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

by Assaph Mehr

  “I’m still not sure where you are heading with this. This deal could never actually go through, as we both — and probably Numicius too — know well.”

  “I plan to draw out Numicius, giving him false hope then frustrating him repeatedly,” I explained. “We will put on a bit of a show for him in public and then I will go back to him with some new complication. He is an impatient man — that’s his flaw. Forget the curses and what we deem lack of moral fibre. It’s his temper that will make him burst out and that’s how we’ll get a confession out of him.”

  “Temper or not, he is not stupid. We are suing him for taking illegal actions in those insuale. How can he possibly buy them, without giving the public the clear impression that this was his plan all along?”

  “He is intent on you not finding out that he’s the buyer till much later,” I replied. “He was quick to set up straw companies and proxies, so his name won’t come up till it’s too late and he can gloat publicly. I believe this was his plan all along — to make it known he gets what he wants, and to show what happens to those who resist him.”

  “I have my misgivings about this. I have seen him in the Senate. He can play a long game when he has his mind set on something. I fear either your strategy will fail to get us something in time — and it’s now impossible to delay the lawsuit against him — or that he’ll grow tired of this game, dismiss you, and move on to nastier actions.”

  “Oh, I am confident I can string him along. Playing into his plan will make him feel more secure, and therefore more careless. It won’t take long to get an outburst out of him. It might not be in public, but I would have enough information to testify convincingly about him. The whole play is geared towards getting as many incriminating details as possible. I just need you to gather your clients tomorrow.”

  “I hope you know what you are doing,” Valerius replied. “Make it happen properly, though. I do not want this matter dragging — I want my good name cleared!”

  ***

  The day after was a well-orchestrated public performance. I had, since the crack of dawn, been walking nervously about the Forum Egretum, casting glances in all directions. When Valerius and his retinue of clients arrived and crossed the Forum towards the Senate — nobody wondered why they would arrive from the opposite direction of his house — I waded into the crowd of people surrounding him. I waved a sealed scroll above my head and cried loudly, “Let me through, by Iovis! Your master will reward you when he hears my message! I have the solution to the problem insulae that have been plaguing him for months!”

  None of his clients, sycophants, and guards knew anything, of course, so acted with their usual zeal towards their patron by enforcing layers of controlled access. Some were a tad too enthusiastic in stopping the clamouring madman talking loudly about their esteemed benefactor’s real-estate problems, and I did sustain a few unnecessary slaps and light bruises. But, I got through.

  By the time I forced myself close enough to Valerius’ inner circle, business around the Forum had all but stopped. Say what you will about the chariot races in the circus or the gladiatorial games at funerals, when it comes to public performances we Egretians value an emotional debate above anything else. All around the large open space of the Forum, people were gawking at the commotion we were staging for their benefit.

  Valerius, born a nobleman and educated in the art of oration, raised one hand dramatically and, in a voice that would put stage actors to shame, spoke, “Let that man through!”

  The throng of clients around him separated, and I walked down a clear corridor towards him. Doing my best to project my voice without yelling, I declared, “Senator, I know all about the properties that have been haunting your dreams of late!” I bowed slightly as I handed him the scroll.

  Valerius broke the seal with a flourish, scanned the text quickly, and rolled the scroll back before anyone near him could glimpse its contents. “Intriguing.” This single word reverberated around the Forum. “Walk with me, and I will grant you a private audience.”

  Safely behind closed doors in a nearby office, we toasted each other with cups of watered spiced wine.

  “I doubt anyone missed that performance,” I said. “Numicius will have heard all about it by now. I daresay your voice would have carried through all the way to his house.”

  “Let us hope his hunger for money drives him to carelessness. I have to say, I am impressed with your ability to get through my men. I do hope they didn’t cause you much grief. They are rather dedicated.”

  “Think nothing of it. Their dedication is a testament to you as a patron. My bruises are merely a part of the job and will be gone in a few days.”

  “I will see you well recompensed for them. I’m not sure if I should reward my men or not.”

  “Reward them.” I was generous with his money. “They played their unwitting part beautifully. Your clients would not have seriously harmed me and no normal messenger would have been this persistent. Were I wishing you harm, I have no doubt they would have been effective.”

  “Very well, then. I will set their minds and wallets at ease, as I am sure this will also add to the gossip flying around. Here’s to our success!” He toasted again.

  ***

  The next morning, I set out to meet Numicius. I had to build his hopes up and then crush them. Perhaps repeatedly. I wanted him frustrated enough for a public outburst, an admission of guilt or any slip-up that would reveal incriminating details.

  I lurked about his home but did not join the queue of clients inside. When he came out later I followed him, then skirted through side streets so I could bump into him as he reached the Forum.

  “Gaius Numicius! Gaius Numicius!” I cried enthusiastically as I made my way towards him and his retinue. “Excellent news, Gaius Numicius!”

  He beckoned me closer and I fell in step beside him. I could not see Ambustus amongst his retinue. “I have managed to get through to Lucius Valerius Flaccus,” I said loudly enough so no one could miss who I was talking about, “and got his attention at last.”

