purse.
His attention was suddenly drawn to the front of the building as the senate house’s doors swung open, releasing the roar of angry and excited politicians into the city. Balbus was less than surprised to recognise the first figure to emerge.
Cicero had his hands raised in triumph as he stepped into the light, beaming at the crowd that had assembled outside, hoping to set eyes on the men who controlled their republic. The great orator had the look of a victorious gladiator, playing to the people. The senators who followed him closely, though Balbus knew perhaps half of the faces at most, were clearly Cicero ’s supporters and pets, cheering him on.
The chorus of “Summons for Caesar” was still being echoed around the curia’s interior, and Balbus frowned. Had Cicero already managed to press for such a drastic move in the general’s absence? But the more he listened, the more it sounded like a demand than an announcement.
Cicero had paused on the steps and dropped into conversation with two senators at his side and Balbus’ eyes strayed across the scene until he locked onto the wretch who was dutifully eavesdropping for him. The boy had managed to get himself remarkably close to the city’s most honoured and respected orator. That conversation alone would be well worth the three copper coins.
Balbus started and shrank instinctively back into the shade as his eyes lit upon the small group behind the boy; five men in the drab brown tunics of the Roman poor. They would blend into any crowd with ease. But Balbus had served with the legions for more years than he cared to remember and the stance of a soldier was unmistakable, no matter what he wore. His gaze played across the men, taking in the long sleeves on their tunics, unfashionable, but long enough to cover any marks of military service and the bulges in the tunics at their waists that spoke of hidden daggers.
Cicero and his two favourite pets left the stairs and began to walk across the forum. Balbus felt his heart jump as the boy scurried out of the way and began to jog toward the stairs where he sat, while the five lurking men moved across the open space formed by the crowd parting for the senators, shadowing them. A sinking feeling settled like a river stone in his gut.
His eyes darted back and forth until he spotted Corvinia at a stall behind the shrine of Venus Cloacina. They might be finished any minute, but if he waited, he would lose any hope of finding out what was going on.
Biting his tongue, he gathered up the punnet of dates and the skin of juice in the sweep of his large hand and began to descend the steps three at a time. By the time he reached the paving of the forum and his young, scruffy accomplice had converged on him, he’d already dug a number of small coins from his purse. Pausing, he dropped the collection into the young lad’s waiting hands. It was perhaps the cost of a couple of good cups of wine, but represented a clear fortune to the boy. His eyes widened.
size="+0" face="Arial">“I have to go for now” he said, his breath coming heavily. He wasn’t built for this sort of exercise these days, since his illness in Gaul . “Stay here and wait for me with your information and I’ll double that when I get back.”
The boy’s face split into a wide grin as he nodded vigorously. Balbus smiled at him and, scanning the crowd until he spotted Cicero and his friends, ran on, pushing his way through protesting women and men, priests and traders. A pickpocket hoping to make an easy target received an elbow in the face for his mistake, and Balbus was suddenly bursting through the crowds only a few yards behind the five soldiers in their dreary kit.
As Cicero rounded the side of the arcade of shops known as the tabernae vetae, he paused, sharing a few quick words and a smile with the senators before they departed. The two lapdogs moved off, still chatting together, along the Vicus Tuscus, toward the cattle market and the Tiber,
His attention was suddenly drawn to the front of the building as the senate house’s doors swung open, releasing the roar of angry and excited politicians into the city. Balbus was less than surprised to recognise the first figure to emerge.
Cicero had his hands raised in triumph as he stepped into the light, beaming at the crowd that had assembled outside, hoping to set eyes on the men who controlled their republic. The great orator had the look of a victorious gladiator, playing to the people. The senators who followed him closely, though Balbus knew perhaps half of the faces at most, were clearly Cicero ’s supporters and pets, cheering him on.
The chorus of “Summons for Caesar” was still being echoed around the curia’s interior, and Balbus frowned. Had Cicero already managed to press for such a drastic move in the general’s absence? But the more he listened, the more it sounded like a demand than an announcement.
Cicero had paused on the steps and dropped into conversation with two senators at his side and Balbus’ eyes strayed across the scene until he locked onto the wretch who was dutifully eavesdropping for him. The boy had managed to get himself remarkably close to the city’s most honoured and respected orator. That conversation alone would be well worth the three copper coins.
Balbus started and shrank instinctively back into the shade as his eyes lit upon the small group behind the boy; five men in the drab brown tunics of the Roman poor. They would blend into any crowd with ease. But Balbus had served with the legions for more years than he cared to remember and the stance of a soldier was unmistakable, no matter what he wore. His gaze played across the men, taking in the long sleeves on their tunics, unfashionable, but long enough to cover any marks of military service and the bulges in the tunics at their waists that spoke of hidden daggers.
Cicero and his two favourite pets left the stairs and began to walk across the forum. Balbus felt his heart jump as the boy scurried out of the way and began to jog toward the stairs where he sat, while the five lurking men moved across the open space formed by the crowd parting for the senators, shadowing them. A sinking feeling settled like a river stone in his gut.
His eyes darted back and forth until he spotted Corvinia at a stall behind the shrine of Venus Cloacina. They might be finished any minute, but if he waited, he would lose any hope of finding out what was going on.
Biting his tongue, he gathered up the punnet of dates and the skin of juice in the sweep of his large hand and began to descend the steps three at a time. By the time he reached the paving of the forum and his young, scruffy accomplice had converged on him, he’d already dug a number of small coins from his purse. Pausing, he dropped the collection into the young lad’s waiting hands. It was perhaps the cost of a couple of good cups of wine, but represented a clear fortune to the boy. His eyes widened.
size="+0" face="Arial">“I have to go for now” he said, his breath coming heavily. He wasn’t built for this sort of exercise these days, since his illness in Gaul . “Stay here and wait for me with your information and I’ll double that when I get back.”
The boy’s face split into a wide grin as he nodded vigorously. Balbus smiled at him and, scanning the crowd until he spotted Cicero and his friends, ran on, pushing his way through protesting women and men, priests and traders. A pickpocket hoping to make an easy target received an elbow in the face for his mistake, and Balbus was suddenly bursting through the crowds only a few yards behind the five soldiers in their dreary kit.
As Cicero rounded the side of the arcade of shops known as the tabernae vetae, he paused, sharing a few quick words and a smile with the senators before they departed. The two lapdogs moved off, still chatting together, along the Vicus Tuscus, toward the cattle market and the Tiber,
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