Junio stabbed another spoon of gruel at me. ‘You are a cynic, master. Your patron was genuinely concerned about your health. He would have had you up there two days ago and more, but the medicus arrived and said that you could not be moved. But I expect you’re right. Now that he’s let this Lallius fellow go, presumably he’ll get his wife and infant back, so you have lost your chance.’
This time I did sit bolt upright. ‘He’s let Lallius go? Already? Dear gods! I thought at least he’d talk to me again before he rushed into anything like that. Junio, I’m afraid I fear the worst. He does not even know who he is dealing with. There could be more demands. He has no guarantee of anything, not even a firm promise of how and when they will be returned. Or has he had some message that I haven’t heard about?’
‘I don’t believe so, master.’ Junio looked instantly penitent. ‘I should have woken you. I wanted to – I know he really came here to try to talk to you – but when he heard that you were still asleep he changed his mind and insisted that I should leave you undisturbed.’
‘Marcus has been here again? Today?’
‘He looked in with the medicus a little while ago – on his way to the basilica, he said. Poor man. He looked as if he hadn’t slept at all. He’d had the high priest of Jupiter up there half the night, and between them they’ve found a way to handle the matter. I was to tell you that. He’d decided to do what the abductors said, without appearing to. He was pretty shaken and extremely grim. I think he was unhappy at trifling with the law. You know how he always prides himself on being strictly just.’
‘So he is proposing to overrule the magistrate who presided at the preliminary court?’ I could hardly believe it. Junio was right. Marcus would have cut his own hand off rather than betray his role of trust – in any other circumstances but these.
Junio shrugged. ‘Not that exactly. They’ve hit on some legal quibble which will allow him to dismiss the case. It is only a pretext. Something about the official sacrifice and the magistrate in question coming late and failing to observe some minor rite – crossing the threshold with his left foot first, or something of the kind. It’s the sort of thing that these days would ordinarily be ignored, but once the high priest has identified the lapse, it is enough to throw question on all proceedings for that day by making the magistrate unpropitious – “nefas”, as they say.’
‘So any decisions that he made that day can be annulled, without making Marcus seem to be personally involved, or drawing attention to any accused person in particular? I hope it works. It’s so unusual for courts to be annulled that people are bound to wonder why. If news of Julia’s abduction has already reached the town – as almost certainly it has, since Marcus had all the passers-by brought in and questioned – someone is certain to put two and two together in the end.’
Junio clearly did not share my reservations. ‘Even if they do,’ he said, ‘they won’t be able to prove anything, not even who he wanted to set free. It isn’t fair, of course, because other offenders will get off as well and the magistrate will have to pay a fine. However, you must admit it does what was required. Not only will Lallius – among others – be released, but, because the formula itself has failed, he will be free from any legal charge, at least until Julia and Marcellinus are returned. Then, Marcus says, he’ll bring him in again, and those who helped him, too – on charges of conspiracy if nothing else – and Dis knows there’ll be no mercy for any of them then. Marcus will conduct the case himself.’
‘That is exactly what worries me,’ I said. ‘It doesn’t take a rune-reader to see that’s what he’d do. And that he’ll make the punishment as harsh as possible. So, is it likely that these people will simply let their victims go? Julia knows who they are.’
‘You think so, master?’ He was still attempting to spoon gruel into me.
I was getting tired of eating it by now and I dodged his ministrations long enough to say, ‘She must do, don’t you see? It’s not as if they were a band of unknown brigands who had burst into the villa with their faces covered and their daggers drawn. There was no disturbance of any kind at all. There were lots of slaves about and the door-keepers say there were no strangers in the house, and all visitors have been accounted for. But someone must have seen these people come or go. And that suggests . . .?’