  “Yes, I’ve heard,” Numicius said dryly. “You mentioned you had contacts to introduce you, not that you had to fight your way through his guards.”

  “I had the letter of introduction, but I got tired of waiting for an appointment. I had to be rather abrupt about it, but when I got through and gave him the letter, the introduction worked! He has granted me an audience and I was able to hook him on the deal for the insulae.”

  We reached the steps leading up to the Collegium Mercatorum, and Numicius slowed and stopped. “That is good news indeed,” he said, his sharp teeth punctuating his smile. “So, are we ready to proceed?”

  “We certainly are! You will soon be the proud owner of three perfectly empty insulae in the Subvales,” I beamed at him.

  “Excellent, excellent. Now you must excuse me, as I have business with our rhones about a shipment of grain.”

  I let him get half way up the wide steps before I added, “There was only a small matter of Valerius Flaccus’ insistence on some due diligence with the bankers, but I am sure our arrangements will withstand any scrutiny.” I smiled at Numicius, waved goodbye, and disappeared into the crowd before he could respond.

  Rather predictably, I received a message to meet Numicius that same day at dusk. I was not keen on so late and private a meeting, as my designs preferred a public outburst. Still, the more emotional highs and lows I could put him through in a short span of time, the grander this eventual drama would play out.

  I spent the afternoon visiting Crassitius and arranging for Borax’s services that night — for both appearances and security — after which I stopped at the baths for a good shave and massage.

  Chapter XXII

  The meeting that night took place at Numicius’ domus. The door slave had me on his list, and we were shown into the atrium immediately. The front of the house was
empty, which was not surprising. Visitors had long gone, and deep in its interior the household was concentrating on evening activities.

  Numicius’ clerk came to escort us. I nodded at Borax to follow, an unusual act for a guest. The clerk said nothing, though, and Borax padded after us — his huge bulk, drooping red moustache, and blue tattoos incongruous with the highly refined Egretian decor.

  We were led to Numicius’ tablinum, where the clerk bowed me in. “Please go in,” he said, putting up a hand to stop Borax, “and I’ll send some water for your bodyguard.”

  Borax raised a brow, but I walked on without him.

  “Ah, Felix! Have a seat. Wine?” Numicius gestured at the side table and the clerk poured me a cup. Numicius already had a fine blue glass goblet in front of him. Ambustus, leaning against the wall as before, was slowly sipping his.

  “Now, tell me about this good news you have,” Numicius said when I was seated with my spiced wine. The dim lights from the lamps on the table lent his face an eerie appearance, his sharp little teeth gleaming and the fire’s reflection dancing in his eyes.

  I faked my best enthusiasm and delivered a fictitious account of my handling of Valerius. I described the letters of introductions, my frustration at Valerius’ schedule, my resolution to break through his encircling layers of clients, the encounter in the Forum, and the meeting afterwards. I gave a flowery account of his facial expressions, of his moods changing from disbelief and distrust into guarded optimism at my cajoling. In short, I spun a tale like no other, leading Numicius through an emotional wringer to highlight my negotiation skills and dedication on his behalf. At several points, Numicius tried to interrupt and get to the conclusion, and at each point I assured him I was about to, yet continued with my tale. It was, despite my own words being as the butcher vouchsafing the contents of his sausages, a tale worthy of the theatre. I walked the fine line of building Numicius’ investment without getting him overly annoyed at the meandering story. He became visibly restless, yet engrossed, as my story unfolded.

  Once I described Valerius’ grudging assent to the deal, we toasted each other on a plan well executed. Numicius was flush with wine and excitement.

  “But wasn’t there a mention of some complications with the bankers?” Ambustus made his first contribution, a perfect segue for me.

  I let my face darken momentarily, then forced a smile. “I’m sure it is nothing we can’t get past. He was merely being cautious, a standard procedure of financial due diligence, no doubt.”

  “And what did that cunnus want?” Numicius asked.

  “Just to ensure the deal is legal and to avoid problems later. Under the Lex Claudia, as surely you know, Valerius Flaccus cannot profiteer from large sales to foreign entities. He requested to trace the origins of the money, so as not to end up being ejected from the Senate under the Lex Cassia.” I went on to reassure Numicius that Valerius was highly unlikely to uncover our scheme, and in the process highlighted the weak links in Numicius’ setup, to increase his consternation. “I am sure Valerius would never be able to trace the straw companies to the banker we used,” I reassured Numicius, “and even if he did, so what? It’s only the banker. He has no power over him.”

  “You promised me you could deliver these insulae to me,” Numicius said with an amicable tone but narrow eyes. “I have set up the necessary business arrangements, locking up money that I could have put to good use elsewhere. If this deal does not go through, it will be a pain — a pain I will be sharing all around!”

  ***

  I left Numicius satisfied with my work. I could think and plan my next move as we walked back to my house, Borax watching the streets and scaring shifty characters away by growling menacingly.

  Numicius’ threats were a signal my scheme was working. I was not concerned by them, as I had offered him a quicker resolution to his land-grabbing attempts and he was invested in my plan.

  Cornelia was passing messages between Valerius and me, but I heard nothing from either her or Aemilia. I knew that at some point soon I would have to deal with what happened between us. Not a task I relished and one I preferred not to dwell upon.

