Street fighter

9

Marcus resumed his training in the morning and did not see Portia again until Flaccus summoned him the following week, late in spring, and announced that Marcus was to escort his mistress to the Forum next day. The master was holding a small dinner at the house to announce his niece’s betrothal and she was to buy material for a new gown. It had been decided to hold the marriage ceremony during the summer.

‘Do you think I’m ready to protect her, sir?’ Marcus asked Festus when he found him sitting in the yard afterwards, drinking some wine. ‘There’s been trouble on the streets.’

‘Not for a few days now,’ Festus countered. ‘Besides, it’s a political struggle between the master and his enemies. Hopefully, no one will pay much attention to his niece and the only thing you have to worry about is cutpurses and footpads. You’ll do fine, boy. I’ve trained you well. If there’s any trouble you’ll know how to react. Just remember to have the hood of your cloak up. It will help you keep an eye on your surroundings without making it obvious that’s what you’re doing.’ Festus took a sip from his cup. ‘Look out for any sign of trouble between Cato’s supporters and our own. If anything kicks off, then get the mistress back to the house straight away. Don’t stop for anything until she’s safely indoors. Other than that, make sure you’re tooled up. Club and throwing knives should be sufficient. You might want to take a felt cap with you.’

Summer was fast approaching and Marcus was confused by this suggestion. ‘I think I’ll be warm enough without it, thanks.’

‘It isn’t for warmth,’ Festus explained. He put his cup down on the ground beside him and rummaged inside his tunic, then took out a small bundle of felt. ‘See?’

He opened the cap out and Marcus saw it was bulkier than a usual cap.

‘I’ve sewn some thick strips of cork into it. If you take a blow to the head, it’ll absorb some of the impact. Here, take it. It’ll be loose, so put some stitches in tonight to be sure it fits properly.’ He shrugged. ‘You never know, it might save your life.’

Marcus took the proffered cap, his heart warmed by this act of generosity from the crusty Festus. ‘Thank you, sir.’

Festus drained his cup and patted Marcus on the shoulder. ‘Best get some sleep, my lad. You’ll need to be alert tomorrow.’

‘Yes, sir.’ Marcus turned and started walking in the direction of the slave quarters. Then he paused and looked back, holding the cap up. ‘And thanks for this.’

‘Look after it.’ Festus smiled. ‘I’ll want it back, undamaged.’

Early next morning the small party emerged from Caesar’s house and stepped down into the street. Besides Portia and Marcus there were the two kitchen boys. The cook had drawn up a list of the meats and fruits required for the feast and Lupus and Corvus were to carry these home once their mistress had paid for them. They set off towards the Forum, Portia leading the way, followed by the kitchen boys. Marcus walked a few paces behind them, where he could watch for danger and be ready to rush forward and protect her. Portia was wearing a plain cloak over her long tunic and her purse was out of sight. There was nothing to distinguish her from any other girl from a well-to-do household, out on a shopping expedition.

The street was already filled with people and the traders were setting out their wares on stalls lining the pavement on each side of the street. Passers-by were forced to pick their way through the piles of rubbish and human and animal waste that collected amid the cobbles until the next rainfall, when they would be washed away. Marcus barely noticed the stench, tensing as he concentrated on every side alley and looked for anyone suspicious, or any unusual movement. Every so often he would look back quickly to see if anyone might be following them. Immediately ahead of him, Corvus and Lupus chatted away, enjoying the escape from their regular duties. Marcus wondered if they would still enjoy the experience when they struggled back to the house, laden down by purchases. He smiled at the thought. Marcus had settled in with the other boys in his sleeping cell now they’d grown used to each other, with good-natured teasing and joking each night before they fell asleep, and he looked forward to ribbing them for being Portia’s pack mules.

They reached the Forum without incident and merged with the crowds in the markets. As well as customers, the usual gangs of youths hung around the public fountains, talking loudly about the most recent chariot race and abusing other gangs who supported different teams. The beggars lining the side of the Sacred Way, or propped up in arches beside the temples, endlessly repeated their requests, their arms outstretched. Portia, moved by their plight, stopped to instruct Lupus, who was carrying her purse, to hand out a few small coins. Marcus casually wandered to the other side of the road and pretended to examine the fruit on a nearby stall as he scanned the street both ways.

Just then, a gap in the crowd opened up and Marcus noticed two men some fifty paces behind him. They had also stopped, and they stared up the street for a moment towards him before turning to each other, as if in conversation. They wore plain brown tunics, like most people in Rome, but their hair was cropped short and they looked tough. A certain tension in the way they held themselves caused Marcus to be suspicious. He kept watching them out of the corner of his eye while he stood in front of the fruit stall.

‘You going to buy something, or just waiting to steal it?’

