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

by Assaph Mehr

  “Mmm. Well, his loss, no doubt.” Numicius was scanning the murals on the ceiling.

  We were playing a game of cat and mouse, or rather fox and cat, each trying to bait the other. I used a tactic that worked well for me in the past — I sighed deeply, swirled the wine in my cup, sipped listlessly, and said nothing.

  “Those deals…” Numicius began again after a while, and I had to suppress my grin. “Those deals can be rather expensive. Are you sure you could solve Valerius’ ‘unusual problems’ as you call them?”

  “Quite certain, my dear Gaius, quite certain. I have seen similar infestations in the past. A bit of purification, a sacrifice to the gods, some smoke and mirrors for the neighbours, and Valerius would be able to get tenants and sell the insulae before anyone was wiser. They’ll fetch a better price than he could get now, and I’d enjoy a better commission. I just need to get his attention. If an orgy is not his inclination, I have other ways to gain his confidence.”

  “Persistent, aren’t you?”

  “That is how I get results for my customers,” I replied.

  “What if you just brokered a real estate deal? For the insulae as they stand now, empty?”

  “Not only would I have to find a buyer with more money than savvy, but my commission would be smaller. No, I can’t see how that would work,” I shook my head.

  “I might be tempted to buy. You see, I wish to build a shrine to Bona Dea in memory of my mother. I plan to spare no expense in the building, but I am still a businessman. Getting a good-sized plot of land on the Vicus Bellonae for a reasonable price would allow me to spend more later on the temple. I’m sure any problems will be over once we consecrate the land to the Good Goddess. I’d even be willing to fund your commission as if I paid full price.”

  “A sound plan, one I will be happy to assist you with!” I put in as much eagerness as I could muster into my voice.

  “I’m sure we could come to a mutually agreeable arrangement. Why don’t you visit me an hour after dawn tomorrow and we shall discuss the details?”

  So Numicius planned to draft me as a client, a minor inconvenience I was sure I could get out of. A more interesting revelation was the confirmation from his own lips that he knew of the curses — he mentioned the address of one affected insulae, even though I never named them.

  When I queried Livia after everyone left about what happened while they were secluded, whether Numicius had blabbed anything pertinent, all I got out from her was that he was “a surprisingly gentle and considerate lover,” and an enigmatic smile.

  Chapter XIX

  I presented myself at Numicius’ domus at the appointed time. This was the hour rich patrons dedicated to the clients — dispensing favours, assigning tasks, keeping and building their public image. While I had no plan to register myself as his client and didn’t wish to be seen like one, I had to balance that with maintaining an air of eagerness for the deal.

  Mercifully, there weren’t many others to observe me or take up Numicius’ time. I gave my name at the gates, the door-slave checked me against his list and ushered me in. A secretary asked for my name again, made a note of it on a wax tablet, and waved vaguely at a few folding chairs as he turned and went inside.

  Several minutes passed, during which I got to examine Numicius’ atrium decorations — all in good taste, opulence without decadence. Three imagines were mounted in alcoves, a shrine under each one. I couldn’t remember whether they were consuls or achieved other public distinction. There were marks of old fires on the marble for the lararium. The Numicii might not have had as many consuls as the Valerii, but it was obvious that Gaius Numicius was a man of taste and piety, worshipping his ancestors and family deities. Admittedly, not what I expected when I first met the man. He kept surprising me, in ways which made me uncomfortable.

  While I was admiring a particularly exquisite white marble statuette of Diana the huntress, Ambustus walked in from the street. He glanced at me, but kept on walking inside, without a pause or any sign of recognition.

  A moment later the secretary called me in. Numicius’ tablinum was large but crammed with so many pigeon-hole shelves and tables holding scrolls, that space to move was limited. Some of the tables held astronomical and other devices I didn’t quite recognise with a quick glance. Though it was hectic and jumbled, I got a feeling there was a method to the madness. Numicius had his hand in many things and stayed on top of them all. I needed some quiet alone-time in his office — I was sure I would be able to dig up incriminating evidence for various acts amongst all his scrolls.

  “Ah, my good Felix — come in, come in! Please have a seat,” Numicius waved at the client chairs in front of his desk. “Archaeon! Wine!” he yelled.

  Numicius was sitting behind his massive desk, his wide buttocks resting on a chryselephantine chair worth more than my house and all its contents. If I found him energetic the previous night, that morning he was positively brimming with enthusiasm. Ambustus, on the other hand, had a more typical attitude towards mornings. He was leaning casually on a wall to the side, sipping his watered wine slowly, his face blank of expression. He was at an angle that allowed him to observe me clearly whilst remaining at the edge of my vision. It was all I could do to refrain from glancing openly at him, attempting to guess whether he recognised me.

