A Roman Ransom

by Rosemary Rowe

  Marcus was ignoring all of this and gazing at a writing tablet in his hands. He wasn’t angry, as I thought he might have been. His face was anguished and there was perspiration on his brow.

  Another man might have realised that there was no chance of a sale, but the trader was persisting with his wheedling talk. ‘Very rare, Excellence. Very fine. A special price for you.’ His Latin was fluent but ungrammatical, and he was wringing his hands as if he could somehow squeeze a bargain out of them. ‘I traded a whole cart of slaves for them. You remember last time that I come . . .’

  Marcus looked up and interrupted, in a weary tone. ‘I bought all you had, I know, and asked for more. But things are different now. Ah, Libertus. You have news for me?’ This time he did stretch out his hand to me.

  I stumbled to my knees and kissed it thankfully. ‘I believe so, Excellence.’

  ‘Very well.’ He motioned me to rise, then snapped his fingers at the visitor. ‘I’ll take the girl. Put all the rest away. Speak to my steward for your money when you have finished packing up.’ He turned to me, paying no attention to my little retinue. ‘Now, what is it that you have to say? I warn you, it had better be significant. I am in no mood for trivialities. You have heard that I received another note?’

  I nodded and rose slowly to my feet, trying to ignore the turbaned man who was now snatching up his precious wares almost from underneath our feet and placing them carefully in a lined wooden chest. ‘The slave-trader brought it in, I understand?’

  The fellow had been listening, for he stopped in the act of winding up a bale of damson silk, and came to bow before me as though I were a person of some consequence. Perhaps my small crowd of followers had led to that mistake. ‘It was give me as I drive up to the door. A man on horseback, that is all I know. He wear a toga, so I know he wealthy man. I take the packet, and I bring it in. I no idea what it contains, I swear by Isis and all the gods of Nile.’

  ‘He paid you to take it, I suppose?’ I said. It was not an accusation, I was merely thinking aloud, but the trader was instantly afraid.

  ‘Only a denarius, most gracious citizen. My cart is standing in the road, across the gate, and he cannot get past. He say “No answer is required” and gallop off. I am a poor man, citizen. I not turn down an honest chance to earn.’

  Of course the fellow was unfortunate. He obviously could not know about the kidnapping – Marcus had succeeded in keeping his misfortune from the gossips in the town. But a denarius was such a handsome tip that I would have thought twice before accepting it. I’d have known at once that something was amiss, and the errand was likely to prove rather dangerous.

  Marcus, however, had waved all this aside. ‘Of course, of course, I am not blaming you. It’s obvious this person, whoever he might be, did not wish to come up to the gate. If you had not been there, he would most likely just have thrown the tablet in over the wall, like the last time. The problem is not who brought it in, but that it came at all. So, when you have finshed with your cloths . . .’

  He waited pointedly until the trader had first bundled up his goods, and then – walking backwards and clasping the box of fabrics against his chest – bowed himself and the naked wet nurse out.

  Only then did Marcus burst out, bitterly, ‘You know how much they are demanding now?’

  I shook my head, and he named a sum which made me whistle in surprise. My patron is a very wealthy man, but even he would have some trouble in amassing it.

  ‘By tomorrow, at the lastest, that is the demand. Or else they will return Julia to me, a little at a time.’ His voice was slurred with wine, but there was no mistaking the raw anguish in his tone. ‘And to show that they are serious, they have sent me this.’ He handed me a little leather bag, whose drawstrings had been used to hold the tablet closed. It held what looked like a bloodstained fingertip, a woman’s, neatly severed at the joint.

  Shock and numbing horror made me speak before I thought. ‘Of course, that might not be Julia’s at all . . .’ and then I stumbled to a stop. That was no solace, in the circumstances. If the man who sent it was capable of doing this to anyone at all, he was capable of doing it to Julia.

