Cassandros’ face betrayed the fact that Magnus had hit the mark.
Magnus put his hand on Cassandros’ arm and steered him towards the door. ‘Well, brother, that’s what I thought and that’s why I couldn’t make you my second for your own safety. Had I done so, then for Tigran to get to be patronus of the South Quirinal he would not only have to kill me, but you too.’
Cassandros looked at Magnus in alarm. ‘He’s going to kill you?’
Magnus nodded as they paused outside by the shrine of the crossroads lares, whose upkeep was the brotherhood’s official reason for existence; a flame constantly burned on the altar, tended by a brother whom Magnus now gestured to move away. ‘Of course he is. Now that Servius is dead he knew that I would have no choice but to make him my counsellor as it was obvious from his ambition that he would kill anyone else I nominated. He’s just one step away from his goal. I’ve just told him that I’ll move aside soon and allow a smooth succession, but he’s too greedy to wait for that.’
‘Then kill him first.’
‘And lose a ruthless patronus who will keep the South Quirinal sharp and hungry for more territory? No, my friend, he’s going to have the job but I just want him to serve some time as my second as he’ll be better for it.’
‘What are you going to do, Magnus?’
‘Do? Why, stay alive, of course, brother.’
Shouts and whistles cut in over the cheering for Tigran. Magnus pushed his way to the street to see a contubernium of eight Vigiles running down along the Vicus Longus; his curiosity was aroused as they did not seem to be chasing anyone, nor were they pushing one of their hand-pumps as if they were racing to a fire.
He signalled to Cassandros and Sextus to follow him and strode down the hill, at a leisurely pace, after Rome’s firefighters and city watch. It was into Red Horse Street, just before the border with the West Viminal, that the Vigiles had turned; they had stopped outside a shop that Magnus knew well and his concern began to grow. ‘He’s gone and disobeyed me, the Eastern cunt!’ He ran forward and barged his way through the crowd standing around the shop entrance. ‘What’s going on here?’
The Vigiles optio turned to him. ‘Oh, it’s you, Magnus. We’ve got a body and the aedile seems to be taking it very seriously for some reason.’
‘Where is she, Cordus?’
‘She? What do you mean she?’
‘Tacita. This is Tuscus’ shop, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, but we’ve got Tacita at our depot; she reported the murder just now. She said it happened sometime last night.’ Cordus pointed to a body slumped on the floor, lying on its back, half hidden behind the counter. The legs were definitely male. ‘It’s Tuscus.’
Magnus looked over the counter and into the dead eyes of Tuscus. Blood was everywhere: puddled and sticky on the floor, soaked into his tunic and splattered over his face. His head lay at an unnatural angle and his throat gaped where it had been slit, good and deep from ear to ear.
‘Did Tacita do this?’
Cordus shrugged. ‘As I said, she reported it and swears that she didn’t, although that could just be a bluff; but the whole neighbourhood heard them fighting last night and then he turns up dead.’
Magnus walked around to the other side of the counter and squatted down by the body. There were no other wounds that he could see.
‘Don’t touch it,’ Cordus cautioned. ‘The aedile’s orders. When he questioned Tacita he got very agitated and doesn’t want the body moved until he’s had a look himself. Although I can’t see why. What’s Tuscus to him?’
‘Perhaps he liked his candles.’
Cordus took the suggestion seriously. ‘Do you think so?’
‘Never mind.’ Magnus looked around: the door of the cupboard beneath the counter caught his eye as it was ajar, the lock evidently forced. He pulled it open and peered inside; it was empty.
‘What have you found?’ Cordus asked, coming to stand at the counter with Cassandros and Sextus.
‘Whatever was kept in here has been removed.’
‘Tacita could have done that to put us off the scent.’
‘She could well have.’ But Magnus’ attention was drawn to a small hole, the width of a finger, in the floor of the cupboard. He probed it and pulled. A piece of wood detached to reveal a hiding place; inside was a scroll. He unrolled it and perused the circles within circles, divided up into twelve equal sections filled with symbols that he could not decipher, even if he had been able to read and write. But he did not need to read to recognise it for what it was. ‘So Tuscus still practised on the side, did he?’ he muttered to himself.
