Dark Omens

by Rosemary Rowe

  I just said gently, ‘Marcus is my patron; I really have no choice. Anyway, I would have to go to town again quite soon. I have a trade to attend to.’

  ‘And what chance have you of that? He wants you about his business rather than your own. Not that he’ll pay you anything of course!’ She started chopping turnips with such violence that you would think my patron’s neck was underneath the knife. ‘No one would believe you had a household with a wife and slaves to keep!’

  There was little I could say to counter this, since what she said was generally true, but I pulled out my purse. ‘At least he paid me for that pavement!’ I murmured peaceably. I was about to tip the contents out for her to see, hoping that the sight of two gold aureii would lift her mood, when I remembered my appointment with the money lenders and decided to keep the one coin hidden in the bag.

  I put down the other on the table top, like a street magician producing coloured balls. ‘Enough to pay off Cantalarius twenty times – and even to hire a mule from him for a day or two, if you’re concerned about the weather and think that would be wise!’ I said, expecting first surprise and then her gruff agreement to this compromise.

  She put down the bowl of turnips she had been adding to the stew, wiped her hands carefully on her apron skirt and picked up the coin with a sort of awed respect. ‘Marcus gave you this?’ She sounded so incredulous that I thought for a moment she was going to test it in her teeth. But she just weighed it in her palm and laid it down again. ‘Perhaps I spoke too harshly. This is to reward you for helping with the search?’

  ‘It’s the money that Genialis owed me,’ I explained. ‘I’d contracted for that pavement and I did the work on time. Marcus himself was witness to the fact.’

  ‘Julia must have told him we were in want of cash, and convinced him that you should be paid. Well, it is kind of her. She has always been particularly generous to us – like the other day, when I went there for oil.’

  I shook my head. ‘It wasn’t Julia’s doing this time, it was Silvia herself,’ I said. ‘She apparently insisted that – since I had fulfilled the contract in her house – Marcus, as her guardian, should ensure that I was paid.’

  ‘So this came from her estate?’ My wife made a little disapproving face. ‘I might have known he wouldn’t pay you so handsomely himself. But I like the sound of Silvia. An honest woman, by the sound of it?’

  ‘A lively one, as Marcus may find out to his cost,’ I told her. ‘I would almost say “self-willed”. But she’s rich and pretty too – which is no doubt why he offered to step in as guardian. She is coming to the villa later on today, so perhaps you’ll meet her there.’

  Gwellia had gone back to adding turnips to the stew. ‘Rich, pretty and self-willed? That sounds dangerous.’ She raised an eyebrow with a wicked grin. ‘I wonder what Julia thinks about her guest?’

  It was exactly the thought that had occurred to me, but for some reason I felt moved to say, ‘Oh, Silvia won’t be there very long. Marcus proposes to acquire new furniture and slaves on her account, so she can move back to her townhouse again before he and Julia go away to Rome. Assuming that Genialis is not found alive, by then.’

  But Gwellia wasn’t listening. She picked up a spoon and stood looking quizzical. ‘Rome? Why ever does he want to go to Rome again? Surely he arranged all his affairs when he and Julia went there just a year or two ago? What makes him think of travelling all that way a second time? And at just the worst time of the year to make the journey, too!’

  I stared at her. I had forgotten that – since Marcus had not after all returned from Glevum yesterday – he could not have sent the promised message to the house; and when I got home myself I had not thought to tell Gwellia any news except my own. And Cantalarius had last called here days and days before, so it was quite possible that – though the news had travelled quickly all the way from Rome – out here in the country, in the house alone, she had not learned about the happenings which had shocked the world.

  ‘I forgot that you were unlikely to have heard! Momentous news. The Emperor is dead.’

  She gasped and sat down on the bench, her face an actor’s mask of disbelief. ‘Commodus? Dead? Great Minerva! When?’ Her shocked expression slowly softened to a wicked grin. ‘Some brave man plucked up courage and murdered him at last? Well, if that’s the case, I hope the man who did it wins a laurel wreath – though I suppose it’s more likely that he’s been marched off and executed horribly by the imperial guard. Either that, or been elected Emperor himself! What exactly happened?’

