The Ides of June

by Rosemary Rowe

  I settled down beside her on our bed of reeds. ‘I’ll do that when I’m certain that my fears are true. In the morning, I intend to go into the town. I’ll take the ox-cart and bring back supplies – there is no danger now if we are recognized – and I’ll try to find someone to take a note to Junio. I’ll get him to tell the authorities what we’ve found here, as well. Then if the curia want to summon me, they can. I don’t think there was ever serious danger from those threats.’

  Gwellia answered with a sleepy, ‘Mmm.’

  ‘Esa says there is a guardhouse on the river crossing-point – the army may have left for Londinium by now, but if it’s still manned they will have access to imperial couriers. Marcus’s seal should be enough to get a message sent.’ I was not altogether confident of that – news travels quickly in the military world, and if Marcus was disgraced there would be no hope of help. But I’d face that tomorrow.

  I nuzzled up to Gwellia. ‘What shall I bring back from the market?’ But there was no reply. So I followed the example of my softly-breathing wife and went instantly to sleep.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Next morning I was up before the sun, and so were Gwellia and the slaves. Although the hours of night are short at this time of the year, all of us had rested relatively well after the rigours of the day before, and in the misty half-light before dawn we ate our meagre breakfast and then lit the fire again. Cold broth is not the finest meal at that early hour, but it was sustaining, and there was at least the promise of better food to come.

  Maximus and I went off to fetch the ox and entice him back between the shafts again, while Gwellia and Tenuis collected wood to feed the cooking-fire. Then, retracing our unorthodox route of yesterday, with Minimus tugging at the horns and my own judicious application of the goad, we urged the animal back into the lane and got the cart onto the major road again. Gwellia came with us for a mile or two, (leaving Tenuis to tend to Julia when she woke) but got down at the next farmstead that we passed and set off – armed with some money from my purse – to see what she could buy from the tubby farmer’s wife, who was feeding a flock of flapping chickens from a pail. The last I saw of Gwellia she was collecting eggs – which promised well for future purchases. She saw me looking, and gave a cheery wave, then we were past the summit of the hill and we lost sight of her.

  The road was busy, even at this hour – surprising after the emptiness of yesterday – and there seemed to be a joyful mood about. Several drivers even waved their whips at us or called out cheerful greetings as they lumbered past. A mental calculation told me that today was not a public festival, which might have meant the usual market-stalls were closed, so perhaps the brilliant sunshine (which had now broken through) accounted for this outbreak of geniality.

  We lurched on companionably for perhaps an hour or so, and very soon the river-crossing came in sight. There was a fine bridge, wide enough for carts to pass, with care, and guarded by the small military fort I’d heard about. And there was no doubt about the presence of the soldiery. A hefty fellow in full legionary kit, with bulging biceps and enormous legs was leaning on a spear and idly watching the traffic as it passed, only stopping one wagon out of ten or more.

  Perhaps we were unlucky. He seemed to be concentrating on ox-carts in particular. He pushed his helmet back as we approached and uncoiled himself, revealing that he was immensely tall. He sauntered to the cart, but barely had to raise his head to talk to me. ‘I’ve not seen you before. Your business in Aquae Sulis, traveller?’

  ‘Visiting the market – and the temple, too, I hope.’ I decided to gamble on this opportunity. ‘But first I would be glad to talk to the commander here.’ The man looked startled, unsurprisingly, so I played my winning throw. ‘I carry a letter of authority from the senior magistrate in Glevum, written under seal and permitting me to act on his behalf,’ I said, producing it from underneath my cloak. ‘I may be on an ox-cart, and of no account, but it is in his name that I am making this request. There is an urgent message which I wish to send and I am in need of a swift and trusted courier – or even a rider from the imperial post. If this message reaches Glevum fort it can be forwarded.’ At least, I thought privately, I sincerely hoped it could, now that the commander there had delegated power. But it was my best hope of reaching Junio.

  The soldier was examining the seal with interest. ‘Your patron’s name?’ he barked.

