The Imperial Triumph

by Robert Fabbri

  ‘Blacksmiths? Right you are, Magnus,’ Marius replied through a mouthful of pork as Sextus frowned, confused.

  ‘They’re people who work with iron, Sextus,’ Magnus informed his brother before turning back to Marius. ‘We’ve a few in our area. Find out tomorrow which of them have done weapons-work for the military and of them who owes us the most favours; have them stand by to do quite a bit of forging after the Triumph.’

  ‘Right you are, Magnus.’

  Magnus glanced at Sextus, who seemed even more confused. ‘It would take too long to explain to you, Brother; you just concentrate on your wine.’

  Sextus found immediate intellectual relief in his cup.

  A figure, just over Sextus’ shoulder, caught Magnus’ attention. ‘Don’t look back but there’s a freedman opening the door to the tenement.’

  Magnus watched as the man, wearing a pileus – the felt cap of a freedman – went in, leaving the door open behind him. ‘Walk past and see if he’s gone to the back room, Marius.’

  With a nod the one-handed brother put down his drink and sauntered, in a casual manner, to the door, looking in as he passed. After a half-dozen paces he turned and wandered back. ‘He’s gone in.’

  ‘Well, he’ll find it as empty as we left it.’

  A few moments later the freedman reappeared and looked up and down the street; seeing nothing of interest he took to pacing around in an impatient fashion, constantly straining his eyes to see if the slave he had come to meet was about to arrive for the rendezvous.

  Magnus and his brothers finished their food and wine at a leisurely pace as the freedman became more and more aggravated at the non-arrival of his contact. Eventually he stomped off.

  Magnus pulled his hood over his head. ‘Keep it to a decent distance, lads. I’ll trail him first, then, Marius, you come and take over and then Sextus; we’ll swap every five hundred paces.’

  Keeping the quarry always between ten and twenty strides ahead of him, Magnus followed him through the human stew of the Subura, ignoring the calls of whores of both sexes, the beseeching of cripples for alms and all the other cries and distractions of the tightly packed realm of the poor in which quality of life was judged in terms of lack of misery rather than abundance of happiness.

  On they went through narrow streets and alleys, continually changing the lead man as the freedman started to bear north and climb the Viminal Hill heading towards that area’s main thoroughfare, the Vicus Patricius. Magnus swore to himself, conscious that they were approaching the area ruled by his rivals in the West Viminal Brotherhood.

  Soon he came to that street, renowned throughout Rome for its abundance and variety of brothels, and turned right in the direction of the Viminal Gate, beyond which stood the Praetorian Guard’s camp. Magnus pulled his hood further over his face to prevent it from being recognised in the torchlight that illuminated the entrances to whorehouses to either side. After another couple of hundred paces the freedman turned right into a wider street populated with houses of an impressive size. As the object of the tail reached the fifth house on the right-hand side, Magnus drew up and cursed again as he watched him say something to the two very imposing guards, one of whom then knocked on the door. He turned immediately and walked back in the opposite direction to where Sextus and Marius were.

  ‘Fuck, Brothers; that’s all I can say. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!’

  ‘What is it, Magnus?’ Marius asked as he turned about and fell in step with him.

  ‘I say “fuck”, Brother, because it looks as if Lucius Favonius Geminus is staying as a guest of the new number two of Sempronius’ West Viminal Brotherhood: Primus.’

  ‘Fuck!’ Servius said as Magnus finished recounting the evening’s events. ‘That ain’t at all good.’

  ‘I know, Brother; someone connected to Sempronius is trying to meddle in our area.’

  Servius shook his head; the flame of the oil lamp on the table between them reflected in his blank eyes as they gazed sightlessly around the crowded tavern. ‘That’s not the half of it, Magnus; do you know who Lucius Favonius Geminus is?’

  Magnus thought for a few moments and then shrugged, waiting for the benefit of his counsellor’s encyclopaedic knowledge of Rome’s underworld. ‘I’ve never heard of him; should I have?’

  ‘No, that’s just the point; very few people actually know what he does.’

