The Grain Merchant, page 17
“Quintinus’ daughter, Proba, is gifted with numbers. She kept all the records of her father’s transactions. Unfortunately, after comparing the two sets of numbers, we found no discrepancies. At that point, I was baffled and reached for one more possibility. I asked her to show me her father’s warehouses. Inadvertently, that’s where we found the grain.”
“Quintinus, that greedy bastard,” someone said. “He was always out to get the most out of anyone, even the town,” said another. The marble walls echoed with grumbles and mumblings.
Argolicus raised his hands to quiet the group. “No, it wasn’t Quintinus.”
He waited for the principals to quiet down.
“Quintinus rented storage space. The grain is in two of those warehouses. When we checked the rental records, we found that Donicus rented those spaces.”
Now the voices were angry. “He was supposed to take care of our town.”
“No.”
“Traitor to us all.”
“Yes,” Argolicus continued. “He was underhanded and risked the peace of the city. But we may never know why he kept the grain. That is all I can tell you. Today we’re here to restore equilibrium and do what we can for Squillace.”
Argolicus sat down.
A man Argolicus didn’t recognize stood up.
“Is it true you kept the ruffians from roaming the streets? And that is why the unrest has subsided?”
“A band came to the estate and I spoke to them,” Argolicus said. “I told them I was working to find the source of the problem. I promised there would be a resolution. I asked for their patience. In essence, I told them we were working to get them grain.”
Nods of approval.
Vespasianus rose from his chair. Once again he turned his head, so his gaze encompassed everyone there, then he spoke.
“Our first step is to appoint a new curator civitatis. This person will be in charge of the markets, finance, and administration. And in this unusual situation, he will have the added responsibility of arranging for a smooth distribution of grain to the people. You will be instrumental in restoring peace in our town, and monitoring future transactions for our city.”
Quiet whisperings, but no one stood up to volunteer.
Vespasianus waited, casting his noble gaze out over the men. He looked into each man’s eyes hoping for a connection.
The whisperings died down as everyone hoped someone else would stand for the position. After several minutes, the man Argolicus didn’t know stood up again.
“Gregorius,” Vespasianus said. “Does this mean you would accept the position?”
Gregorius wore a linen tunic with no adornments, much like the one Argolicus wore. He was remarkably handsome like a statue in the forum come to life. His brown eyes looked out from his steadfast, chiseled face.
“If the principals would accept,” he said.
“Anyone else?” Vespasianus asked. No one else stood.
“May I see a show of hands for Mettius Pullo Gregorius as our new curator civitatis?”
Hands rose in unison.
“Very well,” Vespasianus said. “We have decided. Thank you, Gregorius, for your contribution to the city.”
Universal applause broke out, resounding on the marble walls. The council had chosen.
“There is much to do, but we have accomplished the reason for our extempore gathering. Thank you all for being here today.”
“Wait,” a voice cried out.
Sura rose, his pomaded hair glistening. “What about Donicus? I have some questions.” He stared at Argolicus, then gazed around at the men gathered on the dais. Vespasianus waved his hand at Sura. Those who had prepared to leave settled back in their seats.
“How will we know what happened to Donicus? His murder seems tied to the grain. And the one person who seems to be everywhere in this grain mystery is Argolicus.”
Argolicus was stunned. Where was Sura going with this?
“How do we know this isn’t a plot for Barbarian subversion? Who has ties to the Barbarians? Who was appointed by the King to work in Rome while the rest of us remained here in Bruttium? There are hardly any Barbarians here, except Argolicus. Yes, he is a Barbarian. His mother is one. His ‘friend’ is the richest Barbarian in the region. And, he interfered in the town ways by riding around with his men, sending the ruffians off the street. I hear he is also appointed by the king, their own comes civitatus, some kind of Barbarian count.”
Everyone was staring at Argolicus, not Sura, as he continued his rant.
