Robert Fabbri: The Dreams of Morpheus

‘Grumio,’ Magnus said as he sat down on a stone bench, enjoying the warmth of it on his buttocks.

‘Magnus,’ Grumio replied, flashing gold teeth in an unconvincing smile.

A slave approached and began fanning Magnus and his brothers; the hot air beating down on them soon caused beads of sweat to prick out all over their bodies.

Magnus put his hands on his knees and lowered his head, ignoring his opposite number from the West Suburra.

Sextus grunted with pleasure with every down beat of the towel.

Marius closed his eyes and leant his head back against the wall, playing idly with the stump at the end of his left arm.

‘Word has it that you’ve got an issue with the aedile,’ Grumio said eventually. ‘I heard that you had a delegation.’

‘You heard right,’ Magnus replied without looking up.

‘Tricky situation.’

‘What’s it to you?’

‘Just making conversation.’

‘If it’s conversation that you want, then I heard that we’re heading for a grain shortage.’

‘Yes, I’ve heard that too from lads of mine in the granaries.’

‘And coincidentally the Via Sacra area is having the opposite problem to the Quirinal; they’ve got too much grain.’

‘I’d not heard that. What do you mean?’

‘Dacien at the east end of the Via Sacra and the aedile for the area have been registering false names on the dole list for the past few months.’

‘How do they do that? I’ve been trying for years.’

‘Don’t know; you’ll have to ask Dacien, who will probably deny it. But it’s a lot easier, I would assume, if you have an aedile on your side. Anyway, they have, and Dacien and the aedile are stockpiling the surplus to sell at a premium when the shortage hits in the spring before the first grain fleet arrives.’

Grumio hawked and spat. ‘They’ll make a fortune.’

‘They will; but do you want to hear the funny part?’

‘Go on.’

‘If the aedile were to be caught he’d be banished at the very least and his political career would be over. However, if Dacien were to be caught he would just slip away for a year or two and wait for all the fuss to die down.’

‘So Dacien has threatened to expose the aedile? Very sensible. What does he want?’

‘Well, quite rightly, he wants his people to be happy, so what would make them happier than this year to win the right to hang the head of the October Horse?’

‘They’ve got to fight us and the other Suburra Brotherhoods for that honour, and they hardly ever win because we outnumber them; how can the aedile fix that?’

Magnus got up and stretched. ‘As you know, I used to be in one of the Urban Cohorts and still maintain my contacts there. One of them, and I can’t say who for obvious reasons, has told me that the Via Sacra aedile has paid a substantial sum to a couple of the centurions to have their men come in on the side of the Via Sacra.’

Grumio was outraged. ‘They can’t do that. It’s always a fair fight.’

‘Of course, and they wouldn’t join in if it was just a fight; but if it had escalated into a riot?’

‘How are they going to do that?’

‘Turn it into a riot? My contact didn’t know, but I’m sure they’ll have thought of something. I’d be on your guard tomorrow if I were you, Grumio; and just remember that it was me that warned you.’

‘I will; but why did you?’

‘Let’s just say that I like to see fair play when it comes to the October Horse. It would bring bad luck to the whole city if the festival were to be meddled with.’ Magnus looked down at his brothers. Time to cool off, lads. Let’s leave these good gentlemen to contemplate what the Ides of October holds for them.’ With a curt nod to Grumio, he headed for the door.

‘So who told you that the cohorts were going to side with the Via Sacra?’ Sextus asked as they left the baths.

Magnus grinned and slapped his large companion on his broad back. ‘I could tell you had a question forming, brother, you’ve been chewing your lip for the last hour and frowning more than usual. Tell him, Marius.’

‘No one, brother. Magnus made it up.’

Sextus’ frown became even more furrowed. ‘How do you think of such things?’

‘Because I have to, Sextus. But just because I made it up doesn’t mean that it won’t become true, or at least partially true. Marius, go and find our old friend, Centurion Nonus Manilus Rufinus, at the cohorts’ camp and tell him that I may have an interesting business proposition for him.’

‘So what’s in it for me?’ Centurion Nonus Manilus Rufinus asked, leaning forward over the table in the private room behind the tavern that Magnus used for business. ‘If I have my men form up as if they are going to charge the Suburra factions in the fight it’ll cause a riot. There’ll be a lot of damage and quite a few questions asked; so it has to be worth my while.’

‘A noble sentiment, Rufinus.’ Magnus walked over to a strongbox in the far corner and slipped a key into the lock. With a dull click the lock turned; Magnus reached in and pulled out a thin, sackcloth-wrapped parcel. ‘I think you’ll find that this will make it worth your while.’ He placed it on the table and unwrapped it to reveal a tablet of dark resin. Taking his knife from its sheath, he cut it in half and pushed a chunk over to Rufinus.

Rufinus stared at it for a few moments. ‘What is it?’

‘That, my good friend, is worth more than gold.’

‘Yes, but what is it?’

‘The key to the realm of Morpheus. It’s a resin from an eastern flower that transports you to another place. Doctors use it to dull the pain when they’re operating; but only on their rich clients because it is very rare. Hardly any makes it into the empire and it’s very sought after by the medical profession.’

‘How much is that worth?’

‘As I said: more than its weight in gold – if you know where to sell it. My guess is that the Praetorian Guard or Urban Cohorts’ doctors would be very interested, or perhaps the doctors favoured by the Senate.’

Rufinus picked it up and felt the weight of it in his hand; he whistled softly. ‘Magnus, my friend, as always it’s a pleasure doing business with you.’

Magnus ripped the sackcloth in half and handed a bit to Rufinus to wrap his resin in. ‘Let the fight build up a bit and then threaten as if to join in against the Suburra, but do not make the move. That should be enough to make them attack you and then after that it becomes self-defence.’

Rufinus stuffed his half-tablet down his tunic. ‘What if I’m asked why I formed up against the Suburra?’

‘You’ll say that you thought the fight was escalating into a grain riot.’

‘What made me think that?’

‘Don’t worry, my friend; the evidence will be there. You leave that to me; it’ll be flying through the air.’

The Ides of October dawned bright and clear with a golden sun rising over the eastern hills, slowly drying the dew that glistened on Rome’s streets and roofs. The city bustled with an air of anticipation and very little business was attempted; instead, the main part of the citizenry made their way to the Campus Martius, outside the northern walls of the city, to celebrate the most important of the three annual equestrian festivals dedicated to Mars. It was the day when the October Horse would be chosen after a series of two-horse chariot races round a course on the Campus Martius; the right-hand horse of the winning pair would be sacrificed to the god of war and guardian of agriculture in an ancient rite to celebrate the completion of the agricultural and military-campaigning season.

Magnus and thirty of his brothers set out after completing their dawn rituals at the altar of the Crossroads Lares. Both Sextus and Cassandros carried sacks, each containing three of the modius measures that Aetius had delivered during the night. After a short walk they came to the one-storey house of Senator Pollo and joined his clients waiting outside its windowless frontage to escort their patron to the celebrations. Each man held the small bag of coins, their stakes for the day’s wagers, which they had received from their patron as they greeted him at his morning salutio – a formality that Magnus was excused from due to his religious obligations at the same time.