The Dreams of Morpheus

by Robert Fabbri

  The chorus of agreement continued as all eyes turned to Lentulus. He rose slowly and Magnus, watching from the Senate House steps through the open doors, noticed a grateful nod in Gaius’ direction.

  ‘Conscript Fathers, I am indebted to Senator Pollo for his expression of confidence in me and I shall do everything in my power to head off this crisis before it takes root,’ Lentulus declaimed as Magnus turned away with a satisfied expression, walking back down the steps to await his patron.

  ‘Do you trust Menes?’ Gaius asked as he and Magnus walked through the Forum, preceded by Sextus and Marius.

  Magnus’ look was answer enough.

  ‘Nevertheless, we’ll proceed with the deal. That’s roughly what was expected, a very good price; that should help even Antonia’s score with Herod Agrippa. It should please her greatly, far more than my speech pleased your friend Brutus; you should have seen the way he looked at me. And then, as I was leaving just now, he sidled up to me and said I’ve made my last speech before my natural death. What do you think he meant by that, my natural death? How would he know when that will be?’

  ‘I don’t know, sir, but I would consider it to be a threat; I’ll have a couple of the lads posted outside your house, just to be safe, if you take my meaning?’

  ‘I’m afraid I do; I’ve made a bad enemy there.’

  ‘But a good friend of the Urban Prefect,’ Magnus pointed out.

  ‘That’s very true; it was a good morning’s sycophancy for me and I trust that it’ll solve your problem, Magnus. But what’s more, it will get me noticed by the Emperor and make him more disposed to grant Vespasian that entry to Egypt when he sees the transcript of the day’s debates tomorrow morning.’

  ‘Has Antonia asked him yet?’

  ‘Yes, she added the request to a letter that she despatched that day. Hopefully, she’ll have an answer when you take the money for the sale to her.’

  ‘What do you mean? I thought I just had to do the negotiation.’

  Gaius slapped a chubby arm round Magnus’ shoulders. ‘I can’t be seen soiling the Senate’s reputation with such a grubby transaction and the Lady Antonia certainly can’t.’

  ‘What about Pallas, her steward?’

  ‘Oh, he’s chosen the location for the meeting and he’ll be close by to ensure safe delivery of the four thousand, eight hundred aurii back to the Lady, once you’ve completed the transaction.’

  ‘Four thousand, six hundred,’ Magnus corrected.

  ‘How so? There are twenty-four of the tablets.’

  ‘We negotiated a special price; the full deal was five thousand denarii each, but twenty-four tablets for the price of twenty-three.’

  Gaius squeezed Magnus’ shoulder and looked at him sidelong. ‘I’m sure Antonia won’t fuss about two hundred aurii here or there. Get a message to the purchaser that the exchange will be at dawn tomorrow at the Temple of Asclepius.’

  Magnus was about to argue but then paused and nodded slowly in approval. ‘Marius, go to the House of the Moon and tell them dawn at the Temple of Asclepius on the Tiber Island.’ As Marius ran off Magnus inclined his head to his patron. ‘That’s very clever of Pallas, sir; if I have my lads covering both bridges, Menes will find it very difficult to double-cross us and get away.’

  ‘We’ve a big problem on our hands,’ Servius announced, not looking up from the abacus and the scrolls of accounts he was working on as Magnus walked through the door of the tavern, refreshed from a few hours at the baths. ‘Our aedile has evidently not taken too kindly to the city-wide inspection of measures.’ He pointed over his shoulder to a man slumped in a dark corner of the bar.

  Magnus approached him, frowning. ‘Duilius?’

  There was no reply.

  ‘It was Duilius,’ Servius informed him, still not looking up as the abacus clicked rapidly, ‘until about an hour ago.’

  Magnus cupped Duilius’ chin and examined the face; there were no marks of violence. A swift perusal of the rest of his body showed no wounds, bruising or blood. ‘There’s not a mark on him! How did he die?’

  ‘We’re meant to believe that he died of natural causes; we found him—’

  ‘Natural causes?’

  ‘Yes. We found him sitting on the pavement just outside with his head between his legs as if he was being sick. Nobody can remember seeing him left there, although a drunken rabble did pass by just before, so it must have been them with arms round Duilius’ shoulders as if he was insensible with drink.’

  Magnus examined the body again with a grudging respect. ‘What do you make of it?’

  ‘It’s a declaration of war; this is about who has authority in the South Quirinal. We may have managed to manoeuvre the Urban Prefect into an inspection of every measure in the city, forcing Brutus to quit his scam or face being exposed and humiliated; but in return he has shown us that he can get his revenge without attracting suspicion and accusations of murder. I would guess that Duilius won’t be the only sudden natural death around here.’

  Magnus sat down, still looking in fascination at the unmarked corpse. ‘I think you may be right, brother; Brutus threatened our senator with a natural death very soon. I promised a guard round his house; have half a dozen stationed up there. If there is going to be another natural death, then it ain’t going to be us or Senator Pollo; and what better way to get rid of a magistrate with no questions asked. How was it done?’

