‘Yes, sir.’ Silus had lost all will to argue, but he reminded himself that the only reason he had joined the Arcani was to have the opportunity to avenge his family.
Oclatinius looked at him, calculating.
‘I hope I haven’t misjudged you, Silus.’
‘No, sir. You haven’t.’ Silus hated that the coldly efficient Daya was witnessing all this. What must she be thinking of him?
Oclatinius tossed him a bag of coins.
‘Go and find yourself somewhere to live. Rome is your new home. Rent an apartment in an insula. Buy a house slave. Explore the city. Keep your head down. And report to me twice a day in case of orders. Daya, come to my office at dusk. You did well. Tonight I will induct you as a full Arcanus. I’ll have some quarters in the Praetorian barracks allocated to you. A girl living on her own in the city could run into trouble.’
‘I can look after myself, sir,’ said Daya defiantly.
‘I don’t doubt it,’ said Oclatinius. ‘But if you are forced to repeatedly prove your fighting skills, you will quickly become well known, and that is a distinct disadvantage for a spy.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Oclatinius looked from Silus to Daya and back again.
‘It was a shitty job,’ he said. ‘No one is pretending otherwise. But it had to be done. And you did it proficiently. Well done, both of you. Now fuck off out of my sight.’
* * *
Rome was like nothing Silus had imagined. He had pictured a city like Eboracum, but a bit bigger. The difference between Eboracum and Rome was as large as the difference between Eboracum and a tiny Brigantian village. It was not just the size. It was everything. The streets were dirtier, the crowds were denser, the cacophony was louder. The markets were bigger, the ethnicities vastly more diverse, and the prostitutes more beautiful and more forward.
And the buildings. Vast structures reaching up into the sky. After being dismissed by Oclatinius, Silus had found Atius in the Praetorian barracks, and they had been reunited with a manly hug. Silus had given Atius a playful punch and commented how nice it had been to be out of his company, to disguise the fact that seeing him had made him realise how much he had missed his friend.
They spent their first full day together in the city just wandering around and staring. Their clothes, accents and general country-bumpkin ignorance marked them as outsiders, which led to interest from two types of entrepreneurs – guides and muggers.
After the third mugging attempt had ended, as with the previous two, in multiple broken bones among the assailants, and not a bruise on the two newcomers, word had quickly got around that these men were not such easy marks as their appearance suggested, and they were left alone.
On the other hand, prospective guides constantly pestered them, and Silus thought that it would be unreasonable and probably illegal to beat them up as well. Eventually, he decided the best way to stop the beggars, cripples and former slaves too useless to be retained by their masters was to hire one for the day and make it their job to keep the rest away.
The one they chose was a maimed veteran who had recognised them as fellow military men. He had an empty socket where one of his eyes had been, had lost one arm at the elbow, and had a crutch under the other to compensate for one of his legs, which had clearly been fractured and healed crookedly.
The crippled guide introduced himself as Lurco, a veteran of the Legio II Parthica, and it was in Severus’ Parthian wars, he told them, that he had sustained his injuries.
‘We knew the men of the Second Parthica in Britannia,’ said Silus. ‘Good fighters. For legionaries.’ The rivalry between auxiliaries and legionaries was perennial, with the legionaries looking down on their less armoured, less trained juniors, while the auxiliaries always felt they had something to prove to their uppity comrades.
‘I didn’t make Britannia,’ said Lurco regretfully. ‘Invalided out before that.’
‘What happened to your pension?’
‘Most of it went on booze, dice and whores.’
‘And the rest?’
‘The rest I wasted.’
Atius gave a good belly laugh at this, and Silus could imagine Atius finding himself in the exact same position in years to come.
Silus paid Lurco a silver coin for the day’s service, with the promise of another at the end of the day if he did a good job and kept the crowds away. The veteran was as good as his word, showing a highly illegal knife to anyone who tried to encroach on his clients’ personal space, and taking them to some of the landmarks. It was a slow journey, the speed of their progress hindered by Lurco’s infirmities and the thick crowds, but Silus wasn’t complaining.
