Stepping into the small, windowless room Marcus saw two youthful, studious men, barely older than boys and clad in simple white tunic’s, sitting at a table. The men were hunched over what looked like sheets of papyrus or velum, parched animal skin. Pots of ink and an iron tipped stylus, pen, lay on the table. On the floor lay a crumpled up and discarded pile of papyrus.
“This is where I work most days,” Paulinus said as he turned to gaze fondly at the two scribes working away at the table. “I too have enemies whom I must confront every day. They are called corruption and inflation and I hate them. They give me sleepless nights. Corruption is the worst and we must stamp it out wherever we find it for it diverts tax revenues away from vital projects. It is a cancer that threatens to destroy the empire but unfortunately, we are limited in what we can do.”
In the doorway, Marcus took a step forwards and peered curiously at the two scribes, trying to work out what they were doing.
“And then there is inflation,” Paulinus said with distaste in his voice, “Another worry that keeps me up at night.”
Fishing in his pocket the Prefect of the state treasury produced a solitary, silver coin, held it up in the air and then without warning flipped it across at Marcus who hastily caught it in his right hand.
“The great, solid Roman silver coin,” Paulinus exclaimed with a little proud nod. “Possibly our greatest invention. The facilitator and reward for long distance trade across the empire, acceptable and exchangeable everywhere. That silver coin makes long-distance trade say between Egypt and Britannia possible and trade is the basis for all wealth. Without trade, we would not be able to tax the merchants, business would not grow and we would have no money with which to pay the legions that defend the frontiers.”
Marcus frowned as for a moment he examined the silver coin, then he tossed it back to Paulinus who caught it deftly as if he was picking a fly out of the sky.
“Sounds like you have it all covered,” Marcus said turning to look around the room. “So, why the sleepless nights?”
Paulinus sighed and grimaced as he slipped the silver coin back into his pocket. “The silver content of that coin I just showed you,” he rasped, “used to be ninety five percent but the silver content is dropping. It is now already below ninety percent. Year by year it is going down, making that fine coin less and less valuable.” Standing beside Claudia, Paulinus sighed again. “Essentially what I am trying to say is that the empire is starting to run out of silver and gold so we are using less precious metal in the making of our coins. It means that inflation is rising. It means that trouble is coming. For people are going to start demanding more and more coins for the same goods and transactions.”
“The empire is vast,” Marcus frowned. “Surely we cannot be running out of silver and gold?”
“And yet we are,” Paulinus replied grimly. “I have reported this many times to Trajan himself in person and it seems that finally the emperor is going to do something about it.”
“What do you mean?” Marcus asked.
“This Dacian war,” Paulinus replied, “do you think this is about some minor border dispute or who has the biggest cock. No, my friend, Trajan, our cunning emperor, has just one thing on his mind and that is the conquest of all those lucrative Dacian gold and silver mines. That’s why we are invading Dacia.” Paulinus paused and his eyes were suddenly sparkling with excitement. “When all that gold and silver starts rolling into Rome,” he said rubbing his hands together, “our financial problems will be delayed by possibly a hundred years. Make no mistake. The empire needs all that gold and silver. We do, we do, we do.”
“So, what are you doing here in this room,” Marcus asked gesturing at the two scribes working away on the sheets of papyrus and vellum with their iron tipped pens.
“Ah,” Paulinus said, “this is where I am preparing a back-up plan in case the invasion goes badly or Trajan has a change of heart. It is my pet project. My assistants here are working on the designs for a new form of money. One that is based not on precious metals like gold or silver but on nothing more than papyrus or velum. It is a work of genius and will provide a solid basis for imperial trade to flourish forever, if only Trajan would accept my proposals.”
“Paper money,” Marcus slowly shook his head in disbelief. “That will never work. No one would accept it as payment and what about forgeries.”
