Gwellia gave him a peculiar look. ‘She’s already in the gig. And while you’ve been away, we’ve taken down the gate, so it’s possible to drive in to the front court properly.’ She gestured to the vehicle which was drawn up outside the door.
Junio climbed up beside the driver on the seat. It was a tightish fit for three – but there was room enough, which was fortunate as I would have to go to Glevum in that fashion very soon. We watched as it whisked off down the lane, and disappeared from view, quickly now that it wasn’t following the cart.
Gwellia caught my arm. ‘So our little adventure has turned out well. Everyone is safe, and we can go back home. And tonight we’ll sleep more easily. We’ve tapers and to spare. This time we’ll have the box-bed, and leave the boys the reeds.’
I grinned back at her. ‘That sounds very satisfactory,’ I said.
EPILOGUE
‘So! Porteus has left me a portion in his will, provided that I take his ugly daughter as a ward and find a husband for her!’ Marcus roared with laughter and clapped me on the back, meaning that lots of people turned and stared at me. We were standing on the top step of the basilica in Glevum, where the will had just been read, in the presence of the seven witnesses who had seen it sealed. It was a concession that I was here beside my patron, in my Roman best, instead of mingling with the crowds below. ‘I shall decline the honour.’ Marcus laughed again. ‘The girl looks like a mule and by the time that all his debts are paid, there won’t be much left for heirs!’
I murmured some conventional assent, though privately thinking that it must be pleasant to be rich enough to forego an inheritance, whatever size it was.
Marcus read my thoughts. ‘I shan’t go empty-handed, my old friend,’ he said. ‘The curia has ruled that – although issuing threats against a magistrate is always serious – on this occasion no real harm was done and his offence is better punished by a compensation fine, which comes to me as the offended citizen, of course. And is deducted before other creditors are paid.’ He thumped my back again. ‘I have you to thank for that. If you hadn’t made your declaration before the magistrates, they would have convicted Porteus post-mortem of killing Varius, and everything would have been forfeited to the brand-new Emperor.’
He gestured to a corner the jostling scene below, where a group of slaves were putting up a statue of Septimius Severus (hastily commissioned and not very well produced) to the entertainment of a crowd of spectators. It was being hauled up on pulleys to an empty plinth, which had now held the image of four Emperors this year.
I nodded. ‘I confess I did not like the man – but I would not have his family honour compromised by having him condemned for a crime that he did not commit.’ Marcus was walking down the steps by now, through a pathway cleared by his attendant slaves and I found myself trotting politely after him, at a distance appropriate for my rank.
When we reached the bottom, Marcus stopped and turned a beaming smile on me. ‘You know, until you came and told your story to the assembled councillors, I was not wholly satisfied that he’d confessed at all.’ He gestured to a slave to find a carrying-chair. ‘After I’d sent to fetch you back, I had a dreadful thought. I was afraid that the unknown threatener had struck, and simply put the letter in Porteus’s hand to make it appear to be a suicide, especially since I recognized the style of writing-block. I was still wondering if I would be next – that is why I would not let the curia announce it publicly, or give the body burial until I’d heard from you. But of course you convinced us all that the note was genuine. Largely because you had Eliana’s admission by that time, of course. Ah – here is my attendant coming with the chair. Shall you come and join me at the baths? We can take some refreshment, if you do not wish to plunge.’
I nodded, though a bathhouse visit did not interest me. I have never shared the Roman passion for being half-cooked in steam, scraped down with a strigil-wielding slave and plunged into cold water. But an invitation from my patron could not be refused – to be asked to join him bathing was the highest compliment. ‘I’ll join you there as soon as possible,’ I said, glad of the excuse that I was following on foot.
My route there took me very close to the apartment block where Varius had lived, and I could not help recalling the last time I was there – the day I’d appeared before the curia. I had insisted on visiting Eliana first, before I gave my formal evidence, and I am glad I did – though the memory of that visit will live with me for years.
The old woman was reclining, propped by pillows, on a couch, alone in the echoing apartment, attended only by Hebestus and a couple of sickly looking maidservants who had clearly once belonged to Varius, and still looked very ill. But Eliana was the frailest of them all. She had been a living skeleton before but she had faded to a shadow of herself, weak and shrunken and as pale as death – which was clearly very close – and the wispy hair hung round her face in thin dishevelled strands. Her eyes, though, were as shrewd as ever, and her mind as sharp. She knew me from the moment I was admitted to the room.
