The Ides of June

by Rosemary Rowe

  ‘So Varius is now running the estate? I presume that he has temporary management while you’re in his potestas, even if he does not formally inherit until the courts have ratified his claim as nearest male of kin?’

  ‘It’s all too recent and Varius has been ill. In any case, he isn’t interested. I don’t believe he cares a fig for it. He just intends to sell. Anyway the place is in decline. My steward was cheating, of that I’m almost sure – the fields were neglected and half the crops had failed, yet he amassed sufficient to pay his slave-price from the heirs – while I was left with almost nothing to my name. But without a formal guardian who would act for me, there was no recourse in law.’

  ‘Varius would not prosecute this thief?’ I enquired – too eagerly. ‘Or did the court decide it would not hear the case?’ I asked, in case my patron was involved in any way. If the magistrates had declined to bother with a trial, Varius might lead me to the letter-writer after all.

  But I was disappointed. The red lips parted in a bitter smile. ‘Varius was too busy with his civic duties here and, as I say, he was not interested. The sums involved were far too small, he said, and pursuing a freed slave was beneath our family’s dignity. What he would do is offer me a home – for which I should be grateful, I suppose.’

  There was no reply to this and I did not offer one.

  ‘I tried to fight the move as long as possible,’ she went on, bitterly. ‘I would have preferred to stay there while I lived – but in the end there was nothing I could do. I sold the few remaining slaves I had – except for Hebestus who’s been with me since a boy – packed my poor possessions and, as you see, I came to Varius. Just in time, since he and Claudius were sick, and without us two to tend them …!’ She pursed her wrinkled lips. ‘And now, it seems, we’ll have to do it all again.’

  ‘And what would have happened to you, if Varius had died?’ I was still pursuing anything which touched upon the law.

  ‘Ah, that’s a question, citizen. It all depends on whether he has made a will or not. He has no offspring so I might have rights as a surviving heir – although I can’t be sure of that.’

  ‘And Claudius?’

  Eliana shrugged. ‘I have no claim on him. Claudius is no blood-relative of mine. Varius’s father took a second wife – after my niece died in giving birth to Varius – and Claudius was born just six moons afterwards. My sister almost broke her heart, losing her only daughter in that way, so we had no contact with the family for a while. But Varius did come to visit us – the first time when my sons were still alive, just about the time we had the fire – to tell us that his father and step-mother had been gathered to the gods. He even stayed to help us fight the fire – carrying water and beating at the flames, himself – though by that time it had too fierce a hold. And after the fire he called back several times to see what he could do.’

  ‘That was good of him!’ Varius was rising in my estimation all the time. ‘Especially if a distance was involved.’

  ‘The estate is on the road to Aquae Sulis, citizen,’ she said, dismissively. ‘With a good horse one might reach it comfortably in a day. But once I made it clear to Varius that I didn’t want to move and I would nurse my husband to the end, he didn’t come again – though we have been in touch by letter ever since.’ She stopped short suddenly and looked at me. ‘But why in Jove’s name am I telling you all this? It cannot be of any interest to you.’

  But the mention of letters had prompted a new thought. ‘And Varius never mentioned that he might have enemies? No one has threatened him?’

  ‘Enemies?’ Her voice went squeaky with astonishment and she sat bolt upright. ‘Whatever do you mean? What makes you think that Varius would have enemies?’

  ‘I fear this sickness may not be an accident,’ I said. I realized that she was staring at me, horrified. I took a risk. ‘More than one town councillor has received a threat,’ I went on. ‘That’s why Porteus thought my patron ought to know at once.’

  She sank back in her seat. ‘I see.’ And then she frowned. ‘But Claudius is not a councillor.’

  ‘The threats are made against the whole household, in each case, not just the head of it. Revenge for something that the master is alleged to have done – some injustice or injury. The letter-writer does not specify.’

  She thought for a moment. ‘That alters everything. How many people have received such threats?’

