Enemies of the Empire

by Rosemary Rowe

  Marcus nodded slowly. My heart sank to the pavement. He looked at me sternly. ‘Have you anything to say in your defence?’

  I had, of course, though I had decided that it was not a good idea to voice my suspicions about Plautus in the open court, nor to mention how the town appeared to be parcelled up between the rival gangs. Better to sound like an ignorant stranger, if I could. That way there was at least a chance that my unseen enemies would be lulled into security, supposing that I was frightened into silence by events and would just hold my tongue and go away. Otherwise, I had very little doubt, my life would be in danger if I was released.

  My only hope was to convince the court that I was alibi – elsewhere. It would not be an easy plea to prove, since there is no way of telling time in most establishments, no water clocks or anything, and – since it had already been dark – there was not even a public sundial I could appeal to. But I did have one idea.

  I kept my account as simple as I could. I had come out of the thermopolium when Lupus was alive, at the moment when his wife had entered carrying a new taper to be lit. She would attest to that?

  A hurried consultation with the advocate. She would.

  ‘When I went out into the street I thought that somebody was on my track – a thief with designs upon my purse, perhaps. I did not think of taking out my knife at first, but simply ran away and tried to hide. There are three young men in the town who could attest to this.’

  ‘Their names?’ Marcus was still curt and businesslike.

  I gave their nicknames, which was all I knew, and an usher was sent out to summon them, while I continued with my narrative: how I had gone back to the mansio but the guard on duty would not let me in, and so I had returned to the thermopolium to seek a room. I didn’t say anything about Promptillius or the note, or about my plans to find a brothel for the night.

  At this point there was an unexpected interruption, as spotty Laxus was brought into the dock. I was astounded that he had been found so quickly, but the reason was soon pretty evident. He had been crowding round the doorway of the court and boasting of having spoken to me the night before. Now I was glad of the carelessness that had evidently earned Laxus his nickname. When I mentioned him by name and called on him to testify for me he took fright and tried to make off into the town, but the bystanders had laid hands on him and handed him over to the guard.

  He confessed all this in sullen tones. He was looking frightened, too, and far more anxious to justify himself than be of any assistance to my cause. I had been skulking in a doorway, claiming to be a Roman citizen, and it was not his fault if I’d accosted them. He had no part in any homicide. He and his two friends had been at the public games all night, like model citizens, and in the tavern afterwards in full sight of everyone, where they’d had a skin or two of wine. They’d simply shown me to the mansio, as I had asked them to.

  They had drunk a good deal more than a skin or two, I guessed, but I did not question it. His evidence supported me, if anything. It was easy to get him to agree that I had met them not long after the ending of the games.

  ‘You see,’ I said, to Marcus and the court, ‘here is a witness who will swear that I was near the wine shop shortly after dark, and walked down to the mansio afterwards – there will be a guard there who can testify to that, as well. Now – follow this carefully – a home-made candle burns down in an hour or two at most. Agreed?’

  There was a general murmur of assent.

  ‘Yet, when I got back to the thermopolium, that new taper in the shop was not even half consumed. Ask the town guardsmen who arrested me. I noticed one of them had picked it up to view the corpse. You see what that suggests? Far from having time to kill the hot-soup seller and dispose of all his gold, I must have hurried directly through the streets to meet these people when and where I did. There was no gold in my purse when they arrested me – a small sum of silver only – as this young man can also testify. He saw me take it out to pay for some honey cakes from the pastry-cook. So what became of Lupus’s treasure chest? I am a stranger to the town. Where could I hide a great big wooden box?’

  The advocate was on his feet again. ‘The fact that he hasn’t got the money now is no proof that he didn’t have it then. There is no doubt that it was taken, Excellence. I say he stole it, and he stabbed the shopkeeper.’

  ‘That is another thing,’ I said, turning to Laxus and looking him firmly in the eye. ‘About the charge of carrying a knife.’ The youth turned pale. He was guilty of that crime himself, and he was clearly terrified that I was going to accuse him of it now. ‘Did you see me with a knife at any time?’ I went on.

