London

by Edward Rutherfurd

  As he turned back up the broad street towards the forum, Julius was beginning to think that he would have to do without a present after all. Reaching the lower thoroughfare, for no particular reason he turned left towards the Governor’s Palace, where a sentry guarded the entrance. The street was otherwise empty.

  It was there that Julius had his idea. It was so simple, so daring, that it was insane. And yet, as he considered, it seemed to him not only that it might work, but that it was positively logical. “It’s just a matter of timing,” he muttered, to reassure himself.

  Unlike the private houses he had investigated, the Governor’s Palace was a public building. Apart from the guard on the gate, the entire staff had probably sneaked off to the games. And even if I were found in there, he thought, I could probably make some excuse, say I was waiting to petition the governor or something. The neatness of it made him smile. After all, who would ever think of robbing the governor himself? Ducking into the corner of an alley, he settled down to reconnoitre for a while.

  The street side of the palace consisted of a ragstone wall, in the centre of which was a handsome gateway leading to a large courtyard. In front of the gateway, on a marble plinth, stood a tall, narrow stone, almost the height of a man. This was the central marker from which all the milestones in southern Britain took their distances.

  The sentry seemed to like standing in front of the stone, surreptitiously resting his back against it, but every little while he would slowly march along the empty street, turn, and march back to his resting place.

  Julius watched carefully. The man took twenty-five paces in one direction, then, after a pause, twenty-five in the other. To make sure, Julius watched again, then a third time. It was always the same. He calculated his moves carefully. There would just be time.

  When the sentry began his next turn along the street with his back to him, Julius moved quickly out, and, keeping the stone between him and the sentry for cover, ran swiftly and silently forward, ducking into the shadow of the gateway just before the fellow turned.

  It took him only a moment to slip into the courtyard. On the far side, under a portico, was the main door of the residence. It had been left open. He walked boldly in. And found himself in another world.

  Perhaps no civilization has ever invented better homes for its richer classes than the Roman villa or town house. The governor’s mansion was a splendid example of the latter. The high cool atrium with its pool of water set the tone of stately repose. The sophisticated system of underfloor central heating – the hypocaust – kept the house warm in winter. In summer, the stone and marble interior was cool and airy.

  As was common in the better houses in Londinium, many of the floors had beautiful mosaics. Bacchus, god of wine, was depicted here, a lion there; dolphins graced one hall, whilst elsewhere there were intricately woven geometric patterns.

  After an admiring glance at the splendour of the main rooms, Julius moved quickly to the smaller chambers. These, too, though more intimate, were fine. The walls were mostly painted in panels of ochres, reds and greens, with the lower panels in some cleverly painted to look like marble.

  Julius knew what he was looking for. It had to be something small. If the mariner’s wife were seen with a valuable piece of jewellery it would excite comment and lead to trouble. He wanted a single, modest object; something so small they would probably think it had just been lost.

  It did not take him long. In one of the bedrooms he found on a table a mirror of polished bronze, some silver brushes and three jewelled brooches. There was also a beautiful necklace made of huge uncut emeralds set in a gold chain. The emeralds, he knew, would have come from Egypt. He picked it up and admired it. Just for a moment he was tempted to steal it. He could never dispose of the emeralds, of course – they would be far too conspicuous – but he could melt down the gold. Then he put it down again. It seemed a pity to destroy such beautiful workmanship.

  Beside it, however, was exactly what he needed: a simple gold bracelet without any markings. There must be a thousand like it in Londinium. That was what he would give Martina. Picking it up, he slipped quickly out.

  The house was still silent, the courtyards deserted. Hugging the wall, he made his way towards the gate. All he had to do now was to get past the sentry who had resumed his watch in the street. As long as he doesn’t come into the courtyard now, he prayed. He edged to the inside of the gateway.

  He could see the sentry’s back as he lounged against the stone. As far as he could judge, the street was empty. He waited until the sentry set off again, to the left this time, towards the brook. Then, quick as a flash, he darted out, making for the right.

  But as an extra precaution, Julius did a cunning thing. After a few yards, instead of running forwards he turned and, as fast as he could, walked backwards, his face towards the retreating sentry. Five, ten, fifteen rapid steps. And it was just as well. This time, for some reason, the sentry finished his patrol and turned early. At which point Julius, instead of retreating, started to walk forwards, casually coming to meet the sentry, so that it appeared he was approaching the gate for the first time. The soldier looked surprised, wondering where he had come from, but as the young man was walking towards him, he thought nothing more about it and the two men passed each other with a nod. A few minutes later, Julius was on his way back to wait at the bridge with his present.

  He wondered if the girl would come.

  Sextus descended the broad street that led from the forum down to the bridge. He was frowning, and the fact that he had been unable to find Julius at the amphitheatre had not improved his temper.

  Was his young friend avoiding him? The thought would not have occurred to him except for a chance remark he had overheard the afternoon before.