  Once I was seated with a cup of watered wine in my hand, Numicius continued. “I am intrigued by that deal you alluded to last night. I am, as I have mentioned, in the market for a decently sized plot of land in the Subvales. My late mother was a devotee of the Bona Dea. She saw the rise of Magna Mater amongst the noble women and traced it to the slaves and handmaidens these women employed; slaves who often grew up in the Subvales or associated with others there. On her deathbed,” — and he actually had a catch in his voice when his said this — “she made me promise to do my best to promote our own Egretian gods to those who live within the city limit. A shrine to her patron goddess, dedicated in her name and giving free solace to women of lower status, will achieve just that.” He leaned forward and placed his elbows on the table, looking at me intently. “And so, to execute my grand design, I require a good-sized property in a central location of the Subvales. I will convert it to the grandest temple in our city dedicated to the kindest amongst the numina, spread the word I have been charged with, and my mother’s shade will rest with her beloved Good Goddess.”

  An amazing performance. As someone who outfoxes people for a living, I consider myself a connoisseur of the perfectly spun lie. I admired his tale — both in content and in delivery — for professional reasons. I just didn’t buy a word that came from that money-hungry thug, who cursed whole buildings and brought death to babies.

  Still, I had a job to do. “I recall you explained how a lower land price will allow you to build a grander temple,” I said. “Without affecting the intermediary’s commission, of course.”

  “Precisely,” confirmed Numicius. Throughout this, Ambustus leaned quietly against the wall, sipping his wine and staring at me impassively as a snake watches a mouse.

  “I would very much like to be that agent, then. I have ways — several of them, in fact, already in motion — to gain Valerius Flaccus’ attention and get you his insulae on the cheap. However…” I let it hang for a moment.

  “Yes? However?” said Numicius.

  “However, my plan was always to help him rid his properties of whatever afflicts them, or at least temporarily suspend the effects while the sale is in progress. Now, I am certain I could spin this into a simpler real estate brokerage and still gain Flaccus’ trust. But, as my benefactor in the matter, surely you are aware that this might leave you with buildings afflicted with supernatural phenomena? Even demolishing them could bring the curses down upon you and your engineers. I do not want you to come after me claiming I deceived you later.”

  “I won’t,” Numicius waved his hands animatedly. “I know full we
ll what I am buying. What I need from you is to broker the deal without letting Flaccid Flaccus learn I am the final buyer. Do not worry about the state of the buildings. You will be well recompensed for your part.”

  “Oh?” I raised my brows, and added slowly, to press on Numicius’ impatience, “Political rivalries, is that it? Opposing sides on some matters of foreign policy and suddenly he’s refusing to do business with you?”

  “Quite, quite. As you say. So, the key will be to get him not only to sell, but to do so to a straw man. I would enjoy the look on his face when he finds out I got them from under him.”

  “And would you require just one of his insulae, or all three? I know of three that are afflicted. Surely you need but one to build a shrine, but the buyer I had in mind before would want all of them.”

  “I will buy all three,” Numicius waved his hand expansively. “Might as well realise some profit at the same time.”

  “But have you looked at these properties? Do you understand what you are getting into, what with all the gruesome deaths that happened there?” I sucked air through my teeth.

  Numicius drew a deep breath and spoke slowly. “I know, I know. That will just be a wonderful leverage on Flaccus. I am sure this is nothing but mere superstition that I could deal with in time.”

  “But, they say the lares of the buildings have woken up!” I pressed. “That the numina run out of control and hurt the very people they’re supposed to protect.”

  “Your concern is touching,” he said with forced calm, “but I assure you I know what I’m buying. I have men who could purify it.”

  His eyes made the tiniest flicker towards Ambustus, who, in turn, contributed his first comment that day. “Whatever the problem is, it will go away when we consecrate the properties as temples to the Bona Dea. The goddess’ power will override any mere local lar or any other nonsense. Hortensia — Gaius Numicius’ late mother — will be guaranteed a temple that will make its name as the quencher of curses.”

  “Very well then,” I said as brightly as I could. “You get everything in readiness and I shall proceed to procure you the deal as quickly as possible. We just need to set up finances through the straw companies and men of your choice, and your construction will commence well before the rains comes.”

  “Excellent, excellent!” Numicius gave me a wide and toothy grin. “I just need you to register as my client so that we can set your extended commission from this deal into formal agreement.” He pushed a leaf of paper towards me, on which I could make out a patron-client contract.

  “I think it might be better if I don’t sign that just now,” I said. “If I were to make this transaction with Flaccus, I need the appearance of a completely impartial, or at least unaffiliated —”

  “Don’t worry!” Numicius interrupted me. “The details will never come out. They will simply be filed in my office.”

  I gave a sceptical wave at the mess of scrolls strewn about the room and said, “The contacts I have to pave my path to Valerius Flaccus will make far-reaching enquiries. I have built my reputation on being impartial, independent. Since you made the imperative condition that you must not be identified as the buyer, I must raise absolutely no suspicion of being connected to you.” I saw him open his mouth to cut me off again, so I pressed on. “A client agreement would be for my benefit as well, but I will put my trust in your late mother. You wish to build a shrine in her name. I will trust that Hortensia and the Bona Dea will keep us both honest for its sake.”

