Deadly Election Read Online Free PDF Page A

me. He was anxious. He cared, really. Too much for his own good, other people might say.
    While Faustus and I had our tussle of wills, the boy with Gornia’s sad animal put out his tongue at Dromo, who gurned back so hideously I was afraid his eyes would pop out. After these formalities the lads seemed to tolerate one another. Faustus also settled down. He turned back to the granary clerk. ‘I hope we can count on you to support Vibius Marinus for aedile. He is holding a little reception for loyal supporters, so do come. Bring your friends – well, bring a few.’ Faustus grinned affably so the dipsomaniac grinned back, won over by the offer of a free drink.
    I was glimpsing how Manlius Faustus and his uncle had behaved with the public when he stood for office himself this time last year. It was a new side of him. I was not sure I liked it.
    ‘Remember – give your voice to Vibius!’
    Before I could dodge, Faustus put his warm hands on my waist and lifted me onto the donkey. Allowing people to save your life makes them very free with you.
    He had put me up side-saddle. Of course there was no saddle, only a threadbare cloth. Faustus had a glint in his eye as he realised I was considering whether to ride astride. Normally I do, but getting into position reveals bare legs. Manlius Faustus would really enjoy disapproving of that.
    Since it made talking easier, I stayed put. Patchy moved off and we ambled along, trailed by the donkey boy and Dromo.
    ‘Is that granary one of your uncle’s buildings?’ I asked. Faustus’s Uncle Tullius owned commercial warehouses.
    ‘No, but he keeps his old accounts there, rather than waste our own space. My uncle likes high-grade retail tenants who will pay heftily for decent security. That place is cheaper − but just a dump. I’m picking up documents for Sextus Vibius.’
    ‘What are they?’
    ‘Mortgages and leases his father wants to call in for cash to lavish on potential voters. A lot of influential senators are about to be spoiled – let us hope they are grateful.’
    ‘And who is Vibius?’
    ‘My old school friend,’ he explained. ‘I persuaded him to stand as an aedile. I am his campaign adviser.’
    ‘Hard work?’
    ‘Harder for me than him, it seems. I feel like a biffed fly, madly zizzing on the floor …’ Actually, Faustus seemed cheerful enough. We had worked together on a couple of inquiries. He had energy and tenacity; I enjoyed sharing a case with him.
    I had only known this man for three months, but when he seized my donkey’s rein from the boy and led it himself, I knew he was after something; he probably wanted to work with me again.
    He took me to an apartment on the Clivus Scauri, close to that gate in the Servian Walls where the Arch of the consuls Dolabella and Silanus stands. His friend lived in modest, though elegant, rooms on an upper floor with a wife I did not meet. His elderly parents had the ground floor, the original family home, from which the campaign for Vibius was being run. Apart from the extra space available, working downstairs was more convenient. There was constant coming and going. The house was very well placed for business in the Forum; depending on which way you turned, you could walk down easily through either of the valleys around the Caelian. It was obvious why aristocrats, and now other people with money, should want to live thereabouts.
    The Vibii had money, judging by their furniture – for instance, a large round table with exquisite figured veneering, a table whose cost would have paid lifetime bills for poorer families. Trained by my father, I reckoned that on the right day it would make a good price at auction.
    Faustus introduced his friend: Sextus Vibius Marinus. He was around the same age, thinner, with floppy hair. He had a jumpy manner, where Faustus was watchful and still.
    It is odd how you can balk at your friends’ friends. Faustus assumed I would love Vibius as he did, and be equally thrilled by their