‘Ah, the pavement-maker with the mule. What brings you visiting? Come to see an ancient lady die of grief?’
‘Come to see a brave old mother who avenged her sons.’
A strange expression crossed the withered face. ‘Bring a stool, Hebestus, and leave us for a while. This man and I have matters to discuss.’
It was easy, after that. I had rather feared she would deny it all, but quite the contrary. She readily confessed to everything, including the murder of Varius and most of the others in the house. She was anxious to tell me exactly what she’d done, and begged me to make it public after she had died.
‘The world should know what kind of person Varius was,’ she said. ‘I should have suspected earlier that he had set the fire – it broke out while he was in the house – but he volunteered to fight it and went off with my sons. And that was the last I ever saw of them. Then later he went out to help my husband fight the blaze. Foolishly I was grateful at the time. I now think that Varius tried to kill him too, by pushing him into the centre of the flames.’
‘So your husband liked him?’
‘Not especially. He always said that Varius was ruthless. But he tried to act as paterfamilias when the father died, and certainly he took my nephew into his confidence. I’ve even wondered if there might have been a will, and Varius destroyed it in the fire, but of course I’ll never know. My poor beloved never spoke again – though I knew by his reactions that he distrusted Varius ever afterwards. That’s why I would never come to Glevum while he lived. But then he died and I no longer cared …’ She tailed off. ‘And then I went into the wine-cave … one last attempt to find the gold that wasn’t there … and you know what I found.’
I nodded. She had confirmed my deductions in every detail. ‘But I need to tell the curia that you killed Varius,’ I said. ‘Or someone else is likely to be blamed. I’m talking about Porteus, the man who called on you the day that Varius died.’
‘The man who would not give up his litter until I told him to? Why should I care what happens to a man like that.’
Grief and horror had turned her mind, I thought. But I persisted, gently. ‘He’s dead, but people are sincerely mourning Varius, thinking him the honourable victim of a foolish man – and surely that can’t satisfy your purposes? You want the world to know what kind of man he really was.’
She sighed. A massive sigh that shook her ancient frame. ‘You’re quite right, citizen. That would not do at all. It’s only a pity that it cannot wait a day or two – I cannot last much longer. And I do not care. But tell them what you wish. Write it on that tablet and read it back to me – I’ll seal it with my seal. Take Hebestus with you, he can swear on my behalf that I gave it to you freely. Though I would be grateful if he did not have to know what it contained. A woman should be respected by her servants – even when she’s dead.’
I did as she requested and we called the old slave in to watch her seal the writing-block. ‘Now go and leave
me!’ She waved us both away. ‘I am going to sleep. Hebestus, bring me one last glass of wine. You will find it in the jug beneath my bed.’ And I did not prevent him, though I guessed what it was. The old slave was stricken, later, when he learned what he had done, but the curia had freed him – at Marcus’s request.
I looked up at the building once again. The flat was empty now – like everything that Varius and Eliana had once owned, it was forfeit to the state. I wondered idly who would take it next – and whether its sad history would make it hard to sell.
But there was no time to linger, Marcus would await. I hurried quickly to the main door of the baths, where I had to fumble for the entrance price. I evaded the slave-boys who would have helped me to disrobe and guarded my garments – for a fee – while I immersed, and instead went directly to the vestibule, where Marcus was seated on a marble bench, selecting tidbits from a vendor’s tray. He looked up and saw me and signalled me to come and take a seat at his right hand.
He selected two goblets of cheap watered wine and offered one to me. ‘Now,’ he said expansively, ‘I’ve brought you here on purpose, as no doubt you’ve guessed. I want to talk to you where we will not be overheard.’
I glanced around, astonished. The atrium was full of customers – playing ballgames, doing exercise, or simply promenading where they could be seen before proceeding to the bathing areas. But, I realized, Marcus was quite right. Nobody was likely to be listening to us.
I took a sip of warm, unpleasant wine, and nodded. ‘There is some secret that you wanted to impart? You found the gold, perhaps?’
‘We did!’ The handsome face had darkened to a frown. ‘Did I not tell you that? Exactly where you told us it might be – though I don’t know how you knew. Who would have thought of moving the wine press and digging underneath? But there it was, indeed. Not a fortune, but a considerable sum, enough to pay for much of the repairs. And employing your tanner has been a good idea – he has caught a lot of pests – vermin, birds and foxes that had made lairs in the field and were eating what was left of any crops. I offered him a post as land-steward, but he rejected it – said he had his freedom, and was content with that. Though I was glad to help his little family and buy his slave-son back. Julia tells me that without their help the baby would have died.’
