Magnus and the Crossroads Brotherhood Page 2

  ‘The lads did well, Magnus,’ Servius observed.

  Magnus was impressed. ‘A couple of the Albanians’ boys? How did you get them, Marius?’

  ‘They was on their way back from a visit to the Praetorian Camp.’

  ‘But they have an escort of Vigiles.’

  ‘Yeah, but what do Vigiles do when they see a fire?’

  Magnus grinned. ‘First they negotiate a fee with the owner for putting it out; then they put it out.’

  ‘So I had some of the lads start a fire when we knew they was on their way, and these poor little fish got forgotten about whilst their minders tried to make a profit out of some poor bastard’s misfortune. So Sextus and me decided to escort them home. We just took a few wrong turns, that’s all, and happened to end up here.’

  ‘Well done, lads; such a pretty gift for the meeting later. Lock ‘em up safely until this afternoon and then get the altar ready for the morning sacrifice.’

  Marius visibly swelled with pride at the praise and he and Sextus, who was still chuckling fiercely, hauled the terrified boys to their feet and dragged them away.

  Magnus turned to Servius. ‘Have the invitations gone out?’

  ‘Yes, Brother, and all the replies are back in. All five of the surrounding Patroniae will be there an hour before sunset.’

  The sun was slipping behind the Aventine Hill throwing the raked-sand track of the Circus Maximus into shadow and bathing the stepped-stone seating and the colonnades that soared above in a warm evening glow.

  Magnus stood, in a freshly chalk-dusted white toga, at the end of the spina, the central barrier that ran down the middle of the track, facing the massive wooden gates that opened out on to the Forum Boarium. Servius, flanked by Marius and Sextus, waited behind him – they too sported gleaming togas, worn with pride by the free and freed citizens of Rome, however lowly, and worn today, as custom decreed, at a meeting of Crossroads Patroniae. Four other similar groups of a patronus, his counsellor and two bodyguards, stood around the edge of the track, two to Magnus’ left and two to the right, all keeping a good distance between each other as they awaited the final arrival. A light breeze, blowing along the length of the track of the eerily silent stadium, played with the folds of their togas.

  ‘Fucking typical of Sempronius to keep us waiting so that he can make a grand entrance,’ Magnus muttered over his shoulder to Servius.

  ‘A futile gesture, Brother; you will all be equal in the middle, no matter who arrived last.’

  Magnus grunted. A moment later a small door to the left of the main gates swung open to reveal the missing party led by a tall, blond-haired, young man. As he started to walk forward, Magnus and the other four Patroniae, followed by their entourages, did the same, coming to a halt in a circle exactly halfway between the spina and the gates, one of the few public places in the crowded city of Rome where a private conversation could be held without fear of eavesdroppers.

  ‘Greetings, Brothers,’ Magnus said, looking each of his counterparts in the eye. ‘I, Marcus Salvius Magnus, of the South Quirinal, called this meeting to deal with an issue that has arisen between us and the West Viminal Brotherhood.’

  Sempronius pursed his lips, pulled his broad shoulders back and glared at Magnus with cold, piercing, sapphire-blue eyes; the jaw muscles beneath the tight flesh of his cheeks twitched rapidly. His counsellor, equally young and equally handsome but dark-haired, leaned forward and whispered in his ear. Sempronius nodded, never once taking his eyes off Magnus.

  ‘I wish to settle this issue now,’ Magnus continued, ‘in front of witnesses, in order to avoid it escalating into a war. None of us here would wish to see that, as we all know from past experience just how damaging for business that can be.’

  Sempronius looked down at his left arm, held rigid across his stomach, supporting the folds of his toga, and stared at it for a few moments as if examining in fine detail the blond hairs on the back of his hand. His eyes suddenly flicked back up to Magnus. ‘We had nothing to do with the raid on the whore-boy house.’

  ‘I am not saying that you did; yet you know about it.’

  ‘I know of it,’ Sempronius corrected, ‘but not much about it. As I said: it was not done by us.’

  ‘No, but it was done by people from your area; Albanian clients of yours, who you would be honour-bound to avenge if we exacted the correct price for their actions.’

  ‘And what would you consider that price to be?’ Sempronius asked slowly, one side of his face curled up in a sneer.

