‘Like agreeing to secret meetings with scheming imperial freedmen in the middle of the night, for example?’ Gaius suggested as they came to the acute junction of the Alta Semita and the Vicus Longus at the apex of which stood Magnus’ tavern.
Vespasian smiled at his uncle. ‘This may well be an opportunity; and besides,’ he added as he pushed open the door, ‘it’s not a secret.’
Vespasian did not pull back his hood as he entered the crowded fug of the parlour; sweat, stale wine, cheap-whores’ perfume and burnt pork fat assaulted his nose, his ears rang with drunken shouting and harsh laughter and his eyes immediately moistened with stinging charcoal fumes from the cooking fire behind the amphorae-lined bar at the wider, far end of the tavern. Gaius’ girth caused some comment – not all of it good-humoured – as they followed their escort across a wine-sticky floor, through the shadowy crowd of drinkers and whores filling the widening room. To quizzical looks they passed through a leather-curtained doorway and then turned right into an unlit corridor. At the far end on the left, the leader of their escort, a huge bald man in his late fifties, knocked with a ham-sized fist on a substantial iron-reinforced door and opened it at the sound of a response from within.
‘Well done, Sextus,’ Magnus said, getting up from his seat behind the desk as the door swung open. ‘Any trouble?’
‘No, brother,’ Sextus replied, stepping aside to allow Vespasian and Gaius into the room.
‘Good. Now take your lads outside and keep an eye out for our two guests.’
Sextus hesitated for a moment and then rumbled slowly into a guttural laugh. ‘Aw, very good, Magnus,’ he managed between bursts of mirth. ‘Keep an eye out! I like that.’
‘Yes, yes, yes,’ Magnus said, shaking his head, exasperated. ‘It was almost funny the first time we had that joke, three years ago.’ His one good eye looked at Vespasian apologetically while his glass replica glared at Sextus, adding to the man’s enjoyment of the humour. ‘Now get out and do what you’ve been told.’
‘Keep an eye out,’ Sextus chuckled as he left with his brothers, ‘right you are, Magnus.’
‘Sextus has got a new joke, I take it,’ Vespasian said as he took the seat that Magnus had just vacated.
Magnus picked up the pitcher on the desk and poured three cups of wine. ‘Each time he hears it he thinks it’s for the first time.’
‘Just like he used to when he was always offering to give one-armed Marius a helping hand.’
‘Yes, it’s the same thing and it keeps him amused for hours.’
Gaius sat in the chair next to his nephew, accepting a cup of wine. ‘Still, he’s a reliable solid lad, from what I know of him.’
‘Solid being a good choice of word in more ways than one, sir,’ Magnus observed, proffering a cup to Vespasian. ‘He knows his limitations and didn’t make a fuss when I promoted Tigran to my second in command when old Servius died.’ Magnus walked across the room, opened a door on the far side and looked out into the darkness beyond. ‘I do miss the old bugger,’ he continued, closing the door and bolting it. ‘Even though he was blind towards the end he could still see the right way through a problem.’ Magnus paused to consider for a moment. ‘I was thinking over what you were saying this morning about retiring now; it may not be such a bad idea. I promised Tigran that I would soon. Perhaps it’d be better to do it now rather than have it forced upon me by one of the other brotherhoods staging a takeover or Tigran slipping a knife between my ribs because he can’t wait.’
Vespasian raised his eyebrows. ‘He’d do that?’
‘He’s already thought about it; it was only my promise that stopped him. Anyway, that’s how I got the job all those years ago.’ Magnus closed and secured the shutters on the only window in the room, dulling the rumble of traffic and drunken shouts coming in from the street.
‘Twenty-six, to be precise,’ Gaius informed them. ‘I should remember because it cost me a fortune in bribes and blood-money to save you from being condemned to the arena.’
‘For which I’ve always been grateful, senator.’
‘And you’ve repaid me many times over.’ Gaius chuckled, holding his cup in both hands. ‘I don’t suppose I’ll get quite as good service from the brotherhood if Tigran becomes the patronus.’
‘It’ll certainly cost you more; but I’m sure we can come to an accommodation as part of the transfer of power.’ A knock on the door prevented him from elaboration on the point. ‘Ah, your guests.’ He opened it to find Sextus’ massive form blocking the doorway; he moved to one side, his shoulders shaking slightly as if he was still controlling his amusement.