The Succession

by Robert Fabbri

  And over the chaos came the sound that Magnus was waiting to hear: the harsh, rhythmical clattering of many hobnailed boots double-timing over stone. With a boost of effort that came from he knew not where, Magnus prised the fingers from his throat, his face so strained his glass eye popped out, rolling away to come to a stop next to a leather scroll case protruding from the dog carcass. Lashing at Sempronius’ face with the heel of his palm, crunching the cartilage of his nose, which instantly spurted with blood, Magnus leapt after his eye and grabbed the case as the stamp of hobnails broke its staccato rhythm and the century charged into the affray. With the flats of their swords and the bosses of their shields they broke up the various combats, cracking heads and fracturing forearms and ribs as their centurion and optio shouted at the combatants to desist or risk a pierced death as their men grew gradually more blood lustful and out of control.

  Gradually the soldiers prevailed and they hauled the conscious to their feet and kicked the unconscious and the few dead to ensure that there was no play-acting.

  ‘I’ll take that, Magnus.’ The voice was nasal and slurred.

  Magnus turned to see Sempronius, one hand clutching a blood-streaming nose, the other held out towards him. ‘And who’s going to make me give it to you?’

  ‘You’ll be surprised just how powerful my friends are.’

  Magnus looked as unconcerned as was possible for a man with an empty eye socket. ‘Mine aren’t without influence either.’

  ‘But I doubt they’ll want to tangle with me,’ Burrus said, coming up behind Magnus. ‘There’re not many who feel up to testing their strength against the Praetorian Guard. I think it would be best if you gave that to me.’

  Sempronius looked outraged. ‘But you haven’t—’

  ‘Paid you yet?’ Burrus crooned, finishing the sentence. He reached around Magnus and grasped the case. It was with total amusement at the look on Sempronius’ battered face that Magnus released it.

  ‘You promised me five thousand denarii!’

  ‘I did, didn’t I? But only if you delivered the charts into my hand.’ Burrus opened the lid and tipped the case so that a third of the roll of scrolls slid into his palm. ‘I don’t really see why I should pay you now, Sempronius; after all, I found these on a ruffian in the street.’ Burrus turned. ‘Wouldn’t you say that was a fair interpretation of events, Seneca?’

  Seneca, balding and grey with an ample chin and rotund figure, took the question very seriously. ‘I would say that was… what’s the best word for it? A precise, yes, precise is precisely the right word, Burrus. I would say it was a precise interpretation of events and one that would stand up in a court – not that it would ever come to that for the dead can’t bring cases before the court.’ He looked at Sempronius and smiled with ice in his eyes. ‘I think that even someone of your station would know that, Sempronius.’

  Sempronius, still clutching his nose, seethed with impotent rage, his hateful gaze flicking from Seneca to Burrus to Magnus and then back again.

  ‘I knew you’d understand,’ Seneca purred as an old man in a senatorial toga hobbled through the crowd, leaning on a staff and on Barbatus, with a very nervous-looking Senator Pollo in attendance.

  ‘Of course you know that he was cheating you,’ Lucius Volusius Saturninus, the Urban prefect, said, his voice reedy and weak as of a man in his eighties. ‘The one you prize the most isn’t in there.’

  Burrus spun around. ‘What do you mean, Saturninus?’

  ‘I mean that I had Sempronius’ house searched this morning and this was found. Show him, Pollo.’

  Sweating profusely, more from his exposed position in a battle of wills between the powerful than the weather, Senator Pollo pulled a scroll from the fold of his toga.

  ‘I think you both know what we’re talking about,’ Saturninus wheezed. ‘Best not to refer to it out loud.’

  Burrus and Seneca exchanged a worried look.

  ‘The price is straightforward,’ Saturninus assured them.

  Burrus looked at the scroll case in his hand. ‘All of them?’

  ‘All of them.’

  ‘I feel we have no choice in the matter,’ Seneca said. ‘We’re… how should I put it? We’re being coerced, yes, I think that does it admirably; coerced is what we are.’

  Saturninus took the single scroll from Senator Pollo. ‘I wouldn’t put it so strongly, Seneca; after all, we’re all getting something we want. Centurion!’

  The Urban Cohort centurion stepped forward at his direct superior’s bidding.

  Saturninus gave him the scroll. ‘Centurion, take that case from the Praetorian prefect and then pass it to me. If I’m satisfied with the contents, give him the scroll.’

  ‘And what if I’m not satisfied with the scroll?’ Burrus demanded.

  Saturninus gave a weary smile. ‘Oh, you will be, prefect, believe me; and you’ll be very pleased that you had something to buy it with. With that little thing I could have brought you and all your faction down; all of it, do you understand? The end to all your ambitions concerning the succession.’

  Burrus’ and Seneca’s faces registered the truth of those words as the centurion passed the case to Saturninus, who inspected the contents. Satisfied, he nodded to the centurion and handed the case and the charts to Senator Pollo.

  Snatching the chart, Burrus quickly unrolled it and breathed a sigh of relief.

  ‘Our business here is done, I believe, prefect,’ Saturninus stated. ‘Centurion, take your men back to their barracks; it’s all over and there’s no need to detain anyone. Just a little misunderstanding, nothing more than that.’

