Magnus rolled up the chart. ‘Nothing to worry yourself about; just a list of his prices. I’m going to take a look to make sure that he was paying us our due.’
Cordus frowned and glanced about. ‘So what do you think, Magnus – did Tacita do it?’
Magnus smiled to himself; he knew exactly what he thought. ‘I don’t know. I’ll ask around, pull in a few favours.’
‘That would be great, Magnus.’
Magnus took a satchel that hung on the back of a chair and slipped the chart into it. ‘We can’t have this sort of thing happening in our area, can we, Cordus? It looks bad for all of us.’ He turned to Cassandros and Sextus. ‘Come on, lads, we need to show this to someone who can read.’
‘Ahh, Magnus!’ Senator Gaius Vespasius Pollo boomed as he came down the steps of the Senate House to where Magnus, Cassandros and Sextus waited amongst the crowd in the Forum Romanum. ‘That was quick.’
Magnus was confused. ‘Quick, Senator?’
Senator Pollo waddled forward, stomach, breasts and jowls all wobbling furiously to a variety of rhythms. ‘Yes, I’ve just sent a message up to the tavern to fetch you. I’ve been speaking to our aedile on the Quirinal who consulted me as the most senior resident on the hill. We’ve got a slight problem – well, more than a slight problem, really – that your brotherhood may be able to help us with. Indeed, it would be in your interest to do so.’
‘I’m sure that we can be of service, Senator. I in turn am here to ask you a favour.’
Senator Pollo clapped a pudgy arm around Magnus’ shoulders and steered him towards a clutch of magistrates, one extremely ancient, talking, with obvious urgency, in hushed tones. ‘I’m sure we can find a course of action that is for mutual benefit. But first listen to what the aedile has to say, if I can get him away from the Urban Prefect.’
‘And this is what many of us find most disconcerting,’ Publius Vestinus Barbatus asserted after giving Magnus a brief outline of the facts, as they strolled through the Forum crowds with Cassandros and Sextus clearing a path for them, ‘that this Tacita claims this was a robbery to get hold of Tuscus’ duplicate charts and that she saw the two robbers and could identify them, provided we keep her safe. However, she and Tuscus had a major fight last night, and not for the first time by any means, so the local Vigiles tell me. Now, if she’s right and it was a robbery, then who’s got all the horoscopes and what do they plan to do with them? And if she’s lying and she did kill her husband and then took the horoscopes to make it look as if it were a robbery, then what has she done with them?’
‘And more to the point,’ Senator Pollo put in, breathing deeply despite the leisurely pace, ‘what does she intend to do with them now?’
Barbatus looked downcast. In his mid-thirties, pallid and prematurely balding with a downturned mouth and bags under his eyes, this was not difficult. ‘Exactly. There are a lot of people who would rather it didn’t come out that they have consulted an astrologer. I’ve heard that Sextus Afranius Burrus, the new Praetorian prefect, has been making discreet enquiries as to the whereabouts of astrologers; no doubt with another purge in mind.’
Magnus scratched the back of his head. ‘I’ve never understood what’s considered so bad about astrology.’
Senator Pollo pushed a black-dyed ringlet of hair away from a kohled eye. Sweat began to line his brow. ‘It’s the emperors; they don’t like the idea that someone might enquire about their deaths. That’s why Tiberius expelled them all from Italia, apart from Thrassylus, his personal one, of course.’
‘Of course. I met him on Capraea with Vespasian when Tiberius was about to throw me off a cliff for his own amusement.’
‘Yes, he used to love doing that sort of thing to his guests. Anyway, astrologers have started to come back to Italia; however, if they’re caught practising in Rome, they’re prosecuted and face banishment. But if they admit it, as did Tuscus four years ago, then they’re allowed to stay provided they swear an oath never to practise within Rome again.’
‘And he went back on that oath and you all carried on consulting him anyway?’
Senator Pollo looked sheepish and glanced around to make sure no one was walking close enough to them to overhear the conversation. ‘Well, he was extremely good and it’s always very tempting to take a look into the future. He told me that I would die in my own house at a great age. I find that very comforting considering the arbitrary nature of justice these days. It strengthens my opinion that having no opinions is the best way to survive in politics. But, for him to make secret copies of all our charts was an outrageous breach of confidence and very dangerous; and now that we know of their existence but not their whereabouts, it is, well, it’s very concerning.’
