In Numina: Urban Fantasy in Ancient Rome (Stories of Togas, Daggers, and Magic Book 2)

by Assaph Mehr

  “Come now,” interjected Cornelia, still smiling. “Your concern for her is touching, but why don’t you leave it to me to worry about her matrimonial future? We could supply you with bodyguards if necessary, and I am sure that you could think of a dozen ways to work her into your investigation without raising suspicion. I will, of course, expect you to personally return her safe and sound to our house every night.” That last pronouncement was accompanied by a definite brush of her foot against my leg.

  “Well,” I said weakly, “if you insist. It seems I am left with no choice in the matter.”

  Chapter II

  Night gave up the ghost under the onslaught of the rising sun. I rose before first light and by the time the sun was over the horizon the water in my garden fountain was already getting warm. Lighting a stick of incense and performing the morning placation of my ancestors came first, even before a hasty breakfast of bread dipped in wine. I donned my lightest tunic and a broad hat and coated the straps of my sandals with some olive oil to minimise the inevitable chafing of a long day of walking under the merciless sun.

  Our plan for the day was simple.

  Aemilia would take me to meet Flaccus’ agent, and then we’d visit the insulae. Cornelia realised any attempt to constrain her daughter was likely to fail, so they reached a compromise together with Flaccus. Aemilia would take part in the investigation under me but would defer to my judgement if I deemed a task too dangerous for a young lady. I was to update Cornelia as well as Valerius Flaccus with daily progress and plans. Thus, Valerius would be assured an honest and speedy service, Aemilia was to enjoy a safe taste of a side of life normally forbidden her, and Cornelia would remain involved in the matter to satisfy both her curiosity and need to feel relevant.

  Of course, they reached this agreement without asking me for my opinion.

  I met Aemilia on the Via Crispa under the shade of the Aqua Sextiae aqueduct. For me, this meant a walk across the length of the Meridionali on the avenue that runs on the ridge of that southern arm of the bay. For Aemilia, it was an easy stroll from the heights of Vergu, where her family had their domus. We trod the same mountain yet came from very different neighbourhoods and lifestyles.

  Even so, as I lifted my gaze from the fountain where I was refreshing myself and caught sight of her, my misgivings were mollified. Of average height and a youthful slender build, dark hair pinned up both fashionably and sensibly, she was wearing a fetching aquamarine stola. Her smile widened and reached her large, luminous grey eyes.

  “Ave, Aemilia,” I said. Behind her were her slave girl and a burly type, no doubt a competent bodyguard assigned by her mother.

  “Salve, Felix. We don’t have far to go to meet Decimus Aburius. His offices are just on the other side of the ridge.”

  The part of the city where we met, around the Via Crispa between the Forum and the Porta Alta, is the temple district of Egretia. Many edifices, some old and humble, others new and magnificent, cluster along the road that leads from the heart of the city to the sacred heights of Mount Vergu, and forms part of the triumphal procession route. As we walked eastward, the scenery changed into residences and local businesses. On the ridge and the north side, leading down towards the waters of the Bay of Egretia, the houses were modest but respectable. Down the south side, however, once one is no longer benefiting from the fresh sea breezes, are the Subvales — cheap, crowded, smelly, and over-populated with the less fortunate. Valerius Flaccus’ affected properties were there, and his agent Aburius kept offices close by.

  We chatted idly as we walked. She told me of her life in those past few weeks; of how the experience we shared last had changed her, intensifying her resolve to be her own person rather than submit to the cultural expectations of women. I was mildly surprised, as I expected near death to scare her into good behaviour rather than encourage rebellion. Yet, at the same time, I was glad to hear it — to know that the spark of her personality was not extinguished despite the harrowing experience.

  In turn, I regaled her with the story of the philosopher Athenodorus. When he found a house for sale at a suspiciously low price, he enquired and was told the house was haunted. He bought it anyway, as he wished to see the ghost. To keep himself up at night so he could observe any apparitions, he dragged a table outside and worked on his philosophical treatise. He was so engrossed in his work, that when the ghost first came and rattled its chains at him, he shushed it so he could keep working.

  Aemilia laughed at this, but the walk was short and I didn’t get to tell her the end. A lot more than that was left unsaid — things I wished to know about her, stories I wanted to tell her — leaving a strong desire to keep talking.

  ***

  Aburius’ offices were on the ground floor of one of Flaccus’ insulae that was still fully occupied, seemingly unaffected by whatever troubled the other properties. His suite was composed of two rooms, the front one arranged as a large open space with tables for scribes and clerks on the right and couches for loitering ex-gladiator-types on the left. This dual set of employees let Decimus Aburius know who owed what rent and to collect it efficiently.

  We met the man himself in his private office at the back. He was of average height, with good teeth and good hair, yet somehow smarmy and oily in demeanour — a classic landlord’s agent. Flashing us a shiny smile, he urged us to sit, saying, “Looking for a new place? I have everything a nice young couple like you will need — from an affordable private domus fit for raising a family to a quiet apartment for discreet meetings. Just tell Decimus what you need and he will guarantee your satisfaction!”