  He paused, blinked, then slowly withdrew the paper. “Very well. We will make this arrangement on word of honour for now. But be warned — dishonour the deal and you dishonour my mother. You will be begging for a death a long time before it will come to you.” The cold steel of his voice ensured I did not doubt his words.

  ***

  By the time I left Numicius’ domus, the sun was striving to reach its zenith. It was only when I stopped to wash my face at a public fountain that I realised how tense my shoulders were. Throughout our discussions, I was in constant fear of Ambustus shouting a sudden ‘aha!’ and bringing up our night of drinking. While I had my cover story ready, Ambustus’ serpentine demeanour unnerved me.

  After Numicius and I shook hands and toasted that deal of ‘honour’ with wine, he regained his exuberant energy and we flew into a flurry of activity. We discussed the requirements of setting up the straw companies, brainstormed who could be listed as the final buyer that would be unconnected to Numicius, and drafted letters and charters and bank notes and every other type of miscellanea that is required in the set-up of complex and opaque business structures.

  Brokering real estate wasn’t my area of expertise. My experience at my father’s knees as he taught me about his international network of bankers and agents were of marginal relevance. My own banking experience, as Barbatus my banker would gladly attest, was more creative than legal. Numicius was a real shark, quoting legal loopholes from memory and pulling names from a vast network of connections amongst the financiers that control Egretian economy.

  I was amazed at the speed he could set something like this up. I must have appeared out of my depth to him, not to say a simpleton. The benefit to me was twofold; I have received that day a condensed education in fiscal and legal matters, which might be useful later. And lowering his opinion of me served to lower his guard as well. I was not there for the real estate, after all, but to catch him slip.

  And in this I was disappointed. While I had no doubt Numicius had indeed employed Ambustus to curse the insulae, and thereby cause the death of innocents, I was not able to get him to admit that openly. My feelings on the matter were not enough to give my testimony weight in a court of law, which is what Valerius Flaccus required of me. I would have to keep pressing him for that admission and I only had a few days left till the trial.

  Chapter XX

  It had been a few days since I’d last reported to my employer. I had been so busy night and day worming myself close to Numicius and organising to meet him, that I simply did not have the time. Now, however, I had to be doubly careful. I couldn’t be seen chumming it with someone with whom I was supposedly finding it difficult to arrange a meeting. Neither could I present myself as his client, for the same range of reasons I gave both Aemilia and Numicius. My independent good name was paramount.

  And, thinking of that lovely young lady, I also hadn’t had the chance to check on her progress over those few days. I was sure she was not in trouble — more because I would have heard from Cornelia if that was the case rather than because I trusted Aemilia to have learnt her lesson from the snake — but her research into the mechanics of the curses Ambustus crafted might provide me another piece to my eventual testimony on behalf of Valerius.

  And so, I sent a note to Cornelia’s domicile requesting an interview with Aemilia on the morrow, the Nones of September. It was the first quiet evening I had for myself in some time, and I celebrated by dragging a couch out to the peristyle garden and taking down the canopy sail. I gazed at the starry sky and breathed deeply of the night air.

  On a tripod table, I set jugs of wine and water — not ice cold as Valerius was enjoying this summer, but regretfully warm — and a scroll of Catullus’ latest bawdy poetry. The quiet burbling of the water arching from the faun’s erect member to the shallow pool at the base of the fountain soothed me, as did the scent of the brain and pine-nuts sausages Dascha was cooking for dinner. With a contented sigh, I sunk into the old, comfortable pillows supporting my back.

  The scroll of poetry was open across my knees and I was just reaching for my wine cup when there was a loud knocking on my front door. I put everything down and muttered profanities on my way to answer the call. The same messenger I had sent to Cornelia was waiting for me outside with a tied wax tablet in reply.

  To Spurius Vulpius Felix, from Cornelia Rufina maior, Greetings.

  I regret to inform you tha
t tomorrow on the Nones we will be unavailable, as we are attending a meeting of society women to plan the winter celebration of the Magna Mater.

  With the kindest regards et cetera.

  So, the high-born patrician woman has decided to put the upstart Subvales pleb in his place. An inconvenience for me, as her house afforded me a discreet location to meet with Valerius Flaccus unobserved.

  Knowing Cornelia, I had a few options. I could reply tersely that her involvement is not required and that I just needed to collect Aemilia’s notes before I continued discussions with Flaccus privately. Even considering her eagerness to be involved, I was not sure if that would get her to change her tack — but I was certain it would make her even more furious with me. The other option was to appeal to her self-importance. As my dear, departed pater used to say, ‘Never leave a pretty woman spitting at your back’ — advice that served me well over the years.

  I smoothed the wax with the edge of my palm and wrote.

  To Cornelia Rufina maior, from Spurius Vulpius Felix, Felicitations.

  I am overjoyed to hear that Aemilia is attending the planning of the Magna Mater winter celebration. Surely those are the right and proper activities for a young woman of her class and will prepare her for the life you plan for her.

  I have uncovered some interesting developments in the matter at hand, and was, in fact, hoping to consult with you prior to meeting with your esteemed cousin and my employer. I feel your input on this new development would prove invaluable.