  I saw him visibly relax. ‘I didn’t, citizen. I didn’t know you had one. If I had—’ He stopped, and was very anxious to be helpful, suddenly. ‘Though it would hardly be surprising if you did – there are a lot of thieves and rogues about. People have been set on in the outskirts of the town a dozen times this year. Especially travellers or anyone with Roman ties. My own uncle disappeared a moon or two ago—’

  ‘May it please Your Excellence,’ I interrupted him. I did not want him to raise the matter of the rival gangs and perhaps divide opinion in the court. ‘I am a stranger here, and did not know about all these unfortunate events. However, one possibility does occur to me. Perhaps the unhappy victim in this case was robbed and killed by the same band of criminals that did these other things. I thought I heard footsteps pursuing me, as I have explained. It all suggests there might have been a murderous thief about.’

  There was uneasy muttering among the audience at this. One or two people began to look unsure – including one of the magistrates, I noticed.

  The advocate for Lupus’s wife was on his feet again. ‘Then why has the wretch sponged his tunic, as he evidently has? Look at the dark stains and marks on it.’

  The unexpected sally brought another hiss of discontent from some parts of the gallery. I thought of calling in the warder to speak in my defence – but Laxus was now firmly on my side. Before I had time to say another word, he volunteered, ‘There was no blood on his tunic when he spoke to us. I can swear to that.’

  ‘So, Excellence,’ I said, seeing a chance and seizing it at once, ‘if the killer was drenched with Lupus’s blood, as by the advocate’s account he must have been, then I am clearly innocent.’

  There were louder rumbles now. The mood was beginning to swing in my favour, and, seeing this, the advocate began another tack. ‘There is still the question of the knife.’ He produced it with a flourish. ‘Here it is. The town guards took it from him at the scene. Carrying a weapon is a capital offence, and so is his claim to be a Roman citizen, if that is proved untrue. As I understand the matter, that is in dispute. He has brought no proof of it, of any kind.’

  There was only one possible response to that. ‘As to those charges,’ I replied, ‘I call upon my patron – His Excellence himself.’

  I could not have caused more of a sensation if I had conjured up Jupiter in person. All eyes turned to Marcus, and even the soldier who had been guarding me allowed his sword to drop and swivelled round to stare.

  Marcus cleared his throat and raised a hand. His face was mottled scarlet and I knew that he was raging inwardly, but he simply rose to his feet and said with dignity, ‘What the man says on both these points is true. He is a citizen, and one of my clients. He is accompanying me to Isca, where – despite his present woeful lack of gravitas – he is to be an honoured guest. It is also true that I presented him with that dining knife in appreciation for a service he once rendered me.’

  The advocate was obviously nonplussed by this, but he did not give up. ‘Then what was he doing at that shop last night? Not once, but twice. He does not deny that he was there. And at the crucial time. He also had a knife, whether it is a legal one or not, and it is proved that he came back to the scene.’

  Marcus ran a ringed hand through his tousled curls. ‘There is no blood on that knife that I can see,’ he said. ‘You prove he had the opport
unity—’

  ‘And the means and motive – he took the treasure chest,’ the man insisted.

  He had interrupted Marcus, and that was a mistake. Marcus looked at him coldly. ‘Do not attempt to give me lessons in the law. Mere opportunity is not sufficient proof – and the man has witnesses to say he had no blood or money on him afterwards. So, I will ask the question for the third and final time – Libertus, did you kill this man and steal his goods?’

  The third time of asking was required in law, and I replied as firmly as I could, ‘I did not, Excellence.’

  ‘Then by the power invested in me by this court, I give my verdict. He appears not to have done it.’ That was the official formula, and I found myself grinning helplessly, even before he uttered the final words. ‘I’ve half a mind to fine him for improper dress – he has failed to wear his toga in a public place, which is an affront to his status and the name of Rome – but otherwise I find no fault in him. Let the prisoner go.’

