A Roman Ransom

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A Roman Ransom Page 23

by Rosemary Rowe


  ‘I’ve just come from that direction,’ I observed. ‘There are a couple of girls over there, attending to Marcellinus by the look of it. But I didn’t see the doctor – though that doesn’t prove he wasn’t there. He might have gone inside the room, perhaps, to advise the maidservants on what to do?’

  The steward shook his head. ‘Naturally that was the first place I looked, but the slave-girls hadn’t seen him over there. Not since this morning early – though he did say then that he was coming back.’ He frowned. ‘I thought he might have gone back to his room – to consult those famous scrolls of his perhaps – but I can’t find any sign of him at all. That’s when I began to be alarmed.’

  I was beginning to be more than a little curious myself. ‘He hasn’t come past me. Have you searched the outer grounds?’ I said. ‘Up by the nymphaeum, possibly?’ There was a pleasant walk within the outer walls, up to the little spring and temple in the grounds, much of which was hidden from the house. ‘Or even the latrine.’

  The steward shook his head. ‘I’ve had two people searching everywhere.’ He waved a hand, as if to indicate the wideness of the search. ‘They’ve been right through the house and outbuildings. Even the slaves’ sleeping quarters and the winter woodpiles in the storage yard, but there’s still no sign of him.’ He gave a nervous laugh. ‘Unless he’s in the cesspit or the well, I can’t think where he can possibly have gone.’

  ‘Have you asked the gate-keepers, in case he’s left the house?’ I was all attention, suddenly. Whatever was the doctor up to now? Of course there was no legal reason why he shouldn’t leave the premises, if he decided to – unlike me he was not under arrest – but he must have known that Marcus wanted him. Even if something urgent had cropped up while Marcus had been occupied with me, it took a brave man to leave my patron in the lurch. ‘And what was that about a ransom note?’

  ‘I believe it was the slave-trader who brought it in,’ he said. ‘I don’t know any details at all. His Excellence is saying nothing, except “Where’s the medicus?” I was on my way to ask them at the gate. Perhaps that why I called out to you like that. I was thinking about Aulus, anyway.’

  ‘Thinking that if there was no keeper at the gate, the doctor might have slipped out unobserved?’

  The steward looked uncomfortable at this. ‘Perhaps he has simply walked out into the lane. I know that he was working on a theory about the kidnapping. He told me earlier that he thought he knew how it was done. I thought he might have gone outside to test out his ideas.’ His brow cleared. ‘Perhaps he has. But you would have expected him to say so, wouldn’t you? Not just to disappear? You don’t think . . .’

  ‘That he has been kidnapped too?’ I said. ‘I doubt it very much.’

  The steward nodded. ‘I’m sure I’m worrying for nothing, citizen. It’s probable he’s just gone for a stroll along the lane. To see where the ransom bag was left, perhaps.’

  To plant more so-called evidence in my house, more like, I thought. Or to meet up with his confederates, now that the other ransom note was here? But the steward was clearly in the doctor’s confidence and it was not wise to voice my doubts aloud. Instead I murmured, ‘Let’s go and see what Aulus has to say.’

  The steward seemed grateful for my sympathy. ‘A good idea,’ he said, and fell into step with me. He even offered me his arm to lean upon. ‘We won’t go through the atrium, perhaps. My master will be there and he’ll be furious with me for not finding the doctor when he wanted him. This way.’ He opened the small side door from the court, which gave on to a narrow passageway and afforded the servants access to the front. ‘I’m sure there’s really no mystery at all,’ he fretted, allowing me to pass. ‘Only, citizen, I went into Philades’ room just now, to see if he was there. And, well . . . it looks as if his box and books are gone.’

  That stopped me where I stood. ‘Then I think you should tell His Excellence at once,’ I said, attempting to sound dispassionate, but actually full of unreasonable hope. If the doctor had absconded suddenly, and there was another demand for ransom, even Marcus would be forced to re-examine his ideas. ‘At once,’ I said again.