“And, who else has Barbarian bodyguards? Have you seen him parading on the streets with those two armed brutes? As Romans, we cannot carry arms. He has sidestepped this law with legally armed men. Argolicus encouraged this Barbarian Ebrimuth in the streets. Argolicus ‘found’ the grain. His Barbarian friend ‘found’ Donicus. And, then, who goes to Donicus’ house? Who calls the cohorts? Gaius Vitellius Argolicus. I find it suspicious, that one man, one man who is new to the principals, one man who seems to arise from nowhere, was involved at the heart of all these matters. I call on Vespasianus, our Magistrate, to investigate this seditious man. Furthermore, I believe he is encouraged by the king to disrupt our Roman ways.”
Argolicus felt his anger rise with every word, every aspersion. What misguided thinking had led Sura down this path? And where did he get all those details?
Sura glared at Argolicus while the corners of his lips hinted at a smile.
The men on the dais were stunned. Their eyes went back and forth between Sura and Argolicus.
Sura must have been one of the guests at the dinner party. And against his word, Vespasianus, must have mentioned the details to Sura if not to all the guests. His ears pounded, and he felt a rush of energy flood his body. He was angry at Sura and felt betrayed by Vespasianus. Here he was, locked in politics again. How could he have thought that moving to town was a good idea?
Men who minutes before had looked on with appreciation now gazed at Argolicus in speculation or downright suspicion.
Before Argolicus could rise to respond, Vespasianus took charge. “Sura, we have heard your complaint. And, I will, when this meeting is concluded, meet with Argolicus to begin an inquiry. You may sit.”
Sura sat, then turned his head to Argolicus, gloating.
Argolicus missed the closing of the meeting, as he reeled in surprise and anger. Why was Sura determined to bring him down? Sura was the one who had invited him to the council. Had that invitation been calculated to ruin his reputation? He could not remember in youth, and certainly not as an adult, affronting Sura. Was Bishop Braga behind this slur? And Sura his instrument?
The hall was empty now except for Argolicus, Vespasianus, and Gregorius the new curator civitas.
Argolicus went to the two men.
“Proba has the most recent ledger. She used it to compare against her father’s records.”
Gregorius said, “I don’t know her. Will you set up a meeting?”
Vespasianus said, “Argolicus, Gregorius is the shipping master for the harbor. Everything that goes somewhere else on ships, goes through his management.”
Argolicus nodded. In Ostia, it had been the same. Shipping was the power that controlled the goods going in and out of the harbor. Gregorius’ classic face read an open welcome.
Vespasianus turned toward Gregorius. “I can help you retrieve the town ledger. I knew Quintinus and I’ve met his daughter. I am certain it will not be a problem.”
“She’s not in town,” Argolicus said. Still hesitant to explain the thunderbolt and certainly after Sura’s accusations, Argolicus said, “She’s at my estate, staying with my mother.”
Both men looked at him. Finally, Vespasianus said, “I thought you called off the marriage.”
“I did. She’s been staying at the estate since the uprising.” Why did Vespasianus keep asking the same questions? He’d already explained about Proba. Maybe it was for the benefit of Gregorius. “The mob targeted her house because they were angry at Quintinus. And now… things have changed.” It was a lame ending, but he could hardly explain the thunderbolt, something he didn’t fully understand.
“We’ll need the ledger,” Vespasianus said.
“I am certain she will meet with Gregorius and give him not just the ledger, but anything else he needs to know about grain.”
“I’ll meet with all the major brokers,” Gregorius said. “Wine, oil, horse breeders, everything that has to do with the town’s assets. I spend every day keeping track of ships and their cargo. I have every confidence that I can serve Squillace with finance and administration.”
“The other ledgers will be at Donicus’ house,” Vespasianus said. “I’ll have a cohort escort you there at your convenience. You could start there until Proba arrives back in town.”
In minutes, Gregorius had left the great hall, leaving Vespasianus and Argolicus alone on the dais.
