Vindolanda

by Adrian Goldsworthy

  ‘Here is the contract.’ She held out the sheet of thin wood, its surface carefully rubbed with beeswax so that the ink would not spread. ‘You have the money?’ For the moment she was all business.

  Ferox took a bag from his pouch and poured the contents on to the table. ‘Sixty denarii, including the tax.’ The coins were the pooled resources of the men stationed at Syracuse. Every year or so they put together the cost of hiring a girl for a month. Ever since he returned, their spokesman, the Thracian, had pressed for him to arrange matters with Flora.

  ‘You will see their entitlements laid out in order. I’m letting you have Procla. She – and only she – will keep the tally and charge whatever is necessary.’ The initial lease would only cover so much, and once that allowance had gone the soldiers would have to pay each time just like any other customers.

  ‘She can come up next week when the cart brings our supplies.’

  ‘Good.’ Flora turned to the slave. ‘Wine.’ She looked questioningly at Ferox.

  ‘Thank you, but plenty of water.’

  Flora nodded as the slave left on his errand. ‘Good. Glad to see that you are being sensible. Sometimes I worry about you.’

  ‘I’ll get by.’

  She smiled, the creases around her eyes and mouth becoming deeper. ‘You have so far. Are you stopping for a while or just here on business?’ A burst of singing came from above them. The ceiling was made from thick beams, and normally kept out any noise from above, but a group of merry Tungrians were bawling out an obscene song about a centurion and an army mule. ‘That’s an old one,’ she continued. ‘It’s not a peaceful night, but I’ve kept the twins out of it, and young Cytheris.’

  The twins, two women unrelated and utterly different in appearance, but of equally great skill in their trade, were the most expensive girls at the place. Cytheris was fairly new, not yet up to such a robust evening.

  ‘Thank you for the offer, but I shall say no.’

  ‘It will not cost, you know that. Not with everything I owe you.’

  Ferox shook his head. ‘You’ve long since paid me back.’

  ‘You cannot pay back a friend – though that cheeky sod Vindex reckons I ought to keep trying!’ Her laugh was deep and earthy, a laugh that should have come from someone fat and drunk.

  ‘I reckon friendship with Vindex costs everyone a lot.’ Flora laughed again, a bubbling sound. She drank a lot, but Ferox had never seen her the worse for wine. ‘I’ll pass today, all the same – unless you have changed your mind!’ He grinned, a rare gesture that always made him look younger.

  ‘You’re as bad as he is!’ Flora flushed with pleasure. ‘You know I’m retired – and old enough to be your mother.’

  ‘Would you talk to me a while?’ he asked.

  ‘Still business, eh? Well, you know you don’t have to ask.’

  ‘Was Titus Annius a guest here?’

  That surprised her and she raised her thin, well-plucked eyebrows. The slave appeared and placed two blue-green cups on the table. A slim girl aged about twelve with thick, mousy hair appeared with a flagon each of wine and water. Flora poured her glass unmixed, and waited for the slaves to leave. ‘Good kid, that one. She’ll have to decide soon which way she goes. Her mother raised enough to buy her freedom, but where would she go if she doesn’t work here? Not easy for a girl on her own and there’s a lot of bastard men out there.’ She drained the glass and poured herself another.

  ‘Well, that’s as maybe,’ she said after a moment. ‘And if you were another man we’d talk about that and the struggles of life and move on. But you’re not like that, and never give up. I guess it’s not my business why you want to know, and there’s no need to tell me.

  ‘Yes, the centurion came here, regular as clockwork every third month. Didn’t favour one girl over another, didn’t talk much, but they said he was kind enough – no trouble, he just got on with it. Not like you, singing to them for hours before getting down to business!’ She laughed again. That was another old joke. Ferox had not come here for years except to talk to the mistress, but she swore than when he used to visit he had always got drunk and started to sing. ‘They quite liked it, tell the truth. You’ve a nice voice.’ Ferox could not remember anything about those times and still wondered whether this was Flora’s little joke.

  ‘How about Flavius Cerialis?’

