Barbinus shook his head. ‘It’s too hot for large-scale pasturage. No, the only thing to do is to increase the yield, which is where a tough old centurion might come in handy.’
Flaccus pulled himself up to attention again, as Barbinus, leaning on the table, fixed him with an intense look. ‘You know what I’d dearly like to do to that upright patrician bastard. He’s sold me this land for twice what it’s truly worth, but what if I could increase the yield so much that I’d be making a profit on the sale?’
‘You want to stick it to him!’
‘That’s right, Flaccus. I want to see the fixed smile on that stiff-necked bastard’s face when I tell him that I, Cassius Barbinus, have made a profit out of bribing him. He doesn’t look as though he eats much now, but when I’m finished, I want him to be truly sick at the sight of a loaf of bread. I want to stand up in the Forum and ask why we have to import so much wheat from Africa when I can get such a yield from my property, not forgetting to add, by the way, that the honourable Lucius Falerius had so cultivated the land, before I bought it, as to make my task a simple one. Do you see the beauty of it, old friend? That Falerii prick won’t be able to say or do anything.’
‘How do I come in?’
Barbinus fixed him with a sour look. ‘Meaning what’s in it for me?’
‘That too,’ replied Flaccus, returning the stare.
Barbinus stood and, hands on hips, stretched his back. ‘You want money, I want revenge. The land is there, the seed and the sun are there, as well as the slaves. Now I know it doesn’t turn in the crop yield my other farms manage, so I will give you the figure for the yield so far and provide funds for any improvements you need to make. Money for things like irrigation and I’ll even provide more slaves if you can justify them. You have both places for three years and any increase in the profits you can keep for yourself. After that, the whole income from the properties reverts to me.’
‘What do they turn in now?’
‘A million sesterces a year, Flaccus, most of which goes straight back into the soil or some slave’s belly. I know you want to have enough to be a knight. Double the yield on that land in Sicily and you’ll be able to join me in the Senate.’
‘I derive as little pleasure from my presence here as you do,’ said Cholon.
‘I need more time,’ replied Quintus.
‘If anything could count as your father’s dying wish, it was that these behests should be paid.’
‘You sound like a lawyer, Cholon,’ Quintus said sourly. ‘Being a free man obviously suits you.’
‘There was no attempt at impertinence there, Quintus Cornelius.’
‘How the world changes, Cholon. You now address me as Quintus Cornelius instead of master.’
Cholon frowned. The proper forms of address between Roman citizens were a little unfamiliar. ‘Is that not correct?’
Quintus looked at the Greek. Gone was the simple gown he had worn as a slave, to be replaced by a blue unadorned toga. His problem was not that his father had freed Cholon but that he had left instructions for the care of the families of those soldiers who had died with him at Thralaxas, written instructions too. Not that it mattered; Quintus knew that Cholon would never lie about such a thing. He could refuse to pay them immediately but a man who wished to advance in the public domain could hardly relish the thought of such an accusation attached to his name.
‘You have called me by my name, that is all, Cholon. I cannot forget that a few weeks ago you would not have dared.’
‘I can’t recall being cowed by the prospect. Perhaps it is more likely that you wouldn’t have been pleased.’
‘Oh yes, Cholon. My father would never have bothered if you’d called him by name. One wonders that a man can expend so much energy being humble.’
Cholon bridled; he would not have the memory of Aulus Cornelius Macedonicus sullied by anyone, even his eldest son. ‘In his case it was effortless, the natural extension of his remarkable personality.’
Quintus was stung. He stood, something he had been determined not to do in the presence of this ex-slave. ‘Well, that remarkable personality has been so prolific with his bequests that I’m having to call in outstanding loans, sell land and slaves to pay them. Since I have no desire to part with my inheritance at a lower price than it should command, I must move slowly. So you will forgive me if these people are forced to wait.’
‘I have seen to as many cases as I can from the money your father left me.’
‘What?’
Cholon smiled, speaking with perfect assurance, aware that Quintus was attempting to talk down to him. ‘I know that you will reimburse me in time.’
That was the point at which Quintus lost his temper, his dark eyebrows gathering together as he sought to stare down the insolence he perceived. ‘Don’t be so sure, Greek!’
‘But I am sure. You are not equal to your father by a long league but you’re enough his son to pay the family debts.’
‘Get out,’ Quintus hissed. ‘Leave a tally of the sums you’ve paid with my steward. When I have enough to reimburse you, I shall send you word.’
Cholon gave a small bow and left. Claudia emerged from her quarters as he crossed the atrium and, since she stood before him, he could hardly do as he wished and ignore her. So he stopped, bowed slightly and waited for her to speak. They looked at each other for several seconds before she obliged, with a wry smile.
‘I’m aware that you don’t like me, Cholon, just as I’m aware of the reasons.’
The Greek, of all people, had seen the way Claudia’s coldness, after the birth of her bastard, a child he had himself placed on the cold ground to die, had affected his late master. He had also seen their relationship as it was before her capture: happy and tactile. Claudia had turned to stone from the moment she and her husband had been reunited, and Aulus, who blamed himself for her ordeal as well as her fall from grace, had suffered when to Cholon’s way of thinking he should not.
‘Then there seems little more to say, Lady.’
Claudia paused, hoping that he would say more, but Cholon stood silent. ‘I heard raised voices.’
‘Only one voice was raised.’
She smiled again. ‘Quintus has a temper.’
‘Indeed!’
‘Would you mind telling me the cause of the argument?’
His face was like a death-mask. ‘It was not an argument, Lady.’
‘You seem to have acquired the stiff Roman neck very quickly,’ Claudia snapped. ‘It is a pity that in adopting our codes you didn’t take on board our manners as well.’
The reply was calm, his demeanour imperturbable. ‘No doubt I shall, in time, if I’m careful with my tutors.’
Claudia clasped her hands together, her face taking on an anxious look. ‘This will not do, will it, Cholon?’
‘Do for what, Lady?’
‘Do you see me as an enemy?’ she asked. ‘There was a time, wasn’t there? I hurt Aulus and you hated me for it.’
‘Emotions may pass on with those who die. They tend to remain in the living.’
‘I know Quintus is short of money. I wonder if you know why?’
‘It would be impolite to enquire.’
‘His father, many years ago, transferred a large portion of his wealth to me.’ Cholon tried, but he could not keep the surprise off his face. ‘Unfortunately for Quintus, it seems to be the most easily tradable part of the estate. You are aware that an eldest son normally inherits everything. Aulus felt that Quintus might be unjust to me…’
‘I wonder why he felt that?’ said Cholon, coldly.
Claudia’s eyes dropped and she clasped her arms together and shivered slightly. Quintus had found her the day her ‘captivity’ had ended; it was his men who had killed Brennos’s personal bodyguards to free her. He had also seen her condition and the thought that it might become public terrified him. She could remember the thoughts she had had when Quintus went to fetch his father, Claudia refusing to move from the spot where he had found her. Sitting in the wagon, she had contemplated killing herself, but the first stirring of the child in her womb had stayed that thought. Like Aulus, Cholon only knew half the truth and, tempted as she was to open up now that she was