‘What have you got there?’ Cordus asked, leaning over the counter to get a better view.
Magnus rolled up the chart. ‘Nothing to worry yourself about; just a list of his prices. I’m going to take a look to make sure that he was paying us our due.’
Cordus frowned and glanced about. ‘So what do you think, Magnus – did Tacita do it?’
Magnus smiled to himself; he knew exactly what he thought. ‘I don’t know. I’ll ask around, pull in a few favours.’
‘That would be great, Magnus.’
Magnus took a satchel that hung on the back of a chair and slipped the chart into it. ‘We can’t have this sort of thing happening in our area, can we, Cordus? It looks bad for all of us.’ He turned to Cassandros and Sextus. ‘Come on, lads, we need to show this to someone who can read.’
‘Ahh, Magnus!’ Senator Gaius Vespasius Pollo boomed as he came down the steps of the Senate House to where Magnus, Cassandros and Sextus waited amongst the crowd in the Forum Romanum. ‘That was quick.’
Magnus was confused. ‘Quick, senator?’
Senator Pollo waddled forward, stomach, breasts and jowls all wobbling furiously to a variety of rhythms. ‘Yes, I’ve just sent a message up to the tavern to fetch you. I’ve been speaking to our aedile on the Quirinal who consulted me as the most senior resident on the hill. We’ve got a slight problem – well, more than a slight problem, really – that your brotherhood may be able to help us with. Indeed, it would be in your interest to do so.’
‘I’m sure that we can be of service, senator. I in turn am here to ask you a favour.’
Senator Pollo clapped a pudgy arm around Magnus’ shoulders and steered him towards a clutch of magistrates, one extremely ancient, talking, with obvious urgency, in hushed tones. ‘I’m sure we can find a course of action that is for mutual benefit. But first listen to what the aedile has to say, if I can get him away from the Urban prefect.’
‘And this is what many of us find most disconcerting,’ Publius Vestinus Barbatus asserted after giving Magnus a brief outline of the facts, as they strolled through the Forum crowds with Cassandros and Sextus clearing a path for them, ‘that this Tacita claims this was a robbery to get hold of Tuscus’ duplicate charts and that she saw the two robbers and could identify them, provided we keep her safe. However, she and Tuscus had a major fight last night, and not for the first time by any means, so the local Vigiles tell me. Now, if she’s right and it was a robbery, then who’s got all the horoscopes and what do they plan to do with them? And if she’s lying and she did kill her husband and then took the horoscopes to make it look as if it were a robbery, then what has she done with them?’
‘And more to the point,’ Senator Pollo put in, breathing deeply despite the leisurely pace, ‘what does she intend to do with them now?’
Barbatus looked downcast. In his mid-thirties, pallid and prematurely balding with a downturned mouth and bags under his eyes, this was not difficult. ‘Exactly. There are a lot of people who would rather it didn’t come out that they have consulted an astrologer. I’ve heard that Sextus Afranius Burrus, the new Praetorian prefect, has been making discreet enquiries as to the whereabouts of astrologers; no doubt with another purge in mind.’
Magnus scratched the back of his head. ‘I’ve never understood what’s considered so bad about astrology.’
Senator Pollo pushed a
black-dyed ringlet of hair away from a kohled eye. Sweat began to line his brow. ‘It’s the emperors; they don’t like the idea that someone might enquire about their deaths. That’s why Tiberius expelled them all from Italia, apart from Thrassylus, his personal one, of course.’
‘Of course. I met him on Capraea with Vespasian when Tiberius was about to throw me off a cliff for his own amusement.’
‘Yes, he used to love doing that sort of thing to his guests. Anyway, astrologers have started to come back to Italia; however, if they’re caught practising in Rome, they’re prosecuted and face banishment. But if they admit it, as did Tuscus four years ago, then they’re allowed to stay provided they swear an oath never to practise within Rome again.’
‘And he went back on that oath and you all carried on consulting him anyway?’
