Street fighter

12

‘This is an outrage,’ Caesar said quietly when Marcus had finished his account of Portia’s abduction.

The consul was sitting on a chair in his private study with General Pompeius when Marcus, Portia and Lupus returned, dishevelled and bruised. As soon as Marcus explained to Festus what had happened, Festus led a party of men to retrieve the bodies of Corvus and the two kidnappers. Meanwhile, the two boys and their mistress were taken to Caesar’s study to describe the event in full.

‘An outrage indeed,’ Pompeius said, nodding. ‘And not an isolated incident either. First Crassus was attacked and now your niece. And from what your slave boy here says, your enemies intend to threaten your life too. It seems our political opponents have increased the stakes, my dear Caesar. And they will pay dearly for their folly. I simply have to say the word and my veterans will scour the streets until we find the men behind this cowardly attack.’

Caesar shook his head. ‘That is exactly what they hope for. The moment your followers start roughing people up, you can be sure that Cato, Cicero and their noble friends in the Senate will scream from the rooftops that tyranny has returned to the streets of Rome. If that view takes hold, then we will be undone, General — you, me and Crassus. We’ll be called to account on whatever made-up charges they care to bring against us and you can be sure the jury will be stuffed with our enemies. It’ll be exile for the three of us, and they’ll confiscate all our property.’

‘What can we do then?’ Pompeius threw his hands up. ‘Let them get away with it?’

‘Not that, certainly.’ Caesar shook his head. ‘But whatever we do, it must not antagonize our supporters in the Senate. We’ll deal with it later. In the meantime. .’

He paused and held out his hand to Portia. ‘Come here, my sweet.’

Portia stepped lightly forward and took his hand. Caesar looked up at a slight angle into her face, and then cupped her cheek with his hand. ‘Are you sure they didn’t hurt you?’

‘I’m fine, Uncle — shaken, but no real harm done. Thanks to Marcus, Lupus and Corvus.’

‘Ah yes, the kitchen boy who was killed in the fight. He can be replaced. But you can’t be.’

‘Corvus gave his life to save me, Uncle,’ Portia said with deliberation. ‘It was brave and noble of him.’

‘Of course it was.’ Caesar lowered his hand and patted her arm.

‘And Marcus too. He fought like a lion and put one of the men down before he was overwhelmed.’

‘He shall have his reward,’ Caesar said soothingly, then nodded towards Lupus. ‘The other boy too. Never let it be said that Caesar is ungrateful.’

Pompeius snorted. ‘Reward the slave? Why? It was thanks to this young fool that she was taken in broad daylight in the first place.’ He leaned forward in his chair and stabbed a finger towards Marcus. ‘It was your duty to protect Caesar’s niece. What kind of a bodyguard do you call yourself, eh? You are supposed to keep a watch on her at all times and yet Portia was snatched right from under your nose. I don’t think you should be rewarded at all. In fact, if you were my slave, I would have you scourged, or nailed up as a warning to my other slaves of the price of failing in their duties.’

Marcus endured the tirade in silence. There was nothing else he could do. He was a slave and it was not his place to speak up for himself. The very act of doing so would place him in far greater danger. His mind still reeled with shame that he had failed Portia, and he seethed with anger at the way Pompeius was talking to him. Even worse, this was the very man he had hoped could help him find and free his mother — and now he regarded Marcus with open contempt and hostility. Why would the general ever want to help him?

‘It’s not Marcus’s fault,’ Portia intervened.

Pompeius turned to her, composing his angry expression into a kindly look of concern. ‘I think that it is, my dear. I would be angry enough if he simply failed in his duty. The fact that he did so with respect to the young woman who is soon to be a member of my household is unforgivable.’

‘No. It was my fault those men could take me without Marcus knowing. I ordered him and the other two to wait outside the shop. He was only doing as he was told. I don’t blame him for that. Nor should you.’

Pompeius smiled at her. ‘You have a good heart, child. But you do not understand that a man, no matter how young, has no excuse when he fails in his duty. For that he should be punished.’

Caesar shook his head. ‘There will be no punishment for Marcus. I am in his debt for saving my niece once already, and today has only increased that debt. Look at him. See the bruises and cuts? I don’t doubt that he risked his life to save my niece. Marcus, again, I offer you my thanks.’

Marcus was grateful his master didn’t take the same view as Pompeius. He bowed his head and replied as steadily as he could. ‘Yes, Caesar.’

‘There shall be a reward for you, in due course.’

Before Marcus could respond there was a sharp rap at the door and Caesar straightened up in his chair. ‘Come!’