  Too forceful. The steward was worried on his own account. ‘We’ll speak to Aulus first,’ he said. ‘I don’t want to alarm the master unnecessarily. Jove only knows what he will say if he discovers that Philades is gone. That I have been neglectful, I expect.’ He sighed. ‘Well, here we are.’

  We had crossed the outer courtyard by this time and reached the little guard-niche by the gate, where the gate-keeper performed his unenviable task of keeping watch on visitors and passers-by from a small spyhole in the wall. It was cramped and airless, even in this wind, but it provided some shelter from the rain and I was glad to follow the steward into it. It smelt of stale sweat and onions.

  Aulus was in there, perching on the stone seat and peering idly out into the lane, where the slave-trader’s covered cart could just be seen. It was perishingly cold in his little hidey-hole and I wondered that he had not worn his cloak. It seemed the bear-like Aulus scorned such luxuries – though he was wearing several tunics, I observed.

  When he saw us he lumbered to his feet, and favoured me with a ferocious glower. Aulus is a powerful, big, bad-tempered man and I began to wish I hadn’t borrowed that wretched cape myself.

  I was about to stammer an apology for appropriating it, but the steward had forestalled me. ‘We are looking for the medicus,’ he said, with the peremptory air that chief slaves always reserve for their inferiors. ‘Have you seen him pass this way at all?’

  Aulus looked surprised. ‘Of course. He went out just a little while ago, to look over the slaves that are for sale, I understand.’

  ‘Ah!’ the steward said, with undisguised relief. ‘That explains it. A small misunderstanding, that is all. The slave he was to examine is in the atrium. The master is awaiting him impatiently. I’ll go and fetch him in.’ He flashed me a conspiratorial smile. ‘You wanted to talk to Aulus, didn’t you?’

  It was a signal that I was to stay where I was inside the gate. After all, I was officially under house arrest. However, what the steward said was true, although he could not know it. I did want to speak to Aulus. My new theory about the kidnapping had raised new questions for the gate-keeper. But Aulus and I have never seen exactly eye to eye, and I felt at a special disadvantage now that I had used his cloak without consulting him. I seized my unexpected opportunity with some trepidation.

  ‘About the day that Julia disappeared . . .’ I began.

  Aulus looked more than ordinarily sour. ‘I’ve told you everything I know,’ he grumbled sullenly.

  ‘I’m interested in the moment that Julia came back from visiting,’ I said, trying to sound as friendly as I could. ‘She drew up in the carriage, and complained that she’d seen people in the lane?’

  ‘And I went down there to investigate. That’s right.’ Aulus gave a theatrical sigh. ‘I’ve been through all this with the medicus. And I’ll say the same thing to you as I said to him. It’s no good trying to pin any blame on me. I was just obeying orders.’

  So Philades had been playing his little games again! What was the doctor up to? There was only one way to find out. ‘Of course you were,’ I murmured soothingly. ‘You hadn’t any choice. They were the mistress’s instructions, after all?’

  He looked a little mollified at this mendacious ploy, but a brusque nod was all the answer I received.

  ‘Except I don’t think it was Julia at all,’ I said.

  ‘Of course it was.’ Aulus was running a thick tongue round his lips, as if it helped him with his powers of recall. ‘It’s like I told the medicus. I think I saw the mistress through the window space, though I wouldn’t swear on Jupiter to that – it was one of those hired carriages with a leather flap that you can raise – but I know I saw her getting down and going inside the house.’

  I looked at him intently. ‘But you weren’t anywhere close by, were you? You were walking down the lane, checking out the
movement in the trees?’

  He frowned. ‘Well, I suppose I was, but I’m sure it was the mistress all the same. I noticed that she had the baby in her arms, and that for once he seemed to be asleep. She gave him to the wet nurse while the driver helped her down.’

  ‘And you are sure that it was Julia you saw?’

  He answered in the same way as Porphyllia had done when I asked her about the child. ‘Of course it was the mistress. Who else would it have been?’ He ran his tongue round his lips again. ‘In any case, I recognised the clothes. It was just what she went out in – blue cape, blue hood, and that purply stola thing she wears. And Myrna was with her all the time, and she ought to know her mistress, oughtn’t she? And it certainly was Myrna. I spoke to her myself. And I was close enough to her.’