‘That the kidnappers were people who often came and went!’ He was delighted with his reasoning. I had a mouthful of cold gruel by now, but I nodded my approval. I have long encouraged Junio to work things out like this – just as I have taught him how to work with stone. ‘So you think it’s somebody the household knows?’ he went on. ‘Or several somebodies – whose faces are familiar to the gate-keepers? I see. That does explain how they got in, at least – though how they managed to smuggle Julia and the child out is another matter. There was no sound or sign of any struggle in the court. They must have been abducted by a trick.’
‘I think that’s possible. It would obviously be much easier to get Julia past the gate if she was somehow persuaded to co-operate.’
Junio was slowly following my train of thought. ‘I still can’t understand it. The gates are always guarded. You don’t think she might be hidden in the house, or grounds?’
‘Not if Marcus searched it fully, which I’m sure he did. Or unless she and the child are already dead, of course. Bodies might be hidden easily enough.’ I saw the look of horror on his face, and wished I hadn’t voiced my thought. I added, for myself as much as Junio, ‘But we can take some comfort from the note. That wasn’t from the villa, and it had pieces of Julia’s hair and gown on it. It seems more likely she’s being held elsewhere.’
He nodded doubtfully. ‘Let’s hope that you are right – that she was lured out by an urgent message, or something of the kind. In fact, if Julia was somehow persuaded to go out willingly, she might even have evaded the door-keeper of her own accord. Though, obviously, she is a prisoner now.’
‘Exactly.’ I remembered this time not to nod myself. The rocks inside my head were clattering again, probably in protest against all this thought. ‘But you do see that once Lallius is free, she has no further value to the kidnappers? Quite the opposite. She is a threat, since she can presumably tell Marcus who they are. So it might actually be dangerous to let Lallius go.’
‘But what else can Marcus do?’ Junio was so desolate he let his spoon relax. ‘Julia and the child are in danger anyway. And if he had refused to comply with these demands, what do you suppose would happen to them then? These people have already torn pieces from her dress and hair. They obviously aren’t treating her with very much respect. And as for that poor child . . .’
I opened my mouth to say that as long as Lallius remained in custody, at least we had something we could bargain with, but Junio, recovering, was too quick for me and before the words got out the gruel got in. I was still spluttering and swallowing when Kurso darted into the room.
He always was a nervous, edgy child but now, standing there with his cheeks flushed and his fingers tugging at his tunic hem, he was positively quivering with suppressed anxiety. ‘M-m-master?’ he stammered.
‘What is it, Kurso?’ I spoke as gently as I could, but he was evading my eyes as usual.
‘Master, there is a c-c-carriage at the gate. Your p-p-patron’s here. I am sent to see if you are s-s-still asleep.’
‘Which you are obviously not!’ broke in a familiar voice. All eyes turned to the doorway and there was the man himself. He was in full regalia, dressed for his attendance at the court: his snowy linen toga was banded with wide stripes of purple and a wreath of laurel, signifying justice, was set upon his curls, giving him a solemn dignity. His handsome cloak was fastened by a gem-encrusted brooch; he had a heavy gold torc round his neck – a tribute present from some Celtic chief – and he had his favourite baton in his hand. He looked the personification of a magistrate, a walking symbol of Roman legal power. He was attended by his favourite page, a slim, good-looking youth with sleek black hair and darting
eyes, in the ostentatious uniform of all Marcus’s messengers – a short-cut crimson tunic edged with gold, and a striking cape to match. And lurking behind them was the medicus.
If I was Lallius, I thought, I would be awed.
However, there was a smile on my patron’s face, and the haunted look of yesterday had gone. He bounded over to my bed at once, ignoring my servants and their rather less-than-graceful bows.
‘Good morning, my old friend – almost good afternoon, in fact. I am sorry to disturb your meal but glad to find that you’re awake and in good health.’ He extended a hand for me to kiss, and I raised myself and touched my lips to the heavy seal ring on the finger.
‘Good morning, Excellence. I see from your manner that the news is good. I hear you found a way to meet the kidnappers’ demands.’
