Rome's Lost Son Read Online Free PDF

what he was being told became apparent. He did not argue with it because he realised that deep down he had always known; deep down he had been insulted by being given the consulship for the final two months of a year; deep down, he had known it to be a snub; deep down, the honour that he felt at being consul had been gnawed at by resentment. But he had kept all that buried – deep down. ‘How will she block me?’
    ‘Your brother has just failed Rome in quite a spectacular way …’
    ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘This is the knowledge that we thought would be of interest to you; Narcissus will explain if you meet him. Suffice it to say that Sabinus’ mistake is excuse enough to halt all ambitions that any member of your family may have. Pallas cannot help you, so that leaves you with one option.’
    Trust Narcissus to reach straight for the truth of the matter; trust him to know how to manipulate. Vespasian looked at Agarpetus, his decision made; it had not been hard to choose between obscurity and disloyalty. ‘Very well; I’ll meet Narcissus.’
    Agarpetus gave the wry smile of a man who has had a prediction confirmed – his first change of expression. ‘He suggests that the safest place to meet would be at the tavern of the South Quirinal Crossroads Brotherhood; he believes that your friend, your uncle’s client, Marcus Salvius Magnus, is still the patronus there.’
    ‘He is.’
    ‘Very good, his discretion is assured; Narcissus and I will be there tonight at the seventh hour as the city celebrates today’s executions.’
    ‘Good morning, dear boy!’ Gaius Vespasius Pollo boomed as he waddled fast to fall into step next to his nephew, his expansive belly and buttocks and his sagging breasts and chins all swaying furiously to seemingly different beats. ‘Thank you for inviting me to share the honour of conducting the prisoners to the Emperor.’ Behind him his clients fell in with those of Vespasian to make an entourage of well over five hundred escorting them down the Quirinal Hill.
    Vespasian inclined his head. ‘Thank you, Uncle, for lending me your clients to add impact to my arrival in the Forum.’
    ‘My pleasure; it makes a nice change to be preceded by lictors again.’
    ‘“Change pleases”,’ a voice quoted from just behind Gaius, ‘and it makes a nice change for me and the lads not to have to beat you a path through the crowds, seeing as you have them do it professionally today; and don’t they do it so well?’
    ‘Indeed, and with more satisfaction too, I’ll hazard, Magnus,’ Gaius suggested, starting to sweat despite the dignified pace and the chill winter wind. ‘After all, a lictor gets paid and therefore mixes business with pleasure.’
    Magnus’ battered ex-boxer’s face screwed into an indignant frown and he looked slantendicular at his patron with his one good eye – the painted glass ball in his left eye socket stared futilely ahead. ‘Are you saying that my lads don’t enjoy beating a path for you, senator? Because you certainly pay us to do so, although, granted, not in the same way as the College of Lictors remunerates its members. However, you reward us in subtle and much more lucrative ways, which means that our business is far more satisfying, if you take my meaning?’
    Vespasian laughed and squeezed his friend’s shoulder; despite Magnus being nineteen years his senior and considerably below him socially, they had been friends since Vespasian had first come to Rome as a youth of sixteen. He and his uncleknew far better than most just how satisfying Magnus found his business in the criminal underbelly of Rome as the leader of the South Quirinal Crossroads Brotherhood. ‘I do, my friend; and it pleases me that even at your age you still derive satisfaction from your work.’
    Magnus ran a hand through his hair, grey with age but still thick. ‘Now you’re mocking me, sir; I may be sixty but there’s still some fight and fuck in me left – although I don’t see