  ‘Ah! It took me a while, but I think I’ve worked it out.’

  Terentius walked through the tavern door as the sun slid into the west; Magnus rose from his table and indicated that he and Servius should follow him through to the back room.

  ‘Well?’ Magnus asked as they sat.

  Terentius placed a wax writing-tablet on the table. ‘Each tablet weighs two and a half libra; with twelve uncia to a pound, that’s a total of thirty. Each one of those little balls weighs an obolus, which is forty-eight from each uncia, so from a tablet that’s one thousand, four hundred …’

  ‘… and forty from each tablet.’ Magnus whistled softly. ‘How much do you think you could charge your clients for one?’

  ‘For that luxury and including the boy, ten denarii easily.’ Terentius pointed to the writing-tablet. ‘It’s all in there, Magnus.’

  Servius picked it up and read it quickly. ‘How much can you get a tablet for, Magnus?’

  Magnus shook his head, unable to believe his luck. ‘I’ve just got one for free plus the half I have already, that’s—’

  Servius flicked some beads on his abacus. ‘Twenty-one thousand, six hundred denarii or eight hundred and sixty-four aurii.’

  ‘But it’ll take some time to realise that money; at least a year, probably more,’ Terentius pointed out.

  ‘With no initial outlay to cover, that doesn’t matter, my friend,’ Magnus said, leaning back in his chair and beaming. ‘You take as long as you like and we’ll go fifty–fifty, five denarii each per sale.’

  ‘That’s generous, Magnus.’

  ‘I’d say it’s fair. You provide the boys and the premises and I’ll provide the resin; you can settle up once a month with Servius. In the meantime I would be very grateful if you could ensure that Aedile Brutus samples the new pleasure next time he frequents your establishment; in fact, encourage him to have two of those balls and then send me a message at whatever time of day or night it is.’

  Terentius looked quizzical. ‘Certainly, Magnus.’ He stood to leave.

  ‘I’ll send a couple of my lads back with you to pick up the rest of those tablets.’

  ‘Of course, Magnus; will I see you later?’

  Magnus was aware of Servius’ eyebrows raising a fraction and shook his head, waving a hand in dismissal. As the door closed behind Terentius, he turned to his counsellor. ‘Well, I had to sample the goods before I could decide whether to invest in them or not.’

  ‘Very wise. And what do you think?’

  ‘I think that it’s wasted on doctors; it’s much more than just a med
icine.’

  ‘Will we really make that sort of money?’

  ‘Oh, yes, my friend; once those who can afford it try it, they’ll find it hard not to go back for more.’

  ‘And you?’

  ‘Now I know how good it is I daren’t have it again; not if I want to get things done, if you take my meaning?’ Magnus got to his feet, stretched and yawned. ‘Have all the lads assembled here two hours before dawn; wake me then.’

  *

  ‘Magnus, wake up.’

  Magnus roused himself and opened an eye to see Servius standing over him, holding a lamp. ‘Are all the lads downstairs?’

  ‘No, there’re still a couple of hours to go yet.’

  ‘Why wake me then?’

  Servius indicated with his head to the door.

  Magnus sat up in bed and squinted, trying to focus. ‘Rufinus! What are you doing here?’

  ‘Yesterday, after the festival, I went to tell my intermediary to stop making inquiries about selling the resin.’

  ‘Good. And?’

  ‘I couldn’t find him.’

  ‘Shit!’

  ‘It’s worse than that; he was found about an hour ago. It was all round the cohort very quickly because of the state he was in.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘He’d been tortured before they cut his throat. It was made to look as if they wanted to get the keys for the stores off him because some stuff was missing, but not enough in my opinion to warrant murder. Besides, I know Aetius—’

  ‘Aetius? Of course, who better to act as an intermediary; he can buy or sell anything.’

  ‘Could. But he wouldn’t have risked his life for a set of keys.’

  ‘But he would have risked it to keep his reputation for discretion.’

  ‘I’d asked him to approach a couple of doctors to see whether they would be interested.’

  ‘And one was the Urban Cohorts’?’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘Who went straight to the Urban Prefect, who immediately had a little chat with Aetius and, because he was killed having been tortured, we can assume that he gave them what they wanted.’

  ‘Yes, Magnus; they know my name.’ Rufinus handed his half-tablet of resin to Magnus. ‘This is no good to me; I need cash. I’m disappearing until all this dies down.’

  ‘Very wise, my friend.’ Magnus took the half-tablet, calculating its intrinsic worth, and knew that he could be very generous in buying Rufinus’ silence. ‘Servius, give the centurion twenty-five aurii.’

  Rufinus’ eyes widened at the equivalent of two and a half years’ pay for an average legionary. ‘That’s good of you, Magnus.’

  ‘I’ll always help a friend. There’ll be another twenty-five for you if you haven’t mentioned my name by the time the fuss dies down. Now get going.’

  ‘Thank you, Magnus.’