  ‘There are conflicting stories. I don’t know which is true.’ I outlined the various rumours which had reached me in the town. ‘But one thing seems quite certain. Guess who is nominated to the purple now? No other than our own ex-governor, Pertinax!’

  ‘The one you met once in Londinium? Did you not dine with him?’ Gwellia shook her head. ‘Think of that! My husband – dining with a future Emperor!’

  I interrupted her rapture with the commonplace. ‘My patron’s patron,’ I reminded her. ‘That’s why Marcus wants to go to Rome.’

  ‘I suppose it is his duty,’ she agreed. ‘To congratulate his friend and witness his formal installation, I expect. Hoping for some preferment too, do you suppose?’

  ‘Marcus wants to go and give him some advice,’ I told her, with a grin. ‘Says Pertinax is far too honest to be an Emperor. He’s anxious to set off as soon as possible – though he’s afraid that Julia won’t want to go so soon.’

  Gwellia gave me a most peculiar look. ‘You’re sure that Julia intends to go at all?’

  ‘Well, I assume so, if her husband wishes it!’ I was startled into this abrupt reply. ‘Though of course I haven’t seen her since I heard the news. She wasn’t at my meeting with Marcus, naturally, and in any case I hear she isn’t feeling well.’

  My wife got up slowly and went back to the stew. ‘Not feeling well? You might say that, I suppose.’

  She had such a strange expression on her face that I was quite alarmed. ‘You don’t think it is something serious?’ I urged – and when she did not answer, I took it for assent. I shook my head. ‘I’m sure that Marcus would have told me if it were.’

  ‘It’s possible that Marcus does not know the cause himself.’ Gwellia sprinkled a few herbs into the cooking pot, sniffed and – seeming satisfied – put the lid back on it as she said, ‘Especially since he’s been away these last few days – no doubt busy with his duties in the town.’

  I stared at her. ‘You think she’s kept her sickness from him? It’s possible, I suppose – Marcus seemed to think she’d simply feasted far too well, or eaten things which disagreed with her. But there is a dreadful fever in the area which can strike you down quite suddenly, it seems. Cantalarius lost almost all his slaves to it. Let’s hope it isn’t that. When I last saw her she seemed in blooming health, but of course you’ve seen her since. Did you think then that something was amiss?’

  Gwellia gave me a most peculiar smile. ‘I don’t think “amiss” is quite the word I’d choose. Some people would think it merited a thankful sacrifice.’

  For a moment I could not work out what she meant. Then, belatedly, I realized. ‘You don’t mean …?’ But of course she did. Once you had thought of it, it was self-evident. That glow of health, the liking for strange foods, and then the sickness following. ‘You think she is with child?’

  ‘I’m sure she thinks she is. Of course she did not say so, in so many words, but she apologized for being late – said that she was suffering from sickness every day – and gave me a smile that told me everything. No doubt she wants to wait until she’s absolutely sure before she raises Marcus’s hopes.’ She grinned at me. ‘Husband, you are noted for your deductive cleverness! Surely the idea had occurred to you?’

  ‘I am no expert in such things,’ I muttered sulkily – and then wished I had not. Gwellia had been snatched with me and sold to slavery, so we’d spent twenty years in servitude, apart. What had happened to her in
those years I never asked, except to know they scarred her terribly. But it was not hard to speculate. Any slave girl is her master’s toy, though any children that she bears are sold or killed at birth – and Gwellia in her youth was very beautiful.

  She was still lovely now, though rather pained at my remark. I said quickly, ‘But you are a woman. I’ve no doubt you are right. So you think that she may not accompany him to Rome? Not even to pay homage to his friend the Emperor?’

  Gwellia was sprinkling more fresh herbs into the pot. ‘I think she would be foolish to even think of it. Travelling such distances is hard and dangerous enough, what with the chance of meeting bears and brigands on the way, and any passenger is always shaken half to bits. For her to attempt it when she is with child, unless it is a real necessity, is simple foolishness. I only hope that Marcus will permit her to remain.’

