The Alexandrian Embassy

by Robert Fabbri

  Servius tipped the contents of the sack onto the floor; an earthenware jar, about the size of a man’s head, fell out wrapped in bundles of rags. ‘It looks like they were planning on torching the place.’ He picked up some rags and held them to his nose. ‘Oil.’ Then he pulled the stopper from the jar, immediately releasing a pungent scent that Magnus did not recognise. ‘I’ll wager that, whatever this is, it can burn fiercely; I’ll have a little play with it somewhere safe.’ He refitted the stopper and then looked up at Magnus. ‘You said that we’ve got a couple of problems?’

  ‘Yeah; the other is how did the leader of those bastards know his way through this building in the dark? I heard him say: “We go through this room and then across a corridor.” How did he know that without someone telling him?’

  ‘Or without having been here before?’

  ‘True, brother, very true. And that’s an even more disturbing thought.’

  The Capena Gate was busy the hour before dawn the following morning; scores of merchants and traders pushed and shoved each other to get to the well at the foot of the Caelian Hill, sandwiched between the city walls and the line of the Appian Aqueduct, to the left of the gate. Each one was keen to draw the water with which Mercury was sure to bless their business ventures and each one wanted to complete the task as quickly as possible so as not to be away from those ventures for longer than necessary. In the cutthroat world of Roman commerce, time definitely was money and therefore manners came into little consideration when it came to waiting one’s turn in the scrimmage that passed for a queue. The priests of Mercury, standing on a dais overlooking the well, in torchlight, offered prayers to their favoured deity as his special day dawned; even their presence did nothing to help restore a semblance of order to this thoroughly un-reverential scene. Just to the right of this chaos, the centurion of the watch had the men of the Urban Cohort under his command inspect every cart coming through the gate. Most were given a cursory search but occasionally, at random, one was given a rigorous frisking much to the annoyance of the carter, who knew that he had only an hour to make his delivery and get his vehicle out of the city before the daytime ban on beast-drawn vehicles came into effect – unless, of course, he had access to expensive stabling within the walls.

  ‘I suppose he knows which ones not to search too carefully,’ Magnus commented as he and Marius watched the centurion point to a cart loaded with leather buckets. ‘Mind you, I imagine our order is already through.’

  Marius yawned and grunted something unintelligible but to the affirmative. They stood beneath an arch of the Appian Aqueduct where it crossed from the Caelian Hill to the Aventine, running within the Servian Walls.

  Magnus nudged his brother with the amphora he carried. ‘Try and keep awake; you’re not going to be much good at playing your part if you’re continually dropping off and starting to snore.’

  ‘Sorry, Magnus. I didn’t get much sleep tonight or the night before either, what with the poker work and then getting rid of the body and all.’

  ‘Yeah, well, everyone has to work hard sometimes and our business is no exception. Now, keep your eyes open and look for Tatianus.’

  ‘Right you are, Magnus,’ Marius said, repressing another yawn and blinking.

  Even Magnus was struggling to stay awake by the time the sun had risen for an hour and its rays had begun to penetrate down into the busy thoroughfares, lanes and alleyways of Rome, but his vigilance was rewarded by the sight of a tall man surrounded by four bodyguards.

  ‘That’s him, brother,’ Magnus hissed, nudging Marius again and jolting him from semi-consciousness. ‘Come on.’

  They nipped out from under their archway and jogged up to the well so that they arrived just before Tatianus. The crowd had died down to only two or three deep by this time as most of the worshippers who wanted to take advantage of the god’s beneficence but not lose any working time by doing so had now departed, leaving the well clearer for the devotees of Mercury who, perhaps, took a slightly less mercenary attitude to the festival.

  ‘We could really do with the god’s help for our business this year, eh, Marius?’ Magnus said in a loud voice.

  Marius looked at him bleary-eyed. ‘What?’

  Magnus gestured at his brother and made encouraging movements with his eyebrows as Tatianus stopped just behind them to wait his turn.

  Marius finally took the hint. ‘Oh, right. Er … Yes, Magnus, we could really do with all the help that Mercury can give us this year, what with having all that money stolen the other night. Do you think it was Sempronius?’

