The Ides of June

by Rosemary Rowe

  But it was not the thriving market which attracted me. I’d been hoping to visit the fabled spring myself and see if it was true that Minerva Sulis really sent hot water bubbling directly from the earth. If so, no wonder people come from miles around to offer sacrifice and pray at the shrine for justice or good luck; such a marvel would be proof of supernatural hands at work. It’s probably just rumour, but I would like to know for sure. I’m not a follower of Roman goddesses, but I’d be tempted to purchase a curse-tablet of my own, directed at whoever had caused my patron’s death, once I was certain that a deity was there!

  Such plans, however, would clearly have to wait. My most important task was to get my party safely to the farm and this was too good an opportunity to miss. Kennis was looking expectantly at me, so I turned to Esa and his wife. ‘It has been suggested that Esa might travel down with us, and then use the mule to go to town and bring back purchases. We do have panniers for her, as you see – and once we’re at the farm, we can unload, of course. Would that be satisfactory? We can collect the animal when we return – provided that you feed and water her meanwhile. It would be a great deal easier than your journeying on foot.’ I did not suggest involving Minimus. There were too many hazards on the road – and once we’d found the farm we’d need our slaves in any case.

  For a moment I thought the trapper was ready to refuse – or perhaps to haggle, in the hope that I would pay him extra for his time – but his wife was already nodding eagerly. ‘So you get transport both ways, husband, and they get you as a guide. What could be better? Now, joint that hare for me and I will put it in the pot, and the stew will be ready by the time that you return. If you set off quickly you will be back by dark, now that you have an animal to ride.’ She turned to me. ‘And tell your Kennis that I’ll go down to the stream and cut some fresh new rushes for her children’s beds and Esa will find some skins to cover them – they’ll be as comfortable as little emperors.’

  I doubted that, in fact. Marcellinus was accustomed to a frame-bed, with a pillow and cover stuffed with down from ducks – though he’d slept well enough last night on nothing more than straw. But looking at him now, chasing the little wooden image of a pig which one of the other boys had tied onto a string and, when it was jerked away from him, toddling laughing after it with his unsteady run, I could see that he would be healthily tired long before tonight. So I nodded and translated, not quite word for word.

  Gwellia had been listening to all this, of course, and she sprang to her feet. ‘Then if that is decided, let us call the slaves and depart as soon as possible. The earlier Esa reaches town, the more chance he can get home before it’s dark. The first part will be slowest, I’m afraid. The ox will not be hurried – so the sooner that we get him yoked onto the cart, the better for us all.’

  Esa nodded and whistled to his sons. Our slave-boys came running too – they’d been at the spring, watering our animals – and a whirlwind of activity ensued. Everybody helped and by some miracle – perhaps Minerva Sulis was active here as well – within a half an hour we were ready to depart. Caeder’s mother stood beside the cart, cradling the infant in her arms, and Gwellia handed her the roll of rags and the single change of clothing that we’d contrived to bring – much needed by both children by this time, of course. They were received with so much pleasure that you would have thought that we’d provided new garments for the whole household here.

  ‘I had wondered how I’d manage to keep them dry and clean,’ the woman said. ‘But I’ll rinse their old clothes in the stream this very day. And Esa, see if you can bring me a bronze needle from the town, so I can mend the boy’s tunic where he tore it earlier. The bone one that you fashioned me has broken at the eye.’

  Esa, who had hauled himself up beside me in the cart, muttered that he would, but he hoped that there was nothing else she wanted in the town, otherwise four silver pieces would not stretch to everything.

  ‘Then take some skins with you,’ she said. ‘There will be lots of room, now that the children are no longer on the cart. You might find someone who wants to buy direct – I’m sure the trader that you deal with now only gives you half of what he gets for them.’

  ‘If the citizen is willing?’ he murmured doubtfully. But she had already unhooked the pelts of an otter and a squirrel that were nailed to the wall, and passed them up to him.