  ‘I cannot tell you that. I don’t know all the details myself.’ I spat discreetly on my hand and rubbed my ear with it – the age-old method of averting the ill-luck which might result from telling an untruth. (Or failing to tell the whole truth, in this case, like the fact that Marcus had received a threat himself.) ‘My patron is the senior magistrate. He is taking an interest in the facts and trying to discover who is responsible.’ I looked at her. ‘Of course, it’s not for everyone to know – we wouldn’t want to start a panic in the town. But you’re not aware of Varius receiving threatening messages?’

  Her bright brown eyes looked boldly into mine. ‘Varius would not have told me if he had. He’s not a man to tell a woman anything – much less an old and ugly woman like myself. He didn’t even let me know that he was ill some days ago – though I was on the way and we were exchanging messages.’ She started, suddenly. ‘You don’t suppose that was another poisoning attempt that failed?’

  ‘Or a warning, possibly,’ I said, though up to now I hadn’t thought of it. But I could see that it would fit. ‘Anything to make the victim terrified. But this time the killer might actually have struck.’

  ‘Well, if it’s possible that someone’s poisoned Varius, I had better go to the temple and get the priests to offer a dove or something to the gods. Or even have a votive tablet made and nailed up at the shrine. And find a proper medicus, perhaps. Claudius was asking me to do that earlier, groaning that he thought he was about to die, but I thought he was exaggerating and I did not take the suggestion seriously, I fear. Where would I find a medicus in any case?’

  ‘I don’t know anyone who keeps a private doctor these days,’ I said. ‘Marcus had one, briefly – a proper Greek-trained fellow – but he didn’t last for long, and it’s not the fashion that it used to be.’

  ‘But in a town as big as Glevum I assume that there’s a public one available somewhere?’ Eliana’s bright eyes looked anxiously at me. ‘There’ll be a cost, of course, but I’m sure that Varius has money in the house – though I shall have to locate it if I’m to pay the fee.’

  I gave her directions to the doctor’s residence. ‘But remember that you may not find him there, since it is the Ides,’ I said. (I did not add that I did not rate his skills – the man is an advocate of cabbage soup and ‘rocking’ carriage rides. He boasts in public of his many cures but, as far as I’m aware, he’s never produced the slightest proof.) ‘But he has a new apprentice who will probably be there. He’s watched the medicus at work, and may be able to assist by now.’

  Eliana must have thought I sounded dubious. ‘Better than nothing. I will go and try at once.’

  ‘I could recommend a wise woman who is good with herbs,’ I said. ‘Though she lives in the forest a little way from here.’

  She shook her red-dyed locks. ‘The medicus, I think. If Varius is really poisoned, then it’s probably too late, but I don’t want people saying that I did not try to help. If he dies I shall feel responsible, in any case. I assumed this sickness was something that would pass.’ She shrugged her skinny shoulders and pulled up her hood again. ‘And now I can’t remember the directions you just gave – please tell the bearers where they are to go.’ She gestured to the litter-slaves, who were lounging by the wall, under the eye of the sentry at the gate.

  It was a strange request, but I went to speak to them. They hastened to their posts. As they did so she gestured to her ancient slave and whispered – like an actor in the theatre – so loudly that I’m sure the gate-guard could hear.

  ‘Hebestus, give this man the tip that we arranged. H
e turns out to be a citizen, but he’s a tradesman too, so I don’t imagine that he’ll take offence. Then follow me again. The street of the silversmiths at the further end – you heard what he just said. Ask for the home of the medicus if you are in any doubt. And be quick about it.’

  And with that she pulled the curtains closed again. The slaves sprang forward to seize the carrying shafts and before I could even call ‘farewell’, they had picked up the chair as though it had no weight in it at all, raised it to their shoulders and gone loping off with it.

  SEVEN

  ‘Citizen?’ A throaty voice spoke softly in my ear. I turned to find the slave, Hebestus, standing at my side. He had recovered some of his composure by this time and was breathing almost normally, though his face was still unnaturally red. ‘My mistress spoke about a tip, but she’s only given me two quadrans – I hope that is enough. We hadn’t realized that you were a man of any rank.’