  Magnus nodded with exaggeration, his face turned to Marius so that it was in profile to Tatianus behind him. ‘The patronus of the West Viminal Brotherhood? Definitely, brother; he heard what we were trying to buy and wanted it for himself. He hopes that having stolen the money from us we wouldn’t be able to raise enough at short notice to replace it.’

  ‘And can we?’ Marius asked as they shuffled forward.

  ‘It’s not looking good, brother. The Cloelius Brothers’ banking business in the Forum refused me a loan yesterday and the rest of the brotherhood’s cash is tied up at the moment. I’ll have to go to Tatianus and ask him as a favour to hold onto our item for a day or so.’ Magnus got to the well and handed the amphora to Marius who held it steady as Magnus took the draw-bucket and slopped water into it.

  ‘Do you think that he’ll do it?’

  ‘He might, seeing as I don’t suppose many people would want to buy what we’ve ordered for the price that we’re prepared to pay for it, that is; except, perhaps, Sempronius, who would do it just to spite me and enjoy watching me lose my deposit and spending the money he stole from me on an item that I was going to pay for with it.’

  ‘That would be nasty.’

  Magnus jammed the stopper into the amphora. ‘It would, brother; but highly unlikely. How would Tatianus ever make that connection? After all, he ain’t that bright.’

  ‘That’s what I heard too,’ Marius agreed as they moved off, restraining themselves from looking back at Tatianus and enjoying what they both imagined would be a look of deep outrage on the middle-man’s face.

  The sudden blare of horns cut across the general chatter at the well. Magnus looked towards their source at the Capena Gate to see the upheld axes wrapped in rods, the fasces, which were borne by lictors. Someone important was coming through the gate.

  ‘Let’s get out of here before we’re obliged to stay and applaud whoever it is,’ Magnus said. ‘I never like being too close to anyone with lictors, just in case I get noticed and come under strong scrutiny.’

  Marius nodded and rested the amphora on his shoulders. ‘I quite agree, brother; besides I’m curious as to whether Servius has found out anything about the contents of that jar.’

  They turned away from the incoming dignitary and stopped abruptly.

  ‘Ah, Magnus, how nice to see you.’ The voice was smooth and affable and laced with genuine pleasure.

  Magnus feigned surprise. ‘Tatianus! I’d have thought that you were far too busy to have time to come to festivals like this.’

  Tatianus was all smiles and teeth. ‘On the contrary, my dear Magnus, I am very fastidious in my worship of all the gods, especially Mercury. I always ask him to hold his hands over my business and I’m usually rewarded for my piety; in fact he has helped me already today.’

  ‘I’m very pleased to hear it, Tatianus. As a fellow devotee of Mercury it does me good to see that he bestows his favour on such a deserving gentleman of business.’

  ‘Indeed. I look forward to seeing you at the third hour so that we can conclude our deal on such an auspicious day.’

  Magnus sucked his teeth. ‘Ah, Tatianus, there’s a bit of a problem there. I stupidly didn’t take up your kind offer to look after my money in your strongroom the other night and, unfortunately, it was stolen on the way home.’

  Tatianus’ expression of concern would have done credit to the most practised dissembler. ‘I’m so so
rry to hear that, Magnus; how awful for you.’

  ‘Yeah, well, it’s my fault. So I was wondering if you would give me a little time to raise the money?’

  ‘I don’t normally discuss business outside my study, Magnus, but as it is Mercury’s day and seeing as he has already favoured me I shall make this an exception. Come tomorrow.’

  Magnus’ look of gratitude was deep and filled with relief. ‘Thank you, Tatianus.’

  ‘Don’t mention it, Magnus, my friend.’ With a hearty slap on the shoulder, Tatianus moved on as from the gates came the first shouts of ‘Hail Divine Caesar!’

  ‘Shit!’ Magnus spat as he turned towards the gate. ‘If that’s the Emperor we’d better stay and cheer him; nasty things can happen to people seen walking away from Caligula. Besides, he did save my life once by stopping Tiberius hurling me off a cliff in Capreae.’

  ‘How did that come about, brother?’ Marius asked as a litter, high and wide and borne by sixteen slaves, four at each corner, came through the gate. Bearded Germans of the imperial bodyguard lurched to either side of the litter, preventing any of the cheering citizenry from getting too close to their master to whom they showed complete devotion.

