The Dreams of Morpheus Read online

  ‘How so?’

  ‘Well, we left no sign of a break-in so the prefect of Ostia will only be concerned with who sent one of his ex-slave thugs to meet the Ferryman.’

  ‘Yes, but it would have been better to have had no fuss at all.’

  ‘Granted, but when the theft is noticed, if the owner reports it to the authorities, they’ll be too busy looking for a Vigiles murderer to care that much.’

  Gaius raised a finely plucked eyebrow and slipped an olive between his moist lips. ‘I very much doubt that; not when they realise who the owner is.’

  Magnus felt his insides lurch. ‘You said that it was no one important.’

  ‘Well, he’s not – in terms of Roman politics, that is. However, he does have some influential friends in the imperial household.’

  ‘Who is he?’

  ‘The Jewish Prince, Herod Agrippa.’

  ‘I heard that he’d fled Rome because of debt.’

  ‘He came back just recently; he managed to organise a very successful embassy of Parthian dissidents, which got him back in favour but not out of debt. The Emperor Tiberius rewarded him by making him tutor to his grandson, Tiberius Gemellus. So, in case the prefect takes a highly placed complaint of theft seriously and on the outside chance that you or one of your lads was recognised, I suggest you move the tablets out of your place to somewhere less obvious.’

  Magnus downed the rest of his cup and held it out to be replenished. ‘Can’t you just dispose of them?’

  ‘I’m afraid not, Magnus; not yet. But I’ll send a message soon, telling you what I want done with them.’ Gaius heaved his massive bulk up from the chair, his tunic straining to contain copious folds of flesh, and stood whilst a third slave boy – equally as pretty – began draping his toga about him. ‘Now, I must greet the rest of my clients and then I’ve an appointment to see the Lady Antonia before I go to the Senate.’

  ‘She’s wanting a favour?’

  ‘No, I need her to return one. I’m hoping that as sister-in-law to Tiberius she can persuade him to grant my nephew, Vespasian, a travel permit to Egypt so that he can do some business there on his way back from Cyrenaica, once he’s finished his year as quaestor. As you know, senators are forbidden to enter that bounteous province without the Emperor’s permission and he doesn’t give that too easily.’

  ‘You’ll need to have done something very substantial for her to get that.’

  Gaius smiled; his face aglow with firelight. ‘I already have, thanks to you, Magnus. What you stole was the very generous commission that Herod Agrippa received from the dissident Parthians for brokering their embassy. Antonia is going to sell it to recoup some of the considerable debt that he still owes her. You may find she’s in such a good mood that you’ll get a summons.’

  ‘Marcus Salvius Magnus, we have come to you because we hope that as the leader of the Crossroads Brotherhood in our quarter you can right the wrong that is being perpetrated on us.’ The speaker, Duilius, an older man in his fifties, whom Magnus knew to be conscientious with his monthly payments to the Brotherhood in return for their protection of his sandal and belt business near the Porta Collina, paused and spread his hands towards Magnus in supplication.

  Magnus looked at the crowd of shopkeepers, traders, residents and businessmen before him, all from the South Quirinal. There were a lot of them, more than could fit into the room behind the tavern that he normally used for such meetings; hence they were grouped round the rough tables set outside at the apex of the acute junction between the Alta Semita and the Vicus Longus, both busy with morning trade. Such a large deputation could only mean one thing: it was a serious problem and he would have to solve it for them or lose considerable face, maybe even his position – or perhaps his life.

  Magnus felt Servius shift his weight on the bench next to him.

  ‘Do you speak for everyone, Duilius?’ his counsellor asked, rubbing the loose wrinkled skin at his throat with claw-like hands.

  ‘I do.’

  ‘Then shall we three retire inside and discuss the matter in more comfort?’

  ‘No, Servius; all should witness the conversation.’

  Magnus glanced at his counsellor; his rheumy eyes confirmed that this was indeed a serious problem that could not be ignored. He looked back at the delegation, steepled his hands and, leaning forward on the table, pressed them to his lips. ‘Speak, Duilius.’

