A Roman Ransom

by Rosemary Rowe

  ‘But you expected Lallius to go straight to his home?’

  ‘He wasn’t going to do that. He’d made that very clear. There’d been some argument with his father – or his supposed father, I should say – and he was barred, he said, so he would stay with us, since we had cast him out upon the street. Anyway, it rather suited him. An inn on the outskirts of the town was the last place his creditors would look for him, and since we were family, he said, he did not expect to pay. And we were not to take any other visitors while he was here, he made that clear as well. He even started threatening my mother over it.’

  ‘And Julia?’ Marcus was clearly impatient now. ‘She was at Myrna’s all this time?’

  Secunda nodded. ‘My husband had the donkey cart set up – he was starting off to get that load of logs – and he took Myrna back to Mother’s house at once: I was there already, looking after all the children for the day. When my sister told me what had happened, I was horrified. We couldn’t do anything to help Julia, of course, because Lallius had the key, but she passed the baby to us through the window space – and the rest I think you know.’

  ‘And what did Lallius say when he arrived and found the child was gone?’ Marcus was clearly following all this.

  Another frantic nod. ‘He was beside himself with rage, but there was nothing he could do. Marcellinus was already safe. We knew that because just before Lallius arrived your page turned up and asked for Myrna back – I thought that I would die of fright. We hadn’t catered for that possibility. Luckily Myrna had gone to the neighbour’s with her child – she didn’t want her daughter there when Lallius turned up. But Julia was still hidden in the stable at the time.’

  ‘And when Lallius came?’

  ‘He decided he would turn our stupid plans to some effect, he said. He wrote the ransom note – he’d brought a writing tablet with him from the jail, from some friend of his who’d written to him there. Of course we begged and pleaded but he paid no heed to us. He even went in to see Julia and gloated over her. The ransom was all his idea, he said, and he was going to take her somewhere else – and then she’d learn what being a prisoner meant. But he could not take her with him then, because he only had a horse. He lurked around the woods near the villa until he saw your carriage leave and threw the tablet in over the wall. There were watch-geese in the orchard, he told us afterwards, and he knew that they would soon be fed. He rode back to the inn and drank all the wine we had, then went out later on. I suppose he picked the money up.’

  ‘He didn’t bring it here?’ I gestured at the inn.

  ‘Said it was safer where it was – and he’d put Julia somewhere safe as well. He went out again this morning, shortly after dawn, with a writing tablet that my husband had, and I knew he was going to do it all again. He said he’d teach us to let Marcellinus go, and he now knew exactly where to hide the ransom bag. And he took our best horse with him as well.’

  ‘But he has been back here? Someone leaped out of the window space upstairs.’

  ‘I hope he broke his neck,’ she muttered bitterly. ‘But of course he won’t. It’s always others who suffer for his deeds. And he wouldn’t even tell us where he’d been.’

  ‘I think we know that anyway,’ I said. ‘He put Marcellinus’s garments in the ransom bag and left it at my home. I think we even passed him on the way. Latter he wrote the other ransom note and got the slave-trader to bring it in. Obviously he had money with him then – he gave the fellow a denarius for doing it.’

  ‘I doubt that any money would last him very long. He talked about the ransom and all the things that he was going to do with it. I could see how he had got himself so terribly in debt. That was why my mother hatched this plot, you know – she was afraid that Numidius would disinherit him. He had threatened to do it several times before, but last time she went to Glevum she was convinced he would. The servants told her so. This legal hearing was the final straw. If the magistrates decided that it should come to trial, and Lallius was fined, his father was about to change his will. She’d saved him from all that. You would have thought that Lallius would be grateful, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘Let him tell you that himself.’ The voice came from the door, and there was Gwellia, dripping in the rain, holding a soaking child in either hand. ‘We have someone here that you might like to meet.’ She hurried in and let the soldiers pass. They had another captive, a short, dark, fleshy youth, whose handsome face was petulant and slack and veined with wine.