  Servius paused in the doorway as he followed Rufinus out. ‘There was a message from Antonia’s steward, Pallas. He’ll be at the river steps below the Temple of Asclepius half an hour before dawn.’

  ‘Are all your men in position, master?’ Pallas enquired as Magnus walked down the steps from the Temple of Asclepius to the Tiber; the groans of scores of sick slaves, left to die in the precinct of the god of medicine by masters refusing to pay for their treatment, blended with the gurgling of the river.

  ‘They are, Pallas.’ Magnus looked at the full-bearded Greek, aware that he was a slave, but in awe of the fact that with one question he had taken complete control of the operation; but he was used to it. In the course of his numerous contacts, in various capacities, with the Lady Antonia’s steward, he had developed a respect for Pallas’ judgement and discretion; Magnus knew him to be more than a mere slave. ‘I’ve got ten covering each bridge and a further ten round the temple; all with orders to keep out of sight. Plus I’ve ten of my best lads with me to guard the tablets and then transport the cash. Menes won’t be able to leave without handing over the money.’

  ‘Unless he tries to go by boat, which is why I took the precaution of bringing mine.’ Pallas stepped out of the six-oared river craft that had ferried him to the island. ‘We will return by river once the transaction has taken place. Get into position; I’ll be waiting here.’

  Magnus nodded and picked his way back up the steps through the huddles of dead and dying slaves.

  ‘Looks like them,’ Marius announced as the first rays of dawn sun hit a high altitude cloudbank, accentuating ripples on its grey surface with highlights of deep red. ‘I’d say there are at least a dozen round that cart.’

  Magnus watched the group cross the Fabricium Bridge from the Campus Martius, then turn off the main street bisecting the island and pull into the forecourt of the Temple of Asclepius.

  ‘My good friend!’ Menes exclaimed, walking towards Magnus with open arms as if it were a reunion of acquaintances of many years’ standing after an unreasonably long period of absence; the expression of joy on his face, however, registered as a rictus contort.

  Not wishing to cause offence, Magnus subjected himself to the embrace which was nothing more than a clumsy attempt to frisk him for hidden weapons, which he returned; Menes was unarmed.

  ‘You have tablets, my friend?’

  ‘Naturally.’

  Magnus indicated the cart. ‘Four thousand, eight hundred aurii?’

  Menes inclined his head. ‘In twenty-four bags of two hundred.’

  ‘Take one of them away; my patron is only selling twenty-three of the tablets.’

  Menes attempted to transform his expression into one of shock and deep disappointment, but succeeded only in gurning like a tragic actor’s mask. ‘My friend, we had a deal.’

  ‘For two hundred aurii a tablet; my patron has just decided to keep one for himself. Now, let’s do this. Sextus!’ The brother lumbered forward, holding a bulging sack. ‘Put them down here. Menes, have the money stacked next to them and then all our men will withdraw twenty paces whilst you and I check the contents.’

  Menes eyed the bag as Sextus placed it down, his smile returning, before shouting in his own language. The tarpaulin was pulled back from the cart and half a dozen of his men began unloading the weighty bags concealed within. When twenty-three were piled next to the tablets, Magnus and Menes nodded to one another and gave the order for their guards to withdraw back into the tangle of sick slaves who were too ill to pay attention to events around them. Once they were alone in the centre of the forecourt, Magnus pulled a square piece of leather from his belt, spread it on the ground and, choosing a bag at random, poured the contents out.

  With practised fingers, the contents were soon counted and, after three more random selections revealed totals of two hundred aurii for each bag, Magnus felt satisfied that Menes was not trying to cheat by underpaying. Magnus eyed the Egyptian in the growing light as he finished examining the last couple of tablets. He found it hard to believe that the man’s blatant greed would not tempt him into a double-cross.

  ‘Very good, my friend,’ Menes announced, rewrapping the final tablet. ‘Now we go, yes?’

  Magnus nodded and called his brothers back. ‘Marius, have the lads take the sacks down to the boat.’

  Standing opposite Menes, who was grinning furiously as if to convey a feeling of calm and normality, Magnus kept his eye on the Egyptian’s men as they turned their cart round and loaded the tablets under the tarpaulin.

  It was no more than an anxious twitch of Menes’ eyes towards the cart, followed by an almost imperceptible tensing of his leg muscles in preparation for a quick sprint, which alerted Magnus; he dived to the left, putting Menes between him and the cart as a fletched shaft hissed through the air where his head had been. ‘Down!’ he bellowed as three more bows just grabbed from beneath the tarpaulin thrummed arrows towards his lads, felling two.

  More sleek missiles spat through the dawn air, thumping one brother to the ground, the bag he carried bursting open in an explosion of dull gold.

  Menes’ men, now all arm
ed, ran forward, arrows nocked and bows drawn as they aimed at the chests of Magnus’ brethren.

  ‘Put the bags down, lads, and step back,’ Magnus ordered, edging towards Marius but keeping his eyes on Menes.