  ‘Huh! Trying to be clever again.’ She waved her glass at him, and it must already have been almost empty because nothing spilled out. ‘Well, don’t bother with me because I’ve seen it all and don’t get shocked, and you should know that I’ll tell you what I wouldn’t tell most.

  ‘Yes, he was here within a few days of arriving, and then a couple of times each week after that. Only stays away when that ponce of a freedman is about, along with his wife.’

  ‘Fortunata?’

  ‘That’s the one. Knew her in Londinium when she worked for a friend. She was a dancer, and not a bad one, although reckon she’s out of shape now.’ Flora frowned. ‘Poor lass, I doubt she’ll ever learn, but she’s one of those who tries to please every man she meets. Probably thinks that will make her safe. The more important the man, the harder and quicker she flings herself at him.’

  Ferox remembered the freedwoman rubbing against him and the servants’ gossip passed on by Philo. ‘What does make you safe?’ he mused.

  ‘Nothing.’ Flora’s tone was brutal. ‘Not any damned thing. Money helps, and influence, and luck, quick wit and real friends, but it can all go in a minute. Doesn’t matter if you’re an emperor or a slave, it can all end just like that.’ She tried to snap her fingers, but no noise came until she did it for the fourth time. ‘See, can’t even rely on that. It’s just the world, and the world doesn’t care and it ain’t always kind and it ain’t always nice.’

  ‘You always cheer me up.’

  The dirty laugh came back again. ‘And you always get me talking and preaching.’

  ‘Cerialis?’

  ‘Oh, still nosy. Well, he’s always the same. Wants the twins, both of them together. They say he’s keen and energetic – I can draw you a picture if you like, but I didn’t think you were the sort who likes that sort of thing. Talks a lot and likes to tell them things, though – quotes poets and books. They swear he’s the wisest man they’ve ever met.’ Flora was dismissive. ‘What do those silly things know except what to do in bed or out of it? Now I’m thinking that if he was really so clever then he’d be discussing such things with his lady wife and not a couple of tarts. So I reckon he likes to feel big in every way – not just the same way as all the other men.’

  ‘What do you know of his wife?’

  ‘Hmmm. Sniffing around, are we?’ she said and laughed again. She offered him the wine, but he shook his head.

  Ferox looked down at his cup. He had always been drawn to the delicacy of fine glass – so beautiful and yet so fragile. It was a wonder of the empire, smaller and less important than many, but never failed to make him marvel at the skill of its craftsmen.

  ‘I like her,’ Flora said after a moment. ‘She came here once – no, not in that way! You should be ashamed of yourself, you little beast.’ She drained her glass and wagged it at him reprovingly. ‘Not that there’s not some who would, but not that one. No, she sent a slave to ask for an appointment, then came and bid me good day and took my hand as courteous as you like.’ The brothel owner, former slave and whore, preened at the memory. ‘They were making a little bathing pool in the praetorium and the workmen were telling her that it couldn’t be done the way she wanted, so she wanted to see mine and ask whether I was happy with it.

  ‘Venus alone knows how she had heard about it,’ Flora continued. ‘Husband’s been in there often enough, but doubt he tells her!’ She sniggered for a moment, before resuming a dignified posture, her free hand in the air, fingers outstretched like a statue. ‘Took her there, and she didn’t bat an eyelid at the pictures.’

  Ferox had not been in the bath here for some time,
but could dimly remember walls covered in paintings of nudes and couples, of a whole wide and sometimes baffling array of lovemaking, some accurate, some mythical and some surely downright impossible.

  ‘Well, she asks precise questions, and I got the clerk who arranged it to answer. He turned to jelly under her gaze, but spoke up well enough. From what I hear she lectured the work party and now the prefect and his wife reckon they have almost as good a bath as mine.’

  ‘Perhaps without the pictures.’

  Flora chuckled. ‘Perhaps without the pictures.’ She thought for a moment. ‘Might warm her up though, poor thing. Not a lot of joy in her life. As I say – emperor or slave, it doesn’t matter.’

  ‘Do you know much about her?’