  Gwellia and Kennis were in their place by now – no longer sitting on the wooden form but stretched out in more comfort on the straw mattress (or what remained of it), under the protection of the wicker frame. I signalled to my slaves. Minimus tethered Arlina to the cart again, then he and Tenuis squeezed in as before – though, as the woman had predicted, there was far more room for all.

  So we were ready and would have gone at once, had not Marcellinus caused a short delay. He seemed to realize that we were going to leave him there. He dropped the buzz-bone he’d been playing with and came rushing to the cart and – when he wasn’t lifted into it – burst into furious raging tears, stamping his feet and bellowing inconsolably. For a moment I feared that we would have to stop and take him after all, but then the oldest boy came out and took him by the hand and led him off to show him how to bait a trap. Thankfully, the crying stopped at once and as we shambled off Marcellinus did not even glance at us again.

  Esa shook his head. ‘Dependent on his mother! And he must be two or three! I sometimes think the ancient Celtic system was the best, when children were farmed out to relatives, so that their parents didn’t bring them up at all, and they learned independence from an early age. But that’s all disappeared – like many of the fine traditions of our ancestors. The most you hear of these days is what we’re doing now, wet-nursing an infant who is no kin at all for money, and only for a year or two at most. The Roman way, I suppose. But it will do your grandson good to be more self-reliant – and a little less indulged.’

  I did not translate for Kennis. I had seen her face when her son began to cry and thought that she was going to start to weep herself – though when he was so easily consoled, she was still more upset because he’d forgotten her so fast. It would not be tactful to share Esa’s views, so I changed the subject. ‘How far is this estate that we are looking for, trapper?’ I enquired.

  He squinted at the sky – still blue and cloudless after yesterday. ‘Eight or ten thousand paces, possibly. With luck we might be there by noon,’ he said.

  We did a little better than that, in the event – partly because there wasn’t a great deal on the road. We did encounter an ox-cart here and there, and once a fancy travelling gig with outriders which forced us to the verge, but aside from an errant herd of cows which seemed to have escaped and a couple of imperial couriers who galloped past at speed, we saw almost no one else except pedestrians.

  We had been travelling for perhaps four hours or so – no constant stopping for the children’s needs today – and had fallen into a sort of silent reverie, each lost in our own thoughts, when Esa startled me by shouting suddenly, ‘That’s it! That’s the place, I’m almost sure of it. I recognize that hillock and that fallen oak. And there’s the house, look, you can see it through the trees.’

  I looked where he was pointing and whistled in surprise. Whatever picture I had formed of Eliana’s home, it wasn’t this.

  It was a proper Roman villa, though on a modest scale: a handsome pillared central doorway and a range of rooms each side, with small upper storey (almost certainly for storage and a sleeping-space for slaves), all fronted by a little courtyard with a gated entrance arch and what had clearly once been a shelter for a gatekeeper, though – like the wall which ran around the house – it was in ruins now. There was even a broken statue and a fountain in the court. Hebestus had been right. This had clearly been a very prosperous household at one time.

  I glanced around at the surrounding land. There was evidence of what had been a sort of orchard once, and traces of straggling crop-rows in the fields either side, though these were now either barren or wh
olly overgrown. Here and there gaunt blackened trunks remained, towering over the surrounding undergrowth – silent evidence of that ancient fire, which no one had taken the trouble to remove. No one had pollarded the trees or mended walls for years and the track that led towards the gate had turned to mire. Even the paved courtyard had become a wilderness of weeds.

  ‘You’d better let me down then, if you mean to go inside!’ Esa startled me a second time. ‘Though you may require assistance to broach that gate, perhaps.’

  I followed the direction of his glance. The wooden gateway was probably not barred – that would have had to be done from the inner side – but it was secured by a hefty length of iron chain, passed through a hole in either gate and fastened with a sturdy lock-bolt. It was intended to deter intruders – and it certainly presented quite an obstacle.

  I signalled to Minimus, who slid down to the ground, then came and took the ox-ropes from me while I got down myself. I picked my way along the muddy track and was examining the heavy hinges of the gate, wondering if they could be somehow lifted free.

