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

by Assaph Mehr

  He whistled softly. “You’re one crazy matris futor. Are you sure it will work? Otherwise you’ll be torturing your poor boy here.”

  “Mentulam caco, of course I’m not sure. Can you do it?”

  “Yeah, I can do it. Let’s start.”

  Brewyn had Borax sit in the chair and handed him a piece of wood. “Bite on this.”

  Borax puffed up his tattooed chest, almost completely covered with blue woad in intricate designs. “I’ve had plenty done,” he said.

  “Not like this. This isn’t going to be your regular tattoo. This will hurt more than when a gap-toothed whore bites your balls.”

  Brewyn took out a special set of needles. Not the fine fish-bones he normally used, but very fine needles made of shards of glass-like obsidian held in copper. He started to mix the inks needed. Not woad, but black squid ink mixed with exotic components my research indicated would be required. It resulted in a gold-flecked, foul-smelling, glistening black emulsion.

  I unwrapped the straps from Borax’s right stump. “Don’t be a hero, now. Bite the wood.”

  He was bent on impressing me but did as he was told.

  “Ready?” Brewyn asked.

  Borax nodded.

  “Ready,” I replied.

  Brewyn dipped the tips of the needles into the unguent he made, took hold of Borax’s arm, and with a swift motion pierced the skin of the scar. Borax turned white and grunted. By the fifth stroke, a scream escaped his lips. As Brewyn continued to tattoo his stump, putting more force into working the scar tissue, Borax screamed.

  And screamed, and screamed, and screamed.

  I did my part. I opened the box I brought and took out the assorted paraphernalia. Nestled in straw at the bottom was a shining metal sculpture of a hand. It was the twin of Borax’s left hand, inverted so that it became a right one.

  I chanted. I used some of Brewyn’s ink to trace runes that Araxus helped me etch into the base of the hand. I summoned the power and focused it in there.

  When Brewyn finished the tangled and twisted pattern that stretched from the now-bleeding stump to Borax’s elbow, I was ready. I slid the metal sculpture onto the stump. Mamilius had matched them perfectly. I held them in place with my left hand and with my right took a stoppered jar. I flicked the seal with my thumb and poured the contents on Borax’s arm where the metal met the skin. It contained blood squeezed from lizards that shed their tails and essence of starfish as the main ingredients. It sunk into the fresh tattoos and ran along them to the grooves in the metal hand, the creases and wrinkles of the mimicked skin as well as the symbols of power at the base of the wrist.

  Brewyn and I stepped back. Borax was flushed, breathing hard. The sudden silence was deafening.

  “Try it,” I said. “Lift your hand.”

  For the first time since we started, Borax turned his head to see what we had done. He lifted his arm — and the metal hand came up with it, firmly attached.

  “Now flex your new fingers.”

  Borax kept staring at his new appendage. After a long moment, one finger twitched. Then two. Then they coiled together, only making a soft clink when they closed on the palm. He kept opening and closing his metal fist, staring dumbly at it.

  “You saved my life on more than one occasion. I need a bodyguard, and you are now the best one in town.”

  Tears welled up in his eyes. “Thank you, domine! Thank you!”

  “Here, try to use it.” I put an apple on the table. “Pick it up with your new hand and take a bite.”

  Borax extended his hand, wrapped his fingers around the apple, and closed them. Bits of fruit splattered all over the room, juices running down his clenched fist.

  “Cack! Oh well, I’m sure Fortuna will find you some nasty people to practice squeezing on soon enough.”

  I spent nearly all my earnings from this case buying Borax and fixing his hand. My testimony in the very public trial of Numicius had attracted attention, both of potential employers and of those who might seek to silence me. My rising career required a bodyguard as a status symbol and for practical reasons. There was no other I trusted with my life more than Borax, whose new metal hand would defend me well against any danger — bar those dangers that come of affairs of the heart.

  ~ Finis ~

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  Author’s Notes

  Following are notes about the culture of Egretia and its adaptation from the ancient Roman world, followed by some bonus material that couldn’t make it into the story proper. There is also a list of little ‘Easter eggs’ — obscure references to real-world artefacts and people. These notes are for those who wish to learn more about what goes into the construction of an historical-fantasy world. Please just remember that this is primarily a fantasy novel and do not take it as an accurate reflection of historical reality. I have conflated many aspects from over a millennium of kings, republic and empire. The calendar and gods, for example, reflect the earliest known versions, while the legions and circus games borrow more from the imperial period.

  More information about the origins of the concepts and words in this book and links to relevant articles can easily be found on my website (egretia.com) or with a web search. There is only one made-up term, the title of Rhone. I just could not find an appropriate word that sounded good in both Latin and English and would have the appearance of high rank. When making up the word, I actually went with a more Greek-sounding word, rather than a Latin-sounding one. That is an allusion to the mix of many elements of Alexandria into Egretia, in particular the ‘educational’ colleges which borrow from the Museon and library.

