Marcus leaned in closer to the senator.
‘And when the pieces are taken?’
The patrician smiled at him approvingly, raising his own token and leering at its depiction of a woman being sodomised by a toga-clad attacker at knifepoint.
‘Ah, so you see the point of the game! When a piece is taken, young man, a lot is pulled from that bag Pilinius’s secretary is holding, lots corresponding to the numbers on the tokens that gain us entry. If your number is called then you are free to enjoy the piece that’s been taken from the board in any way you like. Any way at all!’ He smirked at the younger man. ‘I don’t know how you did it in Britannia, but here in Rome the custom is to screw the backside off her, or him, in any way you like. And after that …’
He drew a finger across his throat.
‘Of course, it doesn’t have to be a quick death, that’s all down to individual choice.’ He slid a slim dagger from his toga with a sly smile, displaying the evilly sharp blade before putting it back in the sheath concealed in his sleeve. ‘My preference is to open them up and take wagers on how long it’ll take them to die.’
Marcus stared at him, evidently aghast.
‘You murder them?’
Avenus frowned, his expression between disapproval and surprise.
‘Well of course we murder them! Why else would Asinius Pilinius take such great care to ensure that there are no witnesses to these exclusive gatherings of Rome’s most influential men?’
The younger man leaned forward and gagged, dry retching and clinging to Avenus’s toga. The senator pushed him away with a horrified expression.
‘You’re not really man enough for this, are you? You, come here!’ He beckoned to one of the guards, who walked across to the three men with a well-practised look of inscrutability. ‘Take this young fool outside for a breath of air, before he pukes all over someone. Take special care of him, you understand? Very special care.’ He turned to regard Scaurus with a jaundiced eye. ‘And you, tribune, are you in the wrong place, too?’
The heavily built man nodded impassively and put a hand on Marcus’s sleeve. Allowing himself to be drawn along in the guard’s wake, he shot a glance back at Scaurus as the tribune shook his head in disgust, replying to Avenus’s question in a disappointed tone of voice.
‘It shows how much you can get to know a man and still be surprised by his reactions to the simplest things. To think, an officer who I saw stand firm in the face of a massed barbarian charge only six months ago, reduced to a useless choking wretch by the simple prospect of killing a slave. You did the right thing in telling that man to kill him, of course, I doubt he’d have kept his mouth shut about what he saw here.’
The patrician nodded approvingly, looking across the room with the evident hope of catching their host’s eye. Scaurus pulled gently at his guide’s toga, lowering his voice to a level that forced the older man to bend closer.
‘We’ll have to go and tell Pilinius what happened of course, but first let me restore a little military pride by explaining to you how we actually did things in Britannia. There was one particular tribal nobleman who I had beheaded in front of his wife and daughters, after which I deflowered each of the girls in turn while she watched. And when I was done with that, I went one better with their mother …’
The senator, his interest piqued, fastened his attention on the tribune only to have it distracted by the first piece to be captured on the robbers board. With a scream of terror the handmaiden, her eyes rolling with fear, was manhandled out from between the two black-clad pieces sweating to either side of her, and was carried away from the game. One of Pilinius’s household slaves dipped his hand into a leather bag, his face impassive as he read the number carved into the wooden ball he had selected at random.
‘Number seven!’
One of the guests raised his token in the air, the glint of its polished silver winking in the torchlight as he stepped forward to claim his prize, dragging the woman away by her hair.
Avenus grinned approvingly.
‘Now there’s a man who knows how to give us a spectacle. That one’s exit from this life won’t be a swift one, I can guarantee that!’
Senator Albinus presented himself at the Pilinius domus’s front gate with an imperious lack of regard for the guards’ demand for his invitation.
‘A token? Of course I don’t have a bloody token! Do I look like the sort of pervert who attends your master’s debauchery? I need to see the senator urgently, as I have news of the greatest import to him!’
He folded his arms, daring any of the guards to raise a finger against him, and his bodyguards planted themselves around him with equal obduracy. The leader of the group of men minding the gate beckoned one of his men.
‘Go and fetch the senator’s secretary, you’ll find him at the inner gate. Tell him we’ve got a guest without an invitation by the name of Senator …?’
‘Albinus. Decimus Clodius Albinus. And hurry! Senator Pilinius has unwanted guests on his property, men who mean to do him harm!’
The guard walked swiftly away through the villa’s garden, leaving Albinus to listen with a grim face to the music, laughter and occasional shriek that was emanating from the far side of the wall. He paced up and down while he waited, his anger and impatience growing as the time stretched out, and he was on the verge of approaching the gate guards again when a slightly built man with high temples and a bookish look to him emerged from between the closest of them. He bowed to Albinus with the proper degree of deference, extending a hand to indicate the garden beyond the guards.
‘Senator Albinus. Senator Pilinius has asked me to extend warm and convivial greetings to you, and to assure you that you’re more than welcome to attend the main party in the house, and to avail yourself of any and all entertainments that take your fancy. The Senator’s parties are well known for the promise that nobody ever leaves without having taken their fill of food, wine and the very finest female company.’
Albinus shook his head impatiently.
‘That’s not what I came for man! If I want to be debauched I’ll do it somewhere a damned sight more private than this bloody garden orgy! I came to warn Pilinius that he has imposters attending his private party! I think you know what I mean, the gathering within a gathering where he slaughters slaves for his closest friends’ decadent enjoyment?’
The secretary sniffed.
‘I really can’t comment on the senator’s private affairs, sir, but if you tell me these men’s names I’ll ensure that they don’t gain access to the grounds.’
‘I’m telling you they’re already here! Two men, both close-shaved with military haircuts!’ The secretary started, and Albinus jabbed a finger into his chest. ‘You’ve seen them, haven’t you?!’
The secretary turned and ran, bursting through the surprised gate guards and heading for the house, leaving Albinus open-mouthed in his wake. He made to follow, only to find a wall of muscle blocking his way.
‘Here, I’ve got to-’
One of the pair of men blocking his path shook his head forbiddingly.
‘I’m sorry, sir, I can’t allow you in unless either the senator or his man there give you permission to enter, unless you have an invitation? The lads at the back entrance will tell you just the same.’