  Gwellia came to join me and I explained my thoughts. She made a doubtful face. ‘That looks impossible. Eliana clearly did not mean that people should get in. But over there the boundary wall is falling down – why don’t we get the slaves to move a few more stones and make a gap that’s big enough to get the ox-cart through?’

  She was quite right, of course – it was the easy way, and I should have seen it for myself. I tried to look judicious. ‘A sensible suggestion. Of course there is no track on either side that way, but given the condition of the lane that hardly makes a difference, I suppose.’

  She looked so pleased and proud to be of help, that I regretted being churlish with my praise. I raised my voice. ‘My clever wife has had a good idea. We’ll move the stones from that collapsing wall and get in through the hole. We may need to push the cart – Esa, if you’d be good enough to stay a little while?’ I tailed into silence. He hadn’t understood. I repeated it in Celtic and he broke into a smile.

  It was the first time that he had done so, and it transformed his face. ‘A splendid notion, but you’ll need stronger arms than yours.’ He all but elbowed me aside and strode up to the wall. ‘Or perhaps we’ll use the ox. If we can move this section …’ He laid hold of a stone, then all of a sudden gave a barking laugh. ‘On second thoughts, you don’t need strength at all. Even your little slaves could manage this, I think.’ He put his shoulder to the wall and heaved and another great section of the stone collapsed. He stood up, dusting off his hands. ‘It’s so decayed that only custom is holding it in place! One more shove like that and we will be inside.’

  It proved nothing like as simple or as quick as that, of course, though everybody helped – except for Julia, who looked so shocked at the idea of moving stones that I gave her the task of ‘staying with the cart’ – thus freeing Minimus, who was a lot more use. Even when the lumps of wall had been pushed down – and some of them proved most reluctant to come loose – they all had to be moved to clear a route for us. That was no easy task. They were heavy, awkward, dirty and recalcitrant. Some clung in big clusters – with sharp edges too – threatening our toes and fingers constantly, others crumbled into piles of dust and fragments at our touch making humps and hollows which needed stamping flat.

  But just as I was wishing that I’d tried to move the gates instead, the last enormous wall-stone in the gap yielded to my shoulder, and fell down with a thud that made the ground vibrate. When the dust had settled and I’d regained my breath, Esa and the slave-boys dragged the rock away (rocking it on one corner) and the way was clear.

  A cheer from the main road behind us greeted this, and I turned round, surprised. A small knot of passers-by had gathered at the entrance of the lane and had evidently been observing our antics for some time – though nobody had offered to assist in any way. So much for our attempts to get here unobserved! I cursed the Fates, but to ignore the watchers now was to excite more interest, so I smiled and waved. ‘Forgot the key,’ I shouted cheerfully.

  There was a mocking jeer and they waved back to me, then – presumably convinced that there was nothing more to see – they drifted on.

  I heaved a sigh of some relief and while the slaves helped Esa empty the panniers on the mule, load in his pelts and climb up on her himself, I took the ox from Kennis and got up onto the cart.

  I turned my head. Arlina was already trotting down the road in the direction of Aquae Sulis and the market-stalls. So, leaving my passengers to walk, I edged the wagon through the gap that we had made – and found myself in Eliana’s old estate at last.

  TWENTY

  Of course, there were problems still awaiting us – though entering the house itself did not prove one of them. The front door yielded very easily, and I found myself inside a large and gloomy area, which must have been the main reception room. It was damp and empty-smelling, and devoid of furniture, though a well-worn mosaic still adorned the floor and a broken oil lamp in a niche showed where the statue of the household gods had stood. There was a small stone altar against the wall below, still stained with the signs of a parting sacrifice – Eliana had obviously had the final leaving rituals performed.

  That was fortunate, because when Julia came in she looked around the empty atrium apprehensively. ‘A fine house once. I hope there are no ghosts,’ she whispered, shuddering. ‘There is an awful empty feeling to it now, and didn’t the owner die here only recently?’

  I gestured to the shrine. ‘It’s clear that proper cleansing procedures were carried out. There are signs of bones and feathers on the altar still – and stains from wine and oil.’