  I have not replicated the notes from Murder In Absentia regarding calendar etc., but have instead made them available on the web together with the complete glossary from both books. I’ll only mention that the novel starts in early Sextilis — August, before Augusts Caesar renamed the month — and ends a few days before end of September (with the epilogue going into October). Important days in a Roman month were the Kalends (1st of the month), Nones (ninth day before the Ides, counting inclusively — that is, either the 5th or 7th of the month) and the Ides (middle of the month — either 13th or 15th). Romans counted forward, e.g. three days to the Kalends.

  While Romans counted days starting at midnight, they counted hours starting from dusk or dawn. There were always 12 hours in a night and 12 in a day. This necessitated changing the length of hours to match the seasons. When Felix is complaining about walking for “a long summer hour” he is not just being poetic.

  Meaning of In Numina

  The title of this novel is a play on words. Numina are the divine spirits of the gods (a distinction I chose to sharpen for Egretia probably more than it was in ancient Rome). In Latin, the phrase could therefore mean ‘by the gods’.

  In court speeches, defence speeches are pro someone (as in, Pro Flacco — in defence of Flaccus); however, the prosecution speeches are given in action against someone, e.g. In Catilinam. That could make the title mean ‘against the gods’.

  And then again, the title might remind readers of the opening words of the Catholic blessing In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti — “in the name of the father, the son, and the holy ghost” — with spirits (unholy ones, at least) being another part of this haunted-houses mystery.

  Marcus Tullius Cicero

  No introduction is needed for history’s finest orator. Many tomes have been written about his life, his prolific writing, and his influence on law and politics that is still relevant to this day. I shall concentrate here on those aspects relevant to
the novel.

  Real-world’s Cicero was an important part of the turbulent last century of the Roman Republic. Egretia isn’t quite ready for those upheavals and is set at a time that corresponds to over a hundred years earlier, closer to the Punic wars. Therefore, while I alluded to some of Cicero’s political highlights (such as the Catiline plot), I have made them less dramatic and more isolated. Correspondingly, the Egretian Cicero is an older man, who lived long enough to reach semi-retirement. Things didn’t get quite as dramatic and he hadn’t made enough enemies to cause his execution. Instead, his life is taken over more by philosophical writing than political or judicial activity.

  For example, Felix reads a scroll named De Legibus Magiorum — On the Laws of Magic. This is a conflation of Cicero’s De Legibus — On Laws — with his philosophical treatises On the Nature of Gods — De Natura Deorum — and On Divination — De Divinatione.

  Most of the courtroom oratory in the novel is taken from Cicero’s surviving speeches. I have chosen essential quotes to capture the flowery language, while still keeping the message clear and concise. Those I mashed up together, and wrote in the specific details of the case.

  For the curious, the prosecution relies on In Verrem (against Gaius Verres) for the opening bribery remarks, and on In Catilinam (against Catiline) for the closing. That last is probably his finest oration, fragments of which survive in use to this day (“Oh, the times! Oh, the morals!”). I only mixed in a fragment from In Vatinium — the bit about the entrails of murdered boys — which fitted this case better, and was too delicious too pass.

  For the defence, I have stolen fragments of Cicero’s own words from many speeches. Notably, Pro Caecina and Pro Tullio (opening speech, and first part of closing), and bits of Pro Roscio, Pro Flacco, and De Re Publica.

  In particular, Cicero’s insults directed at Felix are taken from In Pisonem. This speech survives only in fragments, which is a shame — it is one of the most wonderful examples of invective to survive the ages, and a classic study in how to thoroughly insult a man for two hours straight. I have tweaked it lightly for added alliteration (‘comatose cattle, foetid flesh,’ rather than the original translation of ‘senseless cattle, rotten flesh’), because I think this captures better the essence of the creative insults Cicero came up with. He also uses the term saltatrix tonsa which finally breaks through to Felix. Literally, this means “shaved dancing girl” and a more modern translation might be “drag queen”.

  I used the names of other real-world ancient personas — Catullus, Appuleius Diocles, Iamblichus, Cato the Elder, et al. More on those in the notes below. Cato the Younger, a contemporary of Cicero who held uptight, moralistic, hard-nosed attitudes, served as inspiration for Valerius’ character.

  Law and Order

  One cannot mention Cicero without touching on the subject of law. While the Vigiles, that rudimentary public firefighting and policing service, come from later periods in Roman history, most of the laws and legal procedures I mentioned are correct for the Republican era.

  The Vigiles were not a police service in the modern sense. While they were given a secondary task of keeping the peace (their first duty was firefighting), that task was usually limited to breaking up rowdy drunken brawls. Catching runaway slaves was another secondary task, that they performed with ambivalent attitudes, considering that some vigiles were slaves themselves (promised freedom at the completion of six years of service).

  Rome (and Egretia) did not have a prison. The carcer was a badly maintained lock-up, intended to temporarily detain people. When someone was thus detained, guards were assigned from the college of lictors to prevent them from walking out. Romans preferred either creative executions or exile as punishment. Magistrates (as in, state officials, not in the modern sense) were accompanied by lictors not just as a status symbol but also to have them dispense justice on the spot.

