The Ides of June

by Rosemary Rowe

  ‘Obviously your message was very similar to mine,’ he muttered, sheepishly.

  ‘Have you any notion who might have written it?’

  ‘Someone with a grudge.’ He looked at me sideways. ‘There’s always somebody who blames the magistrate if things go badly for him in the court – I’ve heard your patron say that many times.’

  ‘It’s what he said to me,’ I assented, thoughtfully. ‘But is this a grudge against the two of you alone? Or have all the members of the curia received a threat?’

  That would put a different complexion on everything, in fact. Not all the magistrates could possibly have been involved in the same trial – even the most serious cases were heard by two or three at most, usually with Marcus as the senior man. So if all the members of the council had received a letter too, that made the whole thing much less personal – and might, indeed, be simple posturing.

  Porteus, though, shook his head decisively. ‘No one else!’

  ‘You’ve asked them?’

  ‘I’ve made a point of visiting as many as I could.’ He was still huddling up against the fortress wall and talking in an undertone. ‘Though I haven’t managed to speak to all of them quite yet.’

  ‘So when did the first message get to you?’

  The pink face flushed again. ‘Just this morning, a little after dawn. It was thrown through an open window of my apartment, here in town. Of course I was alarmed. I went to all the curia members I could find. I didn’t ask them outright, just enquired tactfully, whether – with the omens as they are – anything unsettling had occurred today.’

  ‘And they did not think the enquiry was odd?’

  ‘I pretended that it was connected with the Ides.’ He preened with satisfaction at his own cleverness. ‘While Marcus was away, many of his duties were transferred to me, including dealing with the public augurers – and I claimed that this enquiry came from them. But none of the council members had anything to say. Some of them had tales about portents of bad luck – altar flames at household shrines that wouldn’t light, or stepping through a door the wrong foot first – but when I mentioned messages, they just looked blankly at me. It was clear that no one had any notion what I meant.’

  ‘And when did you get this?’ I handed back the open writing-block, with an apologetic bow.

  ‘Awaiting me when I got home again. Delivered in the same way, by the look of it. I can’t imagine who the writer is.’ He put the tablet in the bag and drew the string again.

  ‘You and Marcus are the two recipients. That might make the writer easier to catch,’ I pointed out. ‘Not everyone would have a grudge against you both, specifically. What exactly did the earlier message say?’

  ‘Oh, I imagine it was much the same as yours.’ His ringed hand made a vague gesture in the air. ‘Violent threats against my life and family – I have a daughter, as perhaps you know. “The next time that you hear from me will be the last” – I think that was the phrase.’

  ‘And now that time has come?’

  He seemed to take a moment to work out what I meant, then nodded vigorously. ‘If I had a house away from Glevum I would move to it at once. Will Marcus take his household to Corinium, do you think?’

  I shook my head. ‘My patron sees it as his duty to remain—’ I broke off as he touched my arm again and gestured down the path. The sentry was returning, at a run.

  ‘Here comes your answer from the commandant, by the look of it. I’ll leave you to your message, citizen,’ Porteus said. ‘Otherwise the soldier will give me precedence.’ And to my surprise – Porteus is famous for insisting on his rights – he backed away politely as the fellow hurried up.

  The soldier beckoned me. He did not have my writing-tablet, I observed, nor any other kind of written message in his hand. ‘No reply?’ I asked, astonished. Marcus’s rank should have required a quick scratched note, at least.

  ‘Only a verbal message, I’m afraid. The commandant sends his greetings to your patron,’ the man said, full of self-importance. ‘And apologies. He will send a personal reply to Marcus Septimus in due course – a proper written one – but at the moment he is fully occupied. There is army business to be dealt with urgently, as you can no doubt see. So take that message to His Excellence.’ He nodded curtly at me and took up his post again, striking a pose with feet apart and leaning on his spear, while ostentatiously looking past me down the street, where Porteus was hovering.

