‘I wasn’t lucky,’ said Flaccus bitterly.
The other man snorted. ‘Luck. What’s luck got to do with it? I daresay you’ve had enough money, you just haven’t managed to hang on to it. What was it? Too many visits to the brothel? Gambling?’
‘Don’t matter, but being a centurion must fit a man for something.’
‘It equips a man for many things, Didius Flaccus, but not occupations that pay any more than wages and that’s not what you’re after, is it?’ Flaccus shook his head sharply as Barbinus walked back behind the desk. He sat there for a moment in silence, before looking up again, a gleam in his eye. ‘I have one job which needs doing that might fit the bill, a job that a hard-nosed old centurion might do better than most.’
Barbinus picked up a piece of paper in his fat fingers and swore gently under his breath. When he looked at Flaccus again he saw that the man was practically at attention, his face bearing the look of a soldier seeking to avoid censure. ‘I’m not swearing at you, Flaccus. I’ve just bought the rights to some land in Sicily, a great deal of land in fact and I had to pay a lot of money for it, a good deal more than it’s worth.’
‘That don’t sound like you.’
‘Anything for a quiet life, Flaccus. One of our more elevated senators, a present censor, no less, hinted that my commercial activities, not to mention the way I spend my money, could be construed as unbecoming for a man in my position.’
‘Meaning?’
Barbinus looked thoughtful for a moment, but declined to explain why, if he could be expelled for indulging in trade or overspending, he was still a senator. Flaccus would know as well as anyone, having been in the army, the difference between the rules as they were written and how they were applied.
‘Censure on the floor of the Senate. Perhaps even removal from the senatorial roll, since the present consuls are in office only because the man threatening me has put them there.’
‘I don’t see…’
‘I bought two Latifunda off him, Flaccus, that is the most noble Lucius Falerius Nerva. Now there’s a man who wouldn’t soil his hands in trade, but he’s not beyond eliciting a bribe, as long as it can be dressed up as a normal transaction.’
‘Is the land worthless, then?’
‘No. I sent someone to look it over. It’s good wheat-growing soil, even if it has been allowed to go to the dogs. Old Lucius is too immersed in politics to supervise the place properly, so it’s more like a retirement home for slaves than a proper farm. The trouble is that it’s hard to make money out of wheat, since the price is controlled. It’s profitable, but not profitable enough the way it is now. Lucius Falerius will use my money to buy some land closer to Rome, where he can do some ranching.’
‘Can’t you ranch on this Sicilian land?’
Barbinus shook his head. ‘It’s too hot for large-scale pasturage. No, the only thing to do is to increase the yield, which is where a tough old centurion might come in handy.’
Flaccus pulled himself up to attention again, as Barbinus, leaning on the table, fixed him with an intense look. ‘You know what I’d dearly like to do to that upright patrician bastard. He’s sold me this land for twice what it’s truly worth, but what if I could increase the yield so much that I’d be making a profit on the sale?’
‘You want to stick it to him!’
‘That’s right, Flaccus. I want to see the fixed smile on that stiff-necked bastard’s face when I tell him that I, Cassius Barbinus, have made a profit out of bribing him. He doesn’t look as though he eats much now, but when I’m finished, I want him to be truly sick at the sight of a loaf of bread. I want to stand up in the Forum and ask why we have to import so much wheat from Africa when I can get such a yield from my property, not forgetting to add, by the way, that the honourable Lucius Falerius had so cultivated the land, before I bought it, as to make my task a simple one. Do you see the beauty of it, old friend? That Falerii prick won’t be able to say or do anything.’
‘How do I come in?’
Barbinus fixed him with a sour look. ‘Meaning what’s in it for me?’
‘That too,’ replied Flaccus, returning the stare.
Barbinus stood and, hands on hips, stretched his back. ‘You want money, I want revenge. The land is there, the seed and the sun are there, as well as the slaves. Now I know it doesn’t turn in the crop yield my other farms manage, so I will give you the figure for the yield so far and provide funds for any improvements you need to make. Money for things like irrigation and I’ll even provide more slaves if you can justify them. You have both places for three years and any increase in the profits you can keep for yourself. After that, the whole income from the properties reverts to me.’
‘What do they turn in now?’
‘A million sesterces a year, Flaccus, most of which goes straight back into the soil or some slave’s belly. I know you want to have enough to be a knight. Double the yield on that land in Sicily and you’ll be able to join me in the Senate.’
‘I derive as little pleasure from my presence here as you do,’ said Cholon.
‘I need more time,’ replied Quintus.
‘If anything could count as your father’s dying wish, it was that these behests should be paid.’
‘You sound like a lawyer, Cholon,’ Quintus said sourly. ‘Being a free man obviously suits you.’
‘There was no attempt at impertinence there, Quintus Cornelius.’
‘How the world changes, Cholon. You now address me as Quintus Cornelius instead of master.’
Cholon frowned. The proper forms of address between Roman citizens were a little unfamiliar. ‘Is that not correct?’
Quintus looked at the Greek. Gone was the simple gown he had worn as a slave, to be replaced by a blue unadorned toga. His problem was not that his father had freed Cholon but that he had left instructions for the care of the families of those soldiers who had died with him at Thralaxas, written instructions too. Not that it mattered; Quintus knew that Cholon would never lie about such a thing. He could refuse to pay them immediately but a man who wished to advance in the public domain could hardly relish the thought of such an accusation attached to his name.
‘You have called me by my name, that is all, Cholon. I cannot forget that a few weeks ago you would not have dared.’
‘I can’t recall being cowed by the prospect. Perhaps it is more likely that you wouldn’t have been pleased.’
‘Oh yes, Cholon. My father would never have bothered if you’d called him by name. One wonders that a man can expend so much energy being humble.’
Cholon bridled; he would not have the memory of Aulus Cornelius Macedonicus sullied by anyone, even his eldest son. ‘In his case it was effortless, the natural extension of his remarkable personality.’
Quintus was stung. He stood, something he had been determined not to do in the presence of this ex-slave. ‘Well, that remarkable personality has been so prolific with his bequests that I’m having to call in outstanding loans, sell land and slaves to pay them. Since I have no desire to part with my inheritance at a lower price than it should command, I must move slowly. So you will forgive me if these people are forced to wait.’
‘I have seen to as many cases as I can from the money your father left me.’
‘What?’
Cholon smiled, speaking with perfect assurance, aware that Quintus was attempting to talk down to him. ‘I know that you will reimburse me in time.’
That was the point at which Quintus lost his temper, his dark eyebrows gathering together as he sought to stare down the insolence he perceived. ‘Don’t be so sure, Greek!’
‘But I am sure. You are not equal to your father by a long league but you’re enough his son to pay the family debts.’
‘Get out,’ Quintus hissed. ‘Leave a tally of the sums you’ve paid with my steward. When I have enough to reimburse you, I shall send you word.’