He laughed ‘Am I so transparent? Well, it’s true. And I’ve received a promise of my family’s release.’ He spoke with confidence, but he was anxious all the same: I could tell from the way he moved around the room, fiddling with the weaving loom hanging on the wall and tapping his baton on his hand – a sure sign that he was inwardly disturbed.
I said carefully, ‘Well, I am very pleased to hear it. I was afraid that you would not. So Julia and the child are safe. I can understand why you’re relieved.’
The page, who was standing close to me, put on a pious face and flashed me a warning glance. ‘Citizen, this matter is surely a confidential one. Your slaves . . .?’
It was impudent. I stared at him. My patron always chose his personal messengers for their striking looks, and this boy was no exception. I had encountered him before. He was called Pulcrus, ‘the good-looking one’, and he deserved the name. The trouble was, he was aware of it, which made him – as now – depressingly self-confident and self-satisfied.
‘We may speak quite freely in front of both my slaves,’ I said. With Marcus there I did not dare deliver a more overt rebuke. ‘They have my confidence, and His Excellence himself was here last night, talking quite openly about the affair.’
The page turned pinker than his tunic, but it was impossible to deflate his self-conceit for long. ‘One cannot be too cautious, citizen,’ he said.
I looked at Marcus, but he was ignoring us and fingering the weaving on the loom ‘I presume, Excellence, that you’ve had instructions of some kind,’ I said.
His forced, cheerful air was back again. ‘I have only to go back to the villa, and when it gets dark, leave the outer gate ajar with no one guarding it. “Then what you have lost will be returned to you.” That’s what the message said.’
‘What sort of message?’
‘Another scribbled note on a strip of bark. Much like the first. I found it waiting for me in the council room, a moment after the announcement had been made. I had my page make the proclamation in the forum, publicly, from the steps of the basilica so that all the crowd could hear. Did Junio tell you what we had decided we were going to say?’
I nodded. ‘More or less.’
‘I did not altogether know what to expect, or how the kidnappers would contact me, but I went back into the council room, and there it was – a guard had found it on the floor and handed it to me. My name was written on the outside of the scroll. It was tied up with another section of Julia’s dress, and sealed with her ring. I knew immediately what it was.’
‘He didn’t see who left it?’
He made a little face. ‘No chance of that. The forum was as crowded as it always is, and there were hordes of people on the steps as well – there is a lot of business in the court today.’
‘But who could have got into the council room?’
‘Well, almost anyone. The councillors, of course. The slaves who clean the place. The guards. Or almost anyone with business in the court – and there were enough of those today.’ He looked embarrassed.
It was the medicus who hastened to explain. ‘There were several bakers there, presenting a complaint. We’ve had a lot of rain these last few months, and the standard of the grain ration is poor. It’s begun to sprout, they say, and is turning sour, so it is impossible to use. They want the corn officer dismissed and forced to pay.’
Marcus shrugged. ‘The town has brought in grain from warehouses elsewhere, but that has proved expensive and it hasn’t helped. These bakers get their friends and families to come into the forum and demand a trial by popular acclaim – like the old “people’s court” there used to be. And other people come to urge them on and bring petitions to the council room. It’s quite impossible to keep them out. Any of them could have left the note.’
I gazed at him. ‘So you will leave the gates of your villa open and unguarded in the dark, and hope your wife and baby are returned?’
I had put it very bluntly and it appeared to sober him. The falsely cheerful smile faded. ‘There will be no further danger to the house. All the inside servants will be armed. I shall have secret watchers put in place, of course.’
‘And you don’t think the kidnappers will be expecting that? And be ready to take action if you do?’
The hunted look had come back to his face. ‘The hidden guards will make no move until my family is returned. That’s obvious. I can’t endanger them.’
‘So you’ll have to let the abductors think they’ve got away? Get clear of the villa grounds, in fact? Suppose that they disappear into the woods? It would not be difficult – the area around the house is forest everywhere.’