  ‘Death. And not a quick one.’

  Sempronius smiled mirthlessly. ‘That would be grievous mistake.’

  ‘No, Brother, that would be justice, but I’m not naive enough to think that we both have the same sense of justice so, in order to maintain the peace between us, I offer this compromise.’ Magnus put two fingers in his mouth and whistled shrilly. A couple of his lads led two small figures out of one of the entrance tunnels in the rows of seating; knives were held across their throats.

  Sempronius regarded them for a few moments and then shrugged. ‘More whore-boys; what are they to me?’

  ‘They’re nothing to you, but they’re worth quite a bit to their Albanian owners – in the condition that they’re in at the moment, that is. Unfortunately their condition is worsening.’ Magnus raised a hand and brought it down quickly. A knife flashed golden in the evening sun; there was a screech and blood started to flow down the face of one of the boys. ‘That was just a small cut across the top of his forehead; nothing too disfiguring so it won’t reduce his value that much.’

  ‘What do you want?’

  ‘The two boys that your Albanian friends took from my client. If they are returned tonight, unharmed, then I will return those two with their fingers, tongues and cocks still in place and without sharp knives rammed up their arses. In other words, in perfect working order to carry on their trade. My client will also forgo his revenge for the two other boys that were cut up in the attack and that will be an end to the matter.’

  ‘And if they’re not returned tonight?’

  ‘It will be their tongues first, then we’ll have our vengeance on the Albanians and all our businesses will suffer as we fight out a blood-feud.’

  ‘That can’t be allowed to happen, Sempronius,’ the patronus to Magnus’ left stated. ‘My area, the North Viminal, is right between you two, we would suffer badly. Magnus’ deal is fair and you should accept it; if not and you take us to war, then we will be against you.’

  There were murmurs of agreement from the other three Crossroads leaders.

  Magnus kept his expression neutral but smiled inwardly as anger briefly flashed across Sempronius’ face; he would have to back down and lose face or find himself ranged against all of the brotherhoods on the Viminal and Quirinal.

  ‘Give him something to take away from the meeting as a sop,’ Servius whispered into Magnus’ ear. ‘Otherwise his pride may prevent him from accepting.’

  Magnus nodded. ‘To show our goodwill, Sempronius, I’ll give you one of the boys to take with you now, on account as it were.’

  Sempronius turned to his counsellor who inclined his head indicating his agreement. ‘Very well, Magnus, I’ll take the boy. The Albanians will return the two that they’ve got this evening and pick up the second one then. After that we’re square, yes?’

  ‘Square, Sempronius, and these brothers are our witnesses. Tell your Albanians to have the boys at my tavern by midnight, I’ll guarantee their safe conduct. After that they’re to keep out of my area if they value their lives.’

  It was dark by the time Magnus and his comrades got back to the Crossroads; the tavern was filling up and business was brisk.

  ‘Take him into the back, clean him up and keep watch over him, Cassandros,’ Magnus ordered one of the two brothers accompanying the visibly terrified remaining whore-boy. Dried blood matted his hair and covered his face.

  ‘A pleasure, Magnus,’ Cassandros replied with a grin.


  ‘And keep your filthy Greek hands off him, and any other part of your body for that matter: he’s not to be interfered with.’

  Looking disappointed, Cassandros led his charge off as Magnus and Servius took a corner table. A jug of wine and two cups were quickly set before them by a plump, grey-haired woman.

  ‘Business looks good this evening, Jovita,’ Magnus commented as she filled his cup.

  Jovita indicated with her head to the far corner where Aquilina was perched on the lap of a busy-handed freedman. ‘That new one who started today seems to be very popular; seems to be pulling a crowd. That’s number six so far.’

  ‘Busy girl,’ Servius commented to the old woman’s back.

  Magnus looked away from the girl, taking a slug of wine. ‘So, Brother, they seemed to believe us.’

  ‘Yes. So now we wait.’

  ‘Just a few days, let things settle.’

  ‘Have you worked out how we’re going to do it?’

  ‘Almost, there’re a couple of things that I ain’t sure of yet but I’ll go and see an old comrade from the Cohort discretely tomorrow; he’ll be able to help me.’

