I shook my head. ‘Her owner’s dead,’ I said.
The knife-blade faltered slightly. ‘Well, that slave-girl doesn’t know that – and it will break her heart. She was promised manumission as soon as she got home.’
‘Home? But her home was to be Glevum.’
A shrug. ‘Well, that is where you’re wrong. Somewhere near Calleva, as I understand. That Vestal she was travelling with – to whom she had been loaned – had sent her back again, and given her the letter to prove she was entitled to be travelling alone and to have her slave-price money with her in a purse. I know there was only a woman signatory, but she was a Vestal Virgin apparently, so the document had force.’
I stared at the woman. ‘How do you know all this?’
The basket-maker looked aggrieved. ‘She showed me the letter – a proper little vellum scroll, no bigger than my hand. In a wooden cover, like a locket, specially made, I’d say.’
‘And you read this yourself, though the text was in Latin?’ It was clear I doubted it. It would be astonishing if she could read at all.
Her eyes avoided mine. ‘I looked at it.’ A brief affronted sniff. ‘So, perhaps I couldn’t read the words, but I know a proper seal when I see one, and this had one all right – though it was already broken when I looked at it. I understand she’d shown it to the farmer earlier, though I doubt that he could read it either – if it came to it.’
‘So why are you so confident of what the letter said?’
She looked at me with something very near contempt. ‘Citizen, what kind of idiot do you take me for? I had it read, of course. Do you think I would have let her drive off in that cart, if I had thought she was a runaway? There was a mounted soldier passing and I called him over here – he looked at it and read the words out loud to us. I was slightly disappointed, to tell you the truth; if she had being lying I’d have had him lock her up and tell the authorities in Glevum where she was – in case the owners were offering a reward. But the letter asked the public to assist her on her way – so, of course, I had to let her go.’ She gave Ephibbius a crafty sideways glance. ‘I’d even have swapped the basket, if she’d asked me to. You can’t cross a Vestal’s wishes – it would be appalling luck.’ She sat down at the table and picked up her work again.
‘But she didn’t ask you to exchange the broken one?’
She shook her grizzled head. ‘Just got onto the cart and they set off again.’
‘I suppose the farmer was reassured by what he’d heard?’
‘In fact, I don’t think he was altogether pleased. I wonder if he might have had the same idea as me, and had planned to hand her in when he got home – or demand all her money to keep her secrets safe. However, once he learned that she was truly free to travel on her own, and had the protection of a Vestal Virgin too, he could hardly argue. He treated her with more respect, I noticed, afterwards.’ She glanced up at us again. ‘But you should have known that, if you really represent her owner’s family. Though the woman’s dead, you say?’
I shook my head. ‘I was right the first time. This has all been a mistake. Thank you for your help.’ I gestured to Ephibbius. ‘Let’s be on our way. Unless you want to buy another basket for your wife?’
He shook his head grimly and we went back to the cart. Ascus listened gravely as we told him what we’d learned. He used his giant hand to scratch his head. ‘This gets more and more bewildering!’
Before we moved off, I told them about Lavinia’s disappearance too. Additional disturbing and perplexing news could hardly make much difference to us now, I thought.
FOURTEEN
It was growing late before the walls of Corinium came into sight, and almost dark by the time that we drew up at the gate. We stated our destination to the guard and he allowed us through – together with a dozen heavy-loaded carts, of the sort which are usually banned from moving in cities during daylight hours. Corinium, being a market town, is more relaxed than some – Glevum, for example, is extremely strict, because of the constant military traffic passing through – but none the less these clanking carts had been held back till dusk and our progress was exasperatingly slow as we followed them into the darkening streets, which were of course too narrow to let us pass or turn.
It had not occurred to me, although it should have done, that the address we were seeking might be hard to find. I have been accustomed, in unfamiliar towns, to staying in the official inns, or mansios, which are built to serve officials and the Imperial post and so are always conveniently placed at or within the gates. This house was simply a spacious private home, which occasionally supplemented the owner’s income by accepting paying guests, and though I’d heard it had a stable-block and court attached to it, I was surprised to learn that the entrance lay down a fairly narrow lane, at the town-wall end of a little line of shops. Fortunately, my companions had both been there before – though even then the raedarius passed the entrance to the alley once and had to drive all the way around the block again.