  ‘What does he do?’

  ‘He’s a gerrymanderer.’

  ‘A whatywhaterer?’

  ‘He specialises in gerrymandering.’

  Magnus grunted and looked none the wiser.

  ‘I’ll start at the beginning. Geminus made a fortune as a tribune in the Vigiles as, more often than statistically probable, he managed to arrive first at the scene of a fire.’

  ‘Ahh. Are you saying that he would start them?’

  ‘I wouldn’t accuse him personally of doing that but I would accuse him of knowing where and when quite a few fires started well in advance. Anyway, foresight, as we know from fixing chariot races, is a very useful thing, and being on the scene with his team of Vigiles ready to put out the blaze as soon as the owner has agreed a price, no matter who is being burnt alive within, is a profitable position to be in.’

  ‘Yeah, well, that’s standard practice. The Vigiles never put out a fire unless they get well rewarded for it. I mean, why should they risk themselves if they’re not being paid? Stands to reason, don’t it?’

  ‘And I quite agree with you: a little remuneration for a dangerous task undertaken is absolutely understandable. But he went further than that; much further.’

  Magnus scratched his chin as he began to understand. ‘He did a Crassus.’

  Servius chuckled and leant forward. ‘No; further even than him. Crassus had his own private fire-fighters before the Vigiles were formed and, rather than negotiate a fee for putting out the fire he would instead negotiate a selling price for the property and consequently became the biggest landowner in the city.’

  ‘How can you go further than that?’

  ‘Because if the owner of the building refused to sell, Crassus would just shrug and walk away saying that if he wanted his property to burn to the ground then that was his lookout. Meanwhile all the locals would be fighting the blaze with whatever means at hand in order that they didn’t lose everything if the fire spread; sometimes with success but mostly not. Anyway, Crassus died a century ago at Carrhae and no one seemed to think about being quite so mercenary with incendiary incidents again, especially after Augustus created the Vigiles as a fire-fighting night-watch.’

  ‘Until Geminus?’

  ‘You have it, Brother. Geminus admired Crassus’ methods but thought that they were a little too prone to chance: there was no way of knowing where the next fire was going to be and the owner of the property could always refuse to sell.’

  Magnus rumbled an agreement. ‘Looking at it that way it does leave a lot to Fortuna.’

  ‘Indeed, so Geminus made a slight refinement, apart, that is, from, shall we say, predicting where the fire would start: he would offer a selling price to the distraught owner and, then if he refused, rather than walk away with his Vigiles, he would have them put out the fire on condition that the owner help them. Now, naturally, working so close to a blazing building is very dangerous and not one owner who refused to sell managed to survive helping the Vigiles put out the fire in their property. Word gradually got around and Geminus started to buy every building that he wanted that caught fire on the Viminal and Esquiline.’

  Magnus whistled softly. ‘Fortunes.’

  ‘Yes; but he was clever. He only went for the buildings on the borders between brotherhoods so that when he rebuilt them the brotherhood in whose area it was would be willing to pay a premium for its people to live there; and, of course, the brotherhood whose area it bordered on would also want to pay a premium for its people to live there in order to expand their influence. Gerrymandering: weighting the power of one group within an area by moving more o
f its members to live there. He was responsible for the West Viminal taking two whole streets off their eastern rivals back in Sempronius’ early time as patronus, before he fell foul of the urban prefect over that business with the ballista and was almost rewarded with a starring role in the circus had he not managed to get a massive bribe together.’

  Magnus saw the danger. ‘Did Geminus ever do any gerrywhatsit here on the Quirinal?’

  ‘No, Brother; which is probably why you ain’t ever heard of it. His Vigiles Cohort’s jurisdiction was over the Viminal and Esquiline districts only. Anyway, his methods got a bit too strong even for our esteemed urban prefect, Lucius Volusius Saturninus, and he was given the choice of retiring to private life or explaining to the emperor at the time, Caligula, who as we know was always very keen on cash, just how he had come about his stash and how much he was willing to contribute to the treasury. Naturally he retired, giving the urban prefect quite a hefty commission for ensuring that his wealth never came to the emperor’s attention in the last couple of months before his assassination.’

