‘The engineers’ barges are going to be made to look like biremes. How many people in Rome do you think can tell one end of a boat from another? It’s all about appearances, Macro.’
‘Not all,’ said Cato. ‘A spectacle does not feed its audience. What of the grain the Emperor mentioned? Where’s that coming from?’
‘That we don’t yet know exactly,’ Narcissus admitted. ‘Septimus, you’d better fill them in.’
The imperial secretary nodded and was silent for a moment as he collected his thoughts. ‘With that recent trouble in Egypt restricting the flow of grain, there was always going to be a shortage. That’s where the guild of grain merchants comes in. If one source of grain begins to dry up, they find another province to import it from. As far as I understand it, they had compensated for the situation by offering tenders to suppliers in Gaul and Sicilia. The cargoes were landed in Ostia and carried up the Tiber to Rome, and then put up for sale in the guild’s hall. The thing is, a handful of merchants bought up almost every shipment, bidding up well above the normal price range. There won’t be another grain fleet arriving from Egypt until late in the spring. Meanwhile there’s only a tiny trickle of grain reaching the market. Nowhere near enough to feed Rome.’
‘So,’ Narcissus intervened, ‘the pressing issue is to find those who have been buying all the grain and then find out where they have been storing it. If there’s been a plot to corner the market on grain, then I dare say the Emperor is not going to be too pleased when he discovers who is responsible. He might spare them from being thrown to the mob if they are public spirited enough to give their stocks to the Emperor to distribute to the public. In the meantime, we await a convoy of grain from Sicilia. I sent word to the governor of Sicilia a month ago to send us whatever grain he has sitting in the island’s granaries. The first convoy should reach Ostia any day. When it does, the grain will be handed over directly to a cohort of the Praetorian Guard, for escort to Rome. That will assuage the mob’s appetite for bloodshed and disorder temporarily. For now, we must discover who has been hoarding the grain.’ Narcissus nodded at Septimus to continue.
Septimus stirred. ‘It should have been an easy task, but the thing is when I questioned the merchants in whose name the shipments were purchased it turns out that they were acting on behalf of someone else and were paid generously to act as intermediaries.’
‘For whom?’ asked Macro.
‘That’s just it. They never met the final buyers, or buyer. They were funded in silver and told to deliver the shipment to a warehouse close to the Boarium. One rented out by Gaius Frontinus.’
Cato felt his pulse quicken. ‘I know it. I’ve been there. That was where I lost Cestius.’
‘Cestius?’ Naricissus sounded surprised and he exchanged a brief look with Septimus.
‘Do you know him?’ asked Cato.
‘Only by reputation. He leads one of the largest criminal gangs in the Subura, the Viminal Hill thugs, I believe.’
‘That’s right. But you also know him by sight. He was the man who led the attack on the Emperor that day we escorted him back from the camp.’
Narcissus thought a moment. ‘The big man? The one you saved young Nero from?’
‘That’s him.’
‘So that’s Cestius,’ Narcissus said deliberately. ‘What has he got to do with this warehouse then?’
Cato explained how he had seen the man and followed him across Rome, and that he was known to at least one regular member of the grain merchant’s guild. ‘It’s more than likely Cestius is behind the attempt to control the grain supply.’
Narcissus stroked his chin. ‘But he’d need a fortune to do that. The street gangs do well enough, but it would take them several years at least to amass a fortune big enough to buy up the grain stocks. There’s only one likely source for that kind of sum.’
Cato nodded. ‘The stolen bullion.’
Septimus cleared his throat. ‘Which means that Cestius is working with the Liberators.’
Narcissus glanced at him with a cold expression. ‘Evidently. Cestius is another enemy we’ll have to take care of in due course. In the meantime, you two will be dealing with Centurion Lurco. What is your plan?’
‘Nothing elaborate,’ said Macro. ‘We follow him, wait until he’s alone and then have a quiet word with him, if we get the chance. If that doesn’t work, then we knock him on the head. Either way, we’ll bring him back here and turn him over to Septimus. Then it’s up to you to keep him out of circulation until our job’s done.’
The imperial secretary stared at Macro for a moment before he replied in a cutting tone, ‘Brilliantly conceived, I must say. It is a comfort to know that the army still employs strategists of the first water.’
‘It’ll work,’ Macro replied sourly. ‘That’s all that matters.’
‘See that it does.’ Narcissus sighed. ‘I fear that we are running out of time, gentlemen. There must be a reason why our enemies want Lurco to disappear. It has to be more than some kind of initiation test. They’re getting ready to make their move, I know it. And the Liberators are not the only danger facing us. The Emperor’s gladiator spectacle will distract the mob for a moment. Unless we feed them before it’s too late then the people will turn on us like ravenous wolves and tear Rome to pieces.’
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Dusk thickened over the capital and shrouded it in a thin mist as Centurion Lurco quit the Praetorian camp and entered the city. He was dressed in a thick blue cloak and only the soft leather boots that rose halfway up his calves indicated that he was a man of status. The bulge on his hip revealed that he was armed; lone footpads and small gangs of robbers presented a considerable danger in the darker alleys and byways of Rome.
Macro and Cato tailed him at a distance. After returning to the Praetorian camp following their meeting with Narcissus they had kept watch on the centurion’s quarters, waiting for him to emerge. He came out once in the afternoon, in his military tunic, and made a brief visit to headquarters. Then, as the light faded, he stepped out in his cloak, ready to find his evening’s entertainment. Cato and Macro fell into step fifty or so paces behind the officer. Like Lurco they were armed, and Macro carried a leather sap filled with sand and small pebbles.
Centurion Lurco made his way down the hill at a carefree pace, not once bothering to look behind him as he negotiated the dark streets. There were still plenty of people abroad, enough for Cato and Macro not to draw attention to themselves, and not so many that it was difficult to keep Lurco in view. He stayed away from the main thoroughfares as far as he could, to avoid the inconvenience of encountering any of the patrols and checkpoints of the urban cohorts.
As they tailed him into the Subura, Macro muttered to Cato, ‘Can’t imagine Lurco wanting to spend any time in this dump. That, or he’s got cheap tastes, and friends who share them.’
‘I’m sure there are plenty of young rakes who get their thrills from slumming it,’ Cato replied. ‘Unless he’s heading somewhere else.’
A little further on, the centurion abruptly turned into a street to his right.
‘Shit,’ Macro hissed. ‘He’s on to us.’
They trotted forward to the junction before cautiously peering round the grimy corner of a tenement block. Lurco was a short distance ahead, striding on without any evident sign of concern. They let him open up a safe lead before resuming their pursuit.
‘Why don’t we take him now?’ asked Macro. ‘We’re not far from the safe house.’
Cato shook his head. ‘Let’s see where he goes first. He might lead us to some interesting acquaintances.’
‘Or he might just lead us to a bunch of delinquent piss-heads,’ Macro countered. ‘Or we might lose sight of him.’
‘Not if we’re careful. Besides, it wouldn’t be a good idea to start a scene where we might draw a crowd. We’ll wait and see who he meets, and then deal with him the moment we can catch him on his own.’ Cato realised that he had spoken in a peremptory tone and glanced quickly at his friend to see if Macro had taken any offence. But Macro just nodded briskly, as if he had been given an order. Cato was mildly surprised by the little thrill of pleasure he felt at his friend’s unquestioning obedience to his will, as well as his confidence in stating it. Perhaps they were both finally comfortable with his promotion over his former mentor. Former? Cato mused. No, not yet. There was still much that Macro could teach him.