‘I wouldn’t worry, Senator.’
‘Why not?’
Magnus grinned as they passed the Cloelius Brothers’ banking business in the Basilica Aemilia, diverting around the large queue outside it. ‘Well, no harm is going to come to you because of it, as you’re going to die at home a long time in the future. Tuscus told you so himself.’
Senator Pollo was not reassured. ‘But what if he were wrong? What if these charts find their way to the Emperor? I don’t know how many there are.’
Barbatus looked equally concerned. ‘Tacita couldn’t say exactly how many but she reckons over a hundred in the four years.’
Magnus was shocked. ‘A hundred? Just how much does he charge?’
Senator Pollo and Barbatus shared a look as a couple of stray dogs ran past, chased through the crowds by a group of public slaves with nets.
‘Two hundred denarii a consultation,’ Barbatus admitted.
‘Two hundred? That’s outrageous! That’s twenty thousand denarii he’s hidden from the Brotherhood; we’ve missed out on two thousand. The bastard, I’m going to … Ah, no need, someone already has.’ Magnus paused to compose himself. ‘So what do you want me to do?’
Barbatus cleared his throat. ‘We could try to extract the information out of Tacita, but if she genuinely doesn’t know who has the charts then we gain nothing. Neither can we risk eliminating her just in case she has the horoscopes and has made arrangements for them in the event of her sudden demise.’
‘I see the problem.’ Magnus walked in silence for a few moments, assessing the situation. ‘And then at the same time if she really didn’t murder Tuscus and take the charts, then who did kill him and did they take the charts and can Tacita really identify them? Or did Tacita take the charts after she found the body, knowing their value with an eye to making a fortune later on?’
‘Exactly. So the only way we can narrow it down is to kick her out of the depot and see if someone tries to kill her; if they do then she’s telling the truth and we need to catch the murderer in the act and that’s the priority.’
‘Not keeping Tacita alive?’
Barbatus waved the thought away. ‘No, and actually it would be more convenient if we didn’t. I want your lads to watch her once we release her and, if there isn’t an attempt on her life, see where she goes and who she talks to.’
‘That’s no problem. And the other issue?’
‘Ask around your area to see if anyone had any bad blood with Tuscus.’
‘And see if anyone local knew that he was still drawing up horoscopes or whether it was just people of your classes: senators and equites?’ Magnus suggested as they approached the Temple of Vesta. A veiled priestess was being helped into a litter at the foot of the steps.
Senator Pollo turned towards Barbatus. ‘Now that is a very good angle that we had not thought of.’
Barbatus stopped, bringing the group to a halt. ‘Do this well, Magnus, and you won’t regret it.’
‘That seems a little vague to me, aedile.’
‘What do you want? Money?’
‘No; it’ll be a favour.’
‘What?’
‘I’ll think of something when the time comes.’
‘That seems a little vague to me, Magnus.’
‘I guarantee that you won’t lose anything and no one will get hurt.’
Barbatus looked at Magnus long and hard. ‘Very well, seeing as Senator Pollo vouches for you and you seem to keep the crime rate down in your area; this is the first murder of note for a while. Have your lads outside the Quirinal Vigiles depot in half an hour.’ He turned to Senator Pollo. ‘Good day, Senator.’
Magnus gestured to Cassandros. ‘Go with him, get a couple of brothers and keep an eye on Tacita when he releases her. My guess is she’s lying and she’ll head straight home to retrieve the charts from wherever she’s hidden them. I’ll see you there as soon as I can.’
‘Right you are, Magnus.’
Magnus watched Barbatus and Cassandros walk away before turning back to Senator Pollo and pulling the chart out of his satchel. ‘What do you make of this?’
Senator Pollo took the proffered scroll and unrolled it. His face paled. ‘Well, it’s a horoscope, obviously. Where did you get it from?’
‘Tuscus’ house.’