  ‘You don’t give in, do you?’ She stared at him, glancing at the flagon of wine and then changing her mind. ‘If you weren’t a friend I’d let you wonder. Still, truth is that I don’t know that much, just bits and pieces I hear from the girls or when I keep my ears open. A blind man could see that the marriage is not founded on love, but then how many really are, especially with the rich?’

  ‘Keeps you in business.’

  ‘Cheeky lad, aren’t we?’ Flora glared at him and then tilted her head from side to side. ‘You know enough of the world to know that the likes of me will never be short of business. There are some, you know, who are happy, really happy. Take Aelius Brocchus and his wife. Not the brightest, either of them, but they’re well matched and content.’ Her admiration was mixed with wonder at such good fortune.

  ‘Do you know everyone, Flora?’

  ‘You know the old joke about the most famous whore in Antioch. They asked her whether she knew every man in the city, and she said no, but there was one part of all of them she knew about.’

  ‘They don’t usually tell it that way.’

  ‘Just because I grew up in a sewer doesn’t mean I have to live there whether I want to or not. Now, do you want to know what I can tell you or not? No skin off my nose either way, you’re the one who asked. Good, then shut up for a moment and let me speak. The Lady Sulpicia had to marry him. She’s got a brother in exile and a father up to his neck in debt. Cerialis has money, lots of it, although no one is quite sure how he got it. He’s also got the favour of the emperor – the new emperor – so might help with influence, and he’s a kind man even if he’s only marrying her for her name and her ancestry. He’s a fool, if you ask me, and I speak as a professional, because that’s a beautiful woman, so if I were him I wouldn’t be wasting so much time with whores who don’t really give a curse about him.’

  ‘Brother in exile?’

  ‘Thought you’d pick on that. Seems it’s the second time. Was a young officer on the fringes when they caught Saturninus. Might even be one of your victims?’ When the Legate Saturninus rebelled against the Emperor Domitian it had not lasted long before his plans fell apart and he was deserted. The investigations ordered by the vengeful ruler had gone on a long time, and Ferox had spent months examining charges. He had done his best to blot out the memories of those dark days, but some of the faces returned in his nightmares.

  Ferox shook his head and hoped that he had had nothing to do with her brother. He did not remember anyone called Sulpicius, and most of the men he had been sent to find had ended up dead. He wanted to say that he had only found out the truth, but knew full well that even men he had shown to be innocent were still executed.

  ‘Well, perhaps, perhaps not. He gets recalled by Nerva and a couple of months later is posted to Syria and gets caught up in a new conspiracy led by the provincial legate. Not the smartest boy, by the sound of it, but then the father doesn’t sound much either. Reckon the lady must take after her mother.’

  Ferox stood up and walked over to the little woman, putting a hand affectionately on her shoulder. It was the closest to intimacy they ever got, and a rare privilege, but he felt her shudder. Too many men had touched her too many times.

  ‘You never cease to amaze me, Flora. I thought you said that you didn’t know much.’ He took his hand away and she relaxed. ‘Sorry, but I haven’t really got much family any more, and somehow you make me feel as if I have.’

  She looked up at him, and perhaps it was the light, but he thought he saw a moistness in her eyes.

  ‘Piss off!’ she said and then sighed. ‘Why do you always pull me back towards the sewer? If I didn’t like you I’d pay someone to kick your teeth in. Not that I’d probably have to pay, if I asked in the right places. You’re not good at making friends, are you?’

  ‘Then all the more lucky that I have you as one.’

  ‘You won’t if you don’t look after Procla! Any of your lads hurt her or not pay and it’ll be your bollocks along with theirs that they’ll be feeding to the pigs.’

  A door opened and there was a burst of shrieking followed by a man’s bellow. Two women were pushed into the room. One was pale with chestnut hair and the other dark-skinned and black-haired. Their hair was wild, and they wore fine slippers in whitened leather and nothing else. It was the twins, and they were rowing as they often did, so that a big broad-chested man, one of Flora’s slaves, had to hold them apart. Ferox had seen neither woman for a long while, and certainly not like this.

