Magnus grunted and eased out a fart. ‘Alright, bring me a lamp.’
The door swung open and the silhouetted bulk of Marius filled its frame with a lamp in his right hand — his left hand was missing.
‘Leave it on the table, Marius,’ Magnus said sitting up.
As Marius walked across the room Magnus pointed to the sleeping form beside him and mouthed: ‘What’s her name?’
‘Dunno, she’s new, just turned up last night.’
‘Thanks Brother, very helpful. I’ll be down in a moment.’
Magnus slapped the woman’s arse and got out of bed as Marius left the room. ‘Up and at ’em, my girl. I’ve got to go. What do I owe you?’
The woman rolled over sleepily and peered at him through a tangle of well-ravaged black hair. ‘It was a free one, Magnus. Aquilina, remember? I said I’d do you for free if you’d let me work the tavern.’
‘Ah, that’s right, you’re new,’ Magnus replied, trying to remember the conversation through the haze of last night’s wine. ‘Well you’ve passed the test. See old Jovita later and tell her that I said it was fine for you to work here. She watches the girls; you report to her if you leave with a customer or if you’re just giving your favours in a dark corner. We take twenty percent of everything you earn from the tavern, payable in cash the following morning. If you try and cheat us, you’re out on your ear and you won’t find a cock willing to service you in this district ever again, not even for nothing, because you’d be too ugly, if you take my meaning?’
Aquilina smiled getting to her feet — a pretty smile Magnus thought, she should do well. ‘I won’t cheat you, Magnus, I just want to earn my keep,’ she said slipping on her tunic and picking up her discarded loincloth and sandals. She gave him a kiss on the cheek. ‘Any time you want me, I won’t charge.’ Giving him a playful squeeze, she left the room.
Magnus watched her go, frowning.
‘What’ve we got here then that’s so important?’ Magnus asked walking into the tavern’s main parlour that still stank of stale wine, vomit and sweat from the previous evening.
Servius looked up from a scroll of accounts that he was going through on a table in the centre of the room and nodded towards two small figures, bound with sacks over their heads, slumped under the amphorae-lined bar. Marius and Sextus watched over them.
‘Servius sent us fishing,’ Sextus said slowly, as if reciting, ‘and we caught a couple of slippery fish. They’re nice and greasy, especially in certain places.’ He broke into deep, shuddering laughs.
Marius smiled at Magnus, shaking his head in exasperation. ‘He’s been practicing that line for the last hour, Magnus; it ain’t even funny ’cos fish are slimy not greasy, but he can’t see the difference.’
‘Well he’d soon find out if he came across a slimy arse. Let’s have a look at them.’
With Sextus incapacitated by mirth, Marius pulled the sacks off, to reveal two very attractive, but slightly bruised, brown-skinned youths in their early teens. They looked at Magnus with dark, fearful eyes and huddled closer together.
‘The lads did well, Magnus,’ Servius observed.
Magnus was impressed. ‘A couple of the Albanians’ boys? How did you get them Marius?’
‘They was on their way back from a visit to the Praetorian Camp.’
‘But they have an escort of Vigiles.’
‘Yeah, but what do Vigiles do when they see a fire?’
Magnus grinned. ‘First they negotiate a fee with the owner for putting it out; then they put it out.’
‘So I had some of the lads start a fire when we knew they was on their way, and these poor little fish got forgotten about whilst their minders tried to make a profit out of some poor bastard’s misfortune. So Sextus and me decided to escort them home. We just took a few wrong turns, that’s all, and happened to end up here.’
‘Well done lads, such a pretty gift for the meeting later. Lock ’em them up safely until this afternoon and then get the altar ready for the morning sacrifice.’
Marius visibly swelled with pride at the praise and he and Sextus, who was still chuckling fiercely, hauled the terrified boys to their feet and dragged them away.
Magnus turned to Servius. ‘Have the invitations gone out?’
‘Yes Brother, and all the replies are back in. All five of the surrounding Patroniae will be there an hour before sunset.’
The sun was slipping behind the Aventine Hill throwing the raked-sand track of the Circus Maximus into shadow and bathing the stepped-stone seating and the colonnades that soared above in a warm evening glow.