Pollo could not conceal his surprise. ‘You’ve been in there? You never said.’
‘You never asked.’
‘But you might have mentioned that fact to Barbatus.’
‘Why? And tell him that I found a scroll?’ Magnus winked; it did not work too well with just the one good eye, the other having been lost in a brush with Myrddin, the immortal druid of Britannia, some years previously. ‘No need to share information until I know just how valuable it is.’
‘I thought that all Tuscus’ scrolls had been taken.’
‘They had, except this one. It was in a hidden compartment underneath where he must have kept the rest.’
Senator Pollo looked in alarm at the document. ‘Oh dear, oh dear me! I don’t like the sound of that at all.’
‘Can you read it?’
‘I’m glad to say that I can’t; far too dangerous. I used to let Tuscus read them for me.’
‘I think we should find out whose chart this is, because it may well be what the robbery was really all about. Who do you think will be the best judge of that?’
‘I don’t know of any other astrologers, so I suppose we could try Caenis – she used to consult Tuscus as well. I’ll meet you there in an hour, after I’ve eaten.’
‘Fair enough, Senator; but make it a couple of hours as I’ve just thought of a little business I need to do while I’m on this side of the city.’
‘Where’re we going, Magnus?’ Sextus asked for the fourth or fifth time as yet more dogs raced past with public slaves in full pursuit, nets waving above their heads.
As on the previous occasions, Magnus kept his counsel. He led Sextus through the Gate of Fontus, following the Flaminian Way on to the Campus Martius. It was at the market in the Saepta Julia, on the left-hand side of the street, that Magnus halted and looked around its long colonnades. Conceived by Julius Caesar and completed by Marcus Vipsanius Agrippa, eighteen years after the dictator’s assassination, it had been originally used for voting and so had become redundant with the advent of the Empire and had been converted into a market as well as being used for occasional gladiatorial fights.
‘Who are you looking for, Magnus?’ Sextus asked as he cast his eyes about the bustling market stalls.
‘It’s not who but what, Brother,’ Magnus said. He began to make his way north, along the considerable length of the building, past stalls piled high with tunics, sandals, hats, as well as foodstuffs, spices, wine, garum, live animals in cages and much else; most things could be had here and most races from all over the Empire and beyond were represented. ‘We’re looking for a stall selling Eastern stuff.’
Sextus’ countenance was vacant, the face of a man who had given up trying to make sense of it all and had resigned himself to following.
‘That should do us,’ Magnus mused as he headed towards a stall-holder whose appearance was far from Western.
‘I give you best price, noble sir,’ the stall-holder, a wizened little man with brown skin and eyes to match, promised as Magnus began to peruse his wares. ‘Very good, all genuine,’ he assured him, tugging at his pointed and curled beard.
Magnus picked up a curved-blade dagger with an ivory handle topped with an engraved silver pommel; it was sheathed in a casing of bronze inlaid with silver of the same pattern as the pommel. ‘Where does this come from?’
‘A very fine choice, noble sir; I see you are a man of the finest taste.’
‘In that case your eyesight is piss-poor. I asked you where it came from not what you misguidedly think of my taste.’
The stall-holder put his right hand to his heart and bowed his apologies. ‘Indeed, noble sir. The blade is Damascene steel, the finest money can buy. Touch.’
Magnus slipped the blade from the sheath; it glinted in the sun with a hue that had more than a tint of blue. He ran his thumb across the blade. ‘Like a razor.’
‘Better than a razor, noble sir; a razor needs regular sharpening whereas this keeps its edge for a long, long time.’
‘So it’s from Damascus?’
‘No, noble sir; the blade was forged there but the dagger itself is from the highlands of Cappadocia.’
‘Is that quite close?’
‘Indeed, noble sir; it’s to the north. I compliment you on your knowledge of the region I come from. You must be a man of vast geographical knowledge.’
‘Again you are mightily mistaken. How much?’
‘Oh. For such a thing I would be a fool to myself to let it go for less than twenty denarii.’
Magnus was outraged and dropped the dagger back on to the table. ‘A legionary’s monthly wage for that. You must have been out in the sun for far too long in your life. The most I’ll give you is four and that’s my last word.’
