‘I’m sorry, Magnus,’ Gaius said, ‘but it was all that I could get at such short notice; the sailing season’s over and there’re very few making the crossing at this time of year.’
Magnus glanced back at the terrace of warehouses in which, just six nights previously, he had organised the break-in that had somehow led to his enforced exile; he cursed vociferously.
Gaius smiled in sympathy as he gave him a handful of scrolls. ‘Letters for Vespasian.’
‘I’m sure he’ll be very pleased to have them.’
‘Yes, well, I should be getting back; the Lady Antonia has invited me and the Urban Prefect for dinner. I’m sure that by the time you return this matter will be completely forgotten.’
Magnus took his bag from the groom. ‘I’m sure it will, senator.’
‘Just mention my name to the trierarchos; I’ve paid in advance so there’ll be no problems.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Will you be all right?’ Gaius asked, his eyes lingering on the groom’s legs as he climbed up next to the driver who was equally as lissom.
Magnus grinned and slung his bag over his shoulder. ‘I’ve got nothing to do for the next fourteen or fifteen days, sir.’ He patted a small lump concealed underneath his tunic. ‘So don’t worry about me, I’ll put that time to good use; I’ve got a whole realm to explore.’