  ‘And there’s the remnant of a recent funeral pyre out in the field as well.’ Gwellia had just entered and overheard us. ‘I noticed it when we were walking past. A large one, by the look of it – and burnt right to the ground. Eliana’s husband had a decent funeral. So there is no fear of restless spirits.’ She gave me a little grimace of relief that Julia did not see. ‘Well, we are safe and dry – Minimus is finding a secure place to leave the ox, and Tenuis is gathering the makings of a fire.’

  ‘There is a wood-pile somewhere?’

  ‘Not that I could see. But there were a few logs stacked at the cremation site, and there’s no lack of sticks to use as kindling. Though where we shall put it, is a mystery. There’s no fireplace in here and we don’t have braziers – though there might be a hypocaust somewhere, I suppose. That might move the chill, though it won’t be possible to keep the furnaces alight. Shall we see what else the house can offer us?’

  There was not as much as I had hoped, in fact. Hebestus had been thorough in his clearing of the place. There was a three-sided wooden box-bed in one cubiculum – obviously an object too difficult to move, and equally obviously the place where Eliana had spent her final night, since there was a half-burned taper on a spike, and a discarded mattress still lying in the frame.

  Julia had been exploring with us – largely because she did not want to be left alone in the cold and echoing atrium, I think – and when she saw the bed-frame she gave a little cry. ‘A proper bed to sleep on!’ She flung herself down upon it like a child – and then seemed to recollect that this might not be polite. ‘May I have this tonight?’ She gave me that coy, winning smile again. ‘There’s sure to be others elsewhere in the house. And perhaps – at least while we are in the villa, where I feel at home – I can relax and be Julia again, and forget that I am supposed to answer to another name? It wasn’t easy to remember to be Kennis, anyway.’

  ‘All the same,’ I told her, ‘we should keep the fiction up, at least when others are about, until we’re sure we’re safe. That trouble in Glevum that we heard about may be much more serious than you realize – and it may be wise for “Julia” to have disappeared. Though have the bed by all means – we are used to reeds and straw, and as you say, there may be other beds elsewhere.’

  We left her to enjoy her little luxury and went on w
ith the search. I was expecting little, and I was right to doubt. Apart from one lopsided table with a broken leg, we found no other furniture whatever in the main part of the house.

  We tried the attic next, up a narrow wooden staircase which creaked alarmingly at every step. The area was much as I’d imagined it to be: one large empty sleeping-room, divided into two – one side for maidservants, no doubt, and the other for the men – with a steward’s cubicle between: a row of marks showed where the rows of narrow mattresses had been, but only a few wisps of stuffing straw remained. A dark storage room next-door was little better stocked, producing only two dusty wooden serving-bowls, and a box of faded ochre tunics – in a variety of shapes – no doubt discarded uniforms for long-forgotten staff. There was evidence of rodents elsewhere in the room: we found half-eaten tapers in a pile, but the box was wooden and the tunics were unharmed.

  Gwellia, ever practical, took the box from me and piled the other items into it. ‘We can use those clothes as blankets for a day or two, if we smoke out the moth, and a few of these tapers are still useable,’ she said, decisively. ‘You’ve got a knife, so we can cut some reeds for bedding – or straw, if there is any to be had. Though we had better choose a sleeping-space down on the floor below – the roof is leaky in some places here. We could even use the outside kitchen; it would be warmer there – I suppose the villa had one! It won’t be very big but at least there will be provision for a fire. And meanwhile we’ll see if there is anything available to eat.’

  I looked at her, surprised. ‘We finished our supplies?’

  She nodded. ‘We ate the last crumbs yesterday, I fear. And I dared not ask that little family to sell us anything – they have so little, they would deprive themselves. But the woman did give me a handful of apples from her store. Last year’s, of course, so they’re small and wizened now, but at least we will not starve. Tomorrow, I will venture out and try to find a roadside stall. There is sure to be something, on such a major road. But that can wait until we’ve settled in. For today, let’s go and see what’s here.’