Warming to the task, the stall-holder picked up the dagger, feigning horror. ‘Four! Four? How can I expect to feed myself if I let it go for that when it cost me four times that amount? Sixteen is as low as I can go and that is special price for the noble sir.’
Magnus turned to Sextus. ‘We’re wasting our time here. Come on.’
‘I meant fourteen.’
Magnus put a hand to his ear. ‘Did you hear something just then, Sextus?’
The bovinesque brother frowned and cupped his ear with a look of deep concentration.
‘Twelve is my final offer.’
Sextus’ face brightened. ‘I think someone said: “Twelve is my final offer”, Magnus.’
‘Did they now?’ He turned back to the trader. ‘Six and that’s that.’
‘Eleven and I get no profit.’
‘Seven is as high as I’ll go.’
‘Ten and I’ve robbed myself.’
‘Eight it is.’
‘We meet at nine.’
Magnus turned back to Sextus. ‘You know what we’re looking for now, Brother. Go around the stalls and see if you can find something like it and don’t pay more than seven for it; I’ve had enough of this.’
The stall-holder held up his hands. ‘Eight shall be the price, noble sir, although please don’t tell my wives.’
Magnus grunted, having no intention of meeting the good ladies in question, and pulled out a purse hanging around his neck. Taking eight silver coins he handed them to the Eastern trader, who examined every one.
Once satisfied, he handed the dagger to Magnus. ‘It was a pleasure selling to you, noble sir. Please, I hope to see you again soon.’
‘That depends.’
‘On what, noble sir?’
Magnus leant in close. ‘On whether you can get hold of a horoscope chart.’
‘Babylonian? Egyptian?’
‘Anything that looks like it could have been cast here in Rome. And bear in mind that I won’t be paying more than three denarii for it.’
The stall-holder nodded. ‘Come and see me tomorrow, noble sir. It shall be here and the price will be six.’
‘Four it is then. I’ll probably send one of the lads.’ Magnus turned to go.
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‘It shall be a pleasure. Until then. And please forgive my assertion that you were knowledgeable and a man of good taste, noble sir; it was very rude of me and I shall never make that mistake again.’
Magnus looked over his shoulder to see the stall-holder bowing deeply. He frowned to himself and pulled at one of his cauliflower ears, wondering whether he had been insulted.
‘So what’s it for, Magnus?’ Sextus asked, pointing at the purchase as Magnus slipped it into his satchel.
‘That, Brother, is my insurance policy.’
Sextus looked none the wiser.
‘Never you mind, brother. You get back to Red Horse Street and tell Cassandros that I’ll be longer than I thought I would; he’s to act on his own initiative.’
Sextus did not move.
Magnus tried again. ‘He’s to do what he thinks is best.’
Antonia Caenis dismissed the slave girl once she had filled three pale-green glass beakers, all of them decorated with various wild fowl, from a matching pitcher filled with pomegranate juice. The courtyard garden, with its cooling fountain pattering at the centre, the soft breeze slipping over the tiled roof of the colonnaded walkway and the gentle rustle of crickets, was an oasis of calm compared to the relentless hustle of Rome’s streets. Magnus’ pleasure at being seated in the shade of a mature walnut tree made up for the disappointment that there was nothing stronger than fruit juice on offer. Despite the cooler temperature of the garden, Senator Pollo still sweated profusely; his ringleted hair clung in lank clumps to his head and the kohl outlining his eyes left grey streaks down his cheeks.
Caenis served her guests, passing each a drink across the round, marble table in the middle of which lay the scroll. ‘Are we wise to be getting involved with this, Gaius?’
The senator shrugged as he took a sip of juice. ‘I don’t see how we have any option, Caenis. We’ve both consulted Tuscus, along with most people of rank on the Quirinal and probably the neighbouring Viminal as well. It’s pretty sure that copies of the charts he cast for us are amongst those missing.’
Caenis pointed at the scroll. ‘And you think that this was the real object of the theft, Magnus? Assuming this woman is telling the truth and it was a robbery.’
Magnus and the Crossroads Brotherhood Page 35