‘Back!’ I shouted to the bargemaster. ‘Take me back there at once!’
He raised a shaggy eyebrow, but he barked out the order. The oarsmen backed their oars, and slowly – infinitely slowly it seemed to me – the boat slowed, then turned about on itself and began to inch back towards the shore. The bargemaster looked at me quizzically. ‘You know that fellow, citizen?’
‘I don’t know him exactly. I have never spoken to him, but I have seen him before. I wonder what he is doing here so soon. He must have made great efforts to get here.’
I glanced at Junio. He was gazing at the shore with a kind of rapt excitement. ‘It is him, isn’t it, master?’
‘That’s him,’ I said. A tall, thin, greying man with a crooked nose and thin cruel slit of a smile. The last time I had seen him he was talking to the trainer of the Blues – yesterday morning in Verulamium.
Chapter Sixteen
I am not a young man, and I was stiff from my battering journey of the day before, but as soon as the barge touched the quay I was on my feet, and I was down the plank almost before the bargemaster had time to lay it for me.
The warehouse official was still standing there, pressing his fingers together and looking bewildered. I did not waste time on civilities.
‘That man,’ I demanded. ‘Who is he? What was he doing here?’
The official blinked. ‘Glaucus, citizen? He came to buy some grain, naturally.’ The pinched face was suddenly flushed with concern. ‘There is nothing unusual about it. He comes here very often. He buys the corn stores for the Blue factio – for both the men and the horses. Their quarters are very close to here. Is there some kind of trouble, citizen? I do hope not. The factio are good customers of ours.’
So crook-nose was nicknamed Glaucus, I thought. The grey. It was a name more usually given to horses, but with his long face and close-set eyes it suited him perfectly.
The controller of the warehouse was still bobbing along beside me, firing questions like an archer loosing arrows. I ignored them, and asked one of my own. ‘The Blue quarters are close by, I think you said?’
‘Indeed, citizen.’ He was bending his fingers almost backwards in his desire to help. ‘Go out of the back gate . . .’ He gave me the directions: it did not seem to be far.
‘Right,’ I said to Junio, who was at my heels as usual. ‘Let the bargemaster know where I am going. If I am lucky I may catch two sparrows with a single slingshot and find Fortunatus at the same time. You can catch me up at the Blue quarters.’
Junio grinned his understanding and scampered off on his errand.
I did not wait for him. Looking back, perhaps that was a foolish decision – wandering around the back streets of a city I did not know, without even the protection of a slave – but I had become careless under Pertinax’s protection, and besides I was anxious to catch up with Glaucus.
As soon as I left the warehouse, I looked up and down the road for him, but he had disappeared like a bubble, so I set off for the Blue headquarters, following the directions which had been given me.
It was not far, and I found it easily. It occupied most of a block in a little alley close to the main street, hemmed in by the blank outer walls of a run-down house on one side and a carpet-maker’s on the other. It might have been an ordinary inn, from its general appearance: a wide gate led to a large stable yard surrounded on three sides by a colonnaded building, with – judging by the window-spaces visible – large rooms on the lower floor and a cluster of tiny attics under the rooftiles. Another gateway at the side led to further stabling beyond. I took a few steps through the entrance arch, but instead of a welcoming innkeeper anxious to take my money, I found a burly slave blocking my way.
‘Your business, citizen?’ He was dressed in a uniform-style tunic of a delicate cerulean blue – presumably in honour of the factio – but it accorded very oddly with the solid leather breastplate, helmet and groin-protector which he also were.
‘Is Glaucus here yet?’ I enquired briskly. ‘I saw him at the granary earlier.’ I did not actually say that I had spoken to him, but I thought the implication might get me through the gate.
The burly slave did not move an eyelash. ‘Glaucus is not expected back today, citizen.’
I tried another gambit. ‘Then perhaps I could have a word with Fortunatus? I heard that he was hurt in Verulamium. I was speaking to the lady Fulvia . . .’
At the mention of her name the guard relaxed. ‘I am sorry, citizen,’ he said, in an altered tone. He was friendly now, almost conspiratorial. ‘Fortunatus is not well enough for visitors. He is in his quarters, resting.’ He glanced over his shoulder as he spoke, in the direction of one of the rooms on the upper floor.