When we did arrive it was to find another problem awaiting us. The gate into the stable-court was bolted, the windows shuttered and the front doors firmly locked. There was not even the glimmer of a candle anywhere. This was something I hadn’t bargained for – although of course the owners were not expecting us. Granted, many thrifty tradesmen living in the town – not having social lives and banquets to attend – retire at sunset and rise again at dawn, thereby saving heat and lighting fuel, they claim, but it was barely dusk. One would have expected some evidence of life. Even in the thriftiest establishments there are always chores which cannot easily be done in working hours, and generally people require a little time to eat. Perhaps the owners had gone out, I thought – though surely in that case there would be slaves at least? I knew that there were at least two at the establishment, because they had carried the fateful box downstairs.
We knocked and shouted, but to no avail, and I was just beginning to wonder what to do, and whether I should go to the mansio after all, when a shutter opened at a window-space above and an indignant head poked out.
‘What do you mean by coming here and making such a din?’ The grizzled head and irritated tone suggested that this was the owner of the property. ‘This is a respectable household and we are all abed.’
‘Already gone to bed?’ I echoed, in astonishment.
My amazement must have been evident in my tone. ‘We have been busy. It has been a wearing day,’ the man said, snappishly. ‘Now that you know that, kindly go away. I don’t know who you are or what you want, but we are not receiving anyone tonight. If you have business with us of some sort – as I suppose you must – then come back in daylight like anybody else.’
‘But I’ve come to ask for lodgings,’ I began, ‘I understand you—’
The head shook forcefully. ‘Then you’ve come to the wrong place. We don’t take passing trade.’
‘I have an introduction . . .’ I brought out the writing-block and waved it hopefully towards the window-space – as though he could possibly have read it from up there, even in good light.
He was not impressed. ‘I’m sorry, citizen.’ He did not sound apologetic in the least. ‘I don’t know how you came to hear of us, but you’ve been misinformed. It’s true we do take people now and then, but that’s by prior arrangement only and even then we only deal with families we know. You’ll have to look elsewhere.’ He turned as someone with a lighted taper came into the room.
‘What is it, husband?’ said a female voice.
‘Don’t get excited, wife. It isn’t what you hoped – no news of the young lady you were concerned about. Just some stranger looking for lodgings for the night. Don’t worry, I’ve told him we aren’t able to oblige.’
There was a moment’s hissing conversation, and then a curly dark head joined the grizzled one – only a shadow now against the taper’s light. A plump face looked down self-importantly at me. ‘All our rooms are technically taken anyway.’ She reached for the shutter. ‘Try the
mansio.’
‘So I take it that Lavinia has not returned?’ I called, before she had time to shut the window-space on me. She froze – the hand that rested on the shutter seemed to turn to stone.
‘What do you know about Lavinia?’
‘I was sent here by her family,’ I said, though that was not strictly the answer to what she’d asked. ‘And this letter of introduction is from the man who hoped to marry someone else you know, her cousin Audelia who stayed here yesterday.’ I didn’t mention what had happened to the bride – time enough for that news when we got inside. The town would be full of rumours tomorrow as it was – there was at least one listener loitering in a doorway opposite.
There was still no movement from the householders to come and let us in. I had an inspiration, suddenly. ‘If you need further confirmation, ask Audelia’s bodyguard.’ I gestured to Ascus, who was waiting in the shadows by the court-gates, with the horse. ‘No doubt you recognize him? He’s noteworthy enough.’
The woman brought the candle and leaned out to look. When she saw Ascus she gave a little cry. ‘Dear Mars, Trullius! He’s telling us the truth. That is Audelia’s bodyguard – I’d know that giant of a horseman anywhere, and by the gods I do believe that’s her raedarius too – the one that brought Lavinia here and took Audelia on to meet her groom today.’
Ephibbius acknowledged this with a little bow.