  There was something in the tone in which he said the words and the leering expression on his face which reminded me of what Porphyllia had said about his groping hands. No doubt Myrna had been subjected to his attentions too. Yet it occurred to me that a man whose mind is on a shapely female he’s about to pinch may not have his full attention on what’s happening elsewhere. A false Julia, for example, might pass him easily. I was about to challenge him on this point when suddenly another piece of the mosaic slotted into place.

  ‘Julia had been to visit friends?’ I said.

  Aulus stared at me. ‘But of course. The Grappius family – or the wife, at least. The master was with the husband in the town. They were at an ordo meeting for the day. You knew that, didn’t you?’

  I made a non-committal sound. It seemed unlikely that the councillor and his wife were any part of this – it was hard to see what they could hope to gain – but I suppose they could not be entirely ruled out. If we learned nothing sensible from Myrna’s sister, I would have to suggest to Marcus that he search the Grappius house and ensure that they could account for their actions on that day – though I knew he would not like it, and it was even more certain that his friends would not. But no doubt there would be slaves and witnesses to prove that Julia had really left the premises.

  And then, what?

  My brain teemed with questions. If she did get into the carriage intending to come home, what happened on the way? Did she ask the carriage-driver to stop and let her out? If so, it would have to be at her own request, unless it was a hold-up – in which case, presumably we should have heard of it, unless the driver was party to the plot as well. To shop, perhaps? That would make sense. And she had wanted to buy some teething remedy. Suppose she went into the house we’d seen, and someone was lying in wait there to strip her clothes from her and take her place. Far easier to do it there than in a public spot. And in that case, would the driver have noticed if the hooded lady who stepped into his carriage was not the same one as got out of it? It was distinctly possible that he would not – especially if her attendant was obviously the same and still had a sleeping infant in her arms. But he would know for certain where he’d stopped the coach!

  I needed to trace that driver as soon as possible. I was seven kinds of idiot not to have asked about him before – though until I realised that Julia had not been kidnapped from the house, what happened earlier in the day had not seemed particularly significant.

  ‘Would you recognise the driver?’ I said to Aulus. ‘Was it the same one every time?’

  He furrowed his brow in a parody of concentration. ‘I think so, citizen. I hadn’t stopped to think. I know there are a pair of them that drive the coach. Now if I just had something to refresh my memory . . .’

  I was wondering whether Marcus would think it worth a bribe when suddenly the steward hurried in. His face was flushed and flustered and he was badly out of breath. He ignored the gate-keeper and came straight to me. ‘Citizen?’ he panted.

  ‘What is it?’ He was puffing so heavily I was concerned for him.

  He shook his head as if he couldn’t voice the words, but at last he recovered enough to speak. ‘It’s the medicus, citizen,’ he managed finally, although the words came out in little breathless spurts. ‘He had his . . . box and books with him . . . but he didn’t stop . . . to look at slaves at all. Slave-trader’s assistant . . . out there with the cart . . . doctor told him . . . needed urgently in town . . . ignored slave-cages . . . and went rushing down the lane.’

  I looked at his red face and heaving chest. ‘So you went running after him?’ I prompted. No wonder the poor man was out of breath. He was a senior servant and no longer young. It must have been many moons since he had been required to move at anything other than the most dignified of glides.

  He nodded. ‘Right down to the corner of the lane,’ he gasped. He was sounding a little more coherent now, but he was still pressing a hand against his heart. ‘I did see Malodius . . . in the distance with the cart . . . but there was no sign . . . of Philades at all. It rather looks as if he’s run away.’

  Chapter Twenty-four

  ‘Run away? The doctor? Why, whatever for?’ Aulus’s open-mouthed expression was almost comical – like the mask the actors put on in a theatre to represent the fool. ‘He hasn’t upset the master, surely to Jupiter?’

  The steward shook his head, still breathless. ‘I don’t believe so. In fact Marcus is asking for his help – that’s why we’re looking for him now. I don’t know. It’s inexplicable. I can’t believe he’s done a thing like this. Why, only this morning . . .’ He broke off and shook his head again.

