The Consul's Daughter by Mark Knowles

Author:Mark Knowles [Knowles, Mark]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-10-26T06:00:00+00:00

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The following morning, there was a scuffle in the forum.

Whilst this was a common enough occurrence, its source was unusual. A brief note mentioning a late addition to the afternoon’s contio had been pinned by other agenda notices on the board near the speaker’s rostrum, and was causing quite a stir. “Totally unprecendented!” one man had exclaimed, shaking his head. “Revolutionary!”

“What?” asked a passerby wearing a turban. “What is it saying?”

“Think of the power they’d have!”

“Who?”

“About bloody time!” said another, turning to him. “This city’s going to the dogs: too many damn foreigners: city’s not big enough!”

The Indian frowned at him for a moment whilst the insult registered, then pounced. A few punches were thrown before the more sensible elements of the crowd intervened and separated the hotheads. Whilst the incident was soon forgotten, rumour of the notice spread quickly.

Anna and Poppeia were struggling through the chattering crowds inside Trajan’s Market with cloth bundles of food tucked under their arms. Anna had to duck under a wicker birdcage suspended from a gaudy canopy and then sidestep a man bearing a tray of polenta cakes.

“I don’t see why we can’t just do the shopping somewhere else, ‘Tellia,” said Poppeia, wrinkling her nose. “And it smells so bad in here.”

“Blood sausages! Finest blood sausages!”

“Because you can haggle easier here, that’s why. Lots of competition.”

“Damson plums! Fresh from Syria! Damson plums are here!”

“Gourds, buckets and candles! A scented candle for a classy lady like you, yes you madam!”

Poppeia tutted as the plum seller’s tray poked her in the back and she glared at him.

“Ha! The bucket carriers selling off their stuff already, are they?” said a stallholder across the way. “Vote’s not for another nine days!”

“They ought to appoint me as agent. Could shift ‘alf their stock in that time!”

“Poppeia!” Anna took her by the hand and cut across the flow of passersby, drawing a number of disapproving tuts. “What did you say?”

The stallholder was now talking to two other men. She tapped him on the shoulder. “What was that?”

They broke off their conversation and looked her up and down. “What was what?”

“What you said about the Watchmen. Why would they want to sell their equipment?”

The stallholder took another bite out of his apple and gave his friends a smirk. “I didn’t think that lot were allowed to marry.”

“’That lot’ aren’t. They’re too busy doing their jobs,” she met each of the leering pairs of eyes in turn.

The stallholder shrugged and turned aside as he spat out some pips. “There’s a notice just gone up in the forum. A vote on the Praetorians disbanding The Watch and doing the job theirselves, or somat.”

Anna’s eyes rounded and she hustled Poppeia away. The food under her arms now felt expensively heavy.

“Do you think daddy will have any job when he gets back from Ostia?”

“I’m sure he will,” she replied quietly. “I’m sure everything will be just fine.”

At the same time, an imperial litter was skirting the fish market, just north of the forum. The young nobleman inside moved the nosegay for a moment as he watched the animated crowds.

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