  When, after bursting into the house, the soldiers had raced to the back looking for accomplices, he had heard them spot Julius, but was relieved to see that his friend had got away. It was soon clear that they had not got a decent look at him. Then, however, a few minutes later, he had heard two soldiers chatting as they searched his bedding in the next room. “There’s nothing here,” one had grunted. “I think this was a hoax. Someone just took a dislike to this fellow and wrote the letter.”

  “But what about the young one? Was that him running away?”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. He’s young anyway. Respectable family. If anyone forges, it’s this carpenter.”

  The young one. Respectable family. It had to be Julius they were talking about. The young fool must have given them away somehow. Sextus cursed. “If they get to him, he’ll probably crack,” he groaned. “Then I’m done for.”

  Though he wanted to, he had not dared go to Julius’s house that night in case he was followed, but he had expected to find him at the amphitheatre this morning. So when he failed to appear, Sextus had begun to be seriously worried. Had the authorities got to him? Had he given the game away? Finally, when he had stealthily approached Julius’s house, he had found it deserted. What did that mean? He had finally returned to his own house, in case Julius had gone there, then he had looked around the forum. Now, as a last resort, he was going to try the quay.

  Suddenly, only a hundred yards ahead, there the young fellow was, walking towards the bridge. Sextus hurried forward. Julius was so engrossed in where he was going that he did not even notice Sextus until he was close behind. He turned. Seeing Sextus, his face fell.

  Immediately Sextus was on his guard. “Is everything all right?” he asked. He saw Julius hesitate before reluctantly but truthfully telling him exactly what had happened.

  Sextus did not believe a word of it. He prided himself on the fact that he was no fool. This story was utterly improbable, whereas certain other things were very clear. The young man was avoiding him. The money was gone. Only two explanations were likely, therefore. Either Julius had stolen it, or he had betrayed his friend, in which case the authorities probably had the bag of moulds to use as evidence in court. No doubt Julius would be let off
for testifying against him.

  Sextus’s face was a mask, though, as he listened to Julius’s awkward explanation. He said nothing, letting the young man justify himself. When he had finished Sextus concluded that his friend was a poor liar.

  He decided to try a direct approach. “Have you been talking?” he asked bluntly. “To the soldiers?”

  “No. Of course not.”

  Sextus considered. He’d know that soon enough anyway. He drew a knife from his belt, and showed it to Julius.

  “Find the money by sundown,” he said calmly, “or I’ll kill you.” Then he turned on his heel and walked away.

  A little before noon, they brought on a gladiator and a bear. The gladiator was skilled with the net. The betting was two to one that he would kill the bear. He was due to fight another gladiator that afternoon, however, a popular champion, and for this second contest the betting was five to one that he would die. For a bet that he would win both you could, at this moment, get twenty to one. The bear was paraded around the arena first. The crowd was in a good-humoured mood. Tension and excitement would mount only when blood was seen.

  Martina rose quickly. Across the arena, in the governor’s box and the tiers nearby, she could see the important men of the city in their togas and the women in their long dresses of fine silk, their hair piled high in elaborate coiffures. As she made her way back to the stairway, she felt a little tremor run through her.

  They may be in the fine seats, she thought, but none of them will be getting what I am going to get this afternoon.

  A few moments later she emerged from the shadowy tunnel of the stairway into the bright glare of the street. She made her way towards the forum. She did not notice that, two hundred yards behind her, the mariner moved quietly out of a doorway and started to follow.

  Julius waited. He was standing by one of the pair of big wooden pillars that marked the northern end of the bridge. It was almost noon.

  The interview with Sextus had left him worried. He thought the older man probably meant what he said, but how could he recover the bag? Perhaps if he told his mother about the threat she would relent, though he was not sure about that. In any case, he decided, it was useless to worry about it now. He had other business on hand.

  There was a roar from the amphitheatre on the hill away to the left; a faintly contemptuous note in the sound told him that an animal must be getting the better of a human.

  Julius gazed up the broad street towards the forum. If the girl was coming, she would turn into it before long. At present the street was empty; so was the quay. He could feel his heart beating. “If she comes now,” he murmured, but did not complete the sentence. If she appeared now, he was certain she would be his that afternoon. He trembled with excitement. And yet – this was a strange thing – for all his anticipation, part of him was still nervous, almost hoping that she would stay away.

  Several minutes passed; still there was no sign of Martina, and Julius was beginning to think that perhaps, after all, she might not come, and maybe it was just as well, when his attention was distracted by a small movement from along the quay to his right.

  It was nothing much, just some soldiers with a donkey pulling a small cart. He watched them idly as they came slowly along the waterfront towards him. It occurred to him that the little cart must be heavy, because he saw the donkey slip once and stop. But perhaps the animal was just being obstinate. He glanced up the street again: still no sign of Martina.

