“You’re safe now,” I said. With Crassus helping from below, we managed to get him down the ladder. He was barely conscious. Once back on the shop floor, Crassus steadied the frail barber while I bent to pick him up and heave him over my shoulder. I staggered only a little.
We left the store, crossed the lobby and headed back down the vestibule. Smoke clinging to the ceiling was being sucked out into the cool night air. Ten paces before we reached the exit and safety, Crassus tapped me on the shoulder and held out his arms. I realized what he had in mind and carefully helped resettle the wisp of a barber over Crassus’ own shoulder.
I followed Crassus out of the building, noting that the limp in Crassus’ left leg seemed markedly more pronounced than it had only a moment before. Of course, it could have been the extra weight.
A huge shout went up from the crowd as we crossed to the other side of the street. The loudest cheers came from Crassus’ own household. He gently set the old man down, who instantly reanimated and threw his arms around his savior, sobbing his thanks. Another huzzah. Crassus extricated himself, wished the barber well and left him to the care of the happy and grateful onlookers.
Ludovicus barged through the crowd and pulled up short in front of us. He looked at Crassus with shining eyes and trembling chin. He could hardly show his relief by throwing his arms around his master, but had no such compunctions with me. The massive, muscular battalion commander gripped me in a bear hug and told me I stank. I swear he wiped a tear away on my sooty shoulder before releasing me.
Crassus put his hand on that same spot. He looked me in the eyes, nodded ever so slightly and gave my shoulder a brisk squeeze and shake. That was all. That was enough.
Then he returned to business.
“Fortuna has smiled upon us this time,” Crassus said to an even more disassembled Corvinus. If possible, he looked worse even than we. Crassus continued, “I shall make an offering to Pluto for sparing these good citizens. I suggest you do the same.”
“Yes, certainly,” agreed Corvinus. “Uh… but… what about my building?”
“Well, it’s a corner building, that’s something anyway. Ludovicus, what are you waiting for?!” Crassus shouted in false anger. At last, Ludovicus gave the signal to swing both streams of water directly onto the burning building. As we knew it would, after only a moment, the top two floors caved in and a fireball veined with debris, steam and dust rose into the night sky. Another collective gasp came from the crowd.
Corvinus sagged. “Sixty-five thousand?” he begged.
Crassus shook his head. “Fifty.”
Corvinus whimpered like a struck puppy. “Done,” he said, defeated. I clambered up onto the pump cart, retrieved one of the three heavy bags and handed the twenty-five thousand sesterces to Crassus who passed it to Corvinus.
“Here is half. Come by my house tomorrow, after your sacrifice, and I’ll have the balance and the papers ready.” It was sometimes necessary to offer all the cash on the spot to convince the landlord to sell, but Corvinus was completely deflated. He turned and slumped away with his guards.
From out of the darkness came a troop of twenty torch-bearing scribes. As they moved into the street, Crassus allowed himself to be hoisted back up onto his horse, favoring his leg, then turned to address the crowd. As he spoke, those of his men who were not busy with the actual firefighting switched roles and spread down both sides of the block, each bearing a lit torch. With the help of the still burning building, the street was now illuminated to festival brightness.
“Good people of the Quirinal. My name is Marcus Licinius Crassus. I am deeply sorry for this tragedy and the loss of your homes. As I am sure you are aware, the flats built and leased to you by Septimus Florius Corvinus were of an older, less safe construction.” At the sound of the landlord’s name, a chorus of boos and hisses rose to mingle with the smoke. “Now, now, each according to his ability and means. Corvinus did the best he could.”
“To rob us blind!” someone shouted. The crowd cheered.
“Citizens and plebeians, this is what I propose. You see my assistants passing amongst you now. Please let them record your names, sign if you can or make your mark. Everyone present tonight, regardless of where they live, will receive my gift of two sacks of wheat flour.” The crowd applauded, surprised and pleased. “Come to the granary tomorrow before midday. Countersign the list and you’ll be eating bread and honey by sunset!” That will bake him a few votes, I thought, when he stands for praetor.
“For the people whose homes were destroyed tonight: when we depart shortly, please follow us back to my villa. A barracks in my compound is being prepared to receive you even as we speak.” This earned sincere applause and nods of approval. “Now, it would make no sense to ask you to return to these same homes, those left standing, when we all know it will only be a matter of time before they look like that.” Crassus pointed to the glowing rubble. The crowd murmured agreement. “Tomorrow, a team of my engineers will arrive at first light and begin the demolition of the remaining insulae.” A cry of dismay rang out. Crassus raised his arms above his head to quiet them. “Do not be alarmed. Everything will be provided. My scribes will go to the Temple of Ceres and request the occupant records from the quaestors. At my own personal expense, you will be temporarily relocated while we begin construction on a new complex, built entirely of safe, sturdy and heat-resistant concrete and fired bricks!” The people were happy about the new buildings, but not so enthusiastic about the disruption of their lives. The cheering was less than tumultuous. But Crassus was ready for them.
“To compensate you for this inconvenience, each tenant will receive an additional two sacks of flour, two amphorae of oil, plus a cash allowance of one thousand sesterces to spend as you wish during reconstruction.” This time, the crowd roared with unbridled enthusiasm. While they were cheering, Crassus added under his breath, “And of course new leases will be executed with nominal increases in rent.”
As we rode home, the sky was lightening in the east. It looked like it was going to be another gorgeous morning. Crassus looked exhausted yet elated. He would have little rest before the days’ clientes started arriving. He reined in Ajax and pulled alongside the cart in which I rode. “See the doctor before you retire,” he said. He began humming a tune from the pantomime. After awhile, as we climbed the Palatine, he said, “Another solid night’s work, Alexander. Another acquisition, another rung.”
Chapter XIX
76 BCE — Summer, Rome Year of the consulship of Gnaeus Octavius and Gaius Scribonius Curio
We were welcomed by a crowd from the household, mostly those who knew members of the brigade and were happy to see them return home safely. Among them were Sabina and Livia, stiffly holding hands. Well then, even without the direct order from Crassus, there’d be no putting this off. Tertulla was at the head of the little cheering throng and the moment Crassus was off his horse she was in his arms. Suddenly, she tilted her head back, having got a good whiff of him, pushed him to arms’ length and saw the state of him in the growing light: charred, blackened and bruised. To our horror but his delight she thumped his chest with her fist, raising a small cloud of dust and ash. Sabina made to accompany him but he put up his hand.
“There are others,” he said, nodding at me, “that are more in need of your skills. When you are finished with Alexander, you may attend me in my quarters.” They began walking to the house, at which point Tertulla immediately noticed his limp. She punched him again. “Enough,” he cried, raising his index finger like a beaten gladiator. “Mercy!”