Senator Pollo looked sheepish and glanced around to make sure no one was walking close enough to them to overhear the conversation. ‘Well, he was extremely good and it’s always very tempting to take a look into the future. He told me that I would die in my own house at a great age. I find that very comforting considering the arbitrary nature of justice these days. It strengthens my opinion that having no opinions is the best way to survive in politics. But, for him to make secret copies of all our charts was an outrageous breach of confidence and very dangerous; and now that we know of their existence but not their whereabouts, it is, well, it’s very concerning.’
‘I wouldn’t worry, senator.’
‘Why not?’
Magnus grinned as they passed the Cloelius Brothers’ banking business in the Basilica Aemilia, diverting around the large queue outside it. ‘Well, no harm is going to come to you because of it, as you’re going to die at home a long time in the future. Tuscus told you so himself.’
Senator Pollo was not reassured. ‘But what if he were wrong? What if these charts find their way to the Emperor? I don’t know how many there are.’
Barbatus looked equally as concerned. ‘Tacita couldn’t say exactly how many but she reckons over a hundred in the four years.’
Magnus was shocked. ‘A hundred? Just how much does he charge?’
Senator Pollo and Barbatus shared a look as a couple of stray dogs ran past, chased through the crowds by a group of public slaves with nets.
‘Two hundred denarii a consultation,’ Barbatus admitted.
‘Two hundred? That’s outrageous! That’s twenty thousand denarii he’s hidden from the brotherhood; we’ve missed out on two thousand. The bastard, I’m going to … Ah, no need, someone already has.’ Magnus paused to compose himself. ‘So what do you want me to do?’
Barbatus cleared his throat. ‘We could try to extract the information out of Tacita, but if she genuinely doesn’t know who has the charts then we gain nothing. Neither can we risk eliminating her just in case she has the horoscopes and has made arrangements for them in event of her sudden demise.’
‘I see the problem.’ Magnus walked in silence for a few moments, assessing the situation. ‘And then at the same time if she really didn’t murder Tuscus and take the charts, then who did kill him and did they take the charts and can Tacita really identify them? Or did Tacita take the charts after she found the body, knowing their value with an eye to making a fortune later on?’
‘Exactly. So the only way we can narrow it down is to kick her out of the depot and see if someone tries to kill her; if they do then she’s telling the truth and we need to catch the murderer in the act and that’s the priority.’
‘Not keeping Tacita alive?’
Barbatus waved the thought away. ‘No, and actually it would be more convenient if we didn’t. I want your lads to watch her once we release her and, if there isn’t an attempt on her life, see where she goes and who she talks to.’
‘That’s no problem. And the other issue?’
‘Ask around your area to see if anyone had any bad blood with Tuscus.’
‘And see if anyone local knew that he was still drawing up horoscopes or whether it was just people of your classes: senators and equites?’ Magnus suggested as they approached the Temple of Vesta. A veiled priestess was being helped into a litter at the foot of the steps.
Senator Pollo turned towards Barbatus. ‘Now that is a very good angle that we had not thought of.’
Barbatus stopped, bringing the group to a halt. ‘Do this well, Magnus, and you won’t regret it.’
‘That seems a little vague to me, aedile.’
‘What do you want? Money?’
‘No; it’ll be a favour.’
‘What?’
‘I’ll think of something when the time comes.’
‘That seems a little vague to me, Magnus.’
‘I guarantee that you won’t lose anything and no one will get hurt.’
Barbatus looked at Magnus long and hard. ‘Very well, seeing as Senator Pollo vouches for you and you seem to keep the crime rate down in your area; this is the first murder of note for a while. Have your lads outside the Quirinal Vigiles depot in half an hour.’ He turned to Senator Pollo. ‘Good day, senator.’
Magnus gestured to Cassandros. ‘Go with him, get a couple of brothers and keep an eye on Tacita when he releases her. My guess is she’s lying and she’ll head straight home to retrieve the charts from wherever she’s hidden them. I’ll see you there as soon as I can.’
‘Right you are, Magnus.’
Magnus watched Barbatus and Cassandros walk away before turning back to Senator Pollo and pulling the chart out of his satchel. ‘What do you make of this?’
