dictator Sulla finally triumphed in the civil wars, he destroyed his enemies by seizing their property and rewarded his supporters, Pompey and Crassus among them, with villas and farms; thus had Crassus begun his ascent, driven by an apparently boundless appetite for property. Once in the streets of Rome I had come upon a burning building, and there was Crassus bidding on the tenement next to it. The owner, confused and desperate and believing he was about to lose his property to the spreading flames, sold it to Crassus on the spot for a song, whereupon the millionaire called out his private fire brigades to put out the flames. Such tales about Crassus were commonplace in Rome.
'Everything Crassus touched seemed to turn to gold,' Fabius explained. 'His cousin Lucius, on the other hand, muddled about trying to make a living off the land, like all good, old-fashioned plebeians. He lost and lost until he was bankrupt. Finally he begged Crassus to save him, and Crassus did. He made Lucius a kind of factotum, a representative to look after some of Crassus's business enterprises on the Cup. In a good year - without pirates or Spartacus - there's a great deal of business transacted on the Cup; it's not all luxurious villas and oyster farms. Crassus owns mines in Spain, and a fleet of ships that bring the ore to Puteoli. He owns metalworkers in Neapolis and Pompeii who turn the ore into utensils and weapons and finished works of art. He owns ships that transport slaves from Alexandria to Puteoli. He owns farms and vineyards all over Campania, and supplies the hordes of slaves that ate needed to work them. Crassus can't oversee all these small details himself; his interests extend from Spain to Egypt. He delegated responsibility for local business here on the Cup to Lucius, who oversaw Crassus's investments and enterprises in a plodding but adequate manner.'
'The running of this house, for example?'
'Actually, Crassus himself owns the house and all the land around it. He has no need for villas; he scoffs at the idea of retreating to the countryside or the coast to relax and read poetry. And yet somehow he keeps acquiring them, dozens of villas by now. He can't keep empty houses all over Italy, so he prefers to rent them to his family and his factotums. Then, when he travels, he can reside in them when and as he needs to, a guest and yet more than a guest.'
'And the household slaves?'
'They are also the property of Crassus.'
'And the Fury, the trireme in the harbour that brought me from Ostia?'
'That belongs to Crassus, too, although it was Lucius who oversaw its use.'
'And the deserted vineyards and fields we rode through on the way from Misenum?'
'Property of Crassus. Along with numerous other properties and manufactories and gladiator schools and farms in the region, from here to Surrentum.'
'Then to call Lucius Licinius the master of this house—'
'Licinius gave the orders and acted independently in his own home, to be sure. But he was nothing more than Crassus's creature. A servant, really, if a privileged and very pampered one.'
'I see. Is there a widow?'
'Her name is Gelina.'
'And children?'
'Their marriage was barren.'
'No heir?'
'Crassus, as his cousin and patron, will inherit Licinius's debts and possessions.' 'And Gelina?'
'She now becomes Crassus's dependent.'
'From the way you speak, Faustus Fabius, it seems that Crassus owns the whole world.'
'I sometimes think he does. Or will,' he said, raising an eyebrow.
V
There was a loud booming at the door. A slave hurried to answer it. The door swung ponderously open, illuminating the dim hallway with a wedge of muted sunlight that framed a stocky, broad-shouldered silhouette in the flowing red cape of a military officer. Marcus Mummius marched towards us through the little garden, trampling on a bed of herbs and banging his elbow against the delicate faun.
He stopped before the body and scowled at the sight of the exposed wound. 'You've already seen it,
'Everything Crassus touched seemed to turn to gold,' Fabius explained. 'His cousin Lucius, on the other hand, muddled about trying to make a living off the land, like all good, old-fashioned plebeians. He lost and lost until he was bankrupt. Finally he begged Crassus to save him, and Crassus did. He made Lucius a kind of factotum, a representative to look after some of Crassus's business enterprises on the Cup. In a good year - without pirates or Spartacus - there's a great deal of business transacted on the Cup; it's not all luxurious villas and oyster farms. Crassus owns mines in Spain, and a fleet of ships that bring the ore to Puteoli. He owns metalworkers in Neapolis and Pompeii who turn the ore into utensils and weapons and finished works of art. He owns ships that transport slaves from Alexandria to Puteoli. He owns farms and vineyards all over Campania, and supplies the hordes of slaves that ate needed to work them. Crassus can't oversee all these small details himself; his interests extend from Spain to Egypt. He delegated responsibility for local business here on the Cup to Lucius, who oversaw Crassus's investments and enterprises in a plodding but adequate manner.'
'The running of this house, for example?'
'Actually, Crassus himself owns the house and all the land around it. He has no need for villas; he scoffs at the idea of retreating to the countryside or the coast to relax and read poetry. And yet somehow he keeps acquiring them, dozens of villas by now. He can't keep empty houses all over Italy, so he prefers to rent them to his family and his factotums. Then, when he travels, he can reside in them when and as he needs to, a guest and yet more than a guest.'
'And the household slaves?'
'They are also the property of Crassus.'
'And the Fury, the trireme in the harbour that brought me from Ostia?'
'That belongs to Crassus, too, although it was Lucius who oversaw its use.'
'And the deserted vineyards and fields we rode through on the way from Misenum?'
'Property of Crassus. Along with numerous other properties and manufactories and gladiator schools and farms in the region, from here to Surrentum.'
'Then to call Lucius Licinius the master of this house—'
'Licinius gave the orders and acted independently in his own home, to be sure. But he was nothing more than Crassus's creature. A servant, really, if a privileged and very pampered one.'
'I see. Is there a widow?'
'Her name is Gelina.'
'And children?'
'Their marriage was barren.'
'No heir?'
'Crassus, as his cousin and patron, will inherit Licinius's debts and possessions.' 'And Gelina?'
'She now becomes Crassus's dependent.'
'From the way you speak, Faustus Fabius, it seems that Crassus owns the whole world.'
'I sometimes think he does. Or will,' he said, raising an eyebrow.
V
There was a loud booming at the door. A slave hurried to answer it. The door swung ponderously open, illuminating the dim hallway with a wedge of muted sunlight that framed a stocky, broad-shouldered silhouette in the flowing red cape of a military officer. Marcus Mummius marched towards us through the little garden, trampling on a bed of herbs and banging his elbow against the delicate faun.
He stopped before the body and scowled at the sight of the exposed wound. 'You've already seen it,
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