They stared in amazement at the Pantheon with its vast dome. They goggled at the Forum Romanum, full of politicians, priests and traders mingling in chaos. Lurco pointed up to the Palatine Hill where the luxurious villas of the ultra-wealthy sat, including the palace where the Emperors and the Empress lived. He took them to Trajan’s Column and the Arch of Severus, where they could see the pictorial representations of the victories and triumphs of both those great Emperors. He took them around the outside of the Flavian Amphitheatre, and told them tales of mass executions, thrilling gladiatorial contests, and beast fights. He showed them the Circus Maximus, and told them where the best seats were to watch the chariot races between the Greens, Blues, Reds and Whites.
After lunch in a tavern near the Forum, Silus told Lurco that he needed to find a place to live.
‘What’s your budget?’ asked Lurco.
Silus considered. His reward and the pay he had saved was generous, but he could see that Rome was a far more expensive place to live than northern Britannia had been.
‘Let’s say I’m looking for something economical.’
And that’s how they ended up seeing the other side of Rome. The Subura had for centuries been the poor district of Rome, but with a character all its own. Despite some notable inhabitants over the years, including a young Julius Caesar, the rich avoided it like it was ridden with the plague of Antoninus these days, preferring to live in the hills above the city to avoid the noise and the stench.
Every sort of tradesman lined the streets, their stalls set out in front of the terraces of their tiny shops above which they slept with their families. Sandal makers, blacksmiths, wool workers, felt workers, linen weavers, perfumiers, spice merchants, cheesemongers, fishmongers, and sausage sellers all yelled out the prices of their wares, competing with the noise from the heralds and the prostitutes as well as all the shoppers trying to make themselves heard while they haggled for the best prices.
It was a hot day, and the ordure in the streets, human and animal, was steaming, the overwhelming acrid stenches making Silus gag. Chickens, pigs, dogs and dirty children scurried around Silus’ feet, threatening to trip him up, and more than one urchin made an attempt on his purse. Lurco led them off down a narrow side street between two tall insulae and banged on a ground-floor door.
‘This is the insula of my old friend, Tigranes. He is an ex-gladiator, and he went into the property business with his winnings. We go way back. He’ll do you a good deal.’
A tall, dark slave opened the door and glowered at them. He took in Silus’ and Atius’ clothing, tatty and dirty from their travels, and Lurco’s physical state, and spat at their feet.
‘Fuck off. No beggars.’
Atius laughed out loud. ‘Old friend, huh?’
Lurco gave him a sour look. ‘New staff,’ he muttered. He turned to the slave. ‘Listen, slave. I am a close personal friend of Tigranes. Tell him Lurco is here to see him, or I’m sure he will give you a whipping you will never forget.’
The slave looked him up and down, sneered, then slammed the door shut. Lurco gave Atius and Silus a sheepish grin. ‘Can’t wait to see my old friend Tigranes.’
The door flew open again, and a huge man with a white scar across his olive-skinned face yelled at them in a huge voice with a Syrian accent. ‘Lurco, you cunt, you’d better have br
ought me the money you owe me or I’m going to slice you into strips of meat and feed you to my fucking dogs!’
Lurco shrank back, and Atius and Silus both moved their hands subtly nearer their concealed blades. Then the huge man burst out with a deep laugh that echoed down the street.
‘Lurco, your face! Have you shat yourself? Tell me, honestly. Is there shit running down your legs right now?’
Lurco let out a breath. ‘No, Tigranes. I managed to keep my arse clamped shut, thank you very much.’
‘I’m surprised you can keep your arse closed with all the piles dangling out of it.’
Lurco looked embarrassed, and Silus suspected this was a real detail that he had confided to his friend, and that he now regretted his openness.
‘Don’t worry, old friend,’ said Tigranes. ‘You still have a month to pay off your debt before I cut you up.’
Silus frowned. ‘How much does he owe you?’
‘Five denarii.’
‘Is that all?’ The silver coin he had given Lurco earlier was worth one denarius. ‘Are your begging skills so poor you can’t get that much?’