  Gwellia turned to me and Marcus. ‘This is Lallius, of course. I would have recognised him anyway from what the servants said – fat face, slack jaw, small eyes, and twisted mouth – but when I saw that he was sneaking out of here, and that he had a toga, I guessed who it must be. He started limping down the road towards the carriage first – I think he hoped to bribe the driver for a lift – but when he saw the military cart behind it he turned round and hobbled off. I sent the slaves to catch him. He wasn’t moving very fast – he’s hurt his ankle in some way – so it wasn’t very hard, and he’s not the sort of man to fight. You would have been proud of Junio, though – he tackled him round the knees and threw him to the ground, then held him till the guards arrived to take control.’

  Lallius bore the marks of a scuffle. His toga looked as though no fuller would ever get it clean, he was smeared from head to foot with blood and grime, and one ankle was hugely swollen, with the sandal dangling from a broken strap. But he had received a Roman education and it showed.

  ‘I am Lallius Numidius,’ he said. ‘What is the meaning of this outrage, citizens? I have been set on unprovoked and arrested without cause. If I am to be charged, I demand an advocate.’

  Marcus looked contemptuous. ‘Demand? You have no right to demand anything. You’re not a citizen. We have witnesses to swear that you’re the midwife’s son.’

  Lallius was collected. ‘You can’t prove anything. And I have rights in law. My father picked me up when I was laid before him; there are witnesses to that. I believe that makes me legally his son. And I was born free in Glevum, whoever sired me. That makes me legally a citizen, I think.’

  I am not an expert on the niceties of law, but Marcus is a senior magistrate. ‘You’ll lose that status fast enough, if you are tried for this. It will be slavery in the mines for you, at least.’

  ‘And what will I be charged with? Kidnapping?’

  ‘The death of Myrna,’ I exclaimed. ‘We found her stabbed to death.’

  ‘Indeed. It’s most unfortunate. I heard of it myself. A robbery, by the sound of it. I hear the place was ransacked, and the treasures gone.’

  Secunda struggled forward in her bonds. ‘Don’t believe him, Excellence. It was him for sure. He killed her because she had been to see you at the roundhouse earlier. Lallius was convinced that she’d betrayed us then. She pleaded that she’d simply smuggled out the child – and she was in as much danger as the rest of us. But he did not believe her. He obviously wanted to find out what she’d said – no doubt that’s why he tortured her before she died.’

  I looked at her keenly. ‘And how do you know that? No member of the family has been near the place since we discovered her. Marcus has had the cottage under guard.’

  Secunda seemed to crumple, like an empty water sack. ‘My mother told me, citizen. She went back that night – after she’d been to Glevum, as she always did. It nearly broke her heart. The house was empty, and my sister dead. Julia was gone, and all our treasures too. She could not stay there with that dreadful sight. She left it as it was and walked all the way to us, though it was dark by that time and the roads were dangerous. She was in a kind of nightmare. I don’t think she even gave a thought to thieves and wolves and bears. That’s why she . . .’ She trailed off into silence.

  I shuddered, trying to imagine how it must have felt, finding your daughter murdered in that way. It had been bad enough for us.

  Lallius interrupted with a sneer. ‘You can’t prove any part of that,’ he said. ‘I have a
witness who will swear that I was with him all evening.’

  ‘Wait a minute!’ I said suddenly. Another fragment of the mosaic fell neatly into place. ‘A witness? Would this be Cassius, by any chance? The man who insisted that you should be in jail?’

  Lallius shot me a look that would have withered iron. ‘And supposing that it is? It’s not unknown for friends to reconcile.’

  Gwellia glanced at me. ‘Especially when a man can pay his debts? Is that why you were interested in money all along? Why, what’s the matter, husband?’

  I had leaped up from my makeshift stool again. ‘It all makes perfect sense. Of course it was the money. His father was intending to get married, wasn’t he? That’s what Philades told us – that he wanted to get another heir. And that’s it, don’t you see? He really was intending to disinherit his son. But Lallius goes to prison, and his father’s taken ill. Drinking bad water, everybody says. And who is quite above suspicion, because he isn’t there? Why, Master Lallius, of course – who is in jail because his closest friend conspired to put him there. Didn’t Cilla tell us that he sent his father an amphora of his favourite vintage, in an attempt to make peace between them. Poisoned water? More likely poisoned wine.’

