The taberna was quiet.

That suited him.

Well, in one way at least. It meant that he should be able to get his job done quickly. And he much preferred it that way.

The drawback was that a quiet taberna meant that all those in it were more noticeable.

The taberna in question was ‘The Gorgon’s Head’ a rather disreputable establishment in a rather disreputable corner of the city.

And disreputability definitely suited Gaius Asinius Aristogiton.

He was a Greek – though there was nothing disreputable in that.

He was a freedman – nothing disreputable in that.

He was an informant for Sejanus in his patron’s house – if not disreputable it deserved to be.

Sejanus didn’t and never had trusted Gaius Asinius Gallus, the illustrious son of an even more illustrious father, Gaius Asinius Pollio. Gallus was two of the things Sejanus despised – in anyone but himself – clever and ambitious, and a third thing that he despised even more: honourable. He was a supporter of Agrippina, and Agrippina was no friend to Sejanus. Furthermore, and which gave Sejanus a semi-official reason to dislike him, Gallus had married Agrippina’s older half-sister after she was divorced by Tiberius. Gallus was not therefore Tiberius’ favourite person.

All this meant that Gaius Asinius Gallus required close observation and Sejanus, expert that he was, had found the perfect tool. Aristogiton

Aristogiton had been born and educated a Corinthian Greek. Finding that he could have a better life as a scribe in the house of noble Roman than he could as a mere provincial Achaean he had sold himself into slavery, and was fortunate enough to have Gaius Asinius Gallus as his master, who after years of good service, rewarded him with his freedom. Since being freed, however, things had not gone so well. The money he had saved over the years he had invested in several highly risky – not to mention highly dubious – ventures, none of which had come to anything like success. Penniless, Aristogiton had appealed to his patron for help and found it forthcoming. But again the freedman had become involved in a whole series of nefarious practices and again all had failed him. Returning to Asinius Gallus, Aristogiton had been offered his old job back with his wages the same as before. Outwardly the Greek had appeared extremely pleased at the arrangement but inwardly, and mindful of the debts and threats that hung over his head he seethed with rage. It was then that Sejanus had approached him.

Not directly of course, the master manipulator was far too shrewd for that. Through another of his agents a deal had been struck and now, every month, the Greek freedman would meet with this or that middleman at rotating locations and information would be exchanged for ready cash.

This month ‘The Gorgon’s Head’ was the allotted locale and so Gaius Asinius Aristogiton the spy sat in the darkened bar drinking his cheap wine and waited for his man to arrive so he could make his report. Something he wanted to do as soon as possible. He wasn’t a morning person.

There were only five people in the room. Including the barman and himself.

The barman stood behind his bar drying his newly washed cups with a rag. Two men sat at the table nearest the door onto the street. Their voices were low and their words inaudible. From the looks of it they were labourers – though in truth that was the occupation of near every man, woman, and child in Rome. The final patron of the establishment was, like Aristogiton himself, sat alone, and had his back to the spy at the table in the corner furthest from the door.

It was only after his third drink that his man came into the taberna – ‘only’ because with little money Aristogiton made his drink last, even if it was this filth.

The man was dressed in a long black hooded cloak, under which Aristogiton could just see a drab tunic and simple belt in the half-light of the shuttered room. Before coming over to the table the man stopped at the bar and got a drink. The freedman noted that he drank it straight off. He also noted that he didn’t pull back his hood. Not unusual in itself but strange when it was early morning and the bar was so empty that it became all the more noticeable.

The man came over to him casually and took up the seat across the table from him. He kept his face down, the top half shadowed from the hood. From what he could see he realised this man was not an agent he had met before. At his last count he had seen eight different ones, some only the once, some twice, other’s many times.

He began by asking for the normal password.

He kept his voice hushed.

“I was at the circus yesterday. I don’t know how much money I’ve lost on Red over the years. Which team do you follow?”

The reply came immediately, if quietly:

“Green. Green always wins.”

Aristogiton decided to be extra cautious.

He took a drink before he continued. His companion hadn’t moved. Neither had anyone else. Clearly in this taberna people kept to themselves.

“Green? I could never back Green. Green’s always been unlucky for my family, ever since my great-aunt died of the ague. No, I was born a Red and I’ll die a Red. And I bet you’ll never guess why?”

He smiled. He always smiled. He couldn’t help it. The whole thing was so fake it just made him want to laugh. He tried to make the smile look like it was natural and because of the conversation they were having. And anyway, if the man was who he was supposed to be it wouldn’t matter.

“Your whole family has red hair.”

The answer was correct. It didn’t make any sense of course, Aristogiton’s hair was jet black – as as a matter of fact was his parents’ – but it was the correct answer.

The smile played on his lips only momentarily longer.

“Have you got the money?” he asked eagerly.

“It’s here.”

The man’s right hand reached under the cloak, and went to the left side of his belt. Before Aristogiton realised what was happening the man’s whole right arm was snapping back over the table and the back of his fist impacted with his face knocking him clean out.