Magnus stood, in a freshly chalk-dusted white toga, at the end of the spina, the central barrier that ran down the middle of the track, facing the massive wooden gates that opened out onto the Forum Boarium. Servius, flanked by Marius and Sextus, waited behind him — they too sported gleaming togas, worn with pride by the free and freed citizens of Rome, however lowly, and worn today as custom decreed at a meeting of Crossroads Patroniae. Four other similar groups of a Patronus, his counsellor and two bodyguards, stood around the edge of the track, two to Magnus’ left and two to the right, all keeping a good distance between each other as they awaited the final arrival. A light breeze, blowing along the length of the track of the eerily silent stadium, played with the folds of their togas.
‘Fucking typical of Sempronius to keep us waiting so that he can make a grand entrance,’ Magnus muttered over his shoulder to Servius.
‘A futile gesture, Brother; you will all be equal in the middle, no matter who arrived last.’
Magnus grunted. A moment later a small door to the left of the main gates swung open to reveal the missing party led by a tall, blond-haired, young man. As he started to walk forward, Magnus and the other four Patroniae, followed by their entourages, did the same, coming to a halt in a circle exactly halfway between the spina and the gates; one of the few public places in the crowded city of Rome where a private conversation could be held without fear of eavesdroppers.
‘Greetings Brothers,’ Magnus said looking each of his counterparts in the eye. ‘I, Marcus Salvius Magnus, of the South Quirinal called this meeting to deal with an issue that has arisen between us and the West Viminal Brotherhood.’
Sempronius pursed his lips, pulled his broad shoulders back and glared at Magnus with cold, piercing, sapphire-blue eyes; the jaw muscles beneath the tight flesh of his cheeks twitched rapidly. His counsellor, equally young and equally handsome but dark-haired, leaned forward and whispered in his ear. Sempronius nodded, never once taking his eyes off Magnus.
‘I wish to settle this issue now,’ Magnus continued, ‘in front of witnesses, in order to avoid it escalating into a war. None of us here would wish to see that, as we all know from past experience just how damaging for business that can be.’
Sempronius looked down at his left arm, held rigid across his stomach, supporting the folds of his toga, and stared at it for a few moments as if examining in fine detail the blond hairs on the back of his hand. His eyes suddenly flicked back up to Magnus. ‘We had nothing to do with the raid on the whore-boy house.’
‘I am not saying that you did; yet you know about it.’
‘I know of it,’ Sempronius corrected, ‘but not much about it. As I said: it was not done by us.’
‘No, but it was done by people from your area; Albanian clients of yours, who you would be honour-bound to avenge if we exacted the correct price for their actions.’
‘And what would you consider that price to be?’ Sempronius asked slowly, one side of his face curled up in a sneer.
‘Death. And not a quick one.’
Sempronius smiled mirthlessly. ‘That would be grievous mistake.’
‘No Brother, that would be justice, but I’m not naive enough to think that we both have the same sense of justice so, in order to maintain the peace between us, I offer this compromise.’ Magnus put two fingers in his mouth a whistled shrilly. A couple of his lads led two small figures out of one of the entrance tunnels in the rows of seating; knives were held across their throats.
Sempronius regarded them for a few moments and then shrugged. ‘More whore-boys; what are they to me?’
‘They’re nothing to you, but they’re worth quite a bit to their Albanian owners — in the condition that they’re in at the moment, that is. Unfortunately their condition is worsening.’ Magnus raised a hand and brought it down quickly. A knife flashed golden in the evening sun; there was a screech and blood started to flow down the face of one of the boys. ‘That was just a small cut across the top of his forehead; nothing too disfiguring so it won’t reduce his value that much.’
‘What do you want?’
‘The two boys that your Albanian friends took from my client. If they are returned tonight, unharmed, then I will return those two with their fingers, tongues and cocks still in place and without sharp knives rammed up their arses. In other words, in perfect working order to carry on their trade. My client will also forgo his revenge for the two other boys that were cut up in the attack and that will be an end to the matter.’
‘And if they’re not returned tonight?’