Message: Murder in the House of Varrus!!! (Chapter XV)
Author: L. Didius Silva
Originally Posted: October 25, 2000 (Reposted with the permission of the author)


We walked into the Blue Parrot Taberna, like we owned the place. My courage rebelled and refused to go in with me; so I left it out on the street and walked in without it.

Immediately, my nose was assaulted, overwhelmed by the conflicting stenches; unwashed humanity, sour clothing, spilled wine, fomenting beer, some type of spice that I knew but couldn't quite place, wood smoke from the cooking fire. The blind beggar stood at the bar, a small cup in his hand. I walked up to him and slapped him on the back. His cup bounced on the floor.

"Hi, Matho! How's the wife and kids?"

"FaFaFafine Silva. They're fine."

"That's just great Matho."

A Nubian named Malwa tended the bar. "Hey Malwa! The boss in tonight?"

From behind a beaded curtain in the rear of the taberna, a jovial voice rang out: "COME IN! GENTLEMEN! COME IN! It's not every day that my little establishment is honored to have the head of the Vigiles and the head of the Statores here at the same time. MALWA! Some wine for our guests! NO! NO! Not the 'two-ass' wine, the CAECUBIAN...... but...... in SMALL cups."

As we started toward the curtain, a scarred patron, with half of his left ear missing, put his foot up on the table to block our path. He smiled up at Piso and tilted his bench slightly backward. Without hesitation, Piso grabbed the ankle and jerked upwards. "Scarface" flipped over backwards, crashing to the floor.

"Triannus!" 'The Fat Man's' voice rang out. "Scarface" froze in the act of rising. "You must forgive my impetuous associate. Sometime, my dear Triannus acts without thinking."

We walked through the beaded curtain. 'The Fat Man' sat at a table. He indicated a couple of stools. I hooked one over with my foot and sat down. He was about 5'10", around 320#. His tunic and his person were immaculately clean. He had a ring on every finger. More than just show, they would double as the fanciest pair of "brass knuckles" you ever saw. On his head, he wore a little red Aegyptian cap with a black tassel hanging down the side. In his hand he held a little Aegyptian flail, and he used it to swat at the flies as they landed on the table. The total picture was so humorous that I wanted to laugh, until I saw his eyes. The eyes were so black that the pupil and iris blended together. This was NOT a man to be laughed at. The beads clattered as Malwa stepped in and placed three cups on the table.

"To what do I owe this honor, gentlemen? There is NO crime around here. I thought you'd be busy investigating the Varrus murder." He smiled at the look on our faces. "Don't look so surprised. Information is a valuable commodity. A man who has it can accomplish much. A man without it is....blind."

"I thought you might like to hear a story," I said.

"Certainly! Certainly! I LOVE a good story. I am starved for intelligent conversation. Please PROCEED!"

"Once upon a time, there was a king who ruled a small kingdom. This king was very wise, for he understood that his kingdom, as big as it was, was just a small part of a very big Empire. The king knew he could do pretty much what he pleased, as long as he didn't piss off the Emperor. One day a wicked man sent an envoy to the king with a proposition. He wanted to steal a package, but he needed four men to do it. The king had the men and was always in need of sestercies. So they struck up a bargain. The four men stole the package and turned it over to the envoy for cash. The problem was that the king hadn't checked into the deal very carefully. The package belonged to the Emperor. In fact, the package contained the Emperor's Sicilian tax money. And nothing pissed off the Emperor more than to have somebody tampering with his taxes. Of all crimes, it was the one most likely to cause him to send in troops to stomp on the King."

"It sounds like the king had some bad advisors," said The Fat Man.

"Yes! The Emperor thought the same thing. But he's even angrier at the man who hired the king. So he sent two trusted retainers to tell the King that, if the King sent those four men to the Praetorium in the morning at the fifth hour (11 a.m.); and they obeyed the instructions of the retainers to the letter, and if the taxes were recovered; the Emperor would forget the whole matter." Piso and I got up to leave.

"Surely, Silva, you're not leaving. You have my undivided attention. What is the ending to your story?"

"That's the problem. I won't know the ending until after the sixth hour tomorrow."

"Well, well, do come back and finish it for me. You have awakened my curiosity, sir."

We walked through the beaded curtain, crossed the room, and out the door. As I pulled the door shut, I could hear "The Fat Man's" voice: "Triannus! Step this way if you please!"

I looked for my courage. It was kneeling by the fountain, puking its guts out into the gutter. I walked over and joined it.


Copyright © 2000-2001, L. Didius Silva. All Rights Reserved. All copyrighted material is the property of the original author.