Senator Pollo took the proffered scroll and unrolled it. His face paled. ‘Well, it’s a horoscope, obviously. Where did you get it from?’
‘Tuscus’ house.’
Pollo could not conceal his surprise. ‘You’ve been in there? You never said.’
‘You never asked.’
‘But you might have mentioned that fact to Barbatus.’
‘Why? And tell him that I found a scroll?’ Magnus winked; it did not work too well with just the one good eye. ‘No need to share information until I know just how valuable it is.’
‘I thought that all Tuscus’ scrolls had been taken.’
‘They had, except this one. It was in a hidden compartment underneath where he must have kept the rest.’
Senator Pollo looked in alarm at the document. ‘Oh dear, oh dear me! I don’t like the sound of that at all.’
‘Can you read it?’
‘I’m glad to say that I can’t; far too dangerous. I used to let Tuscus read them for me.’
‘I think we should find out whose chart this is, because it may well be what the robbery was really all about. Who do you think will be the best judge of that?’
‘I don’t know of any other astrologers, so I suppose we could try Caenis – she used to consult Tuscus as well. I’ll meet you there in an hour, after I’ve eaten.’
‘Fair enough, senator; but make it a couple of hours as I’ve just thought of a little business I need to do while I’m on this side of the city.’
‘Where’re we going, Magnus?’ Sextus asked for the fourth or fifth time as yet more dogs raced past with public slaves in full pursuit, nets waving above their heads.
As on the previous occasions, Magnus kept his counsel. He led Sextus through the Gate of Fontus, following the Flaminian Way onto the Campus Martius. It was at the market in the Saepta Julia, on the left-hand side of the street, that Magnus halted and looked around its long colonnades. Conceived by Julius Caesar and completed by Marcus Vipsanius Agrippa, eighteen years after the dictator’s assassination, it had been originally used for voting and so had become redundant with the advent of the Empire and had been converted into a market as well as being used for occasional gladiatorial fights.
‘Who are you looking for, Magnus?’ Sextus asked as he cast his eyes about the bustling market stalls.
‘It’s not who but what, brother,’ Magnus said. He began to make his way north, along the considerable length
of the building, past stalls piled high with tunics, sandals, hats, as well as foodstuffs, spices, wine, garum, live animals in cages and much else; most things could be had here and most races from all over the Empire and beyond were represented. ‘We’re looking for a stall selling Eastern stuff.’
Sextus’ countenance was vacant, the face of a man who had given up trying to make sense of it all and had resigned himself to following.
‘That should do us,’ Magnus mused as he headed towards a stall-holder whose appearance was far from Western.
‘I give you best price, noble sir,’ the stall-holder, a wizened little man with brown skin and eyes to match, promised as Magnus began to peruse his wares. ‘Very good, all genuine,’ he assured him, tugging at his pointed and curled beard.
Magnus picked up a curved-blade dagger with an ivory handle topped with an engraved silver pommel; it was sheathed in a casing of bronze inlaid with silver of the same pattern as the pommel. ‘Where does this come from?’
‘A very fine choice, noble sir; I see you are a man of the finest taste.’
‘In that case your eyesight is piss-poor. I asked you where it came from not what you misguidedly think of my taste.’
The stall-holder put his right hand to his heart and bowed his apologies. ‘Indeed, noble sir. The blade is Damascene steel, the finest money can buy. Touch.’
Magnus slipped the blade from the sheath; it glinted in the sun with a hue that had more than a tint of blue. He ran his thumb across the blade. ‘Like a razor.’
‘Better than a razor, noble sir; a razor needs regular sharpening whereas this keeps its edge for a long, long time.’
‘So it’s from Damascus?’
‘No, noble sir; the blade was forged there but the dagger itself is from the highlands of Cappadocia.’
‘Is that quite close?’
‘Indeed, noble sir; it’s to the north. I compliment you on your knowledge of the region I come from. You must be a man of vast geographical knowledge.’
‘Again you are mightily mistaken. How much?’
‘Ohh. For such a thing I would be a fool to myself to let it go for less than twenty denarii.’
The Succession Page 2
