Antonia Caenis was well used to being badgered for favours. “I can only make recommendations. All matters of state are at the discretion of the Emperor.”
I bet! Vespasian had been listening to her since she was a girl, when he was just an impoverished young senator. I grinned at Helena. “There you are. That's the best guarantee you could want.”
At the time I really thought it was.
4
HALF A DAY later I was called to the Palace. I saw neither Vespasian nor Titus. A silky administrator called Claudius Laeta pretended he was responsible for employing me. I knew Laeta. He was responsible only for chaos and grief
“I don't seem to have the name of your new partner.” He was fumbling with scrolls to avoid my eye.
“How unusually casual. I'll send you in a chitty with his name and a full resume.” Laeta could see I had no intention of doing it.
Acting pleasant (a certain sign that he had been leaned on hard by the Emperor) he then gave me the job I had asked for. We agreed my percentage of the profits. Numeracy must be Laeta's weak point. He knew everything about inventive drafting and greasy diplomacy, but could not spot an inflated tender. I came away feeling smug.
Our first subject to investigate was Calliopus, a semi-successful lanista from Tripolitania who trained and promoted gladiators, mainly the kind who fight wild beasts. When Calliopus produced his personnel list I had heard of none of them. He owned no top fighters in the glamour class. No women would throw themselves at his mediocre crew, and there were no gold victory crowns displayed in his office. But I did know the name of his lion: Leonidas.
The lion shared his praenomen with a great Spartan general; that hardly endeared him to Romans like me, who had been brought up from the crawling frame to be wary of Greeks in case we became infected with touch? habits like wearing beards and discussing philosophy.