  The soldiers and the donkey were two hundred yards away now. There were only three men: one leading the donkey, two behind the cart. Because he was standing behind the wooden pillar, they did not see him, but as they drew closer, he could make out their faces under their helmets. One of them, it seemed to him, looked familiar.

  And then, with a start, he realized why. The man bringing up the rear was none other than his acquaintance from the day before. The centurion. He looked at the big man curiously. Why, he wondered, should the centurion be escorting a donkey cart through the streets in the middle of the games?

  The cart was covered with a canvas sheet. One corner had worked loose, however, and Julius could see the top of an amphora of wine sticking out. Obviously, for some reason, the soldiers were taking provisions from the official warehouse to the fort that day. No doubt they were having a feast in the barracks that night. The cart started to turn into an alley that led up the hill.

  His thoughts returned to Martina. A little wave of lust passed through him. Where was the girl?

  And then something happened. At first glance it was nothing of importance. As the cart entered the alley, one wheel hit a bump and a small item from the load fell off. For a moment it lay in the dust before one of the soldiers hurriedly scooped it up and pushed it back under the cover. As he did so, however, Julius noticed two things. The object glinted dully in the sun. And the centurion looked quickly to the right and left to make sure no one had seen. On his face was an expression Julius was sure he recognized. It was one of fear – and guilt. For the object that had fallen off the cart was a gold coin.

  Gold. There could be whole sacks of coins on that cart. No wonder the donkey had stumbled trying to pull it. And why should the soldiers be surreptitiously moving gold along a deserted street and up an alley? The thought was so astounding that for a moment Julius couldn’t believe it. Yet no other explanation made sense. They must be stealing it.

  He remained quite still until the cart had passed into the alley and out of sight. The street ahead was still empty: no sign of the girl. Suddenly he felt very cold; his mind was in a whirl. Then, very quietly, he moved out from the bridge and towards the alley.

  Cautiously, he kept his distance. For several minutes, moving from corner to corner, he pursued their zigzag course. There was no question; they were taking care not to be seen.

  Several times he hesitated. If the soldiers were stealing bullion and they saw him following them, he knew what would happen. But already the outline of a plan had started to take shape in his mind. They’ve got to be planning to hide the gold somewhere, he reasoned. If he could just find out where, he could pay the hiding place a visit himself. Just one of those sacks would make Sextus forget he ever lost the bag. He could just see his friend’s happy face. A thought struck him and made him grin. “We’d have no need to forge coins if we had real ones,” he chuckled to himself. With wealth such as this he could buy Martina anything she wanted.

  Keeping roughly parallel with the main street, the soldiers’ route through the side alleys took them up the slope of the eastern hill towards the forum. Here they came to the upper of the two great thoroughfares that crossed the city. Taking an alley that ran parallel with it, they turned left.

  “They’re going west,” Julius muttered, “but where to?” He could not guess. Judging it safer, he went into the main thoroughfare and began to walk down it, intending to track the cart’s progress at the next side street.

  After tracking the cart down the incline between the two hills, Julius saw it come out into the main street ahead of him. He paused, not wanting to be seen, while the soldiers continued across and started up the slope opposite. They were over a quarter of a mile ahead with the amphitheatre looming over the summit behind them, when they turned abruptly into an alleyway on the left and vanished. Julius hurried forward, not wanting to lose track of them. A minute passed; two. He was almost there.

  It was then, glancing up the slope, that he saw her.

  Martina was coming down the street towards him, walking with a swinging step. She was smiling to herself. She was two hundred yards away and had not seen him.

  Julius stopped and gazed. So she was coming to the rendezvous after all. His heart leapt. As he watched her approach, all his doubts dissolved. She’s beautiful, he thought. She wants me. Perhaps she even loves me. A wave of joy and excitement swept over him. It was as though he could feel her body, smell her even. He wanted to run forwards to meet her.

  But if he went to Martina now he would
lose valuable time. At any second that cart could disappear in the maze of alleyways and courtyards. And then he’d have lost the gold.

  “The girl will wait,” he murmured to himself. “The gold won’t.” And he ducked into a gateway.

  For several minutes he made his way cautiously along one lane after another, working his way westwards. Just before the slope levelled off at the top, there was a handsome street, colonnaded on one side, that ran from the upper thoroughfare southwards to the lower. It, too, was empty. He crossed it. It was in a narrow alley beyond that, nearing the temple of Diana, that he saw the little cart and the donkey.

  They were unattended. There was no sign of the soldiers. He stayed by the corner and waited. No one came. Could the soldiers have abandoned the cart? Surely not. He looked about, trying to guess where they had gone. All along the alley were small yards, workshops and little storehouses. They might have gone into any one of a dozen. The cover was still over the cart. Had they already unloaded the gold, or was this only a temporary halt? Still no one came.

  If they’ve unloaded, then I should scout around to see if I can find where they went, Julius considered. It seemed pointless to wait there all day. Cautiously he moved forward and approached the cart.