The Sacrilege(57)

“Ferocity is common. Clodius’s gang is plenty fierce. It’s concerted action that wins big fights. The gladiators only know single combat and the brawlers never think past their own knuckles. I need a street army and I intend to have one.”

“You had better be careful, Titus,” I cautioned. “A few words in the wrong ears could get you charged with insurrection.”

“I have Cicero and a good many others working on my behalf,” he said. “For every Senator who wants to see me brought down, there’s an enemy of Clodius who sees me as the savior of Rome.”

“Cicero is not in high favor just now,” I warned, “and when Pompey comes back into the city in a couple of days, he’ll be the power in Rome until new alliances can be formed.”

“Thanks for your concern,” Milo said, “but I’ve been working hard for years to arrange the sort of support I need. I feel secure for the time being.”

“As you will,” I said. “Titus, I need to know what sort of naughtiness Mamercus Capito might have been up to. I—”

“I can tell you right now,” he interrupted. “Nothing. I looked into it as soon as I learned he was murdered. He had no meaningful contacts among the Roman underworld, which is to say, my own colleagues. As far as I was able to learn, he wasn’t taking bribes beyond the acceptable limits. He had a few silent partners, mostly his freedmen, running businesses for him, since as a patrician he couldn’t be officially involved. They insist that he had no business enemies with cause to kill him. He must have been murdered for personal or political reasons. Your Senate contacts will know more about how he voted in the Senate than I.”

“You’ve saved me a great deal of time,” I told him.

“Then perhaps you can employ it in my behalf. Have you spoken with the lady yet?”

“No, but I go from here to the house of Lucullus. With luck, I’ll get there in time for lunch.”

“Enjoy yourself, but be eloquent.”

“I’ll do my best, which if I may say so is considerable. By an odd coincidence, I’ve just met with her brother at the Statilian School. The resemblance is striking, and I’m told they both greatly resemble the old Dictator. I’m afraid he’s Pompey’s man, though.”

“That’s unfortunate. I hope I don’t fall afoul of him, since I intend to be his brother-in-law.”

“Matrimony is often a perilous enterprise,” I told him.

Hermes and I left, stepping over the writhing or inert bodies of thugs who had been practicing all too seriously. My slave was inordinately excited by the whole experience.

“Why don’t you sell me to him, master?” he said. “I think I’d enjoy belonging to Milo.”

“If he ever offends me mortally, I’ll give you to him as a gift,” I assured the boy.

I arrived at the house of Lucullus a little late for the full lunch ceremony, but a place was made for me at the table as the last course arrived, and that was far more than I could possibly eat even with the aid of the gods. I moderated my wine intake since I was to be doing some important negotiating later on.

Because I was not an invited guest, I did not feel that I could rightfully impose myself on Lucullus, but I lagged behind while the others took their leave, which all did very shortly after the meal. Luncheon was still so new that a routine for socializing afterward had not yet been developed. Before long, I was sitting with Lucullus in his garden while his slaves dug in the huge planting-beds, readying them for the spring.

“Does this involve the investigation Celer is being so sly about?” Lucullus asked. “If so, I fear I would be of little help. My wife is a Claudian first, like the rest of her family. She would never tell me anything that might get her dear little brother into trouble.”

A server poured us wine from a golden pitcher. I sipped at it. It was Caecuban, of a vintage most men would have saved for the celebration of a victory, and only faintly cut with rose-scented water.

“No; for a change I come on an amatory mission.”

His eyebrows went up. “On your own behalf?”

“On behalf of a friend. Titus Annius Milo.”

Lucullus sat back and stroked his chin. “Milo. A rising man, sure to be a power in Rome in the future, if he doesn’t find an early grave first.”

“That grave awaits us all,” I said.

“How true. And just who might be the object of that formidable man’s affections?”

“Your ward, Fausta. He met her here a few days ago and was immediately felled by Cupid.” I sipped again at the excellent wine. This was a new activity for me.