  The centurion saluted and went about his duty with barked commands and swipes of his vine-stick, leaving the former combatants to get to their feet and dust themselves off.

  ‘You haven’t heard the last of this, prefect,’ Burrus said, handing the scroll to Seneca.

  ‘I think I have, prefect; after all, who would believe that such a thing existed and that I had seen it?’

  Burrus went to contradict the statement and, realising that Saturninus had a valid point, turned on his heel and pushed his way through the cordon of Urban Cohort soldiery.

  Seneca shrugged, gesturing helplessly. ‘We’re in one another’s confidence, Saturninus. I think that is the best way to express the situation. Yes, that will do nicely.’

  ‘It will indeed, Seneca. And we both know what happens if one side should break that confidence?’ Saturninus did not bother waiting for a response and turned to go.

  ‘Prefect?’ Sempronius said, catching up with him as Senator Pollo helped him away. ‘I have lost a great deal of money out of this deal.’

  With a force that belied his age and surprised Magnus, Saturninus rounded on Sempronius. ‘You’re lucky that you’re not being taken to a cell in the Circus Maximus to wait for the next batch of hungry lions. Do you know what trouble you’ve put me to? Do you?’

  Sempronius mouthed a reply but it did not vocalise.

  ‘If it wasn’t for certain arrangements that we have had in the past and are still current, that’s exactly where you would be going now; so get out of my sight before I change my mind.’

  ‘I’d take his advice if I were you,’ Magnus said in a helpful and friendly manner.

  Sempronius looked at him with loathing. ‘Fuck off, Magnus.’

  ‘That’s exactly what I plan on doing, Sempronius. By the way, you owe me for covering up your part in Tuscus’ murder.’

  Sempronius looked confused. ‘Why would you want to do that?’

  ‘Because it suited me to conclude that someone else had done it in order to secure my position. And besides, I thought I had already got you with the chart I planted in your desk when I brought Pansa in. Never mind, next time.’

  Sempronius’ jaw slacked in disbelief. ‘It was you that brought Pansa in!’

  ‘Yes, it was. And a very nice place you’ve got too.’ Leaving Sempronius spitting invective, Magnus signalled to Tigran and the rest of his
brothers to come with him and turned to follow the Urban prefect and Senator Pollo across the Forum Boarium.

  ‘I felt myself to be a little too conspicuous there, I don’t mind telling you, Magnus,’ Senator Pollo said as Magnus and Tigran fell into step next to him.

  Magnus looked down at the case. ‘Not as conspicuous as you would have been had those got into the wrong hands, as they very nearly did.’

  The senator shuddered at the thought. ‘I can rely on your discretion, of course, Magnus.’

  ‘That goes without saying.’

  ‘What about the cause of all this?’ Saturninus asked. ‘The woman?’

  ‘Tacita?’

  ‘Yes,’ Senator Pollo said. ‘Can we rely on her discretion?’

  Magnus knew that he had a duty of honesty with his patron. ‘She started this for revenge and money; those are her two driving forces.’

  The senator nodded. ‘I see. Where is she?’

  ‘In the Quirinal Vigiles depot,’ Barbatus informed him.

  Saturninus winced. ‘That’s no good. Let her go, Barbatus. Then, Magnus, you know what to do.’

  Magnus knew only too well what was required. ‘Tigran will do it, won’t you, Tigran?’

  Tigran grinned; it was not a nice sight. ‘It will be my pleasure; she insulted me deeply.’

  ‘As to the outstanding issue with Tigran,’ Magnus asked, innocence in his tone, ‘I believe the aedile still thinks he’s guilty of murder.’

  Barbatus shot Magnus a glance. ‘Of course he is.’

  ‘But surely, if he’s about to do you all such a service by removing someone who may try to go to the Emperor telling all sorts of tales for money, then some accommodation could be reached?’

  Barbatus looked at the Urban prefect, who nodded his agreement.

  ‘Very well,’ Barbatus conceded, ‘I’m sure we can overlook it, this time.’

  Magnus glanced at Tigran, who grunted and shrugged a shoulder, and then turned back to Barbatus. ‘That’s most kind, aedile. There’s just one more thing: you promised me a favour should I get the charts back. Now, clearly, you have them and it was from my hand that the Urban prefect took them.’

  Barbatus was unable to deny the fact. ‘What do you want, Magnus?’

  ‘Oh, nothing much, sir. Just this: obviously you’ll keep their evidence that incriminates Tigran in Tuscus’ murder.’

  The aedile agreed. ‘Of course I will.’

  ‘The favour I would like is that, should something untoward happen to me before I move aside for Tigran, I would very much like you to find it again.’

  Barbatus gave a half-smile with cold eyes looking at the Easterner. ‘I’m sure I will, Magnus. And I’ll hand the evidence on to my successor next year.’

  ‘That’s very reassuring, aedile.’ Magnus hunched his shoulders, raising his hands, palms up, giving Tigran, whose feelings towards the deal were very apparent, his best ‘there’s nothing I can do about it’ face. ‘I’m sorry, brother, but it seems that if you want to succeed me as patronus then first you need to succeed in keeping me alive, if you take my meaning?’