  He saw the purple stripe and his manner changed at once. ‘Councillor, did you have business at the fort?’ he called out. ‘A thousand apologies for causing you to wait. I was dealing with this wretch. How can we be of any service to you, citizen?’

  Such is the privilege of rank, I thought, sincerely wishing I had listened to my wife and brought my toga with me. But I had not done so, and I had clearly been dismissed.

  FIVE

  I stomped back in the direction of Tenuis and the mule, not in the sunniest of moods. But before I’d got halfway, I heard my name again.

  ‘Citizen Libertus, a word before you go!’

  I turned, to realize that Porteus was hastening after me. ‘Why, Worthiness!’ I must have sounded as astonished as I felt. ‘Were you not shown inside the garrison, either?’ From the gate-guard’s manner when he saw the councillor, I had expected that the patrician would be ushered in at once and given an audience with a junior officer, even if he couldn’t see the commandant himself.

  Porteus shook his well-barbered locks at me. ‘I changed my mind about attempting it. It’s obvious the garrison is fully occupied and it is pointless trying to contact the commandant today.’ He made a deprecating face. ‘If your patron is not treated with appropriate respect, what use is there in my attempting to seek an interview?’

  It was false modesty, of course. Porteus came from an ancient Roman family and so, despite his present comparative want of wealth or civic rank, regarded himself fundamentally as the equal of anyone at all – even Marcus, who is immensely rich. But I knew when sycophancy was required. ‘But you were there in person, councillor – not represented by a mere tradesman like myself. And you didn’t even send your message in, I see?’

  He looked quite startled at the question, until I gestured to the bag, which still quite clearly contained the writing-block. ‘Oh, I see. I wondered how you knew. You are famous for your perception, citizen, and it’s clear that your reputation is deserved. You’re quite correct of course. I didn’t send my message to the commandant.’ He glanced at me sideways, and turned a little pink. ‘What you said about your patron’s reaction to these threats … it gave me cause to reconsider what I ought to do myself.’

  ‘In what way, Worthiness?’

  Perhaps this courteous title was rather a mistake. ‘If Marcus Septimus intends to stay here, then I must do the same!’ Porteus had been decidedly friendly up to now, but suddenly he adopted an astringent formal tone. ‘I too am a Roman citizen of high patrician blood. I cannot have it said that I showed cowardice, by running to the army for protection from a threat, when he has not.’

  ‘Spoken like a true Roman,’ I said, as genially as I could. ‘Marcus will be flattered that his conduct has been an exemplar for your own.’

  Porteus gave me that sideways glance again and dropped his voice to the confidential murmur of before. ‘I suppose I can rely on what you’re telling me? I should not like to stay and then find that he had fled, or arranged a permanent military escort for himself. You are sure he only wrote to bid the commandant farewell?’

  I shrugged. ‘I did not see the letter, naturally, but that is what he told me, and I’m sure it’s true.’ I could speak with confidence. My patron had his own reasons for not seeking army help – the fear that an overzealous soldier might arrest him, on the basis of an impending imperial decree – but obviously I didn’t say as much to Porteus, who was still looking dubiously at me. ‘Besides, you have the evidence of what just happened here,’ I urged. ‘You saw that I received no answer from the fort. If so
mebody of Marcus’s rank had asked for military protection – rather than merely sending a farewell – courtesy would have demanded some sort of a reply, even if only in the negative. Especially when the commander is a personal friend.’

  Porteus seemed persuaded, although unwillingly. He nodded slowly. ‘I suppose I should have come to that conclusion for myself,’ he conceded, with a frown.

  ‘So perhaps you should consider sending in your message, after all,’ I said sweetly. ‘You are a man of civic stature. If you ask for help, it may be that you will get an answer, where I did not.’

  He turned the frown on me. ‘But how could I do that? Beg for a guard when your patron makes a point of asking none? I would just invite his public scorn and risk my reputation as an honourable and courageous man.’