“As for those accusations,” Vespasianus said, sitting back in his chair and gesturing Argolicus to sit. “Sura made points that disturbed the principals. I don’t believe a word he said, but he has raised questions that must be answered for the principals and the rest of the curia. You know how word travels.”
At least not everyone had believed Sura’s wild claims. Vespasianus had power. His backing would help put the suspicions to rest.
“I’m grateful for your support,” Argolicus said, with due courtesy.
“It’s not so much support but a desire to quell unrest of any kind. We’ve had enough with the missing grain and two murders. Spurious allegations are not what we need right now. Is there some reason I should believe any of it?”
“No,” Argolicus said. “Yes, my mother comes from The People, as they call themselves. But she always served my father as a wife of a Roman. She raised me to be a Roman citizen. Ebrimuth has been my friend since childhood. His recent appointment by the king was a result of the unrest here. Considering how very few of The People live here in the south, I would consider it mainly titular. He had no reason to interact with Donicus. He was there only because he was protecting Proba. Proba wanted to clear her father’s name. Yes, I know these people. Yes, I have a connection with the king’s court through Cassiodorus. But a plot is laughable.”
“Let’s meet for a formal inquiry,” Vespasianus said. “I will come to your house with a secretary to record what is said. That way there will be an official record. I will close the case and make a public announcement. I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do about Sura. Do you know why he made the accusations?”
“I’m baffled,” Argolicus said. “He was the first person I met when I moved into my father’s house. He invited me to come to the council right then at our first meeting. I have some suspicions about why this happened, but they are unfounded. So, I won’t air them.”
“Understood. I’ll come to your house for the inquiry, and we’ll hope this dies down.”
26
Argolicus ate the cook’s midday meal in the peristylum. He broke off a piece of bread and dipped it into the egg salad with bits of cheese, leeks, vinegar, thyme, and coriander. He longed for a fountain, deciding that would be his first change to the house.
Nikolaos tended the transplants, which all stood upright in their new plot. “Soon the cook will have more herbs to add variety to your meals,” he said, brushing a leaf.
“This is good as it is,” Argolicus said, dipping another piece of bread into the salad.
“Tell me again about Sura,” Nikolaos said, rising from his plants and coming to sit beside Argolicus.
“There’s nothing to add. I suspect Bishop Braga put him up to it. He wouldn’t be so brash without feeling he had some kind of support. He came here with that nonsense about Severa. And that was directly from Braga. I think this is more of the same. Braga wants power. He deals in slaves. I exposed his deacon. And even though the deacon was dismissed, Braga’s reputation was damaged.”
“This doesn’t feel like a theological difference,” Nikolaos said, shaking his head.
“Of course not. That is just a tiny thorn. My guess is it’s about power. Who knows how many of the principals attend his church? This was about reputation. Remember how Adeodatus suffered from that accusation of rape? That was all about controlling vineyards.”
“So, this is about controlling the council?”
“It’s about power. Sura is an unknowing pawn. I’m sure he thinks he is protecting the town. Braga, or someone else, put him up to it. The worst part is, now there will always be doubt in the minds of anyone who was there today.”
“But you found the grain. You calmed the mob.”
“As they say, that was yesterday. He accused me of plotting murder.”
They sat each with their own thoughts. Street noises filtered from outside. Argolicus heard Rufus and the other shopkeepers closing up their stalls for the afternoon.
“Do you think I should have dinner parties?”
“Dinner parties?”
“Yes, become part of the town society. I’ve been thinking how reclusive I’ve been up at the estate. It was a luxury, reading, spending time with my books. One of the reasons I moved to town was to become more active in society. That’s why I went to the council meeting… even if it was at Sura’s invitation. In a few more days, I would have gone of my own volition. It just happened that the council meeting was the day after the move.”
