Caesar turned to Crassus. ‘It seems you owe me an explanation, my friend,’ he said firmly.
Crassus folded his hands together in his lap and replied casually, ‘Decimus is a business associate of mine.’
‘Where is he now?’ Caesar demanded. ‘I demand to speak with him.’
‘He left Rome recently. I believe he was returning to his estates in Greece.’
‘I see . . . How convenient.’ Caesar continued to stare at Crassus until the other man’s gaze finally wavered. ‘And would you mind telling me why the servant of a business associate of yours would try to kill me?’
‘I have no idea. You’d have to ask this, er, Thermon. If you find him.’
‘Or perhaps I should have a word with Decimus, once I’ve tracked him down?’
‘You could, though I doubt whether an honest businessman like Decimus would know anything about an attempt on your life.’
There was a brief, tense silence before Caesar sighed. ‘Crassus . . . What are you hiding from me? What do you know about all this? The three of us have entered into an alliance. We swore an oath to look after each other’s interests. We said that we would discuss any grievances we may have openly, to avoid the danger of conflict. We are supposed to be equal partners.’
‘Yes, that was my understanding,’ Crassus replied coolly. ‘But since you mention equal partners - why did you give your daughter to Pompeius as a bride? And why are you now strengthening your ties to Pompeius by marrying your niece into his family? A reasonable man might question the motives behind such moves to tie your political fortunes more closely to each other.’ His lips compressed into a thin line. ‘Caesar, from where I’m sitting, it looks as if the two of you are trying to make me into the junior partner of our agreement.’
‘Preposterous!’ Pompeius snorted. ‘And if marriage helps to cement relations between me and Caesar, then so much the better for all of us. You’re jumping at shadows, Crassus. Just like a freshly minted junior officer!’
Crassus’s eyes narrowed for a second before he continued in a quiet voice that Marcus found menacing. ‘You must think me a fool. I know what your game is and I won’t live in your shadow. Nor Caesar’s.’
‘Is that why you plotted to kill me?’ Caesar asked bluntly. ‘You would have me murdered just because my family and Pompeius’s are linked by marriage?’
There was a long tense silence before Crassus replied. ‘There is nothing more to be said. You can’t prove anything. I have better uses for my time.’ He stood up. ‘My dislike of the situation is not personal, Caesar. Ours is a business relationship. You should never forget that. It only works if we share the profits and business opportunities equally. If a man goes into business with me, and tries to take advantage of me, then he will suffer the consequences. I suggest you remember that. And you, General Pompeius.’ Crassus smiled coldly. ‘I wish you luck in catching your would-be assassin, Caesar. I bid you goodnight.’
He strode from the room, closing the door hard behind him. Pompeius stared after him in astonishment as the sound of his footsteps faded into the distance. At length Caesar cleared his throat. ‘From now on, we’ll need to handle our business partner carefully, my dear Pompeius.’
‘Are you mad?’ asked Pompeius incredulously. ‘The man tried to have you killed. He’s your enemy, and therefore mine. We have to do something about him, double quick.’
‘He’s not an enemy; he’s a politician. He’s played his hand and lost. I suspect he will think hard about this and realize he has to accept our arrangement over Portia. Even allowing for that, Crassus has much to gain from our alliance. Hopefully, he will see that.’
‘If not?’
‘Then we may have to deal with him at a later date. We’re playing for high stakes, my friend.’ Caesar stroked his chin thoughtfully. ‘Perhaps it is true what they say. Two is company; three is a crowd. There may well come a time when there is not room enough in Rome for three men such as ourselves. Until then, we’d better watch our backs... Under the circumstances I think that Portia’s marriage to your nephew is, how shall I put it - improvident.’
Pompeius frowned. ‘What are you saying? That we call it off?’
‘Precisely.’
Pompeius’s eyebrows rose. ‘But what about all the preparations? What will we say to people?’
‘I don’t care what people think,’ Caesar replied curtly. ‘The risks outweigh the advantages. We can’t afford to lose the support of Crassus. Not yet.’
Marcus and Festus witnessed the exchange in silence. Marcus could hardly believe it. There was little doubt that Crassus was behind the attempt on Caesar’s life. And yet Caesar refused to act against him. Marcus couldn’t help wondering at the heartlessness of this trio of powerful men. For them, marriage, politics and plotting were merely tools for the pursuit of personal ambition. They were utterly ruthless and more dangerous than Marcus had ever supposed.
Again, he was seeing another kind of gladiatorial combat in the world of Rome - one that was every bit as dangerous as those fought in the arena. He didn’t know what this meant for his plan to seek vengeance on Decimus, but if Caesar wouldn’t help him, he would find a way himself.
Pompeius reflected on Caesar’s decision and then stood up. ‘It’s been quite a day. I’m tired and I’ve had too much to drink. We’ll talk again when the air’s cleared.’
‘Yes.’ Caesar nodded. ‘That would be a good idea. I’ll see you out.’
‘No need, my friend. I know the way!’ Pompeius smiled. He made his way round the desk and stopped briefly in front of Marcus to pat him on the cheek. ‘What a soldier you would make. I miss good honest soldiering. Now that’s an honourable trade. Not like the double dealing that goes on in Rome, eh?’
He lowered his hand and made for the door, nodding a brief farewell to Caesar before he closed it behind him. Caesar let out a long sigh and seemed to deflate slightly.
‘Caesar,’ Festus spoke gently. ‘Do you wish us to leave you?’
‘What?’ Caesar looked up. ‘No. Not just yet. There’s one final duty to be performed tonight.’
He reached down into the document chest lying open under the desk and drew out a small lead plate. He straightened up and held the plate in both hands for a moment before he spoke. ‘I had this prepared yesterday, to help bolster my confidence that you would win the fight, Marcus. It’s your manumission.’ He looked up. ‘This is your freedom. You no longer belong to me. I cannot think of any slave I have ever known who has earned this as much as you.’ He stood up and held out the brass plate. ‘Here. Take it.’
Marcus stood still, not quite able to believe it. Everything that he had fought for, all the suffering endured at Porcino’s school and the dangers faced in Caesar’s service had been leading up to this moment. He had thought it would never happen, that he might be condemned to spend the rest of his life as the property of another.
He took a deep breath and stepped forward to take the manumission, a plain slate of cheap metal with words etched upon its surface. It had little value in itself, but to Marcus it was the greatest prize of all.
‘I thank you, Caesar.’ He choked back the raw emotions engulfing him.
‘No, Marcus. It is I, and Rome, that owe you thanks. Now go and sleep. In the morning we can discuss the first steps in finding your mother.’
About the author
Simon Scarrow is a former teacher who now devotes himself to writing full time. He lives outside Norwich with his family.
Gladiator: Street fighter Page 21