The Dreams of Morpheus(8)

‘You asked to see me, Marcus Salvius Magnus.’

The soft voice just cut through the background chatter in the tavern; Magnus disengaged himself from the plump young whore sitting on his lap and looked up at his visitor and smiled. ‘Yes, Terentius.’ He removed the whore’s hand from under his tunic, adjusted his dress and sent her on her way with a satisfying slap on her buttocks before returning his attention to his visitor. ‘Sit down.’

As he sat, Terentius ran his hands down the back of his thighs to control his tunic which was unbelted, like a woman’s. He crossed his legs with studied elegance and with a modest smile accepted the cup of wine that Magnus proffered. ‘Thank you, Magnus.’

‘You’re looking good, Terentius.’

Terentius pulled back an errant lock of long, auburn hair, which had come loose from the ponytail into which it was tied, and secured it behind his ear. ‘Thank you, Magnus; I try my best.’

Magnus could see that he did. Although he was now in his forties, the whore-boy master certainly looked after his appearance: the pale skin over his high cheekbones remained smooth, his chin and neck were still taut, his lips full and subtly painted and his large eyes bright and interested, despite the life that he had led as first a whore and now a master. Very nice, was always Magnus’ immediate thought; closely followed by: if you like that sort of thing.

Magnus leant across the table. ‘How’s business?’

‘It’s very good.’ Terentius took a sip before adding, with a raised eyebrow, ‘But not good enough to justify an increase in what I pay to the Brotherhood.’

Magnus leant back, laughing, then reached across and laid a hand on Terentius’ arm. ‘Very good, I take your meaning, old friend. In lieu of that rise I need a favour.’

‘Anything for you, Magnus.’

‘Yeah, I’m sure. Well, I need something kept safe and secret for a few days.’

With a slight incline of the head, Terentius acquiesced.

‘Servius has it out the back; go and find him and he’ll have a couple of the lads escort you home.’

Terentius took another sip, placed his cup down and then stood. ‘I’ll hear from you shortly then?’

‘You will.’

Terentius smiled as he turned to go.

Magnus held up a hand. ‘Oh, one thing. Have you or your boys been having any trouble with short measures on the grain dole recently?’

‘No, Magnus.’

‘Any trouble with our local aedile?’

Terentius pouted and shook his head. ‘No, Magnus. I make sure that he’s very well disposed towards me; I give him free use of my establishment a couple of times a month.’

‘Do you now?’

‘Oh yes, it always pays to look after those who have power over you; you know that the offer’s always open to you too.’

As Terentius walked away, Magnus’ gaze lingered on him for just a moment too long for his own liking. He shook his head then looked around for the whore, feeling an urgent need to take her upstairs to the small room that he called home.

Thin, pale fingers of dawn poked through the window shutters as the constant clamour from the street below impinged once more on Magnus’ consciousness, hauling it from the realm of dreams.

He lay in the half-light, looking up at the roughly cut ceiling beams, listening to the whore’s soft breaths and running through in his mind what he needed to achieve in the next two days; the list was not long but it was tricky.

Once satisfied, he turned his attention to the business of his patron, Senator Pollo, pleased that he had helped to boost his patron’s standing with the most powerful woman in Rome, the Lady Antonia.

He was acquainted with Antonia, surprisingly given the vast social gulf between them, but unsurprisingly given her enjoyment for boxing and her penchant for a private round with the after-dinner-spectacle winner once her guests had departed. But that had been ten years or more ago when he had made his living that way after completing his time first in Rome’s legions, and then getting a lucky transfer to the Urban Cohorts which meant he only had to serve sixteen years and not the full twenty-five. Once he had fought his way to the position of patronus of his Brotherhood, using the substantial prize money that he had earned in his two years of gruelling, iron-fisted bouts, he had left the profession and the lady behind. Until, that was, their paths had crossed again after his patron, Senator Pollo, and his nephews, Sabinus and Vespasian, had risen in her favour. Now she summoned him as the fancy took her and because of her status he would be a fool to refuse; he grimaced to himself at the thought of a new summons as she was not getting any younger. He wondered how and to whom she would sell the tablets, and when Senator Pollo would require him to pick them up from Terentius and … At the thought of Terentius he turned the whore over, putting him to the back of his mind.