Free Rome's Lost Son by Robert Fabbri

that I would soon. Perhaps it’d be better to do it now rather than have it forced upon me by one of the other brotherhoods staging a takeover or Tigran slipping a knife between my ribs because he can’t wait.’
    Vespasian raised his eyebrows. ‘He’d do that?’
    ‘He’s already thought about it; it was only my promise that stopped him. Anyway, that’s how I got the job all those years ago.’ Magnus closed and secured the shutters on the only window in the room, dulling the rumble of traffic and drunken shouts coming in from the street.
    ‘Twenty-six, to be precise,’ Gaius informed them. ‘I should remember because it cost me a fortune in bribes and blood-money to save you from being condemned to the arena.’
    ‘For which I’ve always been grateful, senator.’
    ‘And you’ve repaid me many times over.’ Gaius chuckled, holding his cup in both hands. ‘I don’t suppose I’ll get quite as good service from the brotherhood if Tigran becomes the patronus.’
    ‘It’ll certainly cost you more; but I’m sure we can come to an accommodation as part of the transfer of power.’ A knock on the door prevented him from elaboration on the point. ‘Ah, your guests.’ He opened it to find Sextus’ massive form blocking the doorway; he moved to one side, his shoulders shaking slightly as if he was still controlling his amusement.
    A moment later, Narcissus walked into the room, removing his hood; Agarpetus followed. Narcissus glanced at Magnus with languid, pale eyes. ‘The redoubtable Magnus of the South Quirinal Crossroads Brotherhood,’ he crooned, walking straight to a chair and sitting opposite Vespasian and Gaius; the scent of his pomade wafted through the room. ‘Thank you for your hospitality. Losing your grip a bit recently, I hear, hmm?’
    Magnus bristled. ‘Not so as you’d notice.’ He shot Narcissus a one-eyed glare and then pushed past Agarpetus and left the room.
    Narcissus affected not to notice the slam of the door. ‘Good evening, gentlemen.’
    ‘Good evening, imperial secretary,’ Vespasian and Gaius replied as Agarpetus stepped forward to stand at his patron’s right shoulder.
    ‘You had a safe journey, I trust,’ Gaius asked at his most ingratiating.
    ‘I came by carriage and the roads were terrible; clogged with scroungers and wastrels drunk on our merciful Emperor’s wine.’ The Greek examined one of the many bejewelled rings he wore on each of his chubby fingers and spoke as if addressing the ruby set in it: ‘Which is exactly why I chose tonight for our meeting. So we will get directly to business and forgo the small talk.’
    ‘We’ve always respected your penchant for straight-talking,’ Vespasian replied while pouring another cup of wine.
    Narcissus’ mouth twitched into the nearest he ever came to smiling. He leant forward and placed his elbows on the table, steepling his fingers and pressing them to his lips above his trimmed and oiled black beard; weighty gold rings, dangling from each ear, glinted in the lamplight as they rocked to and fro. He considered Vespasian and Gaius for a few moments, his eyes slowly passing between them as if he was deciding whom to address first. Raucous laughter over a steadily increasing chanting and clapping filtered in from the tavern; a whore and her client were evidently being encouraged in their endeavours.
    Vespasian pushed the filled cup across the desk, holding his visitor’s gaze when it fell upon him, and was shocked by how lined Narcissus’ well-filled-out face had become since the last time he had seen him at such close quarters. The strain of losing his position of influence with the Emperor – if not his title and function – to his colleague Pallas had evidently borne down hard on him; it was not easy living with the constant fear of execution. However, Vespasian felt no sympathy for him as he observed the black staining of dye on the pale skin around his hairline and beneath his beard. The threat of arbitrary