  ‘For the last month or so we have been in receipt of short measures from the grain dole. We are entitled every market interval to one modius of grain per citizen, which normally fills a tub this big.’ He illustrated with his hands a tub about one foot across and not quite as tall. ‘However, recently the dole has often been one sextius short; not all the time, you understand, but a significant amount since we noticed and started checking.’

  Magnus could see where this was going and he did not like it: he was headed for a clash with someone from the senatorial class. ‘You’re claiming that the aedile for this area is cheating you out of a sixteenth of your dole?’

  ‘Yes, Magnus. We think that he’s had some of the modius measures made smaller because the public slaves who distribute the grain still fill them all to the brim – and yet sometimes the measure is short. We know from acquaintances working in the granaries here in Rome and at Ostia that the stocks are dwindling and, until the first Egyptian grain fleet arrives next year, we are heading for a shortage, which always means higher prices. We believe that Publius Aufidius Brutus is skimming off the top of our dole and hording it for himself so as to sell it when the price inflates next year.’

  Magnus nodded, able to see the logic in the aedile’s scheme; if it were true that Rome was heading for a shortage there would be fortunes to make in speculation.

  ‘Is this happening in other areas?’ Servius asked.

  ‘Does it matter? The fact is that it’s happening here, to us.’

  Magnus turned to look at Servius. ‘Have any of the lads mentioned this to you?’

  ‘No, but if Brutus is clever, as I’m sure he is, then he wouldn’t try to cheat anyone that he knew was a member of the Brotherhood; he’ll make sure that the altered measures are only used at certain distribution points.’

  Magnus grunted. ‘Well, he ain’t that clever; if he pisses off our people he pisses us off too.’

  ‘I imagine he will try to reach some sort of arrangement with us.’

  Duilius cleared his throat. ‘That’s what we thought he would do, try to buy you off with a small percentage of the huge profit that he’s liable to make, then you and he will leave us to suffer.’

  Magnus’ eyes hardened as he stood, almost pushing the bench over and Servius with it. ‘We take your money for two reasons, Duilius.’ He pointed to the altar of the Crossroads Lares embedded in the tavern’s walls; a flame burnt there constantly, tended by one of the brothers in turn. ‘First, to help service our sacred duty to the deities of this area, for the good of the whole community. Second, to protect you from outside interference. If you are being ripped off, then we will see justice done and not be bought off by the perpetrator, whomever it is – even if he comes from a family that has held the consulship. Do you understand me, Duilius? If I ever hear you questioning my honesty again things may not go so well for a few of your slaves and then how would your business be, if you take my meaning?’

  Duilius held his hands up. ‘Forgive me, patronus; I didn’t mean to imply that you would take the bribe. I just meant that I thought you would be offered one.’

  Magnus sat back down. ‘Very well.’ He looked round the crowd. ‘Is there anything else?’ There were negative murmurs and shakes of heads. ‘I’ll work out a way of having a private chat with Publius Aufidius Brutus and try to impress upon him the need to desist in this matter.’

  ‘We want more than that, Magnus,’ Duilius said. ‘We want him to return the grain he has already cheated us out of, or the cash equivalent.’

  Knowing the greed of the senatorial classes in Rome �
� in fact, of all the classes in the city – Magnus felt that would be nigh on impossible; but to say so before he had even tried would be construed as weak. ‘Very well. I suggest you all go about your business now as you must have much to do.’ Magnus ran his fingers through his greying hair as the crowd dispersed and then turned to Servius. ‘Have Terentius come and see me at the eighth hour.’

  Servius frowned. ‘What use is a whore-boy master in a business like this?’

  ‘It’s about the other current issue.’ Magnus got to his feet, shaking his head. ‘How do I put pressure on an aedile if he ignores my warning, as I suspect he will?’

  ‘Senator Pollo owes us for last night; perhaps he can exert some influence?’ Servius suggested, following Magnus back into the tavern.

  ‘I doubt it.’ Magnus headed for his table in the corner with a good view of the door; the few early morning drinkers made way for him and Servius. Cassandros stepped out from behind the amphorae-lined bar to place a full jug of wine and two cups on the table as they sat. ‘Senators don’t like to squeeze one another unless it’s at least partly for their own personal gain. Of course I’ll ask the senator but I guarantee he’ll say that he has no influence over Brutus, which means that he has nothing to gain by it.’