  Prosecution was not run by the state, but rather by concerned individuals. That is true for all crimes — both personal and ‘national’ offences such as treason. An interested individual would raise a complaint in either the courts or the assemblies (depending on the nature of the offence and the era), and on the appointed days speeches would be given and witnesses presented. Rhetoric, the ability to sway the crowds and voters with a convincing speech, played a far larger role in the outcome than legal precedence and procedure. This is what I tried to capture in the legal battle between Valerius and Numicius.

  The control of the courts in Rome kept switching between the Senate and the equestrian order. Their structure also fluctuated along the years, with many reforms. It is a subject of many tomes (the Roman legal system forming the base of most modern Western traditions), and is far beyond the scope of this work of fiction. I have simply chosen a form that was appropriate for the time. For the interested, look for the system of actiones (singular actio) of legal procedure. There were defined procedures and types of complaints that could be filed with the courts. For example, there is the distinction between in rem — matters of physical possessions — and in personam — actions resulting in damages to a person and his rights. All the other terms used by Aquilius when discussing and filing the case are original terms, though I have used them to allude to the complexity of the legal system rather than specific accuracy.

  Another example is the role of Felix in the trial. He is an index, an informer (from which we get the modern ‘index finger’ — pointing at someone in accusation). There were other roles he could have filled, from a fellow accusator to a supporting quadruplator. The latter would have meant that he was registered with the prosecution and therefore liable to a share of the estate of the defendant should he be convicted. Hence, his silent chagrin at losing this theoretical bonus.

  The Lex Papiria de dedicationibus mentioned by Felix to finally push Numicius over the edge was a real law. It was used in the squabbles between Cicero and Clodius, where the latter declared Cicero’s house a sacred place to prevent him from rebuilding it following some riots. Similarly, the Lex Claudia excluding senators specifically from large maritime commerce and later from general commerce were real restrictions. The Lex Cassia to eject offending senators from the Senate was originally for those who disgraced themselves and had their imperium stripped by a popular vote. Using such laws for machinations and political gain was fairly standard practice, so more than the content of the laws I was trying to capture the spirit of legal manipulations.

  Nominally, a trial was supposed to start at sunrise and end by sunset. Often the parties would agree on some of the facts beforehand and only bring the crux of the matter to trial. Adjournments were not uncommon, though, and — in the interest of the story — I have set the trial at almost three full days to allow for all the witnesses and speeches. It was not uncommon for speeches to last several hours, hence the need for some limits.

  Lastly, I used the modern term ‘lawyer’ in a few places. It is important to note that it was not a formal profession in Rome and Egretia. Officially, those delivering the prosecution and defence were concerned citizens who rose to the occasion for the common good, without expectation of compensation. In practice, naturally, this played into the system of patron-client, and those involved received indirect ‘gifts’ for their role in the trial. More importantly, since trials were very public affairs, they did provide the platform for aspiring young men to build a name for themselves ahead of elections to the Senate.

  Rights and Women

  There is one right explicitly mentioned and one implied in the novel. The ius imagines, the right to have ancestral wax death-masks, was granted to those who have reached high public status. There is some debate whether this included consuls only or praetors as well. This is compounded by the fact that in the very early republic, the chief position was actually called praetor, not consul.

  The right not explicitly mentioned is in sui iuris, ‘in its own right’. In the context of Roman society at the time, that r
ight was given to women outside the control of a paterfamilias. Nominally, women were always under the control of a man. This was usually their father until marriage, then their husband. In cases where the husband died or the father of an unmarried woman died, this could be an uncle or another senior male relative. In some cases, women were granted sui iuris, the formal right to own and manage their own property.

  This leads to a greater discussion of feminism and the role of women in society. A far larger subject than can be covered here, but I would draw your attention to a couple of aspects. First, Rome did not have law and order in the modern sense. Though they had a legal system, its use was limited to the rich and politically influential, and enforcement was in private hands of the suitors. Women were excluded from public life in that respect and could not openly participate or vote in senate and assemblies. Naturally, that did not stop some of the more politically-minded women in Roman history from influencing events from behind the scenes. Though we know of them indirectly and incompletely, women such as Clodia, Fulvia, Cornelia the mother of the Gracchi, Servilia, Livia, et alia. Our own Cornelia is modelled after them, though of a slightly less flagrant nature, at least than the first two mentioned.

  That, of course, pertains to the high-born women that participated in the public life. The situation of the common folk would have been less restrictive. While nominally the concept of paterfamilias was prevalent at all levels of society without anyone raising objections (see the note about legal prosecution above), many women would have held jobs and managed their own business — washerwomen, seamstresses, cook-shop owners, etc. And, in the imperial-era case of Lucusta, as a poisoner to the rich.

  The traditional language and descriptions of women refer to them in their place (at home) doing their noble tasks (weaving wool). However, women were responsible for the family unit in all things — home, hearth, health. They performed many tasks in and out of the home. The complex issues of gender roles — and how we interpret the surviving evidence, bearing in mind that most writers were rich males — is a fascinating subject outside the scope of these notes. I’ve tried to capture the essence of both their function in society as well as society’s attitude toward them, without letting modern biases affect this overly much.