“It will work,” Paulinus retorted confidently, “the value of the notes will be officially backed up by a corresponding amount of coin held in the vault of a bank or an authorised money lender. If a person wishes to exchange the notes for gold or silver coins he can do so at any time. It’s just a matter of confidence. There is little chance that every man will demand to have his notes exchanged at the same time and the great advantage of this new form of money is that it will cut the bond between trade and the supply of gold and silver. My new currency would increase trade. I am trying to prepare us for the future. But the key ingredient is confidence in my new currency. We must have confidence. And as for forgeries, yes, we would have to be vigilant but my two assistants here are working on the best designs now. I will be presenting the idea to Trajan when he returns from Dacia.”
Marcus turned to Claudia and gave her a slightly disbelieving look. Then he turned to look at the prefect of the state treasury.
“I wish you good luck with that,” Marcus said as a little sceptical smile appeared on the corner of his lips.
“It is not as outrageous as some of the ideas that my friends are working on,” Paulinus said replying with a good-natured smile of his own. “I know some scientists who are experimenting with new weapons, machine operated bolt-throwers, liquid fire that can be squirted from ships, steam-driven devices that can move heavy loads based on the designs of Heron of Alexandria. All these projects will get proper funding if Nigrinus is made emperor after Trajan. Nigrinus is a big supporter of all these ideas. Think about that.”
“Heron of Alexandria,” Marcus repeated thoughtfully raising his hand to his chin. “I have heard of that name before.”
“Your nephew, Ahern, is studying his work in Londinium,” Claudia said helpfully. “That’s where you heard about Heron.”
Marcus nodded. “Of course, that’s right.”
Standing beside Claudia, Paulinus was watching Marcus closely. Then with a quick snap of his fingers he gestured for his two young assistants to leave the room. And as the men silently trooped out, the prefect of the state treasury turned and closed the door behind him.
“I understand why you may be interested in my work,” Paulinus said, turning to Marcus as he quietly folded his arms across his chest, “But maybe now is the time to tell me the real reason why you have come to pay me a visit. It wasn’t to hear me blather away about corruption and inflation.”
Marcus hesitated and glanced at Claudia.
“You are right, Sir,” Marcus said in a grave voice, “I am here because I need your help. I have for some time been involved in a land dispute. Some people are trying to take away my farm and land and recently it has got ugly. It is why I came to Rome, Sir, to petition the authorities to hear my case, for I will not get a fair, impartial hearing back at home.”
“Who has been trying to force you off your land?” Paulinus snapped, his face suddenly transformed, stern and authoritative.
“The Governor of Britannia and his friends,” Marcus replied. “I am afraid that blood has already been shed in defence of my home.”
“The Governor of the Province of Britannia,” Paulinus replied raising his eyebrows. For a moment, he remained silent. Then he fixed his eyes on Marcus. “And I suppose that you want me to help you settle the case?”
“That’s right Sir,” Marcus replied lowering his eyes. ““My property, I believe, qualifies me for membership of the equestrian order but the governor is refusing to allow the state surveyors to come and confirm that. He is preventing me from rightfully becoming a knight. Instead the Governor wishes to take my farm for himself so th
at he can give it to his friends. And now he has produced spurious claims that I was responsible for one of his friend’s death but it was they who first resorted to violence. I swear Sir, that the farm was legally given to my father by Agricola, former governor of Britannia. It is ours and I will fight to keep it. It is my home.”
“Agricola,” Paulinus exclaimed once more raising his eyebrows, “Now there is a name that I have not heard in a long time.” Then he sighed. “I trust that you have the legal deeds to the property?”
“I do,” Marcus replied hastily, “They bear Agricola’s personal stamp. My family and I have owned the property for nearly fifteen years now and before that my father took care of the estate on behalf of Agricola. This is a simple case of attempted theft. The Governor is abusing his position.”
“So, what do you want me to do about it?” the Prefect of the state treasury asked.