  Servius pushed a full cup across the table. ‘Then let’s find a way to make Brutus’ humiliation of value to our tame senator. I believe his elder nephew, Sabinus, has managed to get himself elected as one of the aediles for next year.’

  Magnus froze in the act of putting the cup to his mouth; he thought for a moment, then smiled and pointed his index finger at his counsellor. ‘Now that, my old friend, is deep thinking.’

  Magnus heaved his way through the crowds in Caesar’s Forum with Marius and Sextus to either side of him; all three wore their plain white citizens’ togas. None of them spoke as they negotiated a passage through the milling citizenry listening to a case in an open-air law court, or petitioning the Urban Prefect or one of the lesser magistrates who carried out the city’s public business every day under the great equestrian statue of the former dictator that dominated his forum.

  As they approached the magistrates presiding beneath the Divine Julius, Magnus glimpsed a young man in a senatorial toga, seated at a desk; his almost black hair was oiled and combed forward from the back of his head as if covering premature balding. Magnus stopped to look more closely. ‘There’s our boy, lads.’

  ‘He looks very pleased with himself,’ Marius commented as Brutus stood and grinned, grasping the forearm of an Easterner in a white headdress, and slapping his shoulder before taking a scroll from him.

  ‘Business always brings a smile to my face, brother.’ Magnus moved forward as the Urban Prefect joined Brutus and his Eastern associate, dispensing back slaps and toothy smiles all round.

  ‘They must be doing a lot of business to be that happy,’ Sextus observed in his slow manner.

  Magnus waited until the Easterner had moved off and Brutus had sat down, unrolling the scroll, before walking up to him. ‘Aedile?’

  Brutus looked up from the scroll. ‘Mmm. Oh, it’s you; Magnus, isn’t it?’

  ‘You know perfectly well that’s my name, aedile.’

  ‘I don’t like your tone.’

  ‘I’m not asking you to like it; I’m asking you to listen to what I have to say.’

  Brutus sighed. ‘You have a right to approach your magistrate; I’m listening.’

  ‘The people of my area believe they are being given short measures at the grain dole.’

  ‘Do they now?’ Brutus wrinkled his nose. ‘And what makes them believe that?’

  ‘They’ve checked what they receive against what they know to be the correct measurement and they want me to ask you to look into it.’

  ‘I’ve heard from my sources that a nasty little specimen by the name of Duilius is stirring people up; no doubt it was he who asked you to come here. Well, you’ve asked me and I can assure you that they are wrong.’ Brutus leant closer to Magnus. ‘Perhaps, for a small consideration every month to your Brotherhood’s coffers, you could reassure Duilius and his friends for me?’

  ‘I’m afraid that won’t be possible, aedile; that is exactly what my people expect to happen. And it’s out of consideration for your well-being that I would ask you again to look into the matter.’

  ‘Are you threatening me, Magnus?’

  ‘Not at all, aedile; it’s just that I wouldn’t like to be responsible for your safety walking in an area where the people may have an unfounded grudge against you.’

  Brutus scoffed. ‘The people know their place; they would never dare lay hands on an elected magistrate.’

  ‘So that’s a refusal then?’

  ‘There is nothing for me to refuse; the measures all conform to imperial standards and they all have the imperial stamp on them to prove that.’

  Magnus held the aedile’s look for a good few moments; neither blinked. ‘Thank you for your time, aedile.’

  Brutus sniffed and returned to reading his scroll.

  ‘What will you do now, Magnus?’ Marius asked as they negotiated a path towards the Senate House in the Forum Romanum.

  ‘Tempt a senator into doing what we want by dangling the chance of patronage in front of him.’

  The steps to the Senate House were relatively deserted compared to the bustle of Caesar’s Forum behind it. Magnus glanced around at the few senators either on their way in or out of the ancient heart of government of the Roman world. The doors were open so that the Conscript Fathers could be seen at their deliberations by the populace; it was barely an eighth full. ‘We’ll have to wait, lads; he’ll be out soon.’

