The following is a parody on Steven Saylor's Roma Sub Rosa series.
The Greeks, the Jews, and Egyptians all say that the Gods may send us messages in our dreams to reveal their secret wisdom to us. My Jewish-Egyptian wife never stops yapping about it. But the Greeks say the same thing. Interpretation of dreams may lead to all sorts of advice about the future. At Epidauros and Pergamon, the sick sleep in the temple in order to receive cures and prescriptions from Apollo and Asclepius.
But I, Gordianus the Finder, had always found my own way without any help from above. Recently I had had a hard time and could have used any guidance they might have given. Pompeius had employed me to look into the death of Clodius, who had been found murdered on the Appian way. But just as I was about to return to Rome more or less empty handed, I had been captured and imprisoned. Strangely enough I did not feel grateful for not getting murdered, which would have been a thousand times easier than capturing me and keeping me alive.
But that was not all. When I escaped, and finally got home, I found that my new bodyguard slave had impregnated my only daughter on the very first night he spent in my house.
No wonder, then, that my sleep had been irregular. Sometimes I dreamed I was still imprisoned, and wake up screaming and soiled (I am, after all, an old man, and sometimes I cannot make it to the toilet in time anymore (Where is Asclepius when you need him?)). On other nights worry for my family would keep me from sleep. What was I to do about this new situation?
Then, two weeks after my return, I had an unusual dream. I was sitting in the garden at the centre of my villa, when the door slave came in. "Visitor for you, Gordy.", he announced casually, showing no sign of any deference.
"Who is it?"
"I don't know."
"Man or woman?"
"A man."
"What does he want?"
"I don't know. I did not ask. Was I supposed to?"
I sighed.
"Show him in."
He came back a few minutes later followed by none other than the pharao of Egypt, king Ptolemy XII, dressed in a simple robe and the elaborate Egyptian headgear. He was playing the flute as he entered, but it wasn't a dream oddity, he always did that. He was well-known for it and in fact, it was the reason why I had instantly recognised him.
My anger at the incompetent slave was momentarily forgotten. I had solved cases for every one of Rome's famous from the 1st century BC, such as Cicero, Catalina, Clodius, Clodia, Cato, Caesar, Crassus, Cleopatra, and even a few people whose name did not start with a 'C': Sulla, Pompeius, and Spartacus. Solving a case for the king of Egypt was the ultimate achievement. I waited for a few seconds until he stopped playing with his flute.
"Tell me what you seek", I said, because he remained silent, "for I am the one they call the Finder."
"I have already found what I sought", he replied, "because I did not come here to ask for your help. I only came to see you, a man who is most famous among the Romans."
This was more like it! At last, the fame I deserved.
"Indeed, don't deny it, you are famous as the softest and most gullible man in Rome. When has there ever been a man so meek, so easy to take advantage of, in a land where only strength is respected? The only Roman who cares deeply for his family, the republic, and the gods, but who will not defend them against dishonour? Who is most keen to seek justice, but shies away from seeing it enforced?"
I looked at him, but it was no longer Ptolemy sitting there. It was me, I was looking at myself, two of us in one garden. He spoke again.
"The man, who discovered a chariot race fraud worth millions of sesterces, but only asked for his friend's losses returned? Who caught two slaves stealing a secret recipe, but merely made them promise never to do it again? Why, just now, your door slave has insulted you with his insolence, and you haven't raised a finger to punish him."
And then suddenly, my garden was filled with people, random people that you could have encountered on any street, all pointing and laughing at me.
"You fool!" the other me continued, "All those people you spared, you had not turned your back or they were already laughing at you. This is your reputation, Gordianus. This is why many people smile at you. Not because you are the Finder, but because you are the Fool. The most gullible man in Rome, they call you." Then he took up the flute and started a tune full of mockery.
I woke up with a clear head that morning for the first time in years. With Davus to protect me, I set out for the Pompeius' villa as soon as possible. It seemed an even busier place than before: soldiers kept watch, secretatires were making notes, slaves were bringing in supplies, other supplise were being taking somewhere else. I left Davus outside and went in to announce my name and ask for a few moments with Pompeius to conclude the investigation he ordered me to conduct.
"Yes, Finder?", he said when I entered his study.
"Could you oblige me in a small matter, Great One?", I asked.
"If it is in my power." he shrugged.
"Perhaps your men would enjoy a little exercise? Outside is a strong man who came here as my bodyguard. He has dishonoured me and my family. Could you ask your soldiers to kill him, immediately, and cut off his head?"
"If that is what you wish, certainly. Do you want a basket for the head?"
I left in the best of spirits, carrying a basket with a head in it. It had been done. Some things must be taken care of even though they are unpleasant, and I would not neglect my duties. I may be not like it at heart, but I'm still a Roman who needs to function in a Roman society. Order must be kept, and what is dear to me, justice, honour, and my family, is worth defending! All Romans, me included, respect and admire strength above anything else, but abhor weaknes.
Only a village idiot would allow his slaves to fuck his daughter (or his daughter to fornicate with slaves, for that matter). Diana may weep, but I will not hear it - she is a whore and will have an abortion or be cast out.
My wife will be cross with me, but I will make it clear that if she ever blames me for this painful affair, I will give her the beating she has had coming for all these years. Mercy will one day be invented, but not by the Romans. Until then, I will not play the fool.