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this evening.’
    ‘So what have you learnt, brother?’ Magnus asked, rubbing his hands over a portable brazier as Marius walked into the tavern’s back room.
    ‘Fabricius doesn’t go out much and when he does he’s very well guarded.’
    ‘As we expected,’ Servius commented, taking a sip from a steaming cup of hot wine; his eyes watered from the brazier’s smoke.
    Magnus indicated the jug on the table. ‘Help yourself, brother. What about his household?’
    Marius poured himself a cup, chuckling. ‘Well, every morning two of his fat slaves – and they really are fat, you should see ’em, Magnus, you’d have to roll ’em in flour and look for the damp patch. Anyway, every morning the same two head off for the market to buy whatever they need for the day. They come back a couple of hours later laden with stuff; it’s unbelievable how much they all eat.’
    ‘Fabricius likes to keep them fat and he can well afford it.’
    ‘Well, I ain’t ever seen the like of it, Magnus.’
    ‘Are they guarded when they go?’
    ‘No, who would want to touch ’em?’
    ‘We would. Tomorrow, brother, I want you to invite those two well-formed ladies here for a little bit of the brotherhood’s hospitality, if you take my meaning?’
    Marius’ eyes glinted with amusement over the rim of his cup. ‘They’re big old beasts; it’ll take more than me and my two lads.’
    ‘Take Sextus; what he lacks in brains he makes up for in brawn.’
    Marius turned to leave, taking his cup with him. ‘Right you are, Magnus; I’ll have them here by the third hour of the day.’
    ‘Make sure you do, brother; and don’t let them see your faces or where you take them.’
    ‘Of course not, Magnus.’ Marius opened the door and stepped out.
    ‘Leave the door open; let’s get some of this smoke out.’
    Servius rubbed his eyes. ‘Thanks.’
    ‘We’ll be ready to do this first part tomorrow night; how’s Tigran doing with his archery practice?’
    ‘He says he’s fine; his wound has healed nicely. The last couple of days he’s gone out into the country each morning and has been practising shooting at a sack of hay a hundred paces away; he reckons to hit it nine times out of ten.’
    ‘Let’s hope it’s not the tenth shot tomorrow. Tell him to practise all day and to be here by nightfall. And get one of the lads to purchase a couple of snakes first thing in the morning, but not poisonous ones.’
    Servius picked up a stylus and a wax tablet and scratched a note. ‘That reminds me,’ he said, reading a previous note. ‘Cassandros came in this morning; he says he’s been doing very nicely with a young lad from the Reds. I’ll spare you the details, but the boy enjoys all of Cassandros’ little hobbies and can’t get enough of one in particular.’
    Magnus winced and looked at his hand. ‘I suppose that involves a lot of olive oil.’
    ‘I’m afraid it does, brother. Anyhow, suffice it to say that the lad is very amenable now and Cassandros is sure that he can get whatever information we require out of him.’
    ‘Good; tell him that, when the time comes, I’ll want to know the form of the Red teams in the last two races on the first race-day after the calends of March.’
    Servius made a note of the race as a figure appeared silhouetted in the doorway.
    Magnus rose to greet the new arrival. ‘Rufinus, my new friend, good of you to come; I have a little proposition for you concerning the closing of bridges owing to a riot.’
    Magnus shivered; his breath steamed in the cold night air as he hunched down on the Servian Wall, keeping low so that his silhouette would not be visible. Next to him, Tigran examined an arrow in the moonlight, checking the fletching was secure and the shaft true; satisfied with his choice he nocked it.
    ‘Juno’s plump arse, come on, lads,’ Magnus muttered, peering down into the street that ran alongside Fabricius’ house, ‘what’s keeping you?’
    Marius and Sextus had delivered the two