  Aulus gave his snaggled-toothed, ugly grin. ‘He’s just gone off on some errand or other, steward, you mark what I say. And whatever it is, he’ll charge the master high. He’s a clever sort of devil. Knows which urn his wine is coming from. He’s got himself a really cosy little set-up here: a regular little income and a lot of influence,’ he said approvingly. I was just thinking that one could rely on Aulus to see the mercenary angle when he added, with a note of malicious pleasure in his voice, ‘In fact, the physician’s turned into such a favourite with the master that he’s almost taken over from that cloak-thief over there.’ He seemed to mean the steward, I was surprised to see. I thought I was the cloak-thief if anybody was!

  The steward looked unhappy. ‘I know the master was beginning to ask the medicus for advice, but I hardly think . . .’

  The gate-keeper interrupted him – when you are as big as Aulus is, you can sometimes afford to take a risk like that with your superiors. ‘Oh, come on, steward, you know quite well I’m right,’ he said with an unpleasant wink, baring his broken teeth at us again. ‘I heard you saying just the same thing last night to the cook. The doctor knows exactly how to get his just rewards – unlike some people round here I could name. I’ve watched him working his way into the master’s favour with his scrolls and his special diets. He’s set up for life here, if he plays it right. He wouldn’t throw all that away and just run off for good. As I say, he is up to something. He’ll be back again, see if he’s not.’

  The steward looked a little brighter. ‘I suppose you’re right,’ he said. ‘I know the master offered him an enormous fee to leave his previous employer and come here instead.’

  Aulus was still grinning like an ogre. ‘You see? He wouldn’t risk throwing a salary like that away unless his life depended on it. I wouldn’t, in his place.’

  ‘Not unless he was hoping to gain a greater sum,’ I put in soberly. The two slaves boggled at me in astonishment. I had not voiced my suspicions of the doctor up to now, but if I wanted somebody sent after Philades I would have to persuade the steward to do it soon, or it would be too late. I decided that the time had come to express what I had been thinking all along – after all, the medicus had gone off without a word, and there was just a chance that I might be believed.

  Well, there was only one way to find out. I took it. ‘If he is due to have a share of that ransom money, for example,’ I explained.

  Aulus muttered, ‘But surely . . .’ just as the steward cried, ‘By all the gods . . .’ They both stopped together and stared at me again.

&nbs
p; The steward was the first to find his voice. ‘Citizen, you can’t be serious in this. The medicus is a very learned man. Not at all the sort of person you would expect . . .’ He trailed off helplessly.

  ‘Clever?’ I suggested. ‘And resourceful too? I agree. And he is capable of taking unexpected risks and making quick decisions – we’ve seen that today.’

  ‘But kidnapping? And ransom? That’s quite another thing. And what has he to do with Lallius?’

  ‘It does seem rather out of character,’ I allowed. ‘But surely, that’s the cleverest part of it. He was the very last man you’d suspect – just as Mryna was the last person you’d suspect of taking risks with Marcellinus. That was probably exactly why he used her in his plans. And the doctor did know Lallius’s family. We were told that from the start. Perhaps he was promised a very large reward – as Aulus said, he was quite capable of demanding one.’

  ‘But suddenly demanding huge sums of ransom money from the master? Why would he do that? He could make a handsome living anywhere he chose. A man in his position . . .’

  ‘And what was his position, exactly?’ I enquired. ‘A citizen – with no more independence than a slave, because he has no money of his own? Forced to be in somebody’s employ and at his master’s beck and call – and yet a person who is very conscious of his worth? Intelligent, quick-thinking and not afraid of risks? I think a man like that is more than capable of mounting such a plot.’

  They were still gaping like barbarians for the first time at the games. Obviously they’d never thought of Philades in that way.

  I was sympathetic. ‘You know, he had me completely fooled at first. He had persuaded me that he was slow and logical and completely unbending in his thoughts and attitudes. I suppose that only shows how clever and inventive he can really be. Don’t underestimate the sharpness of his mind.’

 

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