There was nothing useful I could say to that. The whole episode had shaken Julia to the core, and – though she had always been casually generous to us – she had become so kindly to the local poor that she was in danger of encouraging mendicants. Marcus was talking of closing up the house and moving to Corinium for a little while – making Cilla positively envious. She had enjoyed the most luxurious few days of her young life in the town house there, welcomed by the servants and treated as a guest, and she had been almost reluctant to come back.
‘But finding the gold was not the reason that you asked me here?’ I said.
Marcus shook his head. From a cone of twisted bark he shook out a handful of roasted fava beans and tossed them down his throat. ‘You were impressive when you spoke before the curia,’ he said. ‘Several people have remarked on it to me.’ He looked at me, as if expecting a response.
I couldn’t think of one. I was uneasy now. Marcus is not given to such compliments. ‘Go on,’ I said, at last.
‘You realize that the curia has lost two councillors?’
‘Varius and Porteus,’ I said. ‘But there will be elections soon. And no dearth of candidates. Lots of people want to be on the curia – some men spend a fortune building public works and bribing sponsors. The rank brings influence.’
Marcus fiddled with his goblet. ‘That is true, of course. But it’s nice to know the posts are held by people you can trust. People who would vote as you would vote, and – if you were not there yourself – keep you informed of what was happening, not just the big events, but who was supporting whom and who had argued with his friends.’ I still said nothing, and finally he said what he’d been hinting at. ‘The thing is Libertus, I’ve been asked to ask you if you’d be prepared to stand. I would put you forward as a candidate, and several of my colleagues would speak in your support. By my calculation we would win the vote.’
I should have seen it coming, but I was so surprised that I upset my wine. ‘Me? Stand as councillor? But I’m of Celtic blood – and I’m a tradesman and was once a slave. They would not want a man like me to be a councillor.’
‘They do. You have impressed them by your intellect, and by the way you gave your evidence. And by the fact that you seem an honest man. What is to prevent it? You’re a Roman citizen, you are more than old enough and you can read and write. Besides you were born a nobleman in your tribe, I think.’
‘But I don’t have the property requirement,’ I said, seizing on the obvious objection to this absurd idea. I had not the slightest interest in seeking civic power. ‘A councillor must have a residence within the town, and of a certain size.’
‘We had considered that. Porteus’s apartment will shortly be for sale – in order to satisfy his creditors. That could easily be obtained for you – we could buy it, for example, and install you there – on the written understanding that we will have it back when you cease to be a councillor. That satisfies the regulations. What do you say to that?’
But I don’t want to be a councillor! I was screaming inwardly, but I dared not voice that thought aloud. Marcus’s patronage was a valuable thing, and he did not care for people thwarting him, especially when he was offering something flattering. ‘I have a workshop,’ I said feebly, ‘and important customers. In fact I have a big commission which I should be working on. Replacing all the pavements in the Egidius house, as you may remember? I made a formal contract and, as a man of honour, I cannot break my word.’
I had hit on a telling argument, in fact. Breaking a contract was a criminal offence – enough to debar one from the curia. Marcus conceded with a rueful nod. ‘Well, I suppose there is no help for it – this time. And since you have refused the dignity, I suppose I’ll have to tell you that you’re due for a reward. If you had been a councillor, you’d be disqualified, but as it is the curia have ruled it should be paid.’
‘Reward?’ People of my status do not expect rewards.
‘Something Porteus advertised before he died. Had them make a proclamation in the marketplace offering two gold pieces to anyone who could prove, to the satisfaction of the magistrates, who it was that poisoned Varius. He lodged the money with the curia at the time, so it did not form part of his estate. I’ll see it comes to you.’
He swallowed the remainder of the beans, and rose. The conference was over. I stood up too, as courtesy demands, and bowed – discreetly tipping the wine into a drain.
‘I’m invited to have cena with the other councillors,’ my patron said, extending his ringed hand for me to kiss. ‘I’ll tell them your decision, which I’m sure that they’ll regret – though they’ll accept your reasons. I will see to that.’ He chuckled. ‘In the meantime, think of ways to spend your aurei.’
But I was already toying with a wild idea. The farmland around my roundhouse was not very large, but it stretched to several fields. Surely a man could find good uses for an ox? How much would persuade Jummilius to part with one I knew?
The Ides of June Page 24