He shrugged. At that moment he looked an aged man. ‘That is just a risk I have to take. But what else can I do? Julia is in danger of her life, and Marcellinus too. But the kidnappers won’t get away. I’ll see to that. And you, my friend, are going to come up to the villa as my guest and help make sure they don’t. Provided that the medicus agrees.’
Chapter Five
Only a little while earlier I had been joking that I would enjoy the luxury of staying in the villa for a day or two, but suddenly I didn’t want to go.
This was not mere contrariness. Now that Marcus had let Lallius go, I feared the worst. Political ransoms of this sort are rare but they are always difficult to deal with, and this one seemed particularly so. The abduction had obviously been carried out with considerable care and cunning, and the kidnappers had won resoundingly. Marcus had no guarantee of any kind that his wife and child would really be released – in fact he did not even know for sure who he was dealing with: I was convinced we hadn’t heard the end of it, and that there would be new and more extreme demands.
However, if my fears were proved correct – or even if they weren’t – I knew how my patron would react. Torn between love and duty he’d be beside himself. He’d ask for my advice at every turn – and very likely ignore it anyway – but if anything went wrong it would always be my fault, for not counselling him to do things differently. Since he had already involved the high priest of Jupiter in this, I would much prefer that he continued to seek sacerdotal help: then, no matter what counsel he received or what the outcome was, it could all be blamed upon the gods.
However, I could not refuse outright to help, and once Marcus had decided on a course it was extremely difficult to change his mind. In vain I pleaded that I was happy where I was, and that I would make a swifter recovery in my own domain, surrounded by my loving wife and slaves.
Marcus dismissed my protestations with a lofty wave. His house was warmer, it was free of draughts and smoke, the food was plentiful and better quality, and the medicus would be at hand to keep an eye on me. As to my household, they could come as well, if I so desired, although any of his servants would be at my beck and call. Indeed, since I was obviously still feeling delicate, he would order his cook to make special food for me and provide a slave to taste it before I ate, to make sure that I didn’t swallow the seeds of any more disease.
‘In fact, old friend,’ he finished cheerfully, ‘you could come with us now. I have a carriage standing at the door. Philades can walk back to the house.’
At this point
, however, the doctor intervened. ‘Your pardon, Excellence. The patient is not well enough for that,’ he said, and I wondered again at the privilege of contradiction his job afforded him. ‘It is possible that he could be transferred this afternoon, but proper preparations must be made. The bedding must be put into the sun to air, and the room warmed up before he comes – an extra brazier in addition to the under-floor hypocaust. And jolting in a carriage is not a good idea. He would be better on a covered litter, where he can be transported lying down, and wrapped in blankets to prevent a chill. After the sun has passed its height, perhaps, to take advantage of what warmth there is. I will accompany him, of course, and give him a potion to help him sleep through the ordeal. Under those conditions, I would be prepared to countenance the move – though necessarily there is a risk. Although I do not think he is infectious now.’
Marcus is not accustomed to taking orders, and I expected an outburst at this high-handed tone, but my patron merely nodded meekly. ‘As you say.’
Of course, Marcus would hardly be the first to forgive a gifted doctor for failures of respect. There is the famous story about Thersis, a young medicus in Rome, who – having bought himself too many expensive hand-copied books – was forced to sell himself into slavery to pay his debts. He too gave orders to his owners all the time, but he was so skilled at healing that they put up with it: so much so that when he later tried to buy his freedom back, they set such a high value on him that he could not afford the price and he ended as a runaway with a bounty on his head. All this was more than twenty years ago, but the attitude of doctors had obviously not changed.
Nevertheless, I hadn’t expected my patron to show such tolerance. He was almost deferential as he said, ‘Everything shall be arranged exactly as the doctor recommends. So, Libertus, that is settled then.’
A Roman Ransom Page 5