I made a desperate calculation. The doorkeeper could scarcely leave his post, and once I was beyond him there was nobody about to challenge me. I doubted there were many people in the building. There would be a few servants and stable-boys about, of course, but most of the factio was in Verulamium.
I wagered everything, like Junio at the races. ‘Fortunatus will see me, I’m certain,’ I said airily, pressing a coin into the man’s hand, and walking confidently past him before he could prevent me.
‘Citizen, wait . . .’ He was calling after me, but I gave him a breezy wave and strolled away in the general direction of that backward glance. I reasoned that he must have been looking at Fortunatus’ chamber, and in any case an air of assurance was my best defence. I had no idea where the staircase was, but I went through the largest door I could find, and sure enough there was a narrow flagstoned entrance hall with rickety wooden steps leading up to the rooms beyond.
A bored slave-boy was dozing on the topmost step, but he struggled to his feet as I came up, a look of incredulity spreading over his face. He was a small, wiry creature, perhaps twelve years old, and he wore a tunic of that same cerulean blue.
‘Citizen?’ His voice had not yet broken.
‘I have come to see Fortunatus,’ I said again.
Now it was panic which raced across the boy’s features. He was half my size, but he stationed himself firmly outside the nearest door, his arms and legs spread out as though physically to prevent my reaching it. ‘My master is resting,’ he said breathlessly. ‘I have orders not to admit anyone.’
‘What is going on up there?’ To my surprise, the gatekeeper had abandoned his post and lumbered over to the stairwell.
‘He is demanding to see Fortunatus,’ the boy said. ‘I’ve told him...’
‘I told him, too,’ the burly slave replied, starting menacingly up the stairs. All affability had disappeared from his manner now.
I was more than a match for the slave-boy, but this guard was a different matter. I was beginning to fear for my safety when I remembered something that I should have thought of before. I was still carrying the governor’s warrant in my belt. I produced it now, with a flourish.
‘I am on official business,’ I said, brandishing the seal. ‘In the name of His Excellence, the Governor Pertinax, I demand to speak to Fortunatus.’
The two men looked at one another. Then the guard shrugged. ‘Well,’ he said to the slave-boy, ‘it is over to you. This is none of my business.’ He trudged away down the stairs and back to his gate.
The boy looked at me helplessly, but a warrant was a warrant. In any case, I was bigger than he was. With obvious reluctance he pushed open the door and stood back to let me pass. I went into Fortunatus’ chamber.
It was not a grand room, for such a wealthy man. Of course, Fortunatus, like others of his profession, had purchased himself private quarters elsewhere. When his contract expired – or he could buy himself out of it – he would doubtless retire there in luxury. In the meantime, it seemed that these simple quarters provided by the team sufficed. The window-space was still half shuttered, but there was enough light to make out the main features of the room. There was a wooden chest for his possessions, a chipped pottery bowl and jug, a battered stool beside the window and a cot, of
sorts, on which I could dimly make out a huddled form, completely hidden under a pile of woven blankets.
‘He is resting, citizen, as you see,’ the slave muttered, indicating the bed.
I found myself nodding reluctantly. Perhaps my suspicions had been ill founded, and Fortunatus really had sustained a dreadful injury. Certainly the figure on the bed was horribly motionless – like a man in one of those deep swoons that lasts for days. I was about to mutter my apologies and make a rather embarrassed retreat when the attendant spoke again.
‘He shouldn’t be disturbed, citizen, so if you have quite finished here . . .’
He was so agitated in his manner that a horrible misgiving dawned on me. Suppose Fortunatus was not merely sleeping, but dead? Was that why the slave was so anxious to get rid of me? The more I looked, the more suspicious I became. I moved a little closer, but I could detect no sound of breathing. The huddled blankets did not rise or fall.
With a sudden movement I seized the bed coverings and pulled them clear. It was a risk, I knew. I was prepared for almost anything – a bloodied corpse, a headless trunk, the horrible contortions of a poison victim. What I found was a bundle of loose straw, tied roughly in the proportions of a man.