Quickly Marcus glanced at Claudia. Then he turned to Paulinus and tilted his head. “I understand Sir,” Marcus said carefully, “that matters of finance and property are dealt with by the provincial procurator, whose authority is independent and not subordinate to that of the imperial governor. As my land dispute is a financial matter it should therefore come under the jurisdiction of the provincial procurator augusti. In short, the governor is overstepping his authority by getting involved. If you were to raise this matter by for instance writing the Governor a letter making him aware of this fact and raising my indisputable legal property claims, it may help my cause Sir.”
“It would not go unnoticed,” Claudia said helpfully, turning to gaze at Paulinus.
“You mean,” Paulinus said with a stoic expression, “You want me to write a letter to the governor of Britannia telling him to leave you alone.”
“That’s about right Sir,” Marcus nodded.
For a moment Paulinus said nothing as he stared at Marcus. Then a little smile appeared on his lips.
“I appreciate you coming to me with your petition,” the prefect said abruptly, “But writing a letter to a man like the governor of Britannia, a man of consular rank, is no easy thing and not lightly done. I am sorry Marcus but I will not be writing to the governor,” Paulinus paused and took a deep breath, “Because, and this is still classified information, the governor of Britannia is being transferred to Cilicia in Asia. Trajan signed the orders before he left for the Dacian frontier. The new governor is already on his way to the province to take up his post.”
“Britannia is getting a new governor?” Marcus exclaimed, his eyes widening in surprise.
“That’s right,” Paulinus nodded, “but like I said, it is not yet public knowledge. The rotation is not unusual, it’s just routine. So, it seems that your enemy has been assigned to a new province, his time in Britannia is up. Lucky for you.”
Marcus said nothing as he lowered his eyes to the floor and took in what had just been said and as the full realisation finally sank in, he groaned. His journey to Rome had been a waste of time. If he had known, he could have just stayed on Vectis and waited for the Governor to leave his post.
“Your friend,” Paulinus said in a measured voice, as he turned to Claudia, “strikes me as being an honourable man, a man who is not corrupt. And this is a good and rare thing indeed. We need more men like him if the empire is to thrive. So, I shall tell you what I will do, Marcus. I shall write a letter to the provincial Procurator in Britannia, who happens to be a good acquaintance of mine, and I shall ask him to personally look into your case. He is a good man, the Procurator, an honest, incorruptible man like myself, and if, and this of course must be contingent on the land surveyor’s report, if you qualify for enrolment in the equestrian lists, I shall personally recommend your inclusion to Trajan when the next review is due.”
And as he heard those words Marcus’s ears suddenly felt as if they were burning. “No,” a voice was screaming inside his head. The journey to Rome had not been a waste of time after all.
“Thank you, Sir,” Marcus said in a humble voice as he respectfully lowered his head. “That is generous of you and I cannot thank you enough. But there is one final thing, Sir, one final favour I must beg from you.”
“And what is that?” Paulinus said with a patient expression.
***
Later as they strode down the steps of the Temple of Saturn and into the bright sunlight Marcus muttered, glancing at Claudia, “I owe you, thank you.”
“Yes, you are in my debt,” Claudia replied solemnly, “but that is how things are done around here. You belong to Nigrinus’s network now. And when the time comes and we need your support you shall give it freely. We have helped you and you will help us. That is all I ask of you Marcus. Break this agreement and you will have no honour, none whatsoever. You may as well go and kill yourself.”
Silently Marcus turned to gaze out across the packed Forum. He was still slightly dazed and euphoric from what he’d just heard inside the Temple. His long-cherished ambition of seeing his family go up in the world was now at last a distinct possibility.
“Yes, I am with you,” he growled at last, “Nigrinus can count on me when the time comes. You have my word, as a soldier and as a man.”
***
Marcus sensed that something was afoot the moment he and Claudia entered the school yard. As the two of them strode towards the school entrance one of Claudia’s slaves came hurrying towards her, followed quickly by Petrus. Hastily Marcus gave Petrus a searching look. The boy seemed confused and just shrugged as he noticed Marcus’s glance.
