‘We’ll leave the cook’s purchases till last, since they will be the heaviest,’ Portia decided, smiling at Lupus and Corvus. ‘No point in you being loaded down while I look for some cloth and scents.’
‘Thank you, mistress.’ They bowed their heads in gratitude.
‘Well, come on then,’ Portia chuckled. ‘No dawdling.’
They slowly made their way between the shop counters laden with rolls of cloth and Portia stopped every so often to examine any material that caught her eye. Eventually she paid for a length of shimmering emerald-green cloth and instructed Marcus to carry it for her.
Marcus shook his head. ‘It wouldn’t be wise, mistress.’
‘Oh?’ Her nose lifted indignantly. ‘And why is that?’
‘For two reasons. It would make me stand out, and it would also encumber me if I had to act swiftly. Festus was quite clear on the need to avoid attention and being ready to fight.’
‘Well, Festus isn’t here, is he? Besides, it’s all nonsense, Marcus. Who would be stupid enough to attack me in the heart of the Forum? And how could you not draw attention to yourself, the way you’re skulking along behind me!’
Before Marcus could protest any further she turned and made off towards the scent shops, leaving him with the roll of material. He hissed through his teeth in frustration. Then he turned to the two boys. Corvus instantly held up a hand.
‘No use looking at us, mate. We’ll have our hands full as it is.’
‘I’m serious.’ Marcus held out the cloth. ‘Take it. I have to protect her. ’
‘No way — she told you to carry it and we’re not going to risk a flogging for disobeying her orders.’ Corvus tugged the other boy’s arm and they hurried after Portia.
Marcus muttered a violent curse under his breath as he tucked the material under his arm and took another look round before he followed them.
Portia went from shop to shop along the row of scent traders, sniffing from the fine glassware containers that she sampled. At length, she made a selection and reached for her purse as the shopkeeper beckoned her inside to choose a fine jar and stopper to take a measure of the scent away with her.
‘Wait here,’ she instructed. ‘Once I’m done we’ll head to the spice shops.’
She disappeared through the narrow doorway and Marcus glanced after her. Beyond the door the shop opened into a deep room with another door opening on to the street outside the basilica. There, another stall was manned by a young assistant who tried to tempt passing customers. The shopkeeper ushered Portia to a counter holding a selection of ornate scent bottles.
‘By Jupiter,’ Lupus muttered. ‘I thought she’d never make up her mind.’
‘And did you see the price of it?’ asked Corvus with a shake of his head. ‘Ten denarii! Unbelievable. . Just to smell nice if anyone gets close to her at the dinner. ’
‘You might try some one day,’ Lupus sniffed. ‘You stink of fish.’
‘That’s because the bloody cook had me marinading stuff in garum first thing this morning. You try it and see if you come up smelling any better.’
Marcus moved away from their wrangling and looked up and down the row of shops, but there was no sign of the two men he’d seen earlier and he decided he must have been worrying about nothing. Just to make sure, he wandered a short distance to the end of another row of traders’ stalls before returning to his position outside the scent shop. His thoughts returned to Portia’s news from the week before. Having thought the matter over, Marcus saw how it offered him precisely the chance he needed to appeal to General Pompeius for help. But the presence of Decimus in Rome, and his closeness to Crassus, didn’t look good and Marcus’s mind clouded with doubt.
Marcus’s thoughts were interrupted by a cry from inside the shop. He thrust the roll of cloth on to the table of scent jars and raced for the entrance.
Corvus looked startled. ‘What’s going on? Marcus?’
Marcus ignored him and ran into the shop, club held tightly in his clenched fist. The shopkeeper was lying on the floor, blood pulsing from a wound on his head. His eyes flickered as his assistant knelt beside him and pressed his hand over the wound to try to stop the bleeding. Marcus took in the scene in an instant.
‘Where is she?’ he asked.
The assistant glanced up with a dazed expression but did not reply.
‘WHERE IS SHE?’ Marcus shouted.
The assistant flinched, then thrust a quavering finger towards the door on the other side of the shop. ‘They took her.’
A cold, sick feeling filled Marcus’s guts. He heard footsteps as Corvus and Lupus entered the shop. Marcus ran towards the other door, shouting back over his shoulder.
‘Follow me!’
10
His heart pounding with dread, Marcus burst into the street on the far side of the basilica, narrowly avoiding a chain gang of slaves carrying bundles of animal pelts. Lupus and Corvus scrambled after him. Even though the street was wide, it was filled with people and Marcus couldn’t see far in either direction. He clambered on to a table, knocking a large jar off the edge to shatter on the flagstones below. At once the air was filled with a sweet, flowery fragrance.
‘Oi!’ a man at the counter of the neighbouring shop shouted. ‘What’s your game, lad? You’ll have to pay for that!’
Marcus ignored him as he searched the street to his right desperately. The crowds stretched away in the shadow of the tall wall of the basilica, but there was no sign of anything out of place. He turned the other way as some of the passers-by stopped to stare. Marcus strained his eyes and then saw them the two men he had spotted earlier, fifty paces away, and thrusting through the crowd while Portia’s fists pounded the broad back of the man holding her. Several people who had been knocked aside shouted angrily in their wake.
Marcus cupped a hand to his mouth and thrust the shaft of his club after the men. ‘Stop them!’
His voice was shrill with alarm and carried clearly down the street. One of the men glanced back, pulling at his companion’s arm, and they turned into a side alley, out of sight. Marcus jumped from the table and chased after them, weaving through the throng as Corvus and Lupus did their best to keep up. As he ran, Marcus’s mind was already racing ahead of him. He couldn’t lose Portia. How could he live with himself if he let something happen to her? Not only that, but Caesar would exact a terrible price from the person entrusted with guarding his niece. No excuse would be accepted. He forced himself on as fast as his feet would carry him.
Faces in the crowd passed in a whirl and he ignored the cries of surprise and angry protest as he and the other boys dashed along the street. A short distance ahead, Marcus saw the entrance of the alley and pointed it out to the others.
‘In there!’
He turned round the corner, half expecting to see the two men waiting for him, knives drawn. Instead, he met the sight of a gloomy passage winding up a gentle slope between closely packed tenement blocks. The ground was covered with packed-down refuse and at irregular intervals small heaps of rubbish were piled against the walls. The air was thick with the stink of sewage and an unpleasant trickle of dark liquid ran down the centre of the alley. There was a handful of people — a young mother leading a toddler by the hand, a struggling infant strapped to her chest and, further on, an old crone sitting on the steps beside the entrance to a tenement block, unpicking the stitching from a heap of old clothes.
Up ahead, two dark shapes, one burdened by Portia, were hurrying away. Marcus steeled himself to close on them as quickly as he could. Behind him, he heard the slap of the other boys’ feet and the gasp of their breath as they struggled to keep up.