  ‘I cannot take the chance,’ Marcus murmured in despair. ‘We’ve seen what these people did to Myrna, too. I’m to leave the money in the woods tomorrow night, close to where we left the bag before.’ He sighed. ‘The guards are to be withdrawn from Lallius’s street as well, at least until after the father’s funeral. Julia will be returned to us next day.’ He frowned. ‘I didn’t know that he was even dead.’

  I was wondering whether to urge him to attempt a compromise and point out that the kidnappers had not honoured their promises so far, when my wife moved swiftly to my side, and made a deep obeisance of her own.

  ‘With your permission, Excellence?’ Her voice was low and sweet.

  My patron gave her the phantom of a smile. ‘Well?’

  Gwellia, with a dignity which made me proud of her, told Marcus everything that she’d told me about the situation in the coin inspector’s house. ‘I can tell you this of my own knowledge, Excellence,’ she finished, dropping him a bob.

  ‘So Lallius needs to come back for the funeral,’ he said, ‘to take possession of his father’s goods – and wants to ensure we don’t arrest him on the way. Well, let him try. I’ll have to withdraw the soldiers from the streets, for Julia’s sake, but once she is safely back to me, I’ll search the Empire till I find him out. The fact that he’s inherited a large estate won’t help him then: there’s no sum large enough to bribe my private guards. Or the army either, when I have done with them.’

  My patron obviously meant that he would bribe them himself – but I wondered if he would have any fortune left, if those demands were met. And he had no guarantee that he would ever see his wife again alive. But there was no point in saying any of that. ‘That letter talks about the funeral,’ I said. ‘So the writer must have known Numidius was dead. Does that suggest that Lallius is in Glevum, do you think?’

  ‘He knew the death was imminent.’ Marcus was dismissive of such trivialities. ‘They sent a message to the prison, after all.’

  I was aware that I was frowning. ‘But it is odd,’ I said. ‘If he knew he was about to inherit everything, why would he need to set up a kidnapping to ensure you set him free? Even if his father cut off his allowance, as he was always threatening, Lallius would have been able to pay the fine a thousandfold as soon as Numidius was dead. He must have been aware of that.’

  Gwellia nodded. ‘And why choose Julia and Marcellinus to abduct? There are other women in the town who would be easier targets, I am sure, and with less risk as well – though perhaps their husbands did not have judicial power or could not be relied upon to pay. Certainly not as handsomely as you.’

  I stared at her. I had been over the same thoughts in my mind a hundred times, but suddenly the pattern took a different form. It was too early to say anything to Marcus yet – I would seem too foolish if it proved that I was wrong – but a visit to the stables might show if I was right.

  ‘And there is the question of the hiring-stables, Excellence,’ I said, and told him what I knew. ‘The man who drove the carriage when Julia disappeared. I believe that he’s a member of Myrna’s family. And Philades used one of their vehicles to get away from here.’ I did not add that I had always had suspicions of the man, but I could see by my patron’s face that he had not forgotten that.

  ‘Then I suppose we must go after him,’ he acknowledged slowly. The admission pained him, I could see.

  It was Gwellia who changed the subject. ‘Talking of Myrna’s family, by the way, whatever happened to her little girl?’

  I stared at her. I had not asked myself the question, though I should have done.

  Marcus was animated, all at once, though he could not entirely overcome the wine. ‘No doubt she is with her grandmother – and probably at the hiring-stables too. Where else would the family have gone? And of course the sister will be there
.’ He was on his feet. ‘Very well, Libertus, you shall have your way. We’ll pay a visit to these stables and see what we can find. Maximus! Minimus!’ He clapped his hands, and two anxious faces peered round the door. ‘See that the carriage is prepared for me. As soon as possible.’

  Maximus obediently disappeared at once, but Minimus lingered long enough to say, ‘Master, that woman you brought in for questioning . . .?’

  Marcus sighed. ‘Leave her under lock and key. I’m certain she can wait.’ He glimpsed Gwellia’s anguished face, and said impatiently, ‘Oh, and send some bread and water in – for the children anyway. Now go, and do as you are bid. And send Pulcrus to attend me – I am going to get ready to go out.’