  Porteus had no such reputation that I knew about; if anything, he was known as suspicious, fussy and not averse to bribery or dubious schemes for gain – but it did not seem appropriate to point this out. Instead I nodded. ‘Then you will carry on the business of the courts as usual, just as my patron does? He will be glad to know. He fears that normal law and order is likely to break down now there is no strong leadership from Rome – once the army does not have a presence here.’

  He swallowed, as if the prospect did not please him very much, but then he raised his white-scarred chin and attempted to look resolute. ‘Of course I will continue to attend the courts. I would not have dreamt of doing otherwise,’ he declared, with a sincerity which would not have convinced an idiot.

  ‘And I may tell my patron so?’

  He looked abashed. ‘I suppose so – if you must. Though—’ he dropped his voice and placed his ringed hand on my shoulder once again – ‘on second thoughts … perhaps … I’d be grateful if you didn’t mention that you saw me here at all. I thought I was the only one to have received a threat, you see. But now that I am sure that there are of two of us …’ he trailed off.

  I saw perfectly. Porteus did not want His Excellence to think that he was weak for planning to ask assistance from the garrison. ‘The second threat diminishes the risk?’ I suggested, in an attempt at tact. ‘I had thought the same myself. It is clearly more difficult to kill two men than one.’

  But I had piqued his Roman pride. ‘It’s not a question of diminished risk! I’m sure this letter-writer means exactly what he says!’ Porteus had turned an angry shade of puce. ‘Left to myself, I would have fled the town – and advised your patron that he should do the same. However, since he has resolved that he will stay, I can hardly do less without dishonouring my name. I shall continue to come to the forum every day – just as long as Marcus does so too.’

  I muttered something about their being safe in the basilica, at least.

  Porteus shook his head. ‘You might imagine so, but I am not so sure. It is a public place. This killer could attack at any time. I shall employ a bigger bodyguard and keep an armed escort about me at all times.’

  It was exactly what Marcus had resolved himself, and I was about to say so when Porteus spoke again. ‘And I may look into trying to rent a country house – for occasions like today when the courts don’t operate. The one I’m building is barely half-complete.’

  It was difficult to know how to reply to this. Everyone in Glevum knew the story of the house. Porteus was only building it against his will.

  It had come about like this. Porteus had owned a pleasant villa on the other side of town, but had been forced to sell it when he got into debt – perversely, over the construction of this house he didn’t want. He had been persuaded that he was acting for somebody abroad and – working on their commission as he thought – had made lavish purchases, tons of imported marble and expensive wood and stone. He had even supplied the site for the new house himself, believing that he’d sold a tract of woodland for an attractive price, and had his servants clear the ground in readiness and at his own expense. It was all to be paid for when the man arrived from Gaul – but the whole instruction proved to be a hoax. Porteus had spent a fortune he could ill afford and (since no so-called ‘client’ could be produced in court) there was no redress in law.

  He’d suffered a huge loss as a result of the affair and it was widely rumoured that he would have to sell this new villa, too, as soon as it was built, to pay off his remaining creditors. And this was the fraud which I had helped unveil, revealing how gullible and foolish he had been. So it was hard to think of anything tactful I could say.

  ‘I’m sure it will be splendid when it’s finished,’ I furnished – after a long pause.

  Porteus gave an embarrassed little cough. ‘You don’t suppose your patron would consider letting his?’ He raised a pale eyebrow at me. ‘He does have that townhouse in Corinium after all.’

  So that was why he’d raised the subject of country houses! Hoping he could rent my patron’s as a hiding place! I could have pointed out that it was nothing of the kind – whoever had written that threatening letter had delivered it out there, so clearly knew what its location was – but surely Porteus could have worked that out himself?

  I was about to say so, but I changed my mind. It was not my place to state the obvious. And since my patron was intending to move to his flat in town, he might be interested in leasing out the villa for a while. It would no doubt command a considerable rent, and if Porteus was so foolish as to want to come, I did not want to dissuade him and deprive my patron of a lucrative let.