  Ah! This might be where my task grew difficult! Was Marcus’s disgrace already widely known? I said, with a swagger that I did not feel, ‘His Excellence Marcus Aurelius Septimus. He has connections with the Imperial House.’

  The huge brow wrinkled in a frown. ‘I think I’ve heard of him.’ He handed back the letter. ‘You shall have your wish. I’ll have you escorted to the commander’s deputy, who is in temporary charge. But the boy and the ox-cart will have to move along.’

  Minimus looked apprehensively at me, but I had come to trust him with the awkward animal. ‘Get down and lead him,’ I instructed. ‘Use the goad and walk. Go across the bridge and wait the other side – there’ll be somewhere near the market where you can tie him up. Then you can sit up on the cart until I come. I shan’t be very long.’

  But in that I was mistaken. It would be many hours before I saw the boy again, but I did not know that as I walked into the cool gloom of the fort, following the sulky subaltern who’d been assigned to me as guide.

  ‘In here, citizen!’ he said, opening a heavy door and ushering me into a tiny cubicle. At other times it must have acted as a kind of holding-cell, the only window space was a small slit high up in the wall, and the only furniture a battered wooden bench. The walls and floor were made of solid stone, as I noted when my escort left me there and shut the door. I was gratified to notice that he did not turn the key.

  I sat down on the wooden bench to wait, mentally running over the events of yesterday and composing the message I would send to Junio. There was nothing else to do and nothing here to see, though there were sounds of movement elsewhere in the fort. After what seemed an age my guide appeared again, accompanied by the soldier I’d encountered at the gate and a small, squat self-important officer – a centurion, judging from the sideways plume on the helmet which he carried underneath his arm.

  ‘You are the citizen Libertus?’ he rapped out, as the trio formed up in a standing row in front of me.

  I was about to answer meekly, but I changed my mind. ‘How do you know that? I don’t believe I mentioned it,’ I said.

  That earned a sneering smile. ‘We have our informants,’ the centurion said. ‘And you are staying at an estate a little north of here, that was inherited by a certain Varius Quintus Flavius?’

  My heart was sinking to my sandal-soles. Of course, I’d been warned that the curia in Glevum were seeking me, but I’d not expected them to trace me yet. The traveller on the horse, presumably! It was foolish to have come here – effectively handing myself over to the authorities – but it was too late now. It was likely that I would be taken back for questioning – probably today – with no way of telling anybody where I was, not even Minimus, who would be fruitlessly waiting with the ox-cart until dusk.

  ‘It seems you know already,’ I said, bitterly. ‘Though I can’t imagine how. Few people knew the details. I take it there has been some sort of search for me?’

  The centurion looked almost jovial at this. ‘There’s been a man from Glevum here this very day, enquiring about you, and asking us to put a watch upon the gate. Driving an ox-cart, that is what he said – and here indeed you are. My men will be delighted. He’s offering a reward. I’ve sent a slave to fetch him, he’ll be here very soon – and then we can decide what we’re going to do with you.’

  ‘But I am a Roman citizen,’ I protested, unconvincingly. ‘I came here in good faith to ask the commandant to get a message urgently to the colonia.’

  The soldier from the gate gave me a nasty smile. ‘Indeed. The letter with the seal. Supposedly from Marcus Aurelius Septimus himself.
We had been warned that you would carry one – that is how we could be certain who you were. And don’t worry about your message, citizen. It seems you may be able to deliver it yourself. I believe the intention is to send you back as soon as possible.’

  ‘So this does concern my patron?’ I said, unhappily. ‘I was afraid of that. Some decree from Didius Julianus, denouncing him, I suppose?’

  The massive shoulders hunched into a shrug. ‘Don’t ask me, citizen, I don’t know myself. We are soldiers, not philosophers. We don’t ask questions. We just do as we’re told. Though I doubt that this concerns a decree from Didius, that would have been formally nullified by now.’

  ‘Nullified!’ I was so startled I leapt up from my bench. ‘What’s happened?’