  ‘But he’s still very well off, no doubt.’

  ‘Very; well off enough to purchase tenement blocks in our area straight, for cash, without having them burning as an inducement for the owners to sell. But it’s not just in our area; it’s right on the border and—’

  Magnus sucked the air between his teeth. ‘And you said that there’ve been two similar evictions in the last month.’

  ‘I did and, thinking about it, they were both close to Martinus’ block.’

  ‘Evicting everyone in the block?’

  Servius nodded.

  ‘All of whom pay – or, should I say, paid – us for protection?’

  ‘Correct; and I think even Sextus would be able to guess who the new tenants will be.’

  ‘I think you could be right, Brother; Sempronius and Primus will be paying him to put their people on our patch.’

  ‘Yes, and when you realise something about him, it’s obvious why.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘What’s Primus’ full name?’

  Magnus thought for a moment and then made the connection. ‘Of course! Marcus Favonius Primus.’

  ‘Exactly, Primus is the eldest and Geminus is his twin; by no means identical but twins nevertheless. It was Geminus’ cash that secured Sempronius’ freedom as part of the deal reached between Geminus and the urban prefect at the time of his retirement. Sempronius repaid the favour by making Primus his counsellor and leaving the way open for him to become the patronus of the West Viminal when he steps down, which will be soon. Geminus is evidently ensuring that his twin will have a lot of local influence.’

  ‘They’re an ambitious pair.’

  ‘Very.’

  ‘And now they’ve set their eyes on us.’

  ‘It looks that way. But the real problem is that one or two tenement blocks at the bottom of the Vicus Longus is not going to make a huge amount of difference; we might lose influence in half a street or so.’

  ‘Fuck! How many has he bought?’

  ‘Fuck, indeed, Brother, because I don’t know; but what I do know is that he can afford a lot.’

  ‘So how do we find out?’

  ‘We don’t; but we have a tame senator who can.’

  ‘It entirely depends upon what form of law Geminus took possession of the properties with,’ Senator Pollo informed Magnus as he progressed with his entourage of clients down the Quirinal Hill the following morning.

  Magnus looked blankly at his patron; Sextus, Marius and four other brothers strode in front of the group, brandishing poles with which to beat a path through the crowds already gathering in anticipation of the next day’s festival.

  ‘Well, there are three ways to transfer ownership of property: you can do a formal transfer whereby you and the transferor make a verbal contract in front of five citizens as witnesses. Or you can do it in front of an aedile whereby you claim title to the property and the transferor admits it and then the aedile makes a judgement in your favour. Or, finally, if you have been in possession of the property for two years, provided that it wasn’t acquired by theft or violence, and you’re not a tenant, it’s yours.’

  Magnus gave a grim chuckle. ‘That last one is ruled out; so which of the other two is more likely to suit his purchasing methods?’

  Senator Pollo mopped the sweat from his brow, which, despite the cool morning and leisurely pace, was accumulating in some quantity. ‘Either. In the first case the five witnesses could have been some of his Vigiles as, being all freedmen, they would have been citizens and therefore it could have been done there and then. But that’s equally the case if the local aedile was in on the scam and travelled with Geminus to each site.’

  ‘That’s more than possible; I don’t think that I’ve ever heard of an honest local aedile.’

  ‘Which you have found to be very useful on numerous occasions, if memory serves me correctly.’

  ‘Yes, well, one has to make do with what one has.’

  ‘That’s always been my view, too.’

  ‘But anyway, it’s not so much how many properties he bought whilst he was a Vigiles tribune that I’m interested in; it’s how many properties he has bought recently in my patch of the Quirinal that’s concerning me.’

  ‘Then you need to go and have a little chat with the local Quirinal aedile; he at least will be able to tell you if he’s witnessed any property transfers recently.’ The senator stepped his large bulk aside to avoid a copious dog turd, which was immediately crushed by one of his following clients.

