The Ides of June

by Rosemary Rowe

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  A Selection of Previous Titles in This Series by Rosemary Rowe

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Foreword

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Epilogue

  A Selection of Previous Titles in this series by Rosemary Rowe

  ENEMIES OF THE EMPIRE

  A ROMAN RANSOM

  A COIN FOR THE FERRYMAN

  DEATH AT POMPEIA’S WEDDING *

  REQUIEM FOR A SLAVE *

  THE VESTAL VANISHES *

  A WHISPERING OF SPIES *

  DARK OMENS *

  THE FATEFUL DAY *

  THE IDES OF JUNE *

  * available from Severn House

  THE IDES OF JUNE

  A Libertus Mystery

  Rosemary Rowe

  This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

  This first world edition published 2015

  in Great Britain and the USA by

  SEVERN HOUSE PUBLISHERS LTD of

  19 Cedar Road, Sutton, Surrey, England, SM2 5DA.

  Trade paperback edition first published 2015 in Great

  Britain and the USA by SEVERN HOUSE PUBLISHERS LTD.

  eBook edition first published in 2016 by Severn House Digital

  an imprint of Severn House Publishers Limited

  Copyright © 2016 by Rosemary Aitken.

  The right of Rosemary Aitken to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs & Patents Act 1988.

  British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data

  Rowe, Rosemary, 1942- author.

  The ides of June.

  1. Libertus (Fictitious character : Rowe)–Fiction.

  2. Romans–Great Britain–Fiction. 3. Slaves–Fiction.

  4. Murder–Investigation–Fiction. 5. Great Britain–

  History–Roman period, 55 B.C.-449 A.D.–Fiction.

  6. Detective and mystery stories.

  I. Title

  823.9’2-dc23

  ISBN-13: 978-0-7278-8591-3 (cased)

  ISBN-13: 978-1-84751-694-7 (trade paper)

  ISBN-13: 978-1-78010-754-7 (e-book)

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Except where actual historical events and characters are being described for the storyline of this novel, all situations in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is purely coincidental.

  This ebook produced by

  Palimpsest Book Production Limited, Falkirk,

  Stirlingshire, Scotland.

  To Malcolm and Jill, with fond memories of Fowey

  FOREWORD

  The novel is set in AD193, at a time when the mighty Roman Empire was still reeling from an almost unimaginable series of events. The increasingly crazed and profligate Commodus was dead – finally assassinated on New Year’s Eve after several failed attempts – and his immediate successor, the austere and upright Helvetius Pertinax (the ex-governor of Britannia who has featured in these books as the supposed friend and patron of the fictitious Marcus Septimus) did not survive for long.

  Pertinax’s attempts to curb expenditure – including the cessation of the lavish banquets, gifts and entertainments for which his predecessor had been famed – did not endear him to the former beneficiaries, and when he refused to honour a bonus to the elite Praetorian Guard (the Emperor’s personal protection) on the grounds that there was not enough money in the treasury, he was set upon and killed. That was a political outrage in itself, but what followed was a scandal that rocked the Empire.

  Two rival candidates appeared, each claiming the Imperial purple for himself, facing each other across the citadel and each promising increasingly high bribes to the Praetorian Guards for their support – effectively an auction for the Roman Empire. As with any auction, the highest bidder won and Didius Julianus was acclaimed as Emperor. However, if Pertinax’s tenure of the office had been brief, his successor’s grip on power was shaky from the start.

  For one thing, he quickly discovered that Pertinax was right – there was insufficient money to pay the promised bribe – so the Praetorian Guard could not be relied on for support. At the same time, new claimants had emerged. No less than three outraged supporters of the previous Emperor, each asserting that he’d been named as successor by Pertinax himself, sent immediate emissaries to Rome and had themselves severally proclaimed as rightful heir. All three were serving Provincial Governors, with substantial troops at their command: Pescennius Niger, the governor of Syria and probably the senate’s favoured candidate; Septimius Severus, who had the support of the entire Danube army; and (significantly for our story) Clodius Albinus, the serving Governor of Britannia. The situation was clearly dangerous.

  Didius, in Rome, continued to attempt to cling to power. At first, it seems, his instinct was to try to buy support (promising influence and promotion if not actual cash to known sympathizers with the old regime), and exiling and indicting those he could not bribe. Chroniclers vary in their accounts of how bloody and severe his measures eventually became, but there are stories of violence and assassination in the streets of Rome, and swingeing edicts against his enemies elsewhere. Allegiance to Didius – never strong – continued to ebb inexorably away. Wealthy citizens began to flee, seeking the safety of their country homes, while his increasingly desperate attempts to treat and compromise as a rival army neared the capital were undermined when even his own ambassadors defected.