“And now the Magistrate is coming for a formal inquiry. And that’s about your ties to The People, especially in this case, Ebrimuth. Why is he here in the south? Your mother is here because she married, but Ebrimuth and the people on his estate are about the only ones here other than your mother. You’ll have to explain that to Vespasianus. Will you tell him you are related?”
“I suppose you could call us distant cousins. But I’m not sure what the relationship is. Mother would know.” Argolicus shrugged. “For an inquiry, I should tell Vespasianus. But that’s not the reason we’re friends. We are friends because we get along. We’ve always enjoyed each other's company. Maybe it’s because we are opposites. His action, my reticence.”
“Reticence isn’t the word I would use,” Nikolaos countered. “Look at how you quelled that mob the other day.”
Argolicus laughed. “Well then, not reticence but bookish, restrained. You keep me going with our fighting practice, but without you, I would probably not do it. Ebrimuth lives and breathes action.”
They sat in silence, Argolicus still wishing for a fountain.
“Years ago, when Theoderic came to power,” Argolicus said finally, “Ebrimuth’s grandfather received his three percent tax from a Roman who lived up north but had land here. He gave the land here as his tax to The People. The family story goes that his grandfather was tired of fighting and moved here to retire. But I don’t see how that has any bearing on Sura’s outrageous charges.”
He took another piece of bread and scooped the last remnants of the herbed salad.
“You sent my notes to Ebrimuth and Proba?”
“As soon as you wrote them,” Nikolaos said. “They should have arrived a while ago.”
“I feel tired but not sleepy. I’m too upset for an afternoon siesta. I’m going to the study to read more of Father’s journals. He seems the right model on how to navigate local politics. I always feel out of my depth in these things.”
January 6. The new year celebrations went well. Our small town is full of festivities. Norbius is a credit to organization.
Now that he thought about it, he wasn’t sure his father’s journals would help. The entries had names he didn’t recognize and notes too brief to give any sense of how his father maneuvered the shoals and channels of politics. He would have to navigate his own path.
His anger came in waves of frustration. He wanted to hit Sura. Hit him hard. But that would accomplish nothing and backfire on the accusations. He couldn’t do anything. But he didn’t even know what to do.
“Here it is.” A voice broke into his thoughts.
Ebrimuth stood in front of the table. His golden hair was tousled as if he had run against a wind that didn’t exist on this hot summer day. His outstretched arm presented a key. “And a note of instructions to the household.”
He produced a sheet of vellum and slapped it down on the table, followed by the key.
“What key is that?” Argolicus said, recovering from his reverie.
“To Proba’s house. She wants you to get the ledger and give it to this Gregorius.”
Ebrimuth flexed his shoulders, pacing in front of the table.
“I suggested she not come to town. What is this insanity? Who is this Sura?”
“I don’t know. He’s concocted some wild story about a plot devised by King Theoderic. It’s absurd. I think the only reason the king thinks about us here in the South is because Cassiodorus comes from here.” He thought a moment. “And, there’s another reason. Our governor, Venantius. He tries to keep money for himself instead of sending it on.”
Ebrimuth found a chair in the corner of the study and pulled it in front of the table. He sat. “We must make a plan.”
Argolicus was startled to see his friend sit. He never sat. He stood. He paced. He crouched. But he didn’t sit. “A plan? You have a plan? I’ve been sitting here trying to think.”
“Ha! That’s your problem. You think too much. This insult requires action.” He grinned.
“That’s just it. I don’t know what action to take.”
Ebrimuth hopped up out of the chair and paced again.
“This is what I don’t understand about Romans. First, no one of The People would act that way. And why? Because he would know that there wouldn’t be thinking about it. He would know that he would be dead within minutes.”
“Yes, but…”
“No, buts. No thinking. You must confront this man.” The long knife on Ebrimuth’s belt banged against his thigh. He pulled it out and waved it in the air.
“He says I killed Donicus with this. He didn’t just insult you. He insulted me. It’s ridiculous. My knife would be covered in blood. I would be covered in blood. The cohorts would have seen that right away.”
