Page 19 of Brother at Arms

“I do.” Mena gave me a nod. “I have a perfectly good villa outside the city, but I took it into my head that I needed a house in town which would be more convenient for my businesses. The man who owned the domus was ready to retire far from the Palatine, and I decided it was perfect. A bit beyond my means, but the owner recommended Seneca to float a loan for it, with the house as collateral.” Mena shook his head. “I am a naive man who didn’t know that Seneca has the reputation for growing rich off his loans. I rent out this popina, but I pay for my wine when I come here. The profit from that sale is less than what I pay for the wine, so you can see I am a poor sort of businessman.”

He shook his head, disparaging himself.

“Do you still own the villa outside the city?” I asked.

“I do. That also runs to fantastic expenses, but it has been in my family since before Augustus. At least I was wise enough not to put it up for collateral.” Mena made a helpless gesture. “Though, with the amount I owe Seneca, I might have to sell the villa to pay him. That would leave me a vagabond, alone and on the road, but I’d be free of him.”

Mena drained his cup, thumping it down in finality.

I said nothing, as I had no advice to offer. I thought of Cassia’s dealing with the banker, Fabius, and wondered if she and I would share Mena’s fate.

Though would it be so bad to wander the roads with Cassia, going wherever we wished?

“An idea, Leonidas.” Mena brightened as he signaled to the landlord for more wine. “Why don’t you come and work for me? You could keep Seneca’s bullies from my person, and if I ever do make any sort of money from my ventures, I could pay you well.”

I had no desire to, so I said quickly, “I already work for Gallus the builder.”

Mena’s forehead puckered. “Who is Gallus the builder?”

“Gnaeus Gallus. He built a warehouse in the Emporium, near the Porticus Aemilia.”

The warehouse was finished now, a functional building faced with the opus reticulatum Sextus Livius had chosen. Livius was pleased with it and had paid Gallus a bonus for crafting it so well.

“Never heard of the fellow,” Mena said. “Although, an architectus would be welcome at my house, to tell me what I can make of it. It has stood here for a long time and is rather falling down on the inside. There are whole rooms I cannot use. Why not send this Gallus to me? I might have work for him.”

I wondered at Mena’s ability to pay Gallus, or me. I’d just witnessed him lose a shipment of silk, and he’d babbled to me about how far in debt he was to the greedy Seneca.

“I will mention it to him,” I said, making no promise that Gallus would be interested. I turned to the reason I’d let Mena lead me to this popina. “Do you know Julius Herminius? He is also in the silk trade.”

Mena’s eyes widened. “Herminius? He is a hard man, Leonidas. Even harder than Seneca, if that is possible. Why do you ask?”

I had no idea how to explain my curiosity, so I shrugged. “I heard he is a swindler. I wondered if he’d swindled you as well.”

Mena looked perplexed at my assumption, but he shook his head. “Not I, thank Minerva, who I wish would make me wiser. I usually don’t deal in silk, because we in Rome have no clear idea who manufactures it, let alone from where. Men travel across the deserts from the west to meet men who travel across deserts from the east, and only the Parthians really know who they are. I’ve heard that Seres lays far beyond the ends of Parthia, at the edge of mountains so high none can see their tops. But all that is a mystery to me. I only know I was offered the opportunity to invest in fine silk, saw a way to pay back Seneca at long last, and came to grief over it, as you observed.”

Mena quickly accepted the fresh cup the proprietor brought, drowning his sorrow with Falernian wine. The proprietor, apparently knowing Mena well, left the jug on the table.

“So, I should stay away from silk,” I concluded.

“Far, far away, my friend.” Mena mopped his brow with a linen cloth. “I wish I would have. But do say you’ll come and work for me, even for a time. Your builder can spare you, can’t he?”

Mena was typical of the patricians I’d met, certain that everyone would leap at the chance to become his client, whether in truth he could do them any good or not. The way he moaned about losing money and his homes, I doubted he could do much for anyone.

“I will ask Gallus,” I promised. “But I work for him first.”

Mena waved this away. “Bring him to me. I will explain everything.” He drained his cup and reached for the jug to pour more wine for himself, though not for me. “Go home now, Leonidas. I thank you for saving my life today. Come and see me tomorrow. No, wait, it is Lemuria again tomorrow—the next day, or the one after that. Whenever you can.”

He waved his hand once again, dismissing me.

I rose from my stool and departed as he gulped down yet another cupful of wine.

Cassia waited for me at the crossroads to the Sacra Via. I took the bag of tablets she habitually carried and slung it over my shoulder, also now a habit. She turned for the Forum, which we’d cut through on our way home.

“I will have to tell Sextus Livius I used his name,” I said. “He’s been good to us—I don’t want to annoy him.”

“I did that while you spoke to Mena,” Cassia said. “It wasn’t far to the Oppian Hill.”

“You saw him?” Livius was an unconventional man, a former slave himself, but his neighbors would gossip if he’d admitted Cassia, alone, to his home.