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Even then, it seemed to take for ever before we were on our way. As the steward had predicted, it took some time for the carriage to be readied for the trip. Marcus was back in the atrium by now, tapping his baton on his leg – a sure sign that he was getting restless – and attempting to explain to Gwellia why there was no room in the carriage for her to come with us.

  ‘But you will have to take attendants, surely, Excellence?’ Her tone was humble, and she looked demurely up at him from under downcast lids.

  He looked at her impatiently, but she gave him her most appealing smile. ‘And supposing that you want to make arrests?’

  Marcus was susceptible to female wiles, and she managed to persuade him, where I could never have. So when we set off down the lane at last, after the slave-trader and his lumbering wagon had been paid off and moved along, we were accompanied by Pulcrus and a contingent of the mounted guard and also, remarkably, by the military cart – with Gwellia, Cilla and Junio in the back of it. Malodius, having returned empty-handed from his search for Philades, watched us go, muttering discontentedly at being left behind, though he had been driving constantly since shortly after dawn and his horses were ready for a rest.

  The journey was less jolting than it had seemed before. For one thing Gwellia had fussed over me with cushions for my back and a blanket to tuck round my knees, and for another I was feeling so relieved at my reprieve that I could have withstood far harsher journeys without too much complaint. Though there was an unpleasant moment as we passed the roundhouse, and I saw the soldier at the gate. He recognised the escort and raised his fist in a salute.

  The driver took us to the Roman road, and we bowled along the wide paved thoroughfare which led all the way to the southern gate of town. It was not a route I very often used – it is a military highway and other travellers are forced to hug the muddy edges if a legion marches by, or an imperial messenger comes galloping along to bring sealed reports and orders from other garrisons. Today, however, we had military rights, and for once it was other people who had to huddle into ditches as our entourage swept through.

  Marcus, though, was accustomed to such dignities, and was clearly getting restless and concerned. He pushed back the leather curtain, and demanded for the sixth or seventh time, ‘Where is this famous hiring-stables, then? We shall have arrived in Glevum very soon.’ Then, to the driver, ‘Faster! Or I shall have you whipped.’ It was not like my patron to be pointlessly unjust, but the danger to Julia weighed very hard on him.

  ‘There it is, patron.’ I was glad to see the sign. I gestured to the painted finger, but Marcus was already thumping on the roof, a signal to the driver that he wished to stop. Pulcrus cantered to the window space and Marcus relayed his orders through his page.

  ‘Tell the man to drive a little up the lane but stop the carriage just short of the inn. Libertus and I will walk the rest. You and Junio can follow us on foot, but the soldiers are to keep out of sight and to the rear, and guard the women till we give the sign. We don’t want to rouse suspicions. But tell the guards to keep their sword arms free and their blades unsheathed. We may need them to move up quickly in support. A whistle will be the signal to attack.’

  Pulcrus nodded and moved away to pass the orders on, and a moment later we were jolting up the track. It was not very long, however, before we stopped and the driver came round to help us down.

  ‘Excellence, you are sure that you will be all right on foot from here? It is still raining and the lane is muddy.’

  Marcus silenced him with one ferocious look. He stepped down, and stood waiting for me to do the same, tapping his baton on his hand this time. I clambered after him with as much haste as I could.’

  ‘Very well, Libertus, you can lead the way. This visit was your idea, I think.’

  He spoke as if I had come for entertainment’s sake, but I knew him well enough to hold my tongue. This was my responsibility, he meant. I was not out of danger yet. However, I was content to lead the way – Marcus, with that patrician toga-band, did not look like a potential customer – unless some mishap had befallen his carriage wheels, perhaps? I was inventing some such story in my mind, to account for our appearance, when the owner of the hiring-stables hurried out and came towards us of his own accord.

  He was an enormous, portly man, with a fringe of reddish hair and a look of greedy glee which told me that he had seen my patron’s purple stripe, and was already hearing the chink of silver coins in his mind. He rubbed his huge hands in his leather apron and addressed himself to me. ‘May I be of service, citizens?’