The door opened and Festus stepped into the room, flushed from hurrying back from the slum. He closed the door behind him, strode up to Caesar and bowed briefly.

‘Well?’ asked Caesar. ‘What did you find?’

‘We have the boy’s body, master.’

‘What about the two men?’

‘There were no other bodies in the storeroom. However, there was a smear of blood leading outside. We followed the trace a short distance before we found a man’s body lying in a nearby alley. I had the men bring that back as well.’

‘And the other attacker?’

‘There was no sign of him, master.’

‘A pity. It would have been useful to question him. We need to know who gave them orders to target my niece.’ He turned to Marcus. ‘While your memory is fresh, what can you remember about these men?’

Marcus collected his thoughts. ‘They didn’t look like ordinary men, master. They were solidly built. Close-cropped hair, like soldiers, or gladiators. They moved like professional fighters.’

‘Gladiators?’ Pompeius raised his eyebrows. ‘Do you think our opponents are resorting to using gladiators against us?’

‘Why not?’ Caesar responded. ‘It makes perfect sense. If Cato and the others are taking our conflict on to the streets, then why not employ men who know how to fight? In fact, I wish I’d thought of it first. I own several gladiator schools in Campania.’

‘You’re joking, of course,’ said Pompeius. ‘Think how it would look to the mob if a consul unleashed packs of gladiators upon them. It would be a scandal. Worse than a scandal, it would be a mistake.’

Caesar reflected a moment and flashed a smile. ‘You are right I am joking. Nevertheless, I will send for some of my best gladiators and have them billeted close to Rome, just in case.’

Pompeius sucked in a quick breath. ‘It’s your funeral, Caesar. Just don’t let it be mine as well, or that of our dear friend Crassus.’

Marcus was reminded of his conversation with Portia in the garden — it definitely appeared that whatever alliance existed between the three powerful aristocrats, it was an uneasy one, founded on mutual suspicion rather than any affection. And yet Caesar had let this man’s nephew marry his only niece — a move that spoke more of his ambition than his love for his own flesh and blood. Caesar may have spared Marcus from any punishment this time, but Marcus mustn’t forget a slave meant nothing to him, and he hardened his feelings.

Caesar was gently stroking his jaw as he considered the situation. ‘If the other side has decided to use gangs to undermine us, then we must meet force with force. The trick of it will be to find an intermediary who has connections with the street gangs of Rome. Someone who can be persuaded to use his influence to serve our ends.’ He looked up and fixed his eyes on Pompeius. ‘There is such a man.’

Pompeius thought briefly, then his eyes widened in alarm. ‘Not him. Not Clodius. Please not Clodius. The man is a thug, little better than a common criminal. We can’t use him.’

‘Why not? He could well be the answer to our difficulties.’

‘Or he could just be adding to them, or making them worse.’

‘Then let’s sound him out. Get him in here and talk to him.’

‘On what pretext?’

Caesar thought for a moment and then smiled. ‘So that he can help us identify the body of the man who attacked my niece. After that, we change the subject and see where he stands. What do you think?’

Pompeius shook his head. ‘I think you are mad. But… you are right — there’s no one better connected with the criminals of Rome than Clodius.’

Caesar nodded. ‘Clodius it is then. He’s at his villa in Baiae at present. I’ll send for him at once.’

In the silence that followed, Portia glanced at Marcus before addressing her uncle. ‘First we must provide for Corvus.’

‘What’s that?’

‘The kitchen boy who saved my life,’ Portia reminded him. ‘I promised I’d see that he was given a proper funeral.’

Caesar waved a hand dismissively. ‘It’s not necessary.’

‘I gave my word, Uncle.’

He frowned at her and Marcus wondered if he would refuse. Then he shrugged, and nodded his assent. ‘Very well, you can use one of the carts. Do it at first light tomorrow and return here as soon as it’s over.’

‘Yes, Uncle.’

Caesar clicked his fingers at Festus. ‘And you go with them. Take two of your best men with you.’

‘Yes, master.’

‘Now I need to be alone with General Pompeius. The rest of you, leave us.’

They filed from the room and Marcus glanced back at the two men as they began speaking in low tones. He focused his attention on Pompeius, heavily built, ornately robed in a purple tunic and cloak, and enslaved by his self-regard. Marcus was determined to show Pompeius he was wrong in his accusation that Marcus had failed to protect Portia. He must prove himself and somehow win the man over. Only then could he claim the one reward he would ever want from Pompeius or Caesar — freedom for himself and his mother, and, one day, revenge on Decimus and his henchman, Thermon.