  There was a little stir which the herald quelled by shouting, in a high-pitched monotone, ‘And that concludes the business of this court.’

  Marcus turned and led the way majestically through the basilica, down the steps and into the official litter awaiting him outside. The other magistrates and officials trailed out after him.

  I took a deep breath. I was free to go.

  Chapter Ten

  The soldier who had been guarding me throughout all this now put his sword away. ‘Seems you are a lucky man,’ he said. ‘Now, do you want me to escort you out of here? Always a crush when someone’s been released.’ Without waiting for an answer he began to force a way back through the throng. ‘Stand aside, there. Let us through.’ The spectators reluctantly complied.

  He was right about the crush. Now that the official party had departed and the spectacle was over, most people had lost all interest in the court and were simply anxious to get out themselves. There were a few people jostling at the door, to greet me as I passed with cheers or cries of ‘Shame’, but most did not give me a second glance. If anything, their attention had now turned to the gallery instead, where there was clearly some sort of altercation taking place. I was being borne along by the movement of the crowd and it was hard to see, but I managed to move sideways from the crush and get my back against a pillar for a moment so I could look up and glimpse what was happening overhead.

  The disturbance seemed to be an argument between one of the young veiled women that I’d noticed earlier, and a skinny slave with acne who was waving a purse of coins in her face. He was shouting so loudly that I could hear his words, and so could all the others in the court.

  ‘You tell your mistress that she is a cheat. You can’t pay less because we lost the case. I don’t care what you think we agreed. Just wait until the next time you come to court. You’ll be sorry that you tried to cheat us then.’

  I was wondering what all this was about when to my surprise the slave turned on his heel and bounded down the steps. He didn’t join the departing multitudes but walked the other way, to join the advocate and Lupus’s wife, who were still loitering beside the rostrum steps. When he reached the lean-faced man he bowed, handed him the purse and gestured fiercely to the women up above. I couldn’t hear now what was being said, but Lupus’s widow glanced at the gallery and I saw a look of fury cross her face. When I followed the direction of her gaze I got a shock myself.

  The girl who had led the argument had now thrown back her veil and I realised that the group were not the modest maidens I’d imagined them to be. Nor were they a bunch of Christian matrons, come here to support Lupus’s wife because she was a member of their sect, which had been my other guess.

  On the contrary. The removal of the veil revealed a painted face: not merely showing a touch of chalk and white lead applied to face and neck, as women sometimes do for vanity, but flaunting a whole host of artificial tints. Even at this distance I could see bold smears of ochre on the cheeks, lines of sultry lamp-black round the eyes and lips dyed scarlet with the lees of wine. Given that her hair was also dyed an artificial blond and pinned up with jewelled trinkets in the curls, the lady’s profession was not hard to guess. Why would such a woman pay an advocate? It seemed more likely that he’d be paying her.

  I was still gazing upwards, wondering about this, when I felt a sharp tug at my arm. My former guard was back. He followed the direction of my look and gave a mirthless laugh. ‘You’ve spotted one of Lyra’s girls, I see. No time for dreaming about that, my friend. I am to take you out of here as fast as possible. Your patron is awaiting you outside.’

  I gave up on the little mystery and followed him at once. It is never wise to make my patron wait.

  Marcus was indeed expecting me. He had given instructions for the official litter to delay, and another carrying chair to be fetched for me. However, he addressed no word to me, simply mounted his conveyance and left me to do the same. I returned to the mansio in solitary state, swaying in a hired litter borne by sweating slaves.

  No question this time of a challenge at the gate; the sentry stood aside sharply to allow us in. Marcus had already dismounted and disappeared inside but, as soon as I had paid the litter-hire, a soldier came out to summon me.