‘Oh, he earns it,’ said Tigranes. ‘He just spends it as fast as he gets it.’
Silus reached into his purse and handed over five silver coins. ‘Here. Consider his debt paid.’
Tigranes took the coins suspiciously, then looked at Lurco.
‘Who is this? Your brother? Your lover?’
‘Just someone new to the city who hired me as a guide for the day.’
Tigranes looked abashed. ‘You shame me, stranger. If you can show this kindness to a man you met for the first time today, then surely I can forgive the debt of my old friend Lurco. Here.’ He handed four coins back to Silus. Silus looked down at the four coins in his palm, and the one remaining in Tigranes’ hand, in puzzlement.
‘I forgave the debt, not the interest,’ said Tigranes and dropped the coin into his purse. ‘Now, Lurco, what brings you to my door? You had better not be looking for another loan after you have just become debt free.’
‘No, no. Like I said, I’m a guide today. These men are foreigners and they are looking for lodgings at a reasonable price. And I thought who better to take them to than Tigranes the landlord, owner of the finest insula in the Subura.’
Tigranes smiled broadly. ‘In that case, come in, have some wine. It so happens I do have a vacancy. The tenant on the top floor was behind in his rent. Sadly, he has no realistic prospect of making his back payments now.’
‘Why not?’ asked Atius.
‘Because he broke his leg when I threw him down the stairs,’ said Tigranes.
Silus and Atius exchanged glances, but Tigranes had already turned his back, beckoning them to follow him into the house. Lurco trailed after him, and with some trepidation, and their hands still close to their knives, Silus and Atius followed them inside.
The ground floor of an insula was always the most desirable, and Tigranes was obviously doing well for himself. A guard dog was chained in the vestibule and it growled at them, hackles up, as they edged past it. The atrium had colourful mosaics and frescoes, with several statues of nude tree nymphs around the well-maintained impluvium. The lararium contained ornate statues of Isis and Serapis rather than the usual household gods, and this helped confirm Tigranes’ Syrian origins in Silus’ mind.
Tigranes led them into the triclinium, where slaves brought dates and olives, and poured them cups of fine wine. Silus sipped, aware that this was probably a decent vintage, but knowing that beer was scarce in Rome, and feeling suddenly homesick.
‘Where are you from, my new friends?’ asked Tigranes.
‘Britannia,’ said Atius, before Silus had a chance to consider how much information they should volunteer.
‘And what brings you to Rome?’
‘Trade,’ said Silus quickly before Atius could open his mouth again.
‘May I ask what sort of trade? I have many contacts in Rome. I could open doors. And purses…’
‘It is confidential at this stage. I’m sure you understand.’
‘Of course, of course. But my door is always open any time you want to talk business.’
‘I appreciate it,’ said Silus.
‘But for now, you wish to rent an apartment.’
‘I do,’ said Silus. ‘Ideally something with a little space, not too draughty, with a comfortable bed and some furniture in good repair.’
‘Then finish your wine and let me show you what I have.’
Atius drained his cup, and Silus set his down, half-finished. Tigranes led them outside to a staircase that led up the outside of the building. The wood had rotted through in places, and Silus watched carefully where he placed his feet. Progress was slow, as Lurco found the winding stairs hard to negotiate, and he refused all offers of help.
They ascended to the fourth floor, by which time everyone was fatigued, although the two Arcani were breathing much more easily than the crippled beggar and the overweight landlord. At the top they faced a door made of four vertical planks with two planks nailed horizontally to keep it together. The top was splintered so there was a hole big enough for an eagle to get through, and there were gaps between the planks wide enough that it would have been easy to see inside if the interior hadn’t been so dark.
Tigranes produced a rusty key the size of a sausage, and inserted it into the lock. He turned it one way, then the other, then wiggled it, cursed, and kicked the door. With a squeak that went right through Silus and made him shiver, the lock turned and the door swung open.
A stench of rat piss, garlic and human faeces hit Silus like a slap.