  This is the background of unrest against which the action of the book is set, although I have taken some liberties with historical probabilities – choosing details from (sometimes questionable) near-contemporary accounts to suit the narrative.

  It is frankly doubtful that the news from Rome would arrive in Glevum as quickly as the story suggests, but when Commodus died a claim was made that the news had ‘reached all corners of the Empire within half a moon’, and throughout these novels the same time-scale is assumed. (It is slightly more feasible, at this season of the year, as the mountain roads would be passable!) This convention means that by the Ides of June – which fall on the thirteenth, rather than the fifteenth, as June was one of the short months in the Roman calendar – news of what happened on the Kalends would be imminent.

  Also, it is distinctly possible, despite the suggestion to the contrary in this tale, that Didius did not dir
ectly order the violence and murders which took place in Rome – indeed, the reports may be exaggerated tales, invented by later critics to discredit him. (When Didius fell, as he inevitably did, he is rumoured to have asked his executioner, ‘Why? Whom did I kill?’) Nor is there evidence that the order from Clodius Albinus summoning the Britannic legions to march in his support was actually ever issued (for reasons which emerge in the narrative) though it was clearly planned. However, for the purposes of the story, both of these events are assumed to have occurred.

  The Britannia to which this Clodius had been appointed governor was the most remote and northerly of all Roman provinces: still occupied by Roman legions, criss-crossed by Roman roads, and subject to Roman laws and taxes. Latin was the language of the educated: people – especially in the newly founded towns – were adopting Roman dress and habits, and citizenship, with the precious social and legal rights which it conferred, was the aspiration of almost everyone. However, Celtic life and customs continued to exist, most especially in country areas, and many poorer families (like the trappers in this tale) living in native settlements well off the major roads, might have little contact with Roman ways at all, except for essential trade and business purposes.

  These major roads were military routes, built by soldiers for the army’s use, but they had transformed communication within a century. Travel between towns (themselves a Roman concept) was still difficult, of course, but paved roads made long distances possible, as the journey outlined in the book suggests. Travellers were obliged to leave the carriageway and take to the verges if the army passed, but otherwise were free to use the roads, though with brutal penalties for highway robbery. Trade flourished, and soon civilian inns and hostelries appeared, offering refreshment and accommodation on the way.

  These ‘casual’ inns were hardly welcoming; one was likely to share a bed with fellow travellers, let alone a room, and bedding (difficult to clean) might not be changed for months. The food was basic, there were bugs, and sanitary arrangements were rudimentary at best. But fleas, filth and overcrowding were the least of the hazards one might face. Many establishments were notorious drinking-dens, frequented by thieves and prostitutes, where rape, robbery and even murder were not unknown. (The innkeeper who lodged the Holy Family in the stable, may have been acting in their interests.)

  Of course there were exceptions – as suggested in the text – especially in country areas, but respectable citizens avoided such places whenever possible, preferring the official military inns. However, the army mansio (like the respectable private guest houses in towns and the accommodation offered at some shrines) did not cater for casual passing trade, requiring a letter of recommendation under seal before it would admit civilian travellers. However, as with the characters in this book, obtaining such a permit was not always practical.

  The centres of population which were linked by these main roads, varied in size and status and sometimes purpose, too. Glevum (modern Gloucester) was an important place, thriving with shipping, trade and industry. Its historic basis as a colonia for retired legionaries gave it special privileges: all freemen born within its walls were citizens by right. Most inhabitants of Glevum, however, were not citizens at all. Many were freemen born outside the walls, scratching a precarious living from a trade. Hundreds more were slaves – mere chattels of their masters, to be bought and sold with no more rights or status than any other domestic animal. Some slaves led pitiable lives, but others were highly regarded by their owners and might be treated well, though female slaves were available for their master’s pleasure at all times and any resultant offspring might be sold or killed (perfectly legally – infants were not considered to be possessed of souls as yet). However, a slave in a kindly household, ensured of food and clothes, might have a more enviable lot than many a poor freeman starving in a squalid hut, and – as in this story – desperate families sometimes sold their children into servitude, at least partly to ensure that they survived.

  Aquae Sulis (modern Bath) was a different sort of town. Recent research suggests that it was not a town at first, but simply a large walled temple complex built around the spring. The road led past it to a strategic river-crossing further on, controlled by an army guard-post, which attracted a few tradesmen to supply their needs. As the shrine became more famous and more visitors arrived (hot water rising directly from the earth must have seemed miraculous), a straggle of habitations arose along this road, followed by small businesses and stalls, until they occupied the entire area and flourished into a busy market-town – and that is the interpretation favoured in this tale.