  Servius looked over Magnus’ shoulder. ‘Not another whore-boy?’

  Magnus turned to see a beautiful youth in his early teens swathed in a hooded cloak and sighed. ‘Does he want to see me, Arminius?’

  ‘Yes, master, can you come at once?’ the youth replied with a guttural Germanic accent, pulling back his hood to reveal luxuriant, flaxen hair.

  Magnus nodded and downed his wine. ‘Deal with the exchange if I’m not back when the Albanians arrive, Brother.’ He got to his feet and, indicating to Marius and Sextus that they should follow him, stepped out into the night after the young German.

  ‘Magnus, my friend, thank you for coming so quickly,’ Gaius Vespasius Pollo boomed, turning his huge bulk in his chair as Magnus and his companions were shown into the atrium by a very decrepit and ancient doorkeeper. ‘Arminius, take Magnus’ friends to the kitchen and find them some refreshment.’

  ‘Good evening, Senator,’ Magnus replied as his erstwhile guide led Marius and Sextus from the room.

  ‘Come and sit down, it’s a chill night.’ Gaius indicated with a full wine-cup to a chair across the table from him, in front of a blazing log fire, set in the hearth.

  ‘How can I be of assistance at this time of night?’ Magnus asked, sitting and adjusting his toga.

  Gaius handed him the cup. ‘Yes indeed, not really the business time of day, is it?’

  ‘It is for my sort of business.’ Magnus took a long draught of wine, ignoring Gaius’ disapproving frown at the rough treatment of such a fine vintage. ‘That’s a nice drop of wine that is, sir.’

  ‘I’m glad that you appreciate it.’ Gaius reluctantly topped up Magnus’ proffered cup. ‘What do you know about the Lady Antonia?’

  Magnus shifted uneasily in his chair and took another slug of wine. ‘She’s the Emperor’s sister-in-law, grandmother to the children of the late Germanicus and a very formidable woman. I believe that you are in her favour.’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘When I was a boxer I attended a few of her dinners as a part of the entertainment.’

  ‘Yes, I’m aware of that, although I’ve never understood why a citizen would choose to become a boxer.’

  ‘The money mainly but also the notoriety – look at all them young gentlemen who choose to fight a bout or two in the arena for wagers or just to get their names heard.’

  ‘Rather excessive, to my mind.’

  ‘Yeah, well, it helped me become the patronus of my Crossroads – you don’t do that by just asking nicely, if you take my meaning?’

  Gaius’ eyes twinkled with amusement in the glow of the fire. ‘No, you did that by murder for which you would have paid with your life – had it not been for me, if you take mine?’

  ‘I do, Senator, and I will always be in your debt.’

  ‘Enough to commit another murder?’

  Magnus shrugged and held out his cup for another refill. ‘If you require it.’

  ‘I don’t,’ Gaius emphasised, pouring more wine, ‘but Antonia does. This evening she asked – or rather ordered – me to organise one for her. She’s not a woman that one can say no to.’

  Magnus looked away and tried to keep his face neutral. ‘I can imagine.’

  Gaius chuckled, causing his tonged ringlets to sway gently over his ears; he took another sip of wine.

  ‘Who does she want done and why doesn’t she organise it herself?’ Magnus asked.

  ‘There’s absolutely no reason why she couldn’t organise it herself, so I’ve a hunch that the answer to the second question is that it’s a test to see how far she can trust me. If I succeed then I will have a place in her inner circle of friends.’

  ‘And be one step closer to the consulship.’

  ‘Quite. So you can see how important it is for me. As to the first question, that’s simple: a Praetorian Guardsman.’

  Magnus banged his cup down on to the table in alarm. ‘A Praetorian? Is she serious?’

  ‘Oh yes, quite literally deadly serious. And it’s not just any Praetorian either, it’s Nonus Celsus Blandinus.’

  ‘Blandinus? One of the tribunes?’

  ‘I’m afraid so.’

  ‘What’s she got against him?’

  ‘Nothing that I know of; it’s rather unfortunate for him really.’

  ‘Then why?’

  ‘Earlier this year, Antonia managed to persuade the Emperor to forbid the Praetorian Prefect Sejanus to marry her widowed daughter, Livilla. Now she wants to send a message to Sejanus that in making that request he went too far; and what better way to do that than to have one of his deputies killed?’