  ‘I’m sure he will,’ I murmured. ‘Marcus is unfashionably devoted to his wife.’

  She put the lid back on the stew again, stemming the fragrant steam that floated out of it. ‘He claims to be affectionate to you, as well – but he still demands that you come and go on these frozen roads to town. I shall be worried until you’re safely back, even if you do arrange to hire a mule. I suppose you’re sure our neighbour will agree to that?’

  ‘I think he’ll be delighted,’ I replied, grateful to have something positive to offer her. ‘I met him on the way to Marcus’s. He was on his way to try to bribe a priest to come out in the morning and make a sacrifice.’

  ‘To raise the curse he’s certain has been laid upon his land? He told me about that. He and his wife have had a dreadful year, it seems.’

  I nodded. ‘And you won’t have heard what happened at the Janus feast.’ I outlined what had happened. ‘So now they’re desperate – ready to give everything they have to bribe the priest. So the chance to earn some honest money by hiring out a mule will seem like an answer from the Fates, I rather think.’

  ‘Don’t forget you owe him something, too, for bringing me the news.’

  ‘One aureus should more than cover everything,’ I said. ‘I opened up the drawstring of my purse, and – feeling treacherous – added the gold coin from the table to the one already there. The small change I’d been carrying, left over from what I’d borrowed in the town, I pushed towards my wife. ‘And this is for you – so next time you want to buy necessities you will have plenty in your purse.’

  She smiled. ‘It will replace the money in the sandal fund. I used the last of it for Cantalarius. Which reminds me, do you want to go and call on him tonight? You have another hour before it’s really dark, and the fresh bedding is already cut and set to dry. The slaves are only gathering more reeds to make a new basket so I can store the eggs. One of the boys can easily be spared to walk with you.’

  I shook my head. ‘There is no point in my calling over there today – Cantalarius did not leave for Glevum until it was past noon. If I go now, I should be lucky to find that he’d returned from town – and besides it will no doubt start to freeze again quite soon. I’ll call on him tomorrow.’

  Gwellia looked doubtful. ‘But if this priest is coming, then you can’t well interrupt. You don’t want to spoil the ritual again.’

  ‘That will happen in the morning, if Cantalarius has his way. I’ll go and call there tomorrow afternoon. I should still have time to ride the mule to town – and get there soon enough to make a start on things.’ In time to reach the money-lenders before the close of trade, I meant.

  ‘So I suppose you’ll be away again a day or two at least?’ Gwellia gave a deep, exasperated sigh. ‘Well, at least this stew will make a warming lunch, and I’d better wrap up some bread and cheese for you to eat tomorrow night – you can buy things the next day from the street vendors.’

  ‘You’re good to me,’ I murmured, reaching out to her. ‘You know I won’t stay longer than I need.’

  She wriggled from my grasp and gave a knowing smile. ‘And in the meantime, if you have a little time to spare …’

  I could see that she was planning some household task for me, repairing the enclosure with fresh pointed stakes or helping the slave boys with the egg-baskets. I said quickly, ‘Not for a moment. I have work to do tonight. Marcus has given me a document to read.’

  Gwellia lit a taper and set it at my side. ‘You’ll need this light then; it’s too dark in here. What is it, anyway?’ She peered across my shoulder. ‘Looks like a sort of list.’

  ‘The names of Ulpius’s associates,’ I said importantly. ‘I am to investigate their probity and wealth.’

  ‘Well, why don’t you ask Lucius?’ she said. ‘He was a partner, wasn’t he? Surely he could tell you what you want to know.’

  It was a good suggestion but there was a flaw. ‘The trouble is, I am to be discreet. Marcus does not want Lucius to know that he has any interest in these individuals.’

  She shook her head. ‘But surely the search for Genialis gives you an excuse? If Silvia’s guardian wants to close the business down – and you say he made a public declaration of the fact – then that might concern these people very much. Perhaps it was one of them who sent that messenger to him. They might have a motive for luring him away, or even for seeing that he perished in the snow.’