  ‘I rather suspect our local aedile is too busy with the Triumph at the moment,’ Magnus commented as the man slipped and ended up sitting in the offending pile whilst the rest of the clients filed past him, ‘far too busy to want to talk about recent property deals with the likes of me without a good reason, if you take my meaning?’

  ‘I do indeed, old friend. I’m almost certain to bump into him in the senate this morning; I’ll mention it and see if I can coax anything out of him. I’m sure there must be something he wants of me in return. How are things going with my little issue?’

  ‘Well, it turns out that Celsus let his house on the Esquiline before he left for Gaul to supply the invasion force with footwear but hasn’t yet returned.’

  ‘Let his house? Why would he do that?’

  ‘I suppose he planned to be away for some time.’

  ‘But he still needs somewhere to come back to; no one in their right mind would want to live in Britannia for a moment longer than it takes to make a fortune out of the natives.’

  ‘Quite right and Servius reckons that, having done his business in Britannia, he will be arriving in the city in order to take advantage of the business opportunities that the Triumph will present and will … ahh … of course.’

  The senator stopped in his tracks, causing more chaos behind. ‘Oh dear; I see where you’re heading, my friend: he’s going to move into Pomegranate Street. We can’t allow that to happen. He must be made to sell; I need that property.’

  Magnus paused for reflection and then, after a few brief moments, his countenance brightened. ‘Don’t worry, senator; what you just told me was very interesting. I think I might have an idea but it’ll cost an aureus, if you could see your way clear to forwarding me such a sum.’

  The Forum Romanum was splashed with an abundance of decoration. The statues, already painted in lifelike colours, had been crowned with leaves and swathed in red, white or golden cloaks; bright banners of many hues were draped from the coloured frontages of the public buildings; ochres, reds, umbers and resonant blues assaulted Magnus’ eyes. Senator Pollo dismissed his clients and made his way up the steps of the Curia with scores of his peers, each carrying a folding stool, ready to lavish praise on the emperor in advance of his Triumph and to compete with one another in lauding the martial skills of one who could not help but twitch and drool as he shambled along on weak, malformed legs.

  But such wort
hwhile usage of time was not the lot of Magnus and a handful of his brethren. They made their way across the Forum, past the gangs of public slaves erecting the wooden barriers, normally used as animal pens on market days in the Forum Boarium, to keep back the tens of thousands of spectators expected on the morrow for the spectacle. The air of anticipation at the centre of the Empire was palpable and the one topic of conversation that could be heard throughout the entire complex was of the Triumph and the largesse that would flow at the mere expense of barbarian savages far to the north.

  Except, of course, for one group; they had far more important things to discuss. ‘We need to go all over our border area with the West Viminal asking the residents of each building whether they know if its ownership has changed hands within the last few months,’ Magnus said as they approached the House of the Vestals. ‘Marius, you take the lads through systematically; it’s vital that we don’t miss one.’

  ‘Right you are, Magnus.’

  ‘Start with the streets right adjacent to West Viminal territory and then work in three or four hundred paces. And have one of the lads keep a lookout on the house in Pomegranate Street; I want to know if old matey-boy turns up before I get back. I’ll see you there when you’ve finished.’

  Marius nodded his understanding of his task. ‘Will do, Brother.’

  ‘Good lad. Sextus, you come with me.’

  ‘Come with you,’ Sextus rumbled, slowly digesting his orders. ‘Right you are, Magnus; where’re we going?’

  ‘Now if I told you that, it wouldn’t be a nice surprise for you, would it?’

  Sextus’ face gradually brightened. ‘I like a surprise, I do.’

  ‘That’s just as well with a memory like yours,’ Magnus observed, walking off in the direction of the Forum Boarium and the Aemilian Bridge at its far end.

  The crowds swarming across the Aemilian Bridge into the city could have made the passage in the contra direction a time-consuming affair but for Sextus’ bulk and both his and Magnus’ forbidding looks. Their path was hardly impeded; the few unfortunates who did cross them soon realised the foolishness of their ways – one from the depths of the Tiber itself.