  “Why, yes,” I said, on a spur-of-the-moment decision, “that is exactly what we are after. We need a discreet apartment, as you put it.”

  “Preferably in an insula not fully occupied,” added Aemilia. “We would appreciate as few neighbours as possible.” The girl was sharp, I’ll give her that.

  Aburius quickly gauged our ability to pay and said, “Oh, I think I know just the place. A nice place, not too many floors, half-way from here to the Forum, yet the entry is located on a side street with little traffic. Just the thing for a prudent couple.”

  As this wasn’t one of the properties on the list Flaccus gave us, I said, “My darling and I passed an insula we liked the other day and were told you were the agent. It’s on the Vicus Sandalarius, in the upper Subvales. Appears to be practically empty.”

  His face barely registered a pause. “Why, yes, I know the building you are referring to. Would you like to sign a lease? It has a choice of available apartments at the moment, from ground floor with a garden, to first floor suites, to upper level cosy units but with good airs and views. Just tell me what you are after and I can have the rental contract ready while you wait.”

  “Oh, meum mel, I’d really like to see it before I settle. You know me,” Aemilia said to me.

  I tried hard not to look into her eyes lest I break out in laughter at the way she called me ‘honey’. “Of course, cara, of course.” I turned to Aburius. “As the lady says, perhaps we could go right now? It’s not far.”

  “Oh, but I thought you already saw the property? I can vouchsafe that everything is in perfect order.”

  “We only saw it from the outside. We wish to see the various offerings there. If all is well, we could sign today — but we really would prefer to take a peek inside.”

  The agent tried his best to get us to sign first — on that or any other insula — but we persevered. A quarter of an hour later we compromised on going there and signing on the spot if we liked it. He called for one of his scribes and two guards, and we set out to view the haunted apartment blocks.

  ***

  Of Flaccus’ list of affected insulae, two were at the slopes of the Subvales. These weren’t quite the worst parts next to the walls, but that was nary a redeemable quality. Both had been completely deserted by then. The third was a reasonably upmarket est
ablishment, close to the Baths of Sestropius, where tenants were only now starting to leave in unusual numbers. This last — the one we indicated for Aburius — one was just a bit down from the Vicus Petrosa on the wrong side of the hill and was the one that triggered Flaccus’ worries.

  As we walked to the building, Aburius in the lead and servants and bodyguards in train, he kept talking and flashing his shiny smile at us, assuring us that all was in order, the property well cared for, the current tenants all charming and polite, and so on and so forth. Having lived all my life in my family’s domus, I was glad I never had to deal with landlords’ agents and their silent gladiator friends. No amount of charm on Aburius’ part could mask the garlic breath of the two brutes who followed closely.

  We were in sight of the Vicus Petrosa when Aburius turned to a side-street. Of the five ground-level shops facing the street, four had their shutters down. The tavern at the intersection with the side alley was closed as well — highly unusual at any time of day.

  At the main entry to building’s stairwell stood a guard — a freedman, given his conical pileus cap — who gave Aburius a smart salute, and got a nod in return. I always pay attention to how people treat those whom they deem lesser than themselves and the looks they get in return when they turn their backs; I could detect no resentment from the guard.

  “Over here,” said Aburius, “we have the central light-well and only two apartments off it at ground level, sharing the garden. Both are currently unoccupied, and you can have your choice. There is a well in the centre of the courtyard, and latrines on the side alley.” He walked us through one of the apartments, a reasonably-sized affair with all the important rooms a residence requires to support a family with their slaves.

  “It seems a bit too large for our current needs,” I said. “Perhaps we can see one of the first-floor apartments?”

  Aburius nodded and led us outside and up the main stairs. The stairwell opened to a long internal corridor, with sunlight streaming in from the half-wall open to the central courtyard. “On this level are four apartments. The whole building is aligned to the north, to ensure the favour of the gods. Facilities are below, but it’s not a hard climb as you’ve just seen. These apartments are smaller, but each has ample rooms for a young couple and their slaves. The ones on the upper levels I fear will be too compact, just one or two sleeping cubicles and a shared room at the most.”

  “And are all four apartments on this floor unoccupied as well?” I asked.

  “You are in luck indeed. The owner has recently renovated,” he lied through his teeth, “and only one is occupied. You can have your choice of the others.”

  “Oh, but corculum,” said Aemilia, nearly making me snort at her portrayal of a loving wife, “I hope it’s not one of those cursed insulae we heard about.”

  “Of course, deliciae meae, of course.” I could see her eyes sparkle and her mouth twitch. She was enjoying this game just as much as I was.

  I turned to Aburius. “We have heard distressing rumours. It seems certain apartment buildings in the area are haunted! Would you believe that? I need to be certain the place I choose for my family is absolutely wholesome.”

  To his credit, Aburius barely blinked. “I assure you that is not the case here. This insula is owned by a prominent senator, a man dedicated to our great city and its inhabitants. I think I mentioned he took the opportunity to renovate the building rather than lease with new tenants immediately. There is none of the shoddy maintenance you might find in less reputable residences. He takes the health and safety of his renters seriously and uses the utmost care.”