  This time it was the subaltern who spoke. ‘Citizen, where have you been the last few days? Have you not heard the news? The Upstart was executed on the Kalends of this moon and the Emperor Septimius Severus wears the purple now. I thought that all Britannia would have known by now – yesterday was declared a public holiday to celebrate, by order of the Provincial Governor no less.’

  ‘But I thought Albinus was a candidate himself?’ I was still trying to take in the unexpected news. Ironic that it should have come too late to save my patron’s life, but – since Septimius had been a friend of Pertinax – it might be possible to redeem his honour and estate and save his family, yet. I resolved that I would try – let them drag me back to Glevum, I would plead my rank and appeal direct to the imperial court in Rome!

  I was so busy with these thoughts I only half-heeded the subaltern’s reply. ‘Oh, Governor Albinus has withdrawn his claim. He made a pact with the new Emperor, and promised him support, in return for being offered the Empire later on. Septimius has formally adopted him and even named him Caesar, to prove that he’s the heir – that was the chief reason for the public holiday. Decimus Clodius Septimius Albinus Caesar, that’s now his formal name – but, you know what such promises will turn out to be worth—’

  ‘Silence, soldier!’ The centurion’s sudden bellow made me jump. ‘You are showing disrespect to the Emperor of Rome. I should have you flogged, but I am short of men, so I shall simply put you on fatigues. Latrines for you tomorrow. In the meantime, stay here and guard this man. And no more gossiping, or it will be far worse for you!’

  I looked at the subaltern, who had snapped to attention and was frowning horribly. It was clear I would get no further help from him. So I turned to the centurion, though without much hope. ‘I consent to your arrangements – it seems I have no choice. But I do have one request. Can I at least send a message to my wife and slaves – specifically the one who is waiting with the cart. And I’d like to send him a sestertius or two – I promised I would take some food back when I went. There is nothing on the farm.’

  The centurion appeared to find this very comical. He actually laughed. ‘Well, you’ll have to ask the citizen who set the watch for you. He asked us to detain you and he is paying us, so it is his decision what becomes of you. He has been staying at the temple complex overnight – they have facilities for visitors of rank – and he told us where to find him. He should not be very long. The temple is only a few minutes walk from here, along the riverbank. In the meantime, you can sit and think of any reason why he should accede to your request.’

  They all three left together, and they locked the door this time – though presumably the subaltern was still on guard outside. I settled back on my uncomfortable bench, trying not to think about what lay ahead of me. However, my solitude was not to last for long.

  The door flew open and the centurion peered in. ‘Ah, there you are!’ he said, as if I might have disappeared. ‘You’ve got a visitor. The slave I sent has just come back – and he’s brought the citizen himself. Ask him about contacting your family. You may be fortunate. A generous gentleman.’ He gave me a smug smile. ‘Though I would not count on it. And you’d better have that letter that you showed to me, and let him see the seal. He was asking me if you still had it and I said you did. Strangely, he has something similar himself. So now we’ll see who really has authority.’ He turned back towards the passage, all obsequiousness now. ‘This way, citizen. Here is the wretch you asked to detain and he has admitted everything that you accuse him of!’

  And he stood back to let the citizen come in.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  ‘Junio!’ I could not believe my eyes. ‘What are you doing here?’ I jumped up from my uncomfortable seat and he came towards me with his hands outstretched.

  The centurion was looking more astonished than I felt – if possible. ‘You know this person in some social context, citizen?’ The question was addressed to Junio, and the tone suggested total disbelief, though the enquiry hardly needed to be made. Far from merely mutually grasping elbows in the normal way, I found myself engulfed in a warm filial embrace – a most unbecoming exhibition for two citizens of Rome.

  Junio, however, did not seem to care. ‘This is my adoptive father,’ he explained.

  The soldier looked bewilderedly between the two of us. I, in a tattered tunic, stained with travel now – and Junio in formal Roman dress. I confess my son looked splendidly the part – barbered and fullered to perfection, in his well-draped tunic and expensive cloak – while I was grey and shaggy, and not especially clean. ‘But surely, sir, you are a Roman citizen … How …?’