  ‘Magnus, I could no more ask that of the Urban Prefect,’ Gaius confided, ‘than invite him for a cosy dinner for two and some fun afterwards with my Germanic boys; it would be presumptuous.’

  Magnus walked alongside his patron as Sextus and Marius cleared the way for them. ‘I understand that, sir; but if it were to come to his attention that this problem is potentially the cause of serious unrest that could result in him appearing ineffective to the Emperor, then perhaps he would consent to your suggestion in the Senate to order an examination of every modius measure used in the grain dole.’

  ‘Even so, my friend, what would there be in it for me in having Cossus Cornelius Lentulus expose Brutus, other than earning Brutus’ and his family’s enmity?’

  ‘If every measure in Rome is checked and not just the Quirinal, then Brutus will have no cause to suspect that your recommendation was targeting him.’

  ‘But I’ll have made myself conspicuous for no personal gain. They’re a consular family, you know.’

  ‘If the Urban Prefect uncovers a scam that’s been defrauding a section of the population from their rightful privilege, then the popularity he would gain could reflect well on the Emperor who had appointed him. I’m sure that Tiberius likes to have the people well looked after; and, since he now spends all his time on Capraea, he’ll be very pleased with Lentulus for doing such a good job in his absence. That would ensure Lentulus a long tenure of his very lucrative position; he’d be in your debt. Now, I believe that Sabinus is one of the aediles elected for next year …’ Magnus let his voice trail off.

  Gaius licked his already moist lips as he made the connection. ‘Whose duties are allocated by the Urban Prefect. Lentulus would be particularly well disposed to my family if I had helped him to uncover such a wicked fraud on his beloved populace.’

  Magnus nodded, his face composed into the most solemn and understanding of expressions. ‘Indeed, senator; the people whom he lives to serve deprived of the bread of life in such a callous manner, and thanks to your help he could right that wrong. He’ll look at you with tears of gratitude welling up in his eyes.’

  ‘I’m sure in that condition he would be willing to grant me the smallest of requests and give Sabinus the most prestigious of all the aedile posts; working with the prefect of the Grain Supply would really bring public
attention to him and the whole family.’

  ‘I think it would be the least that Lentulus could do. I believe you would find your credit with him wouldn’t be exhausted for some time and that would far outweigh any enmity from a humiliated aedile, even if he does come from a consular family.’

  Gaius slipped a pudgy arm round Magnus’ shoulders. ‘And I believe you may be right, my friend. But tell me, how will you make this issue a potential cause for unrest in order for Lentulus to take it seriously? Riots on the Quirinal might bring a heavyhanded response from the prefect and his Urban Cohorts.’

  ‘My thoughts entirely.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘Well, it’s occurred to me that on the Ides of October, in two days’ time, an official public brawl is scheduled. It would be a shame if everything started to get out of hand as the residents of the Suburra fight the residents of the Via Sacra for possession of the severed head of the October Horse.’

  ‘You asked to see me, Marcus Salvius Magnus.’

  The soft voice just cut through the background chatter in the tavern; Magnus disengaged himself from the plump young whore sitting on his lap and looked up at his visitor and smiled. ‘Yes, Terentius.’ He removed the whore’s hand from under his tunic, adjusted his dress and sent her on her way with a satisfying slap on her buttocks before returning his attention to his visitor. ‘Sit down.’

  As he sat, Terentius ran his hands down the back of his thighs to control his tunic which was unbelted, like a woman’s. He crossed his legs with studied elegance and with a modest smile accepted the cup of wine that Magnus proffered. ‘Thank you, Magnus.’

  ‘You’re looking good, Terentius.’

  Terentius pulled back an errant lock of long, auburn hair, which had come loose from the ponytail into which it was tied, and secured it behind his ear. ‘Thank you, Magnus; I try my best.’

  Magnus could see that he did. Although he was now in his forties, the whore-boy master certainly looked after his appearance: the pale skin over his high cheekbones remained smooth, his chin and neck were still taut, his lips full and subtly painted and his large eyes bright and interested, despite the life that he had led as first a whore and now a master. Very nice, was always Magnus’ immediate thought; closely followed by: if you like that sort of thing.