  “Oh, that is comforting,” I said. “But perhaps, just to ease my amasiuncula’s mind, could we perhaps talk to some of the other occupants?”

  “I doubt they would be at home at this time.” He replied blandly, continuing without pause, “Why don’t we go back to my offices? You seem like a perfect young couple, the kind my employer likes. I’d be happy to even offer you discounted rents, to entice such esteemed clients as yourselves into this upmarket insula. The apartments are going fast, but I like you and I want only the best tenants here. I think you’ll find no other property of this quality with similarly reasonable prices.”

  “That is quite convincing, Aburius,” I said and, before Aemilia could think of another epithet for ‘darling,’ added, “However, we have not been entirely honest with you. My name is Felix, known as Felix the Fox, and I have been employed by Lucius Valerius Flaccus to find out why his insulae are in such low demand recently. You will be happy to know that his niece Aemilia, here, and I will report to him tonight that the reason is definitely not with his trusted agent.”

  I let that sink in for a moment, then presented him with the letter of introduction bearing Flaccus’ seal. After some more formalities and further reassurances from us that we had nothing but praise for him, Aburius was keen to talk. This matter has been preying on him as well, both financially and on his professional pride.

  “It started two months ago, late in spring. The first insula where this happened was at the Vicus Bellonae. In the beginning, I thought it was nothing but squatters or the superstitious grumbling of cheap foreigners and drunks, as is often the case with reports of weird noises in the night or whispers heard from empty rooms. Then, items were found away from where their owners swear they left them, or they disappeared for a time only to reappear later. Nothing alarming, just the carping of malcontents. I put an extra bodyguard on duty, to deter any pranksters. Then tenants complained of nightmares, cats and dogs being restless, and young children having disturbing visions. Still nothing that could not be explained by wine-induced prattling.” As he talked, Aburius led us back down to the central courtyard.

  “During Quinctilis, affairs became more serious. Strange lights moved about, sometimes even by daytime; the whispers were replaced by blood-curdling screams at odd hours; people woke with curious marks on their skin. Then a child died, her body covered with bloody lesions that appeared overnight. Her skin became all wrinkly. I saw her myself, when I came to pay the master’s respects,” he shuddered at the memory, and rubbed his arms as if suddenly cold.

  “It was becoming hard to find replacement tenants. Those who left spread the stories, and only the truly desperate would take up the vacated residences. I installed another guardian — one of my rent-collection assistants — in addition to the caretaker. Not a bright fellow, Crito. I fear his time in the arena has left his brain somewhat rattled in his skull. Still, dependable. He was to patrol at night and sleep during the day in one of the vacated apartments. His instructions were to deal with any untoward activities swiftly and violently. I wanted an end to this, still believing it was some neighbourhood pranksters. I made a big show to the tenants about it, how master Flaccus was looking after them at his own expense.” His tone rose a bit, as if he was still addressing the tenants and trying to convince them.

  “At first this seemed to work. No reports of strange happenings came during the first three nights and days. I felt confirmed that the whole thing was nothing but pranks and that my man had scared off the perpetrators. But on the fourth morning Crito showed up in my office, confused and babbling. He wasn’t an orator, but I’ve never seen him incoherent like that either. And his hair… He used to have thick, dark hair, cut short. When he showed up that day, it was completely white. I got him to calm down eventually, with enough wine. He fell asleep on my couch, and never woke up.” Aburius paused at the memory, before collecting his thoughts and continuing with his report.

  “After that it was almost impossible to get any of my other guards to stay the night. The tenants started to leave in droves. The same type of rumours started in another insula, the one on Vicus Fabricii. I offered prizes to my men to entice them to take the guard’s job. I told them if they caught the perpetrator of these pranks or brought me solid evidence, they’d get their freedom and a large purse. A couple took me up on it. St
ayed together all night. I found them huddled on my office doorstep in the morning, saying I can whip them to death but they will not be going there ever again. Told tales of the floors shifting, of murals coming alive. That was the last of the tenants, too. The remaining residents soon left and now the two buildings stand empty. Even squatters will not occupy them.”

  Chapter III

  We were standing alone in the garden at the centre of the light-well after Aburius and his goons went back to his office. Aemilia peered curiously around. “So, what do you think is the cause — a shade of the dead? Are we going to trap it with a ritual?”

  “Slow down, we’re not at the chariot races. You’ll soon find out that this job is not as glamorous as you think. It’s not all dark magia and ancient incantations. It’s far more likely to be something mundane, like a rival landlord paying a gang of goons to frighten the residents. You’ll be lucky if you get to witness some minor country incantator casting a few cantrips to cause the noises. Instead of rushing, we need to start by talking to current and past tenants.”

  “What about the dead white-haired gladiator?”

  “Unless you want to summon the dead, I suggest we first speak with his cronies who survived.”

  ***

  Most of the previous residents of the Subvales insulae would be nigh impossible to track down. The people who normally occupy such apartments, particularly the top floors, are the dregs of society. Nobody cares much for them, least of all their landlords. As long as rents are paid, they can stay — if not, they go. Where to, no one cares.