  But there was one point which I felt compelled to make. ‘I can hardly ask him, Worthiness,’ I said respectfully, ‘if I am not to tell him that I saw you here. You will have to ask direct. Send him a message – or approach him when you see him at the courts, since it seems that you will both be serving there. Though even that might mean revealing that you’d had a letter too – and that you’re aware that he’d had threats as well.’ I could see that Porteus was puzzled, so I spelt it out. ‘Why otherwise would you suppose that he would want to let the house?’

  Porteus had turned scarlet and looked discomfited. ‘Of course. You’re quite right, citizen. I hadn’t thought it through. I’ll go away and work out what’s best to do – in the meantime, better not mention to Marcus that we spoke.’ He was clearly embarrassed at making himself look foolish once again and was suddenly anxious to be somewhere else. ‘And now, if you’ll excuse me, I must take my leave. I am half-expected to take prandium with friends, and I see my slaves have come for me.’

  He waved a pudgy hand towards the outer arch, where a couple of athletic youths in lavish uniforms – their lilac capes and azure tunics were made of finest wool, embroidered with gold thread and trimmed with silver cord – had bustled up and were talking to the soldier at the gate, while four litter-bearers loitered nervously nearby with a curtained carrying-chair.

  ‘You’re lucky to have found a public litter, on the Ides,’ I said. ‘There are not many bearers who ply for trade today.’

  ‘But my servants have clearly found one, citizen. Perhaps it is the privilege of rank,’ he said, all pompousness again. He raised his voice. ‘Over here, chair-bearers! To me! At once! The day is drawing on – if you don’t hurry I won’t be offered lunch. What are you waiting for?’

  He gestured to his servants who came over at a run, followed by the litter. The bearers put the chair down and he got into it.

  ‘Go well then, citizen,’ he said, extending his ringed fingers for me to take and bow over. ‘I’ll think about whether to approach your patron about the house or not. Otherwise keep this conversation to yourself. You never know who might be listening.’ He seemed oblivious of his attendants and the boys who held the chair – another man who did not think that slaves could see and hear! He withdrew his hand and shouted to the bearers, ‘To the house of Varius Quintus, by the public baths!’ He settled back and pulled the curtains shut.

  The litter-carriers raised the chair and set off down the street, with Porteus’s attendants running close beside. I watched them go, astonished.

  Varius Q
uintus! There was that name again. Was it coincidence? Had Porteus been invited to the house? If so, the invitation was distinctly odd, given that it was already very late and Varius was expected to feast elsewhere that night. And Porteus also had received the threat, it seemed. But I’d had no chance to warn him to be specially on his guard – any more than I’d had a chance to tell His Excellence. I shrugged. Well, if anything happened to Porteus, it would simplify my task.

  I hurried back to Tenuis, who’d been waiting patiently. ‘Who was that person with the purple stripe?’ he murmured, much impressed. ‘Someone most important by the look of it!’

  ‘He likes to think so, anyway!’ I could not help but grin.

  ‘And in a hurry!’ Tenuis observed.

  ‘Gone off in hopes of being offered some prandium,’ I said. ‘But he’ll be disappointed, if I’m any judge. Quintus is due to dine with Marcus later on, and I doubt he’ll be lunching on much more than bread and cheese. Marcus is famous for his sumptuous dinner feasts. But it’s time for us to snatch a little nourishment ourselves.’

  Tenuis’s eyes lit up with pleasure at the thought. He was always keen to eat, probably because he’d half-starved when he was young. ‘Shall we go over to your workshop then?’

  I wasn’t really anxious to delay at all; I wanted to hurry back to Gwellia, though doubtless our visitors would be long gone by now – but my wife would be affronted if we did not eat what she’d taken such pains to provide. I shook my head.

  ‘Not the workshop. It’s locked up for the Ides, the fire is out and the water jug’s not filled – and it is right on the other side of town. There’s no point in dragging Arlina all that way. There’s a fountain at a crossroads not very far from here; let’s go down there to eat.’ It seemed appropriate: that fountain was one which Porteus had donated to the town, as part of a programme of ostentatious public works when he was first campaigning to join the curia.