  I followed him, a little nervously, and found myself in the commandant’s offices, standing before a table at which my patron was already seated on a sort of folding stool, with the optio beside him, looking flushed and grim. It was like appearing in the court again, except that I could tell from Marcus’s face that this time I would not get off so easily.

  ‘Well?’ he said, tapping his baton impatiently against his palm – a sign that he was seriously annoyed. ‘I’m waiting. I presume you have some explanation for all this? And what have you done with that young slave I lent to you?’

  ‘I left him in the market, Excellence. And then I saw someone from Glevum that I thought was dead . . .’ And I told him the full story, starting with following Plautus in the street and ending with the wax-tablet message which had reached Promptillius at the pastry shop and sent him hustling into Venta with my clothes. ‘Meanwhile I went back to the hot-soup shop and got arrested, and they took me to the jail.’

  Marcus waved the rest of my narrative aside. He was more interested in his valuable slave than in my recent plight, and obviously the name of Plautus hadn’t registered. There are a good many people with that name. I tried to draw his attention to the point. ‘Gaius—’

  Marcus interrupted. ‘Well, never mind all that. Where do you think Promptillius is now? He left here on your instructions, so he told the guard, but he did not come to the house where I was feasting yesterday.’

  I nodded. ‘I didn’t think he would have, Excellence. And remember, those instructions didn’t come from me – although presumably he thought they had. I imagine he obeyed them, whatever they might have been, and took my toga to some false address. No doubt the boy who brought the wax tablet told him where to go. The directions obviously weren’t written down – that would have created suspicion from the guard on duty here. The mansio knew where you really were, and someone would have spotted that inconsistency at once.’

  Marcus furrowed his brow in a frown. He was still wearing his magisterial wreath, and the combination made him look immensely stern. ‘So where do you think they sent him?’

  I could only shrug. ‘That is the problem, Excellence. I’ve no idea. I left him waiting for me at a pasty-cook’s close to the forum while I went to buy the clasp, but when I came back he simply wasn’t there. He didn’t even know that I’d set off in pursuit of anyone in the street. We’d already parted company by then.’

  Marcus’s scowl deepened. ‘So you deliberately set off into the marketplace without a slave? Here, where you had been warned that there was discontent with Rome, and a degree of trouble in the streets? Don’t protest – the optio assures me that he’d warned you about that. And after I had left you an attendant of my own! You seem to have been inviting problems, that’s all I can
say. I’m surprised the authorities permitted you to go.’ He looked severely at the optio as he spoke, making it clear that his displeasure embraced both of us. ‘Well, you have delayed us by a whole day as it is. We shall have to leave without Promptillius tomorrow, that is all, and have him sent after us when he is found. This is all extremely inconvenient.’

  It was dangerous, but I knew it must be said. ‘Supposing that he is found, Excellence.’

  Marcus stared at me. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I think it is possible that someone wanted to kill me yesterday – and if there was an attempt on me, a citizen, then the murder of a slave would hardly bother them.’

  He gaped. There is no other word for it. ‘To kill you? I thought it was merely some shopkeeper who died.’

  I spelt it out to him. ‘Think about the sequence, Excellence. I see Plautus. He runs away from me. After that I’m followed through the town – first by Paulinus, then by someone else – and I only get away by accident. Then I find that my slave has been sent off on a false errand, so I won’t be missed, and a man I simply talked to is slashed gruesomely to death – presumably in case I’d said too much to him. What does that suggest to you?’

  He nodded. ‘This Plautus fellow?’

  ‘It rather looks like it. I know it is difficult to believe, but it is the only explanation I can think of which accords with all the facts. And what is he doing here in any case? You and I helped bury him not very long ago.’

  This time it registered. ‘That Plautus?’ He gaped. ‘It can’t have been.’ He stared at me. ‘You’re sure that it was him? He might have had a twin.’

  ‘With an identical scar across his face?’ I shook my head. ‘Anyway, he knew me. That was obvious. Why else would he run away like that? And who was it that we cremated in his place?’