Magnus slapped his back. ‘Aetius, I believe that your second sixteen years are up very soon and I don’t suppose they’ll have you back.’
‘No, I suspect you’re right.’
‘So you’ll be looking for a safe area from which you can operate discreetly and unmolested?’
Aetius grinned, displaying yellowing teeth. ‘Somewhere I can sleep easy at nights?’
‘My friend, everyone in the South Quirinal sleeps easy at night.’
It was almost the sixth hour of the day by the time that Magnus, Sextus and Marius reached the baths of Agrippa; but this was a perfect time to run into, as if by accident, the sort of people Magnus needed to see. For all those in the city who followed a regular work pattern, be it trade or political, the working day ran from the first hour to the eighth or ninth. After that there was time to relax before the main meal of the day towards the end of the afternoon. Consequently, after the eighth hour, the baths filled up with a different kind of clientele from those who frequented them earlier in the day. But it was the early arrivals that Magnus wanted to mingle with: the men who did not have a regular working pattern, men who did not do physical trade or politics but, rather, men who dealt in other commodities, the same commodities that Magnus dealt in – fear and protection. Men who could afford to while away the morning in the comforts of Rome’s public baths.
Having stripped and handed their clothes to one of the many slaves in the vestibule for safekeeping and received linen towels in return, Magnus led his brothers into the main hall of the baths where men exercised, relaxed, received massages, had their body hair removed and muscles massaged, or just strolled about chatting, scheming or gossiping.
‘Have a wander round and keep your eyes out for any members of the Suburra or Via Sacra Brotherhoods, lads,’ Magnus muttered as he looked around the throng. ‘No pointing, I just want to know who’s here and where they are.’
Magnus spread his towel on a leather upholstered couch and settled down to a shoulder massage from one of the many public slaves, while his brothers circulated through the high-domed hall that echoed back, with sharp clarity, the sound of hundreds of voices.
It was after too short a time of oiling, pummelling and kneading that Marius and Sextus returned.
‘Well?’ Magnus asked, dismissing the slave with a wave of his hand.
‘We saw some of those thieving bastards from the Central Suburra,’ Marius reported. ‘They’ve just come out of the fridigerium and look to be on their way out. The scum from the eastern end of the Via Sacra are exercising over at the weight benches and—’
‘Is Dacien with them?’
‘Didn’t see him. But I did see Grumio with some of his lowlife from West Suburra heading towards the caldrium.’
‘Did you now.’ Magnus got to his feet, picked up the towel and stretched his shoulders with a couple of cracks. ‘Time for a sweat, I think, lads.’
Heat stung Magnus’ eyes as the heavy wooden door of the caldarium closed behind him; he looked around the dim interior, lit with ambient light from one small window in the wall opposite him, and saw a small group of naked men knotted round a shaven-headed, pot-bellied man of about his own age – in his early to mid-forties. Two slaves stood to either side of the group, fanning the hot air down on to them by vigorously twirling towels above their heads. All eyes in the group turned to Magnus and his two brothers as they approached. Neither party felt threatened as, by convention, there was a truce in all public baths – mainly because the only option in which a naked man could conceal a weapon was not that comfortable.
‘Grumio,’ Magnus said as he sat down on a stone bench, enjoying the warmth of it on his buttocks.
‘Magnus,’ Grumio replied, flashing gold teeth in an unconvincing smile.
A slave approached and began fanning Magnus and his brothers; the hot air beating down on them soon caused beads of sweat to prick out all over their bodies.
Magnus put his hands on his knees and lowered his head, ignoring his opposite number from the West Suburra.
Sextus grunted with pleasure with every down beat of the towel.
Marius closed his eyes and leant his head back against the wall, playing idly with the stump at the end of his left arm.
‘Word has it that you’ve got an issue with the aedile,’ Grumio said eventually. ‘I heard that you had a delegation.’
‘You heard right,’ Magnus replied without looking up.
‘Tricky situation.’
‘What’s it to you?’
‘Just making conversation.’
‘If it’s conversation that you want, then I heard that we’re heading for a grain shortage.’