  I had to smile at her frugality. Two quadrans – that was only half an as – barely enough to buy a bunch of rotting turnips or a small loaf of yesterday’s stale bread. I shook my head. ‘I don’t require your money. I was going home anyway – but if you want to repay me, you can talk to me. Tell me a little about Varius and his house. You’re Eliana’s private servant, I believe?’

  He nodded cheerfully – so cheerfully that I suspected that the ‘tip’ was likely to find its way into his freedom fund. ‘An unusual lady, but one I’m proud to serve. I was her child-page when she was first a bride. Her life has not been easy, but she has struggled on alone when many weaker people would have resigned themselves, or blamed it on the ill-will of the Fates and given up.’

  ‘You say she was alone. But she had a husband until recently?’ I said.

  Hebestus made a deprecating face. ‘She did indeed – and a good master he was, too, in his time – but he was a cripple and confined to bed for years before he died. A well-born citizen, of course, but even when young he preferred the country life and never aspired to public office. Perhaps he should have done. He was a fine and honest man – he would have made a splendid councillor.’

  ‘So there was considerable property?’ I said. There is a minimum qualification for election to the curia.

  Hebestus nodded. ‘At one time, certainly, but he’d put all the gold he had into the estate, he told my mistress that when she first married him. For years it was a profitable enterprise as well – woodlands, a large farm and even a small vineyard, though that never prospered much. But then there was a dreadful fire and that changed everything. Happened just at harvest and all the crops were burnt, and half the woodlands with it. Both the sons were killed in fighting it – charred so that only a few scraps of bone were ever found – and my master was so injured that he never walked or spoke again. Eliana nursed him faithfully until the day he died, but the estate fell into ruin …’

  ‘She told me the chief steward had been cheating her,’ I said. ‘Though Varius would not stoop to taking him to court.’

  He looked around him doubtfully as if afraid the sentry at the gate would hear. ‘It’s not for me to say so, but I’d been warning her for years. He was a sullen fellow and neglected everything. In the end there were hardly any crops and fewer animals – barely enough to keep the household going – so how he made his slave-price is a mystery to me. If he was stealing profits, I don’t know what they were!’ He shrugged. ‘But that’s all over now, and I’m very glad of it. My mistress is much safer where she is …’ He broke off, suddenly. ‘Though that wasn’t what you asked, forgive me, citizen. The answer is, I am Eliana’s slave – the only one she brought to Glevum in the end, though Varius wanted her to sell me on as well.’

  ‘She has no female attendant, then?’ I was immensely shocked. No Roman matron should be without a maid.

  Hebestus laughed. ‘Varius has provided a handmaiden of course. Though, like the other servants in the house, the girl has fallen sick. So at the moment, there is only me!’

  I looked at his worn, flushed face and said, ‘You interest me, Hebestus. If there is such widespread sickness in the house, I’m wondering why you did not succumb yourself? Eliana says she lives on bread and cheese, but I imagine you get slave-rations like everybody else – from Varius’s kitchen?’

  He looked surprised at this, as if he hadn’t thought of it. ‘I do, in general.’

  ‘Which means there’s something that you do not share with them?’

  ‘Only the water. My mistress does not trust the public wells – she insists on buying it from a man who sells it from a barrel on a handcart on the street. She believes that’s better than the town supply.’

  ‘And is it?’ My mind was racing furiously, of course.

  ‘I doubt it, citizen – but she believes it is. “Fresh water from the country” is his cry, and she always sends me down to buy some when he comes. I don’t think Varius knows – he’d be offended if he did – but, if I read your thoughts aright, it may be fortunate for us. You think the water from the town supply has made the household ill? It might be so, I haven’t tasted it.’

  I looked sharply at him. ‘How did that occur?’

  ‘My mistress brought some watered wine with her – though it’s not a good vintage and is rather sour.’ He gave a little laugh. ‘The last that was ever produced on the estate. She offered it to all the household, but they don’t like the taste and Varius insisted that I should use it up. I don’t mind because I’m used to it. The water from the barrel tastes a good deal worse than that!’