  I was about to begin some tale about the carriage wheels when Marcus cut in with an abrupt, ‘You hire out carriages and drivers, I believe?’

  The man looked shifty. ‘We do have a splendid carriage, citizens’ – he clearly did not want to risk offence by not according Marcus the correct title of respect, so he took refuge in addressing both of us – ‘and another, heavier vehicle which plies outside the town for trade. But both are out at present, I regret. I could offer you each a splendid mount, it that is any help. Or . . .’ he glanced meaningfully at me, ‘one of you might prefer to ride a mule? Other than that we only have a donkey cart or two. Of course, if you don’t mind taking one of those . . .’

  ‘Do I look like the kind of man who rides in a donkey cart?’ Marcus had no need to say the words aloud. The contempt on his face expressed them perfectly.

  I hastened to cover the embarrassed pause. ‘I believe you had a recent passenger. A medicus who is a citizen. We are very anxious to have news of him.’

  I had expected him to flinch, or to show some signs of guilt, but the man brightened, and his air of hopeful cupidity came back. ‘A private medicus? I shouldn’t be surprised. We have some most distinguished customers in town, members of the ordo and all sorts of wealthy men: some of them are quite regular customers of ours, the ones who don’t keep horses or transport of their own. I will consult our records. Come with me.’ He led the way into the stable opposite, where there were a number of crude columns scratched up on the wall. These were his ‘records’, clearly. ‘When did this doctor use our services?’ He spoke as if he were an advocate or medicus himself, instead of a tradesman hiring out his goods.

  ‘I think he hailed the carriage on the road,’ I said.

  The fellow shook his head. ‘Those journeys are paid for by the mile,’ he said. ‘There’s a device between the wheels which keeps account. But everything that’s hired by the hour is noted up here on the wall – it tells us when things are due to be returned, and ensures that all the time is paid for properly.’

  ‘And you note if people arrange a hiring in advance, I suppose, so you don’t let it out to someone else?’

  He took it as a compliment to his efficiency and turned his massive face towards me with a smile. ‘Exactly, citizen.’

  ‘Like when you used to go to Grappius’s house?’ I said. ‘And take a certain lady back to her country home?’

  This time there was no doubt of the effect. The sickly smile faded and his face grew pale. All the same, he tried to bluff it out. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’ But his eyes were flickering to Marcus’s stripe, and it was clear that it was dawning on him who the wearer was. He gnawed his upper lip and swallow
ed hard.

  ‘I think you understand me very well,’ I said. ‘You sent a carriage round to Grappius’s house not seven days ago. It was a fixed arrangement. If you can’t find the record of the hiring on the wall, I’ve no doubt there is someone else who can. One of your drivers or stable boys perhaps. Though I suspect you drove that day yourself, since the lady and the child that you delivered at the end were not the ones you picked up at the start. It appears that they were kidnapped, and impostors took their place. And yet the coachman had nothing to report. Now how would you account for that?’

  He was still looking desperately from Marcus to myself. ‘So you know all that?’ he muttered. ‘She was sure . . .’ He trailed off, breathing heavily, and ran a tongue round his lips.

  ‘She?’ Marcus could contain himself no longer. He stepped forward, and his face was black with rage. ‘Do you mean that wretched wet nurse?’

  The man was twice the size that he was but I think my patron might have tried to throttle him all the same, if I’d not intervened. ‘I think he means her mother,’ I observed. ‘His mother-in-law, if I understand aright.’

  I had glanced towards Marcus as I spoke, so the violent lunge towards me took me by surprise. Strong hands pushed me fiercely in the chest and I found myself sprawling on the ground, narrowly avoiding taking Marcus with me as I fell. Fortunately he stepped aside in time. His fury if I’d knocked him over would have rivalled Nero’s own.

  In the meantime, our man had got away. By the time we’d gathered our collective wits and I’d sat up again, he was already racing to the inn. Our slaves were rushing to our aid, but before anyone could stop him our quarry had run in and shut the door. As I scrambled to my feet, I heard the bolt slam to.