  ‘I can think of a lot of better ways. When does she want it done?’

  ‘Within the next couple of days. But she wants it done in a way that Sejanus will know that she’s behind it but be unable to accuse her of organising the murder.’

  ‘So we can’t just slit his throat in a dark alley.’

  ‘Absolutely not, this demands subtlety.’ Gaius leaned forward and put his hand on Magnus’ forearm. ‘I’m relying on you, my friend. If you do this well for me then Antonia will owe me a favour. My sister and brother-in-law are bringing their two boys to Rome. I may be able to use this to have her further their careers as well as my own.’

  Magnus raised an eyebrow at his patron. ‘And the higher you and your family rise the more you can do for me, eh, Senator?’

  ‘Naturally.’ Gaius smiled and patted Magnus’ arm. ‘We could all come out of this very well.’

  ‘You might, but I could come out of this very dead.’

  ‘If I thought that for one instant then I wouldn’t have entrusted you with one of the most important favours of my career,’ Gaius asserted, raising his cup to Magnus who smiled mirthlessly, raised his in reply and then downed it in one.

  The night was cold and clear; Magnus’ breath steamed as he walked, deep in thought, down the quiet streets of the Quirinal followed by Marius and Sextus. Turning left on to the wider and busier Alta Semita, jammed with the delivery wagons and carts that were only allowed into the city at night, the pavement became more crowded but people stepped aside in deference as they recognised the leader of the area’s Brotherhood. Those who were not local and failed to move were roughly shoved out of the way by Marius and Sextus.

  Magnus accepted a charcoal-grilled chicken leg from the owner of one of the many open-fronted shops, occupying the ground floor of the three- or four-storey insulae that lined both sides of the street. The walls to either side of the shop were covered in graffiti, both sexual and political.

  ‘Thank you, Gnaeus; one for each of the lads as well.’

  ‘My pleasure, Magnus,’ the sweaty store-holder replied, retrieving, with a pair of tongs, two more legs off the red-glowing grill.

  ‘Business been good?’ Magnus asked, biting into the dripping flesh.

  ‘We had
a very good Saturnalia, however it’s trailed off a bit in the last few days but I’m sure that it will pick up for the New Year. The trouble is that the price of fresh chicken has gone up considerably in the last couple of months and it’s eating into my profit.’

  ‘And you’ve raised your prices as much as you can?’ Magnus asked, realising why Gnaeus had offered him some of his wares.

  ‘As much as I dare without pricing myself out of the market.’

  ‘Where do you buy your chicken?’

  ‘Ah, that’s the big problem: the small market at the Campus Sceleratus, just inside the Porta Collina; the prices are usually better there than in the main Forum markets, and it’s in our area. However, I’m sure that the traders have started fixing their prices and the market aedile is colluding with them.’

  ‘I see.’ Magnus gnawed thoughtfully on his chicken leg. ‘That sounds less than legal to me. I’ll send a couple of the lads up there tomorrow. They can offer anyone I suspect of price-fixing the opportunity of joining the Vestals who were buried alive beneath that Campus for breaking their vows.’

  Gnaeus inclined his head in gratitude. ‘I’m sure that’s an offer they would be happy to refuse, thank you, patronus.’

  Magnus threw his cleaned bone into the gutter. ‘How’s that daughter of yours? Have you found her a husband yet?’

  Gnaeus raised his eyes to the heavens. ‘The gods preserve me from wilful women. I—’

  A series of loud shouts from a nearby shop interrupted the store-holder’s catalogue of domestic woes. A bearded young man came pelting along the pavement towards them, clutching two loaves of bread to his chest.

  ‘Marius? Sextus?’ Magnus said, stepping aside and nodding at the fast approaching thief.

  Seeing his path blocked by two burly men in togas, he tried to sidestep to his left, into the road. Sextus thrust out his massive, right fist and caught him a stunning blow to the side of his head, sending him crashing into a mule-cart and startling the beast pulling it. With a speed that belied his size and quickness of thought, Sextus was down on the stunned man, hauling him up by his ragged tunic, semi-conscious, to his feet; the loaves of bread were left in the road to be trampled by the spooked animal.