Marcus glanced up at the stallholder, a large woman with thick arms and a hard face. He shook his head and moved to the next stall. Further down the street, the two men had moved towards a stall where a dark-skinned trader was selling belts. Marcus watched them a moment longer, until Portia had tucked her purse away and was ready to continue. They entered the open area in front of the Senate House and turned towards the basilica, where the luxury items were sold. Marcus carefully looked back and scanned the crowd, but saw no sign of the two men. He wondered if he was jumping at shadows, but remembered Festus’s stern advice — having an overdeveloped sense of suspicion was part of the job. Marcus glanced round the crowd again and still couldn’t see them, so he hurried a few paces to catch up with Portia.

After the daylight in the street it seemed gloomy inside the basilica and it took a moment for Marcus’s eyes to adjust. As he looked round, he was astonished by the variety and quality of the goods on sale: fine rolls of bright cloth and the shimmer of silk, baskets of dried fruits from across the seas, racks filled with jars of the best wines, sets of finely carved figurines of Roman soldiers, barbarians and gladiators — all at prices far beyond the means of the vast majority of Rome’s inhabitants. Marcus had never seen such riches all in one place.

‘We’ll leave the cook’s purchases till last, since they will be the heaviest,’ Portia decided, smiling at Lupus and Corvus. ‘No point in you being loaded down while I look for some cloth and scents.’

‘Thank you, mistress.’ They bowed their heads in gratitude.

‘Well, come on then,’ Portia chuckled. ‘No dawdling.’

They slowly made their way between the shop counters laden with rolls of cloth and Portia stopped every so often to examine any material that caught her eye. Eventually she paid for a length of shimmering emerald-green cloth and instructed Marcus to carry it for her.

Marcus shook his head. ‘It wouldn’t be wise, mistress.’

‘Oh?’ Her nose lifted indignantly. ‘And why is that?’

‘For two reasons. It would make me stand out, and it would also encumber me if I had to act swiftly. Festus was quite clear on the need to avoid attention and being ready to fight.’

‘Well, Festus isn’t here, is he? Besides, it’s all nonsense, Marcus. Who would be stupid enough to attack me in the heart of the Forum? And how could you not draw attention to yourself, the way you’re skulking along behind me!’

Before Marcus could protest any further she turned and made off towards the scent shops, leaving him with the roll of material. He hissed through his teeth in frustration. Then he turned to the two boys. Corvus instantly held up a hand.

‘No use looking at us, mate. We’ll have our hands full as it is.’

‘I’m serious.’ Marcus held out the cloth. ‘Take it. I have to protect her. ’

‘No way — she told you to carry it and we’re not going to risk a flogging for disobeying her orders.’ Corvus tugged the other boy’s arm and they hurried after Portia.

Marcus muttered a violent curse under his breath as he tucked the material under his arm and took another look round before he followed them.

Portia went from shop to shop along the row of scent traders, sniffing from the fine glassware containers that she sampled. At length, she made a selection and reached for her purse as the shopkeeper beckoned her inside to choose a fine jar and stopper to take a measure of the scent away with her.

‘Wait here,’ she instructed. ‘Once I’m done we’ll head to the spice shops.’

She disappeared through the narrow doorway and Marcus glanced after her. Beyond the door the shop opened into a deep room with another door opening on to the street outside the basilica. There, another stall was manned by a young assistant who tried to tempt passing customers. The shopkeeper ushered Portia to a counter holding a selection of ornate scent bottles.

‘By Jupiter,’ Lupus muttered. ‘I thought she’d never make up her mind.’

‘And did you see the price of it?’ asked Corvus with a shake of his head. ‘Ten denarii! Unbelievable. . Just to smell nice if anyone gets close to her at the dinner. ’

‘You might try some one day,’ Lupus sniffed. ‘You stink of fish.’

‘That’s because the bloody cook had me marinading stuff in garum first thing this morning. You try it and see if you come up smelling any better.’

Marcus moved away from their wrangling and looked up and down the row of shops, but there was no sign of the two men he’d seen earlier and he decided he must have been worrying about nothing. Just to make sure, he wandered a short distance to the end of another row of traders’ stalls before returning to his position outside the scent shop. His thoughts returned to Portia’s news from the week before. Having thought the matter over, Marcus saw how it offered him precisely the chance he needed to appeal to General Pompeius for help. But the presence of Decimus in Rome, and his closeness to Crassus, didn’t look good and Marcus’s mind clouded with doubt.

Marcus’s thoughts were interrupted by a cry from inside the shop. He thrust the roll of cloth on to the table of scent jars and raced for the entrance.

Corvus looked startled. ‘What’s going on? Marcus?’

Marcus ignored him and ran into the shop, club held tightly in his clenched fist. The shopkeeper was lying on the floor, blood pulsing from a wound on his head. His eyes flickered as his assistant knelt beside him and pressed his hand over the wound to try to stop the bleeding. Marcus took in the scene in an instant.

‘Where is she?’ he asked.

The assistant glanced up with a dazed expression but did not reply.

‘WHERE IS SHE?’ Marcus shouted.

The assistant flinched, then thrust a quavering finger towards the door on the other side of the shop. ‘They took her.’

A cold, sick feeling filled Marcus’s guts. He heard footsteps as Corvus and Lupus entered the shop. Marcus ran towards the other door, shouting back over his shoulder.

‘Follow me!’