  ‘So you have drunk that – a little anyway?’

  He made a face again. ‘One sip was quite enough – I’ve stuck to the sour wine ever since, though it’s almost finished now.’

  ‘And your mistress?’

  ‘She’s been drinking it as well – in between that dreadful water that she buys. She could have had the better vintage that Varius serves, of course, but she doesn’t care for waste – and she never dines with the others anyway. She claims the food’s too rich. But citizen, excuse me, if you won’t accept the quadrans, could you let me go? My mistress will be waiting.’

  ‘And she can be sharp when crossed?’

  He gave me a grateful look. ‘I’ve already had a chiding for not keeping up. I was supposed to be following the litter earlier. I tried to run as quickly as I could, but I didn’t get here to the gate till after she was gone.’

  ‘But you somehow managed to catch up with her again?’

  ‘I didn’t, citizen. She caught up with me.’ He gave a rueful smile. ‘I was just asking the sentry which way she had gone and when I looked where he was pointing I saw the litter coming back. The mistress wasn’t pleased with me at all – she doesn’t seem to realize that I’m getting old and can’t run quickly like the bearers do. But she’d told me to keep a lookout for a tradesman with a mule – and then I saw you and the rest I think you know. So, if you will excuse me?’

  I dismissed him with a nod. There were a hundred things that I would like to have enquired, but Hebestus was looking anxious so I let him go. But I’d learned one thing from this interview, I thought: if Varius had been poisoned, it was probably the wine. His house was next door to the public baths so almost certainly drew water from the town supply – and that served the fountain, which I could answer for, since I’d myself just drunk a little with no ill-effects! I’d have to warn Marcus to be careful what he ate and drank, and appoint that poison-taster as soon as possible.

  I turned back to Tenuis who was waiting by the arch, still holding Arlina by the leading-rope. ‘Come on,’ I said. ‘It’s time for us to go. There’s not only the verbal answer from the garrison, but I have been entrusted with a different message now, which I must take to Marcus straight away. And my women will be waiting – so let’s be on our way.’

  I took Arlina from him, clambered on her back (with the aid of a convenient low pediment nearby), then pulled Tenuis up to sit in front of me again. He looked so woebegone I felt quite sorry for the boy, but th
ere was no help for it. I did not want to tarry in the woods, with him simply walking by my side. However reluctant, he would have to ride the mule.

  The sentry had been watching these preparations with a grin, and as we trotted through the gate he winked at me. ‘Go well, citizen – and be careful on the roads. Just take care that nobody important sees that knife.’

  I glanced down and realized that the hilt was visible – perhaps I had dislodged my cloak in climbing up. I gulped, but he was smiling, so I rearranged my garments guiltily and was about to trot away, when he suddenly reached out a hand and took hold of the reins, bringing Arlina to a stop again.

  Dear Jupiter! I had been arrested after all – so what would happen now? At best I could expect to be thrown into the jail – at worst, without the protection of my toga, even more unpleasant things might lie in wait for me. I closed my eyes in horror, sending up a mental prayer to my ancestral gods.

  But when I opened them again, the sentry was still there, holding the bridle and grinning like a circus-goer whose team has won the palm. ‘I have some questions for you, townsman.’

  ‘I’m a citizen,’ I burbled, though without much hope that I would be believed. ‘Ask any of the civic councillors – they know my patron well.’

  He nodded. ‘So I understand. I overheard the lady in the carriage say as much. And, quite clearly, you have important friends. Some relative of Varius Quintus, so the bearers claimed? Did I overhear that there’s been a poisoning?’

  Despite the circumstances, I did not answer this. Obviously the sentry had been listening in. That would not be difficult – Eliana’s voice was quavering and shrill, but it carried easily and she had no notion of moderating it.

  The soldier tugged the rein impatiently. ‘Oh come now, citizen – if that is what you are. I’m doing you a favour by letting you go free, and now I want a little information in return. So now I’m asking – is that rumour true?’