  And so, two days later, I presented myself before dawn to wait for Valerius with his clients. I was pacing around, chatting to others, making my presence known, and only vaguely hinting — to anyone who wouldn’t move away fast enough — about the important property deal I was brokering for him. His clerk was under instruction to keep me in the atrium until all his other clients had finished and left, for maximum exposure. We wanted the word to leak and circulate.

  Once we were ensconced privately in his library, I gave him an update on my last meeting with Numicius. And, to counterbalance how I was trying to build Numicius’ emotions, I had the task of assuaging Valerius’ impatience about the deal. Both were men of power, both concerned with their own public standing and position, their dignitas and auctoritas, and both with egos that needed massaging. Not too different, in many respects. Employers like Valerius pay well, but I was starting to miss the simple cases, which could be resolved with a bit of chanting and the sacrifice of a chicken.

  In the end, I set him on the right course and ensured he would put forward the deeds to the insulae — under escrow — so that Numicius’ bankers could vouch for them. I wanted Numicius to smell those millions of denarii worth of properties he’d be getting for a ludicrously low price before we withdrew them. I deemed that would be his breaking point, the act which would push him to expose himself.

  I spent the rest of that day and the following one dealing with various bankers around the Forum. The days were right before the Ides of September, the city was full of people coming for the Ludi Egretani, and half the time those I was after were at the games or just plain too drunk to care. I waded my way through the throngs, walked countless miles back and forth on sun-baked streets, dealt with people that smelled so offensively even the dead would turn in disgust, and — worst of all — missed the opening chariot races.

  But by the end of that second day, I had the paperwork I needed. Talents of silver were recorded and assigned, the certificates notarised, conditions of sale stipulated, reviewed, approved, signed and countersigned. I had a letter from Numicius’ banker, guaranteeing the money was ready to be picked up in exchange for the deeds. All I had to do was take the letter to Numicius, let him read it and get his hopes up, and then crush it with some ridiculous last-minute demand.

  And do it in public, preferably.

  Chapter XXIII

  As befit my schemes, I set out to meet Numicius that same day. I planned to run into him as though by accident on the way back from the Ludi Egretani, draw him to the public baths, and have our private chat turn into a public spectacle.

  Considering the hustle and bustle of the city — with all the country folk flocking for the games, and the pickpockets, thieves, cut-purses, cutthroats, brigands, boisterous drunks, filthy beggars, maimed veterans — both from the legions and the circuses — and other charming and picturesque characters whom the poets love that were out to greet the visiting simpletons — I arranged with Crassitius to hire Borax to accompany me.

  I spotted Numicius on his front-row seat for the final chariot race, but he was in a different section of the Circus Magnus than my clay token allowed me to access. Instead, I exited the stadium to wait, keeping an eye on the throngs milling about outside and an ear on the roar of the crowds inside. From what I could make out, the Red faction won the day, with their newest quadriga driver finally beating the veteran driver of the Blue team after five bitter years of losses. An historic and momentous victory for fans of the Reds, such as myself. I worked hard on my employers’ behalf, so I could afford the (admittedly subsidised) tickets for the races — work that seemed at cross-purposes to actually attending said races.

  Borax and I discussed the games while we waited. As an ex-gladiator, he was keenly interested and followed all manne
r of sports. He was, it turned out, a fan of the Green faction of charioteers. He countered my jibes about them being ousted on the first day of the games by pointing out the Reds’ illustrious five-year losing streak. Though the talk was mere banter, it cheered me a little from the gloom having to miss the games.

  Eventually the racket inside calmed and people spewed forth through the vomitoria. When Borax spotted Numicius, we trailed him at a distance. His path home would normally take him on the Via Lutia to the city gates, but I had a plan to draw him to the Baths of Mauritius to stage our little drama.

  All for naught. Before I could reach him, another acquaintance hailed him, and they headed towards the wharves, no doubt for a ride in one of the many private yachts moored there.

  I rushed after them, Borax pushing people out of my way. I tried calling out to Numicius, but it was of no use, as the crowds were cheerful and boisterous after the races.

  Despite ruining my plans, Fortuna must not have been too angry with me. When Numicius and his acquaintance reached the gangplank of the waiting bireme, they let their retinues board first while they continued their animated discussion. I got there almost out of breath but put on an enthusiastic smile for Numicius.

  I only got out the first ‘Gaius Numicius!’ before he began talking excitedly.

  “Felix, what a day! Were you in the Circus? A great day for the Reds! We won! After five years of the most embarrassing losses, we won!” His face was flushed with wine and excitement, his speech an unstoppable torrent of words. His natural energy and exuberance were amplified tenfold. “I was the one who brought Appuleius Diocles, you know.” He tapped his finger on his nose. “I donated a sum of money to the Reds in the beginning of this year and arranged for him to come from the Steppes of Massau. It was a risk! He won local races but was virtually unknown outside the Shangarii. And you can never tell how these provincials will do once in a big city. I didn’t want to make a big fuss about it in case he flopped, but now that he has carried the day so beautifully, Marcus Tometius here will make a public announcement shortly.”