She turned to her husband and thumped him on the arm. ‘Trullius, you old fool! Can’t you even look to see who you are talking to! Get downstairs at once and let these people in – tell the stable-slave to have the horses seen to and the stable-bed prepared, and I’ll get something for this citizen to eat. He obviously comes from the family, as he says, and we are in enough trouble with them as it is.’
He muttered something which I could not hear.
‘We’ll manage! We’ll keep the attic room in case the girl comes back, and he can have my bed, like that couple did last night. I’ll just have to sleep in the servant’s room again.’ She gave him a sharp push. ‘Well, get downstairs, what are you waiting for? Don’t keep them in the street. You want the whole neighbourhood to know what’s happening? We’re entertaining half Corinium as it is.’
She was right. Shop doors and window-spaces up and down the lane were opening and people were peeping out of them, though when the side-gates opened and a scruffy slave appeared, waving Ascus and the raeda through into the court, the spectators appeared to lose interest in the scene.
The grizzled husband had come down himself to greet me at the doorway of the house, still dressed in the patched under-tunic he’d been sleeping in. He had draped a worn blanket around him like a cape, but he could not hide the dreadful burn-marks on one arm. He carried a lighted oil-lamp in his uninjured hand as with one bare foot he held the door ajar. ‘Come in then, citizen,’ he mumbled gracelessly. ‘I’ve sent a slave to get the fire alight, and my wife will find you something, if you want to eat.’ He gave me a searching look. ‘Though that may cost extra, at this time of night.’
I brought out Publius’s writing-block again. ‘It will be taken care of,’ I said, loftily. ‘I’d be grateful for some food. And my companions too. None of us has eaten anything since noon.’ Much longer in the case of the raedarius, I realized, though I’d not heard him complain.
My host took the letter in his damaged hand – though he clearly found it difficult to grasp anything with that charred and withered claw – and peered short-sightedly at it, holding the scratched message so near the lamp I feared the wax would melt. However, what he saw appeared to satisfy his doubts. He looked up and nodded. ‘This way, citizen.’
He ushered me down a passage to the right into a small room with a dining-alcove in the wall, complete with a table, a bench and two small stools, and lighted by a pitch-torch in a holder in the wall – rather like a common mansio, in fact. No fancy dining-couches on offer here! I wondered what Audelia and her cousin thought of that! He motioned me to sit down on the bench. ‘My wife will be with you—’
‘I am already here!’ She came bustling in. She was much younger than her husband, as I could now see by the lighted taper which she held, and she might have been pretty if she had not been so plump. Unlike her husband, she had found time to dress, not only in a proper day-tunic to cover up her legs, but she’d also managed to tie soft sandals on her feet and thrust a fashionable band around her tousled hair. She gave me a sly smile, obviously conscious of her ample charms. ‘I am Priscilla, at your service, citizen. Now, I have a little stew of pork and leeks prepared, which I’ve put back on the fire, and I believe there’s still some bread and pickled fruits as well . . .’
‘Pork-stew would be excellent,’ I said, with truth. It was, in fact, unlooked-for luxury. I had expected bread and soup at best. A meal of that quality must have been prepared with Lavinia in mind. ‘And you’ll feed my horsemen too? They—’
She was so anxious to reassure me that she cut across my words. ‘Naturally, citizen. There is bread and cheese for them, such as we usually provide, and I’ve had the stable-slave make up a bed for them. Generally these fellows like to sleep beside the horse.’ She snuffed her taper out to save the wick.
I nodded, more because this accorded with what Ephibbius had said than from any commendation of my own. The woman, though, seemed visibly relieved that I was satisfied. ‘Trullius, go and give instructions to the kitchen-girl. Get her to bring this citizen a plateful of that stew, the moment it is hot enough. Make sure it doesn’t burn. When she has done that, she can take something to the stable for the men.’
The husband nodded. ‘He’s got a letter. Publius will pay.’ He lifted his oil-lamp to light his way and shuffled out towards the rear part of the house.
