The Dreams of Morpheus (7 page)

Magnus opened his mouth and sucked in the white trail emitting from between the blades. He felt a harsh rasping in his throat and a warmth in his chest.

‘Hold it in,' Terentius said, his voice higher from having held his breath.

Magnus did so for as long as he could, then exhaled a thin stream of smoke. He looked at Terentius. ‘Well?'

‘Give it time, Magnus; Morpheus needs to be woken from his slumbers before he will show you his realm.'

Magnus took a sip of wine and waited, contemplating the beauty of the glass. And it was beautiful, intensely blue in a way that he had never seen before; the bluest of blues. And yet, where the reflections of the brazier's red glow played on it, the blue
deepened into purple, flickering across the surface, picking out the fine engravings of grape-laden vines; imperial vines, he mused. He smiled to himself, enjoying the thought, then realised that red grapes were often purple in hue and was about to make a connection with … but then the goblet's stem caught his attention: thin blue glass, so blue, but right at its heart a very fine line of purple; again, that must be a reflection from the fire. He looked across at the brazier, still smiling, yes, it was glowing; so comforting. His eyes rose to meet those of Terentius; they were wide open but their pupils had contracted to pinpricks, and he too was smiling. Magnus was about to say something but then the calm of the moment prevented him; it would be wrong to break so peaceful an atmosphere with harsh talk. His gaze drifted down. He discerned, with a widening of his smile, that the blue of Terentius' stola matched that of the goblet – if it was held at certain angles. He experimented with the position of the goblet, looking between it and the stola. He noticed Terentius rise and walk past him; he heard the door open just as he discovered a fascinating new angle at which to hold the goblet. Then voices, followed by the soft click of the door reclosing. Terentius swished past him, a blur of blue motion – so beautiful, blue. The decanter glided towards him, it tipped; the glug of pouring wine so slow and regular. The taste of the wine, sublime. He looked up to thank Terentius; Terentius smiled down, his hands touching Magnus' shoulders. His palla was gone; there was no crimson, only blue. And then there was no blue, just cream flesh, and Magnus understood. He heard the door creak open and soft voices approached from behind him; he felt his belt being unfastened. He raised his goblet and finished the last of the wine; it was taken from him as he sluiced the liquid around his mouth and allowed his tunic to be pulled over his head. A soft hand on his chest eased him back on to the cushions on the couch – soft, smooth and warm, so warm. He felt the hand stroke his hair and he opened his eyes; Terentius stood over him, his skin sheened with the glow of the brazier, and then he sat, revealing two more figures, lissom and delicate, one blond and one dark – both naked. One held out the knives; Magnus sucked in the spiralling
smoke, holding it deep. As he laid his head down, feeling the sweet touch of multiple caresses, he saw the gates to the realm of Morpheus open and, with absolute calm and contentment, he floated forward to sample the dreams therein.

A damp cloth, warm and fragrant, dabbing his brow brought him back. For a while he did not open his eyes, content to enjoy the sensation of being cleansed.

‘What did you think?' Terentius whispered.

What
did
he think? He cast his mind back: the images, the colours, the acts, the abandon, the release, the pleasure; all as he had never experienced before. ‘Well, it weren't natural and yet it seemed to come so easy, if you take my meaning?'

‘I do, Magnus; and now do you see how so much money could be made out of this?'

‘Fortunes.' Magnus opened his eyes; Terentius was dressed and his hair pulled back into a ponytail. ‘But I doubt that you'd be able to afford even one tablet.'

‘How much are they each?'

‘I don't know exactly, but more than gold. I'm going to—' He sat up and looked around; early light crept in through the window. ‘What time is it?'

‘Halfway through the first hour of the day.'

‘Shit! Where are my clothes? And get me one of the tablets. Are Marius and Sextus still here?'

Terentius handed Magnus his tunic, belt and loincloth. ‘Yes, I've had them woken and they've been served breakfast.'

‘Served breakfast? They don't have time for that.'

Within moments Magnus had dressed, strapped on his sandals and, with a tablet wrapped in sackcloth under his arm and Terentius following behind, was walking at a rapid pace through the garden. ‘Come to the tavern at dusk and I'll have a reasonable idea as to how much the tablets are worth; meanwhile you work out how much you think you can make from each one; then we'll know whether it's viable.'

‘I'll be there,' Terentius confirmed as they passed through into the atrium.

‘No time for that, lads,' Magnus said, grabbing a hunk of bread from the table at which Marius and Sextus were breaking their fast in delightful company. ‘We're almost late.' He hurried on through the room and into the vestibule. Postumus opened the door and Magnus stepped out into the street with his brothers following. As he headed at a brisk walk towards the Caelian Hill and the meeting at the House of the Moon in the stonemasons' street, he addressed Marius and Sextus without looking at them. ‘I think it would be best all round if we didn't mention where or how we spent last night.'

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.'

‘Four thousand, six hundred,' Magnus corrected.

‘How so? There are twenty-four of the tablets.'

‘We negotiated a special price; the full deal was five thousand denarii each, but twenty-four tablets for the price of twenty-three.'

Gaius squeezed Magnus' shoulder and looked at him sidelong. ‘I'm sure Antonia won't fuss about two hundred aurii here or there. Get a message to the purchaser that the exchange will be at dawn tomorrow at the Temple of Asclepius.'

Magnus was about to argue but then paused and nodded slowly in approval. ‘Marius, go to the House of the Moon and tell them dawn at the Temple of Asclepius on the Tiber Island.' As Marius ran off Magnus inclined his head to his patron. ‘That's very clever of Pallas, sir; if I have my lads covering both bridges, Menes will find it very difficult to double-cross us and get away.'