Robert Fabbri - The Dreams of Morpheus

Finding the House of the Moon had been easy, with a carving above the door of Luna, the divine embodiment of the moon, cloak billowing behind her in the shape of a crescent moon as she rode in her oxen-drawn chariot. What had not been easy was concentrating on business and Magnus found his mind wandering as he sat opposite a brown-skinned man in his thirties with a thin face and lips, a sharp nose and tight curly black hair; Egyptian, Magnus had assumed when the man introduced himself as Menes.

Menes sniffed the tablet and looked across the table at Magnus, his dark eyes glinting with barely restrained greed. ‘How many these you say your patron had, my friend?’

Magnus hauled his attention away from some vivid images of the night before and focused on one of the two thickset bodyguards standing behind the Egyptian. ‘I didn’t.’

Menes grinned in a manner that totally failed to convey any charm or warmth. ‘So, my friend, how much you want for this?’

Magnus took a moment to register the question. ‘Offer me a price.’

‘How can I make an offer when I don’t know how much is for sale? If I take a lot you make me special price.’

‘There is no special price, my friend ; whoever makes the highest offer gets to purchase as much as they want at that price. No discounts, understand?’

Menes’ grin widened into an obnoxious leer, which, by his manner, he evidently deemed to be a winning smile. ‘My friend, I make you good offer: three thousand denarii a tablet.’

Magnus almost choked with shock at such a high figure, but managed to transform it into a growl of indignation and, grabbing the tablet from Menes, pushed back his chair. ‘If you start so low, then I’ve wasted my patron’s time in coming here.’

Menes was on his feet quickly, his hands in the air, palms towards Magnus, laughing, cold and forced. ‘My friend, my friend, I see you are serious man of business; sit, please, sit, we have wine?’

‘No wine, Menes,’ Magnus said, pulling his chair back to the table, ‘and no jokes, just the right price.’

‘Yes, yes, right price.’ Menes sat down again and made a show of thinking for a few moments. ‘Three thousand, five hundred denarii.’

‘That’s enough of this nonsense.’ Magnus got to his feet, toppling his chair.

‘Five thousand!’

Magnus paused and looked at Menes. ‘Five thousand a tablet?’

‘Yes, my friend.’

‘There are twenty-three more.’

Menes’ eyes widened with unbridled greed. ‘I take them all, one hundred and ten thousand denarii; I can have the money in gold by dawn tomorrow.’

‘I need to consult my patron; you’ll have the answer by tonight.’ Magnus turned to go. ‘If you try to have me followed, the deal will be over as will be your life. And, my friend, there’s no special price. It’s one hundred and twenty thousand for all twenty-four; which in gold aurii is …’ He did a quick mental calculation, dividing by twenty-five. ‘Four thousand eight hundred.’

‘There is no doubt in my mind that this outrage was sparked by a growing mistrust within the more ignorant sections of the city’s population of the trustworthiness of the measures used in distribution of the grain dole.’ Gaius Vespasius Pollo was adamant and the force with which his right arm sliced down from above his head on the final word emphasised the fact. ‘Why else, Conscript Fathers, would the Urban Cohorts be attacked with bronze modius measures? Modius measures that had been fitted with false bottoms to make them one sestius short. We are all aware how much grain could be skimmed off and hoarded if just a tenth of the modius measures in the city were a sixteenth light. Not that any member of this house would organise such a thing, Conscript Fathers, for by the sacred law of the ways of our ancestors we in the Senate are forbidden to partake in trade.’ Gaius looked around the Senate House, his face flushed with exertion and righteous ire conjured up for the moment; many of the senators seated in rows on either side of the house nodded in agreement at this timely reminder of the ways of the ancestors. ‘But the equestrian class is not so tied and for a very few of them the making of money is a pursuit that they follow with no consideration for the consequences.’ He puffed himself up. ‘And we saw the consequences yesterday at the Festival of the October Horse!’ This time his right arm soared above his head, fist clenched, excess fat on his upper arm wobbling. ‘Conscript Fathers, we cannot allow the Emperor’s peace to be disturbed so. We must beg Cossus Cornelius Lentulus, the prefect of Rome, to organise an inspection of every modius measure in the city; only he can avert the oncoming crisis.’ With another powerful rhetorical gesture and a flurry of spittle, Gaius underlined the final word. ‘And I move that we write to the Emperor and thank him for his wisdom in appointing Lentulus to the post.’ With a final, outraged glare round the chamber, he walked back to his place, to the rumble of agreement, and sat down on his folding stool which strained beneath the pressure of his ample behind. His colleagues surrounding him patted him enthusiastically on the back, congratulating him loudly – all, no doubt, jealous that they had not taken the opportunity to so ingratiate themselves with the Urban Prefect.

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.’