  ‘And so is he – as I am sure he will have claimed. Indeed, I owe my status entirely to his. Before he freed me and took me as his son, I was in fact his slave.’

  The centurion swallowed heavily, as if digesting this. Then he turned to me. ‘Citizen,’ he said, in an altered tone of voice, ‘apologies for any disrespect I might have shown. I did not realize that you really were a citizen – I thought a false claim to the rank was part of the offence that you were wanted for.’ He turned to Junio. ‘And I suppose that seal is genuine as well?’ His voice betrayed his terror at what he might have done.

  ‘Just like the one that I am carrying!’ Junio produced a bark-roll letter as he spoke. ‘They are both authentic, as you’ll see if you examine them.’ He proffered it to the centurion, who backed away as if the scroll might poison him. ‘But, no one is about to issue a complaint. I asked you to find the person I described, and you have certainly obliged.’ He gave the man a magisterial smile. ‘So, we’ll say no more of it. Now if you would care to leave us, we have business to discuss. I’ve not forgotten that I promised a reward – I’ll settle with you later, just before I leave. In the meantime, it is possible you could arrange some wine, and a few refreshments? My father is not young, and he has had a nasty shock.’

  The centurion backed out, bowing and we heard him in the hall, bellowing instructions to his underlings. Junio grinned at me. ‘I’m very glad to see you, and know that you are safe – though I’m very sorry that they locked you up in here. I was not expecting that. I did ask them to stop you, if you passed this way – gave them your name, told them what you looked like, and said that you’d be on an ox-cart or more probably a mule and would be carrying an authorizing letter under seal. I should have realized they’d assume that you’d committed some offence.’

  ‘Lucky that I happened to come to Aquae Sulis then!’ I felt I was entitled to be a little wry.

  He made a face at me. ‘If you hadn’t come this morning, I was going to search for you – relying on some local to direct me to the farm. I have a gig at my disposal, and we looked out for the house, but somehow we must have driven past it on our way here yesterday. Not surprising, as it was getting dark. I knew that you had gone to Eliana’s old estate, but nobody in Glevum could tell me where it was – and I could hardly interrupt the funeral to ask her where to come.’

  ‘The funeral?’ I murmured stupidly. Surely my patron was not cremated yet?

  ‘For Varius and Claudius,’ he said, suggesting that I could have guessed that for myself. ‘They were her nearest relatives, and when the days of mourning were complete, obviously
she had a funeral for them. Very well-attended, too, from what I understand – though obviously I did not go myself. The curia were unanimous that I should come at once, and bring you back as soon as possible. Marcus has insisted that no official statement should be made until they’d had the chance to question you.’

  ‘Marcus insisted?’ I was sounding like the famous goddess in the cave – repeating everything. ‘But I thought that he was dead!’

  Junio was staring as though he thought the moon had turned my wits. ‘What gave you that impression? He’s very much alive – relieved that Didius has been deposed, of course, and very pleased with you. Though how you managed to work out who the letter-writer was, and force a written confession out of him, I still don’t understand – especially since you weren’t even in Glevum at the time.’

  It was my turn now to goggle. ‘But I haven’t …’ I began, and then realized that perhaps I did know the solution – and that I should have known it long ago. ‘Porteus?’ I murmured. ‘He sent that letter – then wrote a confession in a document and mentioned me by name?’

  Junio nodded. ‘I won’t ask how you know that he had mentioned you,’ he said. ‘But you are right, of course – there was a writing-tablet in his hand when they discovered him. Taken henbane, by the look of it – which he’d mixed with poppy juice – though to read what he had scratched onto the wax you’d suppose that he had heroically fallen on his sword! He could not face the ignominy, that is what he wrote. He realized that you knew that he had sent the threats, but he had never intended Marcus any actual harm – he’d only hoped to frighten him away, so that he could stand for office in his place.’

  I nodded. ‘He deputized for Marcus when he went to Rome,’ I said. ‘He told me so himself. He was clearly disappointed that Marcus hadn’t stayed abroad, as he’d intended to. I suppose that Porteus would have been the obvious candidate – and gained the higher office that he always sought.’