  ‘Quiet!’ Flora screamed, the sound echoing in the room and probably audible upstairs even above the din. The two women froze and went silent. ‘Are you still here?’ she asked Ferox. ‘Thought you came on business?’

  Ferox did his best to look only at the mistress of the house and failed, his eyes flicking over towards the naked slaves. ‘One last question. I saw Longinus as I came in. Do you know him?’

  ‘I know everyone, don’t I – at least by one thing.’ She leaned her head so that she was peering at him. ‘You’d better not be up to any mischief. Yes, I know him. He’s a friend, and has been for years – much longer than you. We’ve been through a lot together, and sometimes we like to sit and talk about the old days and how glad we are that we’re not living them any more.’

  ‘Do you trust him?’

  ‘With my life. Yours too, not that that counts for much! Now clear off and let me get on, you idle soldier – before you start enjoying yourself and shock us all.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Just go!’

  XV

  ON THE NONES of October Ferox returned to Vindolanda. The weather was better than it had been for weeks, but there was something in the air that hinted at the coming of colder and shorter days. Leaves were turning brown and beginning to fall, and for days the sentries on duty in the tower at Syracuse had watched as swallows flocked and wheeled across the valley in front of the burgus. They would leave soon, before the frost began to bite and the trees were stripped bare.

  All this was what happened each year, a sign that the world moved on, whatever anyone felt about it. When Ferox rode out he found people nervous and secretive, and the mood was even darker than it had been at the end of summer. Fewer than usual came to him with requests, and there was less theft and raiding than in the past at this time of year. It might have been because the Roman expedition had reminded everyone of the empire’s willingness to punish, but he doubted that. Vindex was even more scornful.

  ‘Don’t think that scared anyone. They’re frightened of what’s on its way, not what’s happened already.’

  Ferox did not blame them. There had not been much news of the Stallion and his tattooed followers, although it was whispered that many were going to join them, journeying from distant lands to pledge their lives to the cause of flame and purging. It made it hard not to look with suspicion at any travellers. Philo had deciphered more of the curse they had found wrapped around the effigy. Most of it was meaningless incantation, but there were lines that made sense, and he showed them to Crispinus and Cerialis when he met them at the fort.

  ‘“Three times nine years and three, and the house of Jupiter will burn and with it all of Rome. The wolf cubs will bite each other unto death; all will die and all
will burn. Fire will cleanse the world, and leave behind a better land for those worthy to inherit.”’

  ‘All cheerful stuff,’ Crispinus said when he had read the boy’s translation. ‘If I remember rightly the Temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus on the Capitol was struck by lightning and caught fire, back at the time of the Civil War, thirty years ago.’

  ‘Yes, and there was trouble in Gaul then, with men claiming to be druids foretelling the destruction of the empire.’ Ferox remembered studying in Gaul, and how no one openly spoke about druids, and yet all knew they were there and paid great heed to what they said. If there were runaway slaves from the empire at the heart of this movement, perhaps some came from the Gallic provinces. All that Philo said added to the picture of a mishmash of beliefs from all over the world, twisted into one message of hate and destruction.

  ‘“Filled with the strength of the gods,”’ Crispinus read aloud, ‘“no blade will pierce the pure and brave.” Sounds a good trick. Presumably the ones we killed when they attacked the camp were not sufficiently pure. What does this mean? “When the dead walk among the living and the two worlds join for a night, and when new life begins, these are the times appointed. Blood of king, blood of queen, all shall burn as offerings to please the gods and feed the cleansing fire.”’

  ‘The souls of the dead walk the land at Samhain, as do creatures from the Otherworld,’ Ferox said, and he believed it, for that was a strange night. Yet somehow to say such a thing here, in a room off the courtyard of the principia, made it seem unreal. ‘It is the night before the Kalends of November. My guess is that new life beginning means Imbolc, the feast around the time lambing begins. It is a guess, and hard to tell when they have plucked ideas from all over the place. To me it seems to promise a sacrifice of important captives at one of the festivals, working a great magic that will give power and victory to this Stallion and his bands.’