Fortunatus was not there at all.
I rounded on the slave, but he was already bolting towards the door. I started after him, as fast as my ageing bones would permit, and managed to seize the shoulder of his blue tunic as he made off down the stairs.
‘Stay there!’ I panted – he was trying to tear himself free. ‘Or I’ll have the governor’s guard come for you and take you in charge.’
It was an empty threat, but it halted him, and he permitted himself to be hauled back to the landing, where he stood before me literally quivering with fear, his eyes fixed abjectly on his sandal straps.
‘Well?’ I demanded. ‘What have you to say for yourself?’
For a moment there was no sound but whimpering, and when he raised his eyes at last they were brimming with tears. He took one terrified and sobbing breath, and then to my consternation he flung himself full-length at my feet. ‘Have mercy, citizen,’ he begged, clutching at my toga hem. ‘You don’t know what they are like! They would have beaten me to death if I had simply let you in!’
I began to murmur that the law did not permit it, but that only made him sob the more.
‘Never mind the law! I’ve seen them do it before, with people who have crossed them. Terrible accidents happen around horses – something would have happened to me. They would have seen to that.’ He gave a despairing wail as the full horror dawned on him. ‘They’ll probably do it anyway, if the governor doesn’t have me executed first, for trying to deceive you! And you carrying his warrant, too! Oh, dear Mercury! What am I to do?’
I took him by the shoulder of his tunic and hoisted him upright. I had some sympathy, naturally – I have been a slave myself and I know what it is to be frightened – but if what he said was true, I was dealing with peculiarly ruthless and dangerous men. This was not a moment to show weakness.
I gave him a little shake – if he did not fear me just as much as he feared his masters I would get nothing out of him – and said brusquely, ‘Tell me the truth, and you may just save your miserable skin. Where is Fortunatus? I heard that he was injured in Verulamium.’
‘He f-f-fell from his ch-chariot, citizen. That is . . . all I know.’ The boy’s voice was shaking, and I realised with horror that he was urinating with fear.
‘So, what has happened to him now? Is he dead? What have they done with him?’
He raised his head and looked at me, and for the first time I read surprise in his expression – and what looked strangely like relief.
‘They haven’t done anything with him, citizen. He’s only . . .’ He trailed off again.
I seized the tunic roughly and shook him again. ‘Only what?’ I bellowed. ‘Tell me, or I’ll have you dragged in the arena for the dogs to eat.’ I sounded in my own ears like a villain in a fable. Of course I had no authority to do anything of the kind, even if I’d wanted to, but the slave-boy did not know that. You could almost see him imagining the horror of that death.
He looked at me helplessly a moment and then said, ‘He has gone to see a lady, citizen.’
‘A lady?’ I had not expected that. Suddenly a hundred new possibilities were racing through my head. ‘You mean the lady Fulvia?’
The boy shook his head, and for the first time a sort of smile hovered round his lips. ‘Not that sort of lady, citizen. This one is called Pulchrissima and she is a sort of acrobatic dancer in a tavern just outside the town. She is a friend of Fortunatus’.’
He did not need to say more. I didn’t know the local taverns, of course, but I knew enough about Roman bars in general to know what kind of acrobatic dancing Pulchrissima was likely to engage in. Her very name, ‘most beautiful’, would have been enough to tell me that, although of course if she was ‘a friend of Fortunatus’’ it was possible that he enjoyed sole rights over her performances. For a substantial fee, of course. That would hardly be a problem for a man of Fortunatus’ wealth.
I found that I was still gently shaking the slave-boy. ‘Where is this tavern then?’ I said, letting go of him, but speaking more severely than ever.
He swallowed hard. ‘It is just outside the east wall, citizen – by the gate.’
‘You’re sure that he is there? I don’t want another wasted journey.’
The boy looked wretched now. ‘I am almost certain of it, citizen.’
I remembered something Fulvia had said. ‘Hasn’t he bought himself a town house recently? Surely he would go there? It would be much more private than the inn. Fortunatus is well-known in the town.’