  ‘Some other time, brother, some other time. Hail Divine Caesar! Hail Divine Caesar!’

  Caligula waved his right hand with regal dignity, reclining within the sumptuous cushionage of his litter. With his high forehead, thinning hair and deeply sunken eyes underlined with insomniac’s dark smudges, Caligula would have looked inconsequential, had it not been for his golden Mercurial costume that did little to hide a magnificent erection with which he toyed with his left hand.

  ‘Hail Divine Caesar! Hail our star, our rising sun! Hail Divine Gaius!’ the crowd called out with unfeigned enthusiasm, praising the giver of largesse and holder of games so spectacular that none could recall their like or imagine them being bettered.

  Caligula raised himself as the shouts grew with more and more people coming to line the street, genuinely happy that their Emperor had returned to Rome and hoping that he would celebrate the fact with impromptu chariot racing at the Circus Maximus whose soaring, arched bulk overshadowed the Capena Gate. With a sudden movement he thrust his right hand into a bulging purse and then threw dozens of golden coins into the air to shower down on his adoring subjects. The cheering turned into screeches as everyone tried to get a gold aureus, the equivalent of almost six months’ wages for a legionary. Another expansive gesture released more of the golden rain as Caligula began to work his erection with increased urgency. ‘There, my sheep, there’s your fodder. Feed, my flock, feed,’ Caligula called as he dispensed his largesse. ‘Take your blessings from your god, my sheep, and live under my hands.’ He smiled with benign calmness as he surveyed the chaos caused by the contents of his purse; and then his expression clouded and his head twitched. ‘Stop!’ he screamed, causing his bearers to halt immediately. The crowd froze in whatever position they were in and looked to their Emperor; Caligula pointed a shaking finger at a couple of beggars, with filthy, wound headdresses, scrabbling on the floor and evidently unaware of the change of atmosphere. ‘Pick them up,’ he ordered the nearest of his Germanic bodyguards.

  The German pushed his way through the crowd to the two beggars and hauled them up by the grimed collars of their tattered robes. As they realised their predicament, the beggars ceased groping for coinage and stared with wide eyes at the Emperor, terrified by the wrath on his face.

  ‘Bring them here,’ Caligula hissed.

  The German hauled the two men forward and then threw them to their knees before the litter. They mumbled entreaties for mercy into their long, ill-kempt beards, in heavily accented Latin.

  Caligula surveyed them for a few moments and then addressed the crowd: ‘Look at their noses, look at their headdresses. They take the money I dispense and yet they refuse to recognise me for what I am.’ He looked down at the beggars and sneered in disgust. ‘What are you?’

  ‘B-b-beggars, Princeps,’ one replied, not raising his eyes.

  ‘I know that! But what sort of people are you, what religion?’

  ‘We, we are Jews, Princeps.’

  ‘Jews! I knew it. Call me by my title.’

  ‘I have, Princeps.’

  Caligula smiled a smile that would have frozen Medusa herself. ‘Vespasian,’ he called, not taking his eyes from the two visibly shaking beggars now grovelling piteously.

  A stocky man in a senatorial toga stepped forward from the entourage of senators and Praetorian officers following the litter. ‘Yes, Divine Gaius.’

  ‘They seem to think that I don’t notice their lack of respect for my godhead.’

  ‘Indeed, Divine Gaius; they must be amongst the most stupid of your sheep.’

  Caligula frowned as he considered this statement. ‘Yes, they must be. Remove any coinage they might have gathered and have them thrown out of the city. I’ll not have unbelievers amongst my flock. It’s time to get a proper understanding of these people’s way of thinking. Have the Alexandrian embassy brought before me after I have received the welcome of the Senate.’

  As Vespasian obeyed his god and Emperor’s orders, Magnus caught his eye. ‘Philo and his mates are being kept out of trouble, sir.’

  ‘Thank you, Magnus. Meet me at the Senate House in a couple of hours.’

  ‘Put it down there, Marius, and don’t get too close,’ Servius advised as Marius put down an earthenware bowl in the middle of the floor of the backroom in which Magnus transacted the brotherhood’s business. ‘You’ll notice, Magnus, that there is nothing in this bowl but wet rags.’ Servius pulled out a dripping bundle just to emphasise the point. ‘Not the sort of thing that you would normally expect to burn.’