  Lallius was defiant still. ‘You can’t prove any part of that.’

  ‘That latest note – it mentioned Numidius’s funeral.’ Marcus was joining the inquisition now. ‘You were obviously confident that he would soon be dead – and your servants merely told you he was ill.’

  Lallius said, ‘But I’ve . . .’ and stopped.

  ‘You’ve been receiving letters from Cassius, perhaps? The man who is supposed to be your enemy? Who more likely than a fellow pupil to send you a letter in the jail – on an old writing tablet which you used at school. You daubed it red and used it to scratch the ransom note. Fortunately, we still have it at the villa – we’ll ask his servants whether it is his.’

  Lallius was losing much of his bluster now. ‘You can’t prove anything,’ he muttered. ‘Not that I murdered Myrna, or Numidius. And even by your own account I am not guilty of the kidnapping.’

  I gestured to Secunda. ‘You chopped the top joint of her finger off,’ I said.

  He flushed, but then recovered. ‘Who accuses me? I heard her say, in front of witnesses, that she had done it accidentally with a knife.’

  ‘I accuse you,’ I said with sudden emphasis. ‘Formally, before this magistrate, of that, of Myrna’s murder, and of parricide as well.’

  He looked at me rebelliously. Murder of your father is one of the most severely punished of all crimes. ‘But he was not my father – you have said as much yourself.’

  ‘So you are not entitled to inherit his estate?’

  Too late, he realised his mistake. He gave a cry of protest and launched himself on me.

  ‘And you can add the charge of physical assault upon a citizen,’ I said. ‘In front of a magistrate, as well.’

  He turned and spat at Marcus, like a beast at bay. ‘You won’t arrest me, Roman. Not if you want to see your wife alive.’

  ‘So you have got her captive.’ Marcus clenched his fists. It was obvious to all of us what he would like to do.

  Lallius gave his twisted smile. ‘But I won’t tell you where – not unless you set me free, and give me safe conduct from the province too. There are several boats in Glevum, at the river dock. Let me get on one and your wife goes free.’

  I could see that Marcus was wavering again. ‘You cannot trust him, Excellence,’ I said.

  Marcus had come to that conclusion for himself. ‘I think I’ll have you taken to the public jail. There are people there with ways to jog your memory. I think you’ll tell me where she is, and fairly quickly too.’

  He was right. Lallius had suddenly paled and there was perspiration on his upper lip.

  ‘Perhaps we should pay a visit to this Cassius,’ I said. ‘That seems the likely place to look for her.’ I saw at once from Lallius’s face that I had guessed aright and I pressed my advantage ruthlessly. ‘We know that Cassius placed an accusation with the court, and was recently the subject of a will. No doubt the authorities can tell us where he lives – unless Lallius prefers to do it and save himself the pain?’

  ‘Well?’ One of the soldiers pressed his sword-point under Lallius’s throat, forcing him to stretch his neck till he could hardly breathe. ‘Are you going to tell us? Or shall I have a little accident?’

  Lallius’s eyes were bulging from his head. ‘She’s . . . at his villa . . . at the back . . . in the . . . disused pig-house . . . on the farm.’ He was terrified to speak the words and more afraid to stop. ‘It’s . . . just outside . . . the city gates . . . the west side . . .’ He stammered the directions one by one.

  Marcus nodded, and the soldier took the sword away. ‘Very well, take him into the cart. Tell the commander he’s my prisoner and I want him questioned till he squeaks. And if he attempts to run away again, you have my permission to kill him there and then, though a clean death is probably too good for him. I’d prefer to see him given to the beasts.’ He spoke brutally, but I could see relief and hope already lifting the worry from his face.

  As the soldiers dragged Lallius away, Secunda gave a cry of anguish. ‘Excellence, my husband! They have tied him to the cart. I beg you . . .’