‘You are quite right, citizen. Fortunatus does not like going into the inn – too many carters and carriers use it, he says. But he is having the house rebuilt, and joined to the city water supply. The alterations are not half finished yet, so I am sure he will have gone to the tavern.’
‘Very well,’ I said, and turned to leave, but he came running after me.
‘Don’t go away and leave me here, citizen. They’ll kill me if they know I’ve talked to you.’
‘I’ll have to leave you here,’ I said, sounding more brutal than I meant. ‘I can’t take you with me – you’d only be captured and brought back to them anyway, and then they would have grounds for putting you to death. Better to stay here – let them think that I was satisfied by seeing that lump of hay.’ I stopped, struck by a sudden thought. ‘Why did you do that anyway? Easy enough, surely, just to claim that Fortunatus was out?’
‘Fortunatus instructed me to do it, in case the lady Ful— in case somebody sent for him.’
‘The lady Fulvia?’ I said. That was interesting. ‘She sometimes sent a message to him here?’
The boy looked overcome by confusion. He hesitated. ‘You didn’t come from her, did you, citizen? You obviously know her, since you mentioned her name.’
I shook my head. ‘She has no idea I’ve come,’ I said reassuringly. “I wanted to speak to Fortunatus on my own account. But it seems I shall have to look for him in the tavern. I am glad to know that he was not badly hurt by his shipwreck in the stadium.’
My words were intended to allay his fears a little, but they seemed to have the opposite effect. He let out a kind of despairing groan, and then, with no thought for custom or civility, he rushed past me and down the stairs, and had disappeared from sight before I had fairly recovered from the surprise.
Chapter Seventeen
I followed the slave-boy down the stairs, but by the time I got out into the yard he’d disappeared. I asked the gatekeeper where he had gone, but the man had clearly decided that his best protection was to have become suddenly blind and deaf. He offered a dozen alternative solutions, all equally implausible, but I could get no sensible information out of him, although I was sure that he could have told me where the boy had really gone, if he wished.
&nbs
p; This was disconcerting, but, I reminded myself, the internal affairs of the factio were not my immediate concern. My task was to confront Fortunatus, not to chase after errant slaves. I nodded a curt farewell to the guard and went out of the gate with the intention of going straight to the tavern I had been told about. I would send Junio, who was doubtless waiting in the street, back with a further message to my bargemaster to explain where I had gone. Knowing Junio, in fact, I was rather surprised that he hadn’t managed to talk his way into the factio headquarters, as I had done: but perhaps the guard had tried to reassert a little of his authority by deliberately keeping my servant outside the gate.
‘Junio,’ I began, but there was no sign of him.
I looked in all directions, but the alleyway was empty.
For the first time I felt a stirring of alarm. I had told Junio to come here, and it was not like him to delay in carrying out my orders. I hurried back to the guard, but if he had been unhelpful earlier he was doubly so now. To listen to his account, one would suppose that he had never seen a strange slave in the alleyway in his entire life. His manner had changed too. He delivered his information in a toneless voice, and with a marked reluctance to meet my eyes. In fact, he gave me the impression of being increasingly worried about something and I soon realised that no amount of questioning, governor’s warrant or no governor’s warrant, was going to make him change his story.
I was seriously anxious now. Had something happened to Junio? There was something mysterious about this factio, and I was disturbed by the way my attendants kept disappearing. First Superbus, and now this. There was only one thing to be done. I abandoned all thought of finding Fortunatus and set off towards the warehouse and the barge as fast as my aged legs would carry me.
I was halfway down the alley when I heard a hissing whisper. ‘Citizen?’
I looked around, but for a moment could see nothing, only the blank walls and the empty alley. Even the gatekeeper from the factio had gone back to his guardroom under the arch, and was nowhere to be seen. I felt a little prickle at the nape of my neck. At the far end of the narrow street, where it met the major thoroughfare, the life of the town went on. Pedestrians with bundles, men on donkeys, traders with handcarts jostled by, but few of them spared a glance for the little alley, and certainly none of them had spoken. In any case that voice had surely been behind me?
The Chariots of Calyx Page 15