“Lady,” the slave said respectfully lowering his eyes, “there is a man waiting to see you and your friend. He has been here several hours and refuses to leave. He says that he has an important message for your friend and that he will only deliver it to your friend. I have asked him to wait in the room reserved for special guests.”
“We shall be along in a moment,” Claudia said, “see to it that our guest is properly provided with drink and food.”
“He has refused all refreshments lady,” the slave replied hastily.
Claudia frowned and glanced across at Marcus who shrugged. “All right, let’s go and see what he wants,” Claudia sighed as she handed her cloak to the slave.
As he followed Claudia into the waiting room, Marcus had a strange sensation of having been here once before. Standing quietly and calmly in the centre of the hall, with his hands clasped together was a tall man, clad in a simple, brown cloak with a hood pulled over his head. From beneath his hood two bright blue eyes peered keenly at Marcus.
“Are you Marcus?” the man asked in a soft voice.
“I am. Who are you?” Marcus replied as at his side Claudia was studying the stranger with a frown.
“I bring a message for you, Marcus,” the visitor said, staring straight at Marcus, with unblinking eyes. “Esther is well. She is under our protection. She is with us now and we will look after her. No harm has befallen her.”
“What,” Marcus growled taking a step towards the man. “What have you done with her? Who are you working for? Cunitius? If you so much as touch a hair on her head, I will come for all of you.”
But the man with the strange bright blue eyes, calmly shook his head.
“You misunderstand,” he said in his quiet voice, clasping his hands together. “It is Esther who asked me to come here. She is with us because she wants to be with us. She has asked to meet you, to say goodbye and to Petrus as well. She says that you have carried out God’s work and that she is grateful,” and as the man said those words, he slowly made the sign of the cross over his chest.
Chapter Seventeen – Resolution
The tall stranger with the piercing, bright blue eyes had not said a word since they had left Claudia’s school. As he led Marcus and Petrus down the alley and into a barber’s shop, he just glanced around to make sure that they were following. It was late in the afternoon and the twisting narrow streets of the Aventine hill were busy, noisy and crowded. Cautiously Marcus stepped into the small front ro
om of the shop. It looked just like any of the countless other barbers he had seen. There was nothing here apart from an old, blind man clutching a wooden staff, a couple of chairs and the barber’s equipment. Ignoring the old, blind man, the tall stranger silently closed the door behind him. Then quickly he moved through a doorway into the back room, stooped and pulled up the rag that was covering the ground, revealing a trap door set into the stone. Feeling around, the man’s fingers found what they were looking for and gently he pushed down on the door. With a little click the trapdoor opened revealing a dark hole that led down into the earth.
“You want us to go down there?” Marcus said glancing at the stranger with a sceptical expression.
“Yes,” the man with the bright, blue eyes said calmly. “Esther is waiting for you. Do not fear us Marcus, we mean you no harm.”
With a sceptical face, Marcus glanced quickly at Petrus.
“Stay here and keep watch,” he muttered. Then as the tall man slipped into the hole in the floor and vanished from view, Marcus sighed and followed. In the dark, Marcus’s right hand grasped hold of the side of the wooden ladder and slowly he began to descend. Around him the air grew cooler and as he looked down, he caught the faintest flicker of a reddish light. The vertical shaft did not last long and with a thud his boots landed on a rocky, uneven floor. A short, low passage slanted away and through the tunnel, the flickering reddish light was brighter. Ducking his head, Marcus followed the stranger and finally emerged into a large cavern, cut into the volcanic tufa rock. Oil lamps had been fixed to the rocky walls and in their light, he saw that he was standing in a large cave, hewn from the rock. At the far end of the cave another passage led away into the darkness.
The Dacian War (Book 6 of the Veteran of Rome Series) Page 15