  Gwellia had the children, one under either arm, like a mother hen protecting chickens with her wing. ‘Excellence,’ she murmured, ‘let me add my plea to hers. For the children’s sake. She did her best for your son, after all.’

  I would not have dared to utter such a thing, but she was clearly moved and Marcus seemed to be considering her words. There was a long moment, and then he gave a sigh.

  ‘Gwellia, what you say is true.’ He turned to Secunda. ‘Very well, woman, for my son’s sake I consent to spare his life – at least for now. I am going to send this villain on his way to the Glevum garrison and drive across myself to find my wife. Libertus and my page will come with me. Your husband can provide a carriage to take Gwellia and her slaves to the guard-house at the south gate of the town. They can await us there. But I shall send tomorrow, and if we find you here, you and your whole family will be sold as slaves, and your property forfeit to the state.’

  Secunda looked dumbstruck, but this was merciful – and not entirely without precedent. Citizens are often sentenced to something similar – banished, interdicted from fire and water (which means that nobody can harbour them), and given a day to make good their escape, after which they may be killed if they are found. The difference here was that this was not a court, and Secunda was not a citizen.

  When she said, ‘Thank you, Excellence,’ she meant it from her heart.

  It was all over fairly quickly after that. Lallius’s directions were accurate, and we found Cassius and his villa without difficulty. For a moment the gate-keeper refused to let us in, but one glimpse of Marcus’s seal ring and he quickly changed his mind.

  Cassius came out to meet us. He was not as I expected. He was tall and thin, and nervous-looking, and he stuttered when he spoke. It was clear that even now he was more afraid of Lallius than of us: the very mention of his name made the stammer worse.

  ‘I d-d-d-don’t know what you’re w-w-w-wanting, citizens. You’d b-b-b-best ask L-L-L-Lallius himself. I’m exp-p-p-pecting him in just a little while.’

  ‘Then you will wait for him in vain,’ my patron said. ‘He’s on his way to jail – and you will be joining him quite soon. In the meantime I have come here to collect my wife – I believe that you have locked her in the sty.’

  I have never seen anyone collapse as Cassius did. He wept, he grovelled, and he wrung his hands and had to be half carried out towards the farm, and the ancient pig-house at the back of it. But the knowledge that Lallius was safely under guard had made him almost eager to comply.

  Even then he dithered with the key, and it was Pulcrus in the end who picked it up, and turned it with difficulty in the lock. It was a larger building than I had rat
her feared, more like a little barn in size, but stone-built, cold and draughty and smelling dreadfully of pigs. We stood there, blinking in the gloom. For a moment it seemed that there was no one there. Then there was a muffled whimper from the other side, and what had looked like just a pile of filthy straw proved to be a sort of makeshift bed, with something long and struggling in the midst of it.

  It was Julia, of course, though she was gagged and bound, and dressed in a wretched tunic like a slave. Her hair was lank and dark and straggling – her own hair, since she had lost her wig – and her face and arms were smeared with mud, or worse. I had to look more than once before I was sure that it was really Marcus’s wife.

  My patron had no doubts. He was already at her side, and tugging off the gag, and pulling out his dagger to cut away her bonds.

  ‘Husband!’ I heard her whisper, and he said ‘Julia!’

  ‘Marcellinus?’

  ‘He’s safe.’ Marcus clasped her to him, and she began to sob.

  So, thinking that discretion was the better part of sense, I motioned to the slaves and Cassius, and we tiptoed out and left them together for a while.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  When they emerged a little afterwards, it was all activity. Cassius, who kept swearing by all the gods there were that ‘I d-d-d-didn’t know she was a s-s-s-citzen. I th-th-thought she was a s-s-slave-girl he wanted to s-sell on’, was concerned to offer us every luxury – as though that might somehow limit his guilt in this affair. The discovery of a sum of money hidden in the straw – almost but not quite the amount which had been put into the ransom bag – and a pile of Myrna’s treasures in a trough, did suggest that Lallius had not kept him fully informed.