  I nodded thoughtfully. ‘That message never reached him, but in principle you’re right. So I could question Lucius about them on that excuse alone – he need have no idea that Marcus is involved. Thank you, wife. An excellent idea. That could save me hours of fruitless questioning elsewhere.’

  I meant it and I showed my gratitude by calling in the boys and weaving egg baskets with them till it grew too dark to work.

  ELEVEN

  I lay awake a long time, all the same.

  I decided that I would tackle Lucius alone by calling on him at his warehouse in the town. I reasoned that – even if he’d been offered hospitality at Marcus’s overnight after delivering Silvia and her luggage to the house – he should be back in his Glevum warehouse by late afternoon. Of course I would have to pay the money-lenders before I went to him, but the docks are famous for working after dark – ships need to load and unload to catch tides and winds – so I calculated that, with luck, I could still arrive in time to find him at his desk. My excuse would be to volunteer to join the search: I could find out what progress had been made so far, and perhaps I could slip in some questions about his trading partners too.

  However, it was important that those questions seemed as casual as possible, and only to be related to the search – as though these were people I’d heard of for myself. I must give no hint that I had seen a list: so in the morning, as soon as I awoke, I turned my attention to my reading task. I spent several hours memorizing names and all the other information on the scroll.

  Gwellia, gods bless her, did her best to help. Reading is quite difficult for her, but she asked me questions till I had the facts by heart, served me a lunch of quite delicious stew, then gave me a packet of the promised bread and cheese and packed me off to see about the mule.

  ‘And take a servant with you! Minimus for choice – since you promised yesterday you’d take him the next time you went out. I don’t want you roaming those icy roads on foot. Remember what happened to that poor old herb woman.’ Her voice was gruff, which meant she was disguising tears. ‘Of course it will be different once you have a mule. Those creatures are more sure-footed than a man and they travel faster too. Now, I know I can’t expect you to come home again tonight.’ She brushed aside the servants to tie my cloak herself. ‘But given that you hire the animal, you should be home again quite shortly, shouldn’t you?’

  ‘Not if I’m to join the search for Genialis,’ I replied, reluctant to see the disappointment on her face. ‘And then there’s Minimus. He isn’t very big, but I doubt that Cantalarius’s skinny animal would carry both of us. So I could only travel as fast as he can walk. Though I suppose that I can drop him back here, on my way past to town.’

  The boy’s
face fell. I could see that he was fearing that I’d take Maximus again – who was a good deal smaller, despite the name his previous owner had bestowed on him. ‘I could stay in Glevum, Master!’ he proffered, eagerly. ‘That way you would only have to get me there today – and I would be waiting for you every other evening when you came. I could keep the fires burning so the workshop will be warm when you arrive, and make it much easier for you to live in town.’

  I made a doubtful face. If I took him with me, the trip to Glevum would take twice as long and if I was to search for Genialis on the road to Dorn, I was not likely to spend much time in the workshop anyway. I looked at Minimus, wondering how to tell him so without upsetting him – and displeasing Gwellia as well – but he gave me such a pleading look that I could not find the words.

  He must have sensed that I was wavering. ‘Let me come with you, Master. I promise you’ll be glad. In any case, it wouldn’t be for very long. In a few days’ time the weather will improve, and then you and I and Maximus and Master Junio can all walk together each way every day, just as we always have. In the meantime, I’ll bed down in the shop and attend you when you’re there – and I could deal with any customers who call. You never know who might and you could lose valuable business otherwise. I’ll just take my heavy cloak to be a blanket overnight, then all I’d need is a little bit of food, or a few sesterces to buy a pie or two.’

  But Gwellia was already putting extra oatcakes, cheese and hard-cooked eggs into the supper bag and thrusting it into my servant’s hand. ‘A very good suggestion, Minimus. You go with your master. And mind you take good care of him – and of yourself, as well. Now, be off, the pair of you, or it will be too late to bargain for the mule and still get to Glevum before dark. And make sure you check whether it could carry both of you – even if it’s only for a mile or two – that would help you get there before Lucius leaves the docks.’