‘Marcus!’
They turned to look across the yard and saw Flaccus beckoning. ‘The master wants you in his study at once.’
Lupus and Marcus exchanged a look. Then Marcus lowered his cup and eased himself on to his feet. ‘I’ll see you later.’
Caesar and Festus were in the company of another man when they reached the study. A tall, slim figure in a heavily patterned tunic, he wore rings on every finger and a thick gold chain around his neck, from which hung a large emerald in a gold setting. His hair was light brown and painstakingly arranged in little curls that ran along his hairline. His face was fine-featured, almost feminine, and two sharp eyes regarded Marcus closely as he entered the room.
‘This is the boy?’ he asked.
‘It is,’ Caesar replied. ‘And you will not find a more promising trainee in the whole of Italia, let alone Rome, my dear Clodius.’
The other man leaned forward in his chair and inspected Marcus closely. ‘Hmmm. I’m not so sure. He looks a bit scrawny. Come closer, boy.’
Marcus did as he was told and stopped just beyond arm’s reach of Clodius, recalling the earlier conversation between Caesar and Pompeius about the dubious character of the man. Clodius’s brow creased in irritation.
‘Closer.’
Marcus moved nearer, though the sweetness of the man’s scent was so overpowering it made him feel slightly sick.
Clodius turned to Caesar. ‘May I?’
Caesar smiled indulgently. ‘Be my guest.’
Clodius reached out and squeezed Marcus’s shoulder hard. Marcus flinched slightly, but stood still, staring stonily into the man’s eyes.
‘Oh, you don’t like that, do you? You have some spirit then.’ Clodius laughed, and then let his hand slip down to Marcus’s bicep where he squeezed again, gently. ‘He has good muscle tone, Caesar. Sinewy and hard. You may be right. Are you training him with a net and trident as a retiarius perhaps?’
‘That was my first thought. But with the right diet and exercise he could be bulky enough to train as a heavy fighter.’ Caesar took a deep breath. ‘But enough of that. We’re not here to talk about Marcus’s future. We’ve got other fish to fry. As I was telling you, Marcus was the boy who saved my niece’s life, twice now.’
‘I can’t deny that I’m surprised,’ Clodius remarked. ‘I had expected to see someone a bit. . older.’
‘He’s old enough for our purposes,’ Caesar replied. Then he stood up and gestured towards the door. ‘Come, let’s see what you make of our, er, find. Festus, lead the way.’
‘Yes, master.’ Festus bowed his head and indicated that Marcus should follow him as he turned towards the door. They headed into the corridor and crossed the garden to the slave quarters. Beyond the kitchen, a narrow flight of stairs led down into a cellar where perishable foods were kept. There were two large chambers with a light well in each that pierced the gloom just enough for the contents of the shelves to be clearly seen. As they turned into the narrow archway connecting the two rooms, an appalling smell met them. Marcus wrinkled his nose in disgust.
‘Good grief, Caesar,’ Clodius exclaimed. ‘Your meat store is off.’
Caesar smiled grimly as he led the small party through a narrow arch into the second chamber. ‘There’s the meat.’
A large table stood against the far wall, and upon it lay the body of one of the men who had attacked Portia. The man’s skin was pale and mottled with livid blue patches. His jaw hung slackly and his eyes were wide open as they stared up at the bare bricks of the low vaulted ceiling. Close up, the cloying sweet smell was unbearable and Marcus had to clench his nostrils tightly to keep out the stench. Beside him, Festus also seemed to be struggling to control his stomach. Clodius had pulled up the hem of his cloak and pressed it over his mouth and nose. Only Caesar seemed unaffected as he stared coldly at the body for a moment. He turned to Clodius.
‘Well? Do you recognize him?’
Clodius leaned over the body and examined the face. ‘No. Can’t say I do. The fellow has a distastefully common look to him. Just another street thug, it would appear. .’ He rolled up the tunic sleeve on the corpse, working it on to the shoulder. ‘But see here.’
Marcus and the others leaned forward for a closer look. There was tattoo on the dead man’s shoulder. Two crossed daggers.
Clodius straightened up, nodding in recognition. ‘That’s the mark of the Blades, one of the gangs from the Aventine district. Nasty bunch. Normally, they run protection rackets and, for the right fee, will bump off anyone in Rome, right up to the rank of senator. Of course, these days they are run by Milo, who has been hired by Bibulus, Cato and Cicero to use against your followers, though you could never prove it. Bibulus might be a fool, but he’s not so stupid as to leave any evidence of connections to Rome’s most notorious gangs in his wake. And if he’s prepared to deal with the Blades, then you and your friends are in danger, Caesar.’ He turned to Marcus with a curious look. ‘If you took on this man, and one of his fellow gang members, then you are brave indeed, young Marcus. And also very foolish. These men would not have hesitated to kill you. In fact, I’m sure they would have enjoyed doing so, and made it last as long as possible.’ He licked his lips at the thought.
Marcus fought the urge to shudder before he replied, ‘I did not doubt that at the time, master. But Mistress Portia was in danger. What else could I do?’
‘If it had been me, I would have gone for help.’
‘And my niece would be dead,’ Caesar cut in coldly. ‘None of us is safe now. Our enemies are more determined, and dangerous, than I thought.’
Clodius pursed his lips and nodded. ‘You’re right. So what are you going to do about it, Caesar? Strikes me that you could use some help.’
Marcus saw Caesar’s eyes narrow as he stared directly at Clodius.
‘I know. That’s why we sent for you.’
Clodius smiled faintly. ‘And what would you ask of me?’
‘If our enemies are using street gangs to intimidate and harm our supporters, then we must meet violence with violence. We know you have connections with some of the gangs and we want you to organize support for our side.’
Clodius considered this a moment before he replied. ‘I can do it. But there will be a price. These gangs are quite deadly, Caesar. They will go to any lengths to control their districts. Anyone who stands in their way is killed, often butchered in broad daylight to make sure everyone gets the message. If I am to take them on, then I’ll need to hire gangs of my own. And they won’t come cheap.’ His eyes glinted.
Caesar shrugged. ‘Whatever the price is, Crassus can afford the services of the scum in these street gangs of yours.’
‘I’m sure he can afford to pay them. But I’m talking about my price, Caesar.’
‘Your price? How much do you want?’
‘Nothing you can’t afford. I don’t want your gold or silver.’
‘Then what do you want?’ Caesar asked impatiently.
There was a pause.
‘I rather fancy the notion of becoming a tribune.’
Marcus remembered what Lupus had told him about the post of tribune, a position for those who were supposed to stand up for the rights of the common people.
Caesar’s eyes widened in surprise. He shook his head. ‘Impossible! That would give you power over the mob. Besides, you are a senator and the post of tribune is only open to people of common rank.’
‘I’ve thought of that. There is a way round that obstacle. I can be adopted by a commoner, a plebian, and you have the power to authorize my adoption. Once that’s done I am free to stand for the office of tribune. And then, when I am a tribune, I can make sure the mob stays on your side.’
While Caesar considered the proposal, Festus and Marcus stood in silence. Marcus couldn’t help wondering how these two powerful men could make their devious plans in front of their slaves, as if they were not present — as if they were just part of the furniture.