  ‘That’s a fair point, brother,’ Magnus said, leaning back on his chair and folding his arms. ‘But, no doubt, you’re going to surprise me.’

  ‘How did you know?’

  ‘Because you wouldn’t be making such a fuss about damp rags not burning otherwise.’

  Magnus’ counsellor’s lined face took on a disappointed aspect as he opened the jar taken from the intruders’ sack. ‘I was hoping to astound you, not just surprise you.’ He took a single wet rag and dipped it into the jar; it came out smeared with a dark, viscous substance that seemed to be halfway between solid and liquid. He dropped it into the bowl and then took a dry rag and dangled it over the flame of an oil lamp. As it caught fire, Servius threw it after the impregnated rag. There was an immediate puff of flame and within an instant the damp contents of the bowl were burning as if they were tinder-dry.

  ‘I am astounded,’ Magnus affirmed. ‘What is it?’

  ‘It comes from the East but it’s very rare here in the Empire and therefore very expensive. The contents of this jar, if it were full, would have cost as much, if not more, as what we were prepared to pay for the Scorpion.’

  ‘That is impressive. What’s it called?’

  ‘I’ve heard it called the River-god’s fire but what its real name is I don’t know. However …’ Servius looked at his patronus and raised an eyebrow.

  ‘Ah!’ Magnus exclaimed, understanding.

  ‘We know someone who does,’ they said in unison.

  Magnus stood, as was every citizen’s right, at the open doors of the Senate House watching, with wry amusement, senators struggling to outdo one another in outrageous flattery as they welcomed their Emperor back to Rome. The fact that he had only been absent for ten days did not seem to dampen their enthusiasm for their reunification with their divine ruler.

  ‘Senator Titus Flavius Vespasianus has the floor,’ Gnaeus Domitius Corbulo, the presiding Consul, announced, looking down his long nose that dominated an equinesque face.

  ‘My thanks, Suffect Junior Consul,’ Vespasian said, rising to his feet and bringing a smile to Magnus by stressing the full title of Corbulo’s rank. Corbulo bristled in his curule chair, adding to Magnus’ amusement for he considered him to be even more pompous than Philo. �
�I would also like to make my joy at the Emperor’s safe return to Rome a matter of record. Although I have had the good fortune to be escorting him on his journey and, therefore, never far from his radiance, it is still a relief for me to know he is back at the heart of the Empire in his rightful place, guiding our lives. And I hope that he will spare us as much of his precious time as he can before he sets off on his divine conquest of Germania.’ Vespasian turned to Caligula ensconced on his litter, which had been placed in the centre of the chamber. ‘On a personal note, I would like to thank the Emperor for the splendid dinner he invited me to only last night. The food was exquisite, the music sublime, the conversation riveting and the entertainment highly amusing.’

  Caligula shrieked a high-pitched laugh at the memory. ‘Yes, it was fun; we should do it again this evening. Cancel the Alexandrian embassy later – I’ll see them in the morning at the fifth hour – and have a dozen condemned prisoners brought up to the palace.’

  ‘Indeed, Divine Gaius.’

  Magnus could see Vespasian straining to keep a delighted expression on his face.

  Caligula’s anticipation of the evening revelries was evidently enough to distract him from the business of being flattered and he signalled his bearers to set about their duty. ‘You will come, Vespasian?’

  ‘With utmost pleasure, Divine Gaius.’

  ‘Excellent.’ He turned to Corbulo. ‘And perhaps you too, Corbulo? Wait, no, no, what am I thinking? You’re far too dull.’

  Dullness was, plainly, an attribute that Corbulo in this instance was very grateful for, Magnus assumed, judging by the expression on the Junior Consul’s face.

  Caligula was swept from the chamber before the senators could even hold a vote on whether to commission another bronze statue in thanks for his safe return.

  ‘Thanking the Emperor for inviting you to dinner,’ Magnus said as Vespasian and Gaius joined him at the bottom of the Senate House steps, next to Vespasian’s lictors, ‘that was sycophancy of the highest degree.’

  ‘Yes,’ Gaius agreed, ‘and very good it was too. And you managed to get yourself another invitation for this evening. Excellent work, dear boy.’