  Power, in town and country, was vested almost entirely in men. Although individual women might inherit large estates, and many wielded considerable influence within the house, they were excluded from public office and a woman (of any age) was deemed a child in law, requiring a man to speak for her and manage her affairs – a father, husband, or a legal ‘guardian’. Widows might fare better, if they were named as heirs, but those whose husbands did not leave a will might find themselves under the protection of some distant relative, or forced into remarriage with a husband found for them, either by their guardian or by order of the courts.

  Marriage and motherhood were the only realistic goals for well-bred women, although tradesmen’s wives and daughters often worked beside their men and in the poorest households everybody toiled. One occupation, however, was available – reasonably well-paid and respectable enough – to those of lower rank. Rich women often put their infants out to nurse – meaning that some poorer mother with a baby of her own would breastfeed a highborn child till it was old enough to wean, often taking it into her own family meanwhile. The role was sought-after, not merely because it afforded welcome income, but because breastfeeding was thought to have contraceptive powers. (Only the really wealthy, like Marcus’s wife in the story, could afford a full-time wet-nurse living in the home.) Part of the content of this book hinges on the difference between the life and expectations of a woman of high rank and those of her humbler sisters, who might be citizens, but who lacked the wealth and status to merit privilege.

  The rest of the Romano-British background to this book has been derived from a number of (sometimes contradictory) pictorial and written sources as well as artefacts. However, although I have done my best to create an accurate picture of the times, this remains a work of fiction and there is no claim to total academic authenticity. Didius Julianus and (most) events in Rome are historically attested, as is the existence and basic geography of the two British towns. The rest is the product of my imagination.

  Relata refero. Ne Iupiter quidem omnibus placet. I only tell you what I heard. Jove himself can’t please everyone.

  ONE

  Something was seriously wrong. I should have guessed as much when Marcus’s messenger arrived at my roundhouse to summon me to the villa ‘without delay, please, citizen’. There’s usually a problem if my patron wants me suddenly – but actually I was not surprised that he had called for me today.

  It was the Ides of June, an officially unlucky day, when all the courts and most of the Glevum businesses are shut – which is why I was at home, of course, instead of at my workshop in the town – and on such occasions Marcus does sometimes want me to run errands of some kind. (I am not a follower of the Roman gods, preferring the more ancient deities of rock and tree and stream, and though I don’t shirk the rites required by the state, I don’t share the Roman horror of doing things on ‘inauspicious days’.) But as soon as I was shown into the villa atrium, I realized that this time it was something of real significance.

  For one thing, Marcus was already waiting there. Generally, he leaves his visitors to linger for a while before he deigns to come – even when, like me, he has invited them! This gives the guest due opportunity to admire the opulent appointments of the house, the rich murals and handsome furnishings, while partaking of the refreshments which courtesy requires and reflecting on his host’s superiority of rank. Marcus Septimu
s Aurelius is one of the most important people in all Britannia, reputed to be related to the imperial Aurelian house, and the lower the caller’s status, the longer he will wait.

  So I was ready for a considerable pause; intending to amuse myself, as usual, by staring at the mosaic in the floor. It is not my handiwork, I am glad to say, as parts of it are rather crudely laid. However, it was in the house when Marcus purchased it and he has never chosen to have it altered or improved. (‘It’s not just a pavement,’ he once testily explained, ‘it’s Neptune and the creatures of the sea. If I were still in Rome, I’d have a proper pool – an open impluvium catching water from the roof – but that’s not practical in damp Britannia, and this mosaic is the next best thing!’) So there it stays, an affront to the pavement-maker’s art, and I was expecting another half an hour of gazing at its distorted fish and crooked seahorses, while nibbling on a plate of dates and figs and waiting for my patron to appear.

  However, today there were no sugared fruits for me. His Excellence was not even sitting on the gilded stool which had been set for him, but was on his feet and pacing to and fro, clearly in a state of great anxiety. He whirled around to greet me as soon as I arrived and curtly dismissed the slave-boy who had shown me in.

  ‘Leave us, page. And don’t stand lingering outside the room. Go wait at the outer entrance, until I call for you!’ The pageboy scuttled off, but Marcus did not smile. ‘So there you are, Libertus!’ he exclaimed, striding over and extending a ringed hand for me to kiss. ‘I’ve been expecting you!’