that he will sell the item to the first comer with the correct coinage even though I’ve already put down the deposit of a thousand.’

Servius rubbed his clouded eyes. ‘Tatianus has been known to do that before. He always says that the deposit only guarantees that he will keep the consignment for a few hours and after that he’ll sell to the first person with the right money so that he doesn’t compromise himself by having illegal goods on his property for too long.’

‘Exactly; we have a precedent so Sempronius will believe it. And I’ll bet he would love to get hold of what I wanted to buy just to prevent me from having it. Plus, to do that using my money would please him greatly.’

‘But what’s he going to do with a Scorpion?’

‘Doesn’t matter, the point is that he’ll think he’s stopped us doing whatever we were going to do with it and it will have cost him nothing in real terms.’

‘And what happens if he gets it?’

‘Then he’ll be the one who has to explain himself to the Urban Prefect.’

‘But then the job will be off.’

Magnus took another sip of wine. ‘What I’ve just learnt from Senator Pollo means that the job’s already off at the moment unless I can do some deep thinking to retrieve it. I’m just trying to make the best of the situation and make things uncomfortable for Sempronius and inconvenient for Tatianus. But first I need to plant the seed.’

Servius wheezed a weak cough. ‘It goes without saying that the best place to plant your seed is where you want it to grow.’

Magnus frowned and drained his cup. ‘Are you trying to be philosophical, because if so that was a pretty poor attempt. Of course I need to plant it with Sempronius.’

‘But that’s not where you really want it to grow, is it?’

Magnus looked at his counsellor, considering his remark. Over the fifteen years that he had been the patronus of the South Quirinal he had come to value his second-in-command’s advice based on an encyclopaedic knowledge of the inhabitants of the dark underbelly of Rome. ‘You’re right, brother: Tatianus is where I want that notion to take hold. If he thinks that I can’t come up with the money then he’ll start trying to offload the shipment as quickly as possible.’

Servius essayed a smile which appeared as more of a grimace on his wizened face. ‘Precisely; and provided you also plant the idea that Sempronius would be a likely alternative purchaser then the whole matter should take care of itself very quickly.’

‘But how do I do it without having a formal meeting and then mentioning Sempronius by name? Tatianus is bound to tell him that I suggested him and then he’s bound to suspect it’s a trap.’

‘Where does Tatianus go when he’s not doing business in his house?’

Magnus thought for a few moments. ‘The normal places: the baths, theatre, games and all that sort of thing.’

‘Yes, but what else? What did you notice about him? About the decoration in his room?’

After a brief pause to recollect, Magnus pointed his index finger at his counsellor. ‘The statuettes of the gods; he has a lot of them.’

‘Yes, he’s a very religious man so he does all the things that religious men should do.’

‘Such as observing all the festivals, and tomorrow is the Ides of May.’

‘Indeed, and we shall be celebrating the Mercuralia in honour of Mercury, the god of merchants and commerce, amongst other things; and what do all merchants do on that day?’

Magnus grinned and shook his head slowly in awe at the way his counsellor’s mind worked. ‘They sprinkle their heads, merchandise and places of business with water taken from the well at the Capena Gate, and because they have to draw the water themselves we can guarantee that at some time tomorrow Tatianus will be at the Capena Gate. In fact he said that he wouldn’t be home until the third hour that morning so he’ll be at the gate first thing. I’ve just got to work out how to take advantage of that.’

Night was three hours old but the streets of Rome were none the quieter for it. Magnus, with Marius and Sextus for company and protection, watched a group of half a dozen men make their way up the Vicus Longus. All were hooded and all had the bearing of men used to violence; a couple had limps from old wounds and one was missing three fingers on his left hand. One had a bulging sack slung over his shoulder.

‘The lads watching the West Viminal were sure that they came from that brotherhood’s headquarters?’ Magnus asked Marius, raising his voice to make himself heard against the rattle and clatter of mule- and ox-drawn carts and wagons.

‘Yes, brother. As soon as they appeared to be heading in this direction they sent one of the errand-boys racing up here with the news. There’s no doubt about it: they’re out to do no good in the area.’

‘Well, they don’t look like they’re on a shopping trip, that’s for sure. But there’re not enough of them to threaten the tavern; so what do they want?’

All three turned away and leant against the open bar of a street wine-seller’s establishment as the six heavies approached.

‘There you go, Magnus,’ the owner said, placing a jug of wine and three earthenware cups on the counter. He then turned to the old slave working with him. ‘Come on, Hylas, you lazy sod, get a move on with those victuals.’ He looked apologetically at Magnus. ‘I’ll get you some bread and roast pork as soon as my idiot slave wakes up; no charge, obviously.’

‘Thanks, Septimus,’ Magnus said, edging his head around to try to get a closer look at the intruders as they passed close by but their hoods were too deep. ‘Have you ever seen any of them before up here?’

Septimus looked at the men as they passed and waited until they were out of earshot. ‘Hard to say, Magnus, I couldn’t see their faces; but there were a couple of strangers hanging around earlier today, big lads who had the look of ex-gladiators about them. One of them had a limp and his mate was missing a few fingers, I seem to remember when I served him; although how many and which hand I don’t recall.’