‘Nonsense, you old fool!’ the woman bellowed after him. ‘Of course we cannot charge him, after what’s happened here.’ She turned to me. Her words came in a torrent. ‘It’s not our fault, you know. We did everything according to instructions we received – and a Vestal Virgin’s wishes, even a prospective one, are not to be ignored. When the girl demands that she be left alone, to make quiet preparation for her new life at the shrine – surely no one would expect us to do other than obey? I would never have gone into the room at all, except that she sent her nursemaid for a tray of this and that, and I had to help the woman take it up. Of course we thought the child was just asleep – worn out with her travel and excitements still to come. Even her nurse was unwilling to barge in on her, having been instructed otherwise, but – when we kept on knocking and getting no reply – in the end we had to force our way inside.’ She paused dramatically.
I nodded. ‘And when you did so, Lavinia wasn’t there? Only a pile of clothing in the bed, to give the impression of a human form, I understand?’
She pursed her lips. She’d obviously been hoping to make a tale of this. But she was not silent long. ‘We made a search, of course – she couldn’t have got far, she had only sent down for the tray not half an hour before. But she’d obviously climbed out through the window-space, across the lower roof and down into the court – we found a blanket twisted into a kind of rope, and being young she could have swung down easily – though we can’t find anyone who saw her doing it. And we couldn’t find her in the streets, although we looked. Even went to the forum temple in case she had gone there – and of course they sent a message to the Glevum priests at once. They will not have her to be a Vestal now, so if that is what she wanted, she has got her wish.’ She shook her head. ‘But why would she run off? She seemed so enthusiastic about her future lot.’
‘You think so?’ If that was true, it was significant.
‘She was so excited that she could hardly speak. Wanting Audelia to show her how to pray and make a proper Vestal sacrifice. Got quite proud and haughty about it, if you know what I mean. Boasting that in a year or two, she would be so important that a convicted criminal who crossed her path could be pardoned execution if she gave the word. The only thing that seemed to worr
y her at all was learning that she’d have to have her lovely hair cut off – beautiful red curls, she was so proud of them – but Audelia said they always shave the heads of novices. Hardly enough to make her take the risk of running off and bringing the wrath of the gods – or everybody else – upon her head.’
That set me wondering. Suppose the child hadn’t run off of her own accord at all? A pile of clothing was no proof of anything – a kidnapper could contrive that easily enough to make it look like a simple childish prank. Besides, if the girl was going to run away why wait until midday? It would have been easier to do it hours before, when the house was busy with the morning chores and there was more daylight left. Unless, I thought suddenly, something had happened to give her a sudden fright, like a recognition of a Druid threat, perhaps? Some member of the household might have some idea. ‘I would like to talk to your servants, anyway,’ I said aloud.
The woman sniffed. ‘If anything, it is the nurse you want to question about this – though she claims she was on watch outside the door all day and never left, except to come down for the tray. If you want to see her, she’s under lock and key – I’ve locked her in the slave-cell till someone comes for her. Though perhaps I should have called the town-guard and had her put in jail. I wasn’t certain what to do with her.’
I waved all this aside. ‘I shall have to speak to her, of course. In the meantime, I have questions to ask you.’
‘I might have known we’d be suspected of complicity! You’re from the family, and I’m sure that they blame us,’ she fretted. ‘But truly, citizen, there’s nothing I can add. Oh, dear Mars!’ She pulled out a stool and sat down heavily. ‘And we were so excited when the Vestal Virgins came. Going to make our fortune, that was – we told half the town – and now look what’s come of it.’
She was interrupted by the arrival of her husband, who by now had put an over-tunic on and was personally carrying my supper on a tray – a bowl of steaming stew, some garum in a pot, a hunk of bread, a metal goblet and a jug of watered wine – and the lighted lamp was on the carrying board as well. He managed this by holding one end of the tray and supporting the other against his damaged arm and he set it down by sliding it along the board with practised ease. The stew smelt wonderful. He took a spoon out of a pocket in his belt, rubbed it on his hem and handed it to me. Then he stood back, self-importantly.
The Vestal Vanishes Page 13