Tigranes strode inside and lit an oil lamp. Silus followed him in and looked around in dismay. There was a low table covered in stains and flies, and one chair with a broken back support. A brazier full of ash sat in the middle of the room. Behind a filthy curtain was a bedroom with a straw mattress on the floor against one wall. In the corner was a chamber pot, which had not been emptied, from whence much of the stench was emanating. One tiny window allowed the only light and ventilation, apart from whatever filtered in through the defective door. A rat scampered across the floorboards and out of a hole in the corner of the room, taking a mouldy crust with it.
Tigranes swept his arm around the room, a broad smile plastered across his face.
‘Fully furnished, two rooms, spacious, with a wonderful view of…’ He frowned and looked out of the window. ‘A view of that building there.’ Silus judged that with the tops of the buildings leaning in towards each other because of their shoddy construction, the building across the street was only around six feet away, and he could see through the window to where a round woman was applying make-up. She caught sight of him watching her and turned her back.
Atius suddenly burst out laughing. ‘Let’s go, Silus. We aren’t staying here.’
‘You won’t find better in the Subura. Or maybe you are looking for something on the Palatine,’ said Tigranes sarcastically. ‘Something with hot baths and a spacious kitchen, and a separate wing for your servants’ living quarters so you can’t hear them farting and fucking at night?’
Silus looked to Lurco. ‘Is he right? Is this as good as it gets?’
Lurco looked hesitantly at Tigranes, who gave him a meaningful stare. Lurco swallowed, but said bravely, ‘Honestly, Silus, this place is a shithole.’
Tigranes opened his mouth to protest, but Lurco held up a hand to forestall him. ‘Wait. It’s a shithole, but so is everywhere in the Subura. And unless you own a fortune, then pretty much every place in Rome is. You said something economical – well, this is it. You can try for a better district, or a floor lower. But you will pay more and not get a lot of improvement. You can clean this place up and make it your own, and have some money from your pay left over for booze and women.’
‘What’s your price?’ asked Silus.
‘Are you nuts?’ asked Atius, bemused.
‘One thousand denarii per month.’
&n
bsp; ‘Don’t be absurd. I’ll give you two hundred.’
‘Five hundred.’
‘Two fifty.’
‘Deal.’ Tigranes stuck his hand out and Atius grinned in disbelief as Silus shook it.
‘Fuck this,’ said Atius. ‘I’m going to take up the offer of quartering with the Praetorians, like Daya.’
‘I understand,’ said Silus. ‘But you will spend most of your evenings shacked up with loose maidens and whores. I want somewhere to call my own, like I had in Britannia.’
Atius nodded, losing his smile. ‘Well, I will come to visit you, if I have no other company on a particular night. As long as you give the place a good clean out. I’ll carry on looking after Issa in the barracks too until you are settled in.’
‘One thing,’ said Tigranes. ‘Don’t be late with your rent. Unless you want bad things to happen.’
Silus gave a half-smile. He took a step forward towards Tigranes, and said quietly, ‘Let’s be clear here. I will be a good tenant, and I will pay my dues. But don’t threaten me again, or I will have your balls.’
Tigranes looked down to see Silus’ knife pressed into his groin. He swallowed and held his hand up placatingly.
‘No threat, my friend. I only meant that the gods hate a debtor, and I don’t want divine misfortune to come your way.’
Silus held the blade and the silence until both became uncomfortable. When a single drop of sweat rolled down Tigranes’ temple, he stepped back and smiled. ‘We understand each other. The key.’ Silus held out his hand, and Tigranes handed the bulky key over.
‘Let me know if you need anything,’ said the landlord, before he backed quickly out of the room and hurried down the stairs.
* * *
They ditched Lurco back in the Forum with an extra silver coin for his services, and the crippled veteran thanked them for their kindness. They met Daya in the mid-afternoon. She hadn’t been interested in a tour of Rome – she had seen as much as she wished during her slave days. Silus noticed her hair was wet, and her face and upper chest, where it was visible above her loose-fitting tunic, were glowing. Daya saw him looking at her and frowned, and Silus turned away quickly.
Emperor's Knife Page 12