The Fateful Day

by Rosemary Rowe

  I knew when I was beaten. Argument was useless. Without a toga I was nobody and if he chose to search me, he would find the blade, and I knew what that would mean. I’d spent a very unpleasant hour or two locked up in a cell in the garrison before. I turned to leave and heard the sword go back into the scabbard with a swish.

  I whirled around. ‘One thing, centurion. I notice that the members of the curia are here. He must have summoned them. Yet usually, I know, he’d go to them. And you say he’s not receiving supplicants. Am I right in thinking something unusual has occurred?’

  He flashed the yellow-pointed teeth at me again, but this time in a snarl. He reminded me of a carving I’d once seen of Cerberus, the hound who guards the entrance-way to Dis. ‘Something unusual will occur to you if you ask too many questions, citizen. When decisions have been taken, you’ll find out soon enough. Now …’ His fingers were already on the sword-hilt as he spoke.

  I raised both hands in surrender. ‘I’m leaving, officer,’ I murmured as I backed away. Then I turned and hurried ignominiously back to where Tenuis was still waiting with the mule. I felt like an idiot. No doubt the town sentry had been watching all this too. What an inglorious picture I must present, I thought.

  But I need not have worried. Tenuis was too bemused by what was around him on the street to be interested in my success, or lack of it. ‘Master!’ he said, enthusiastically, as I came up to him. ‘What an enormous place. I didn’t know there were so many people in the world.’

  ‘But surely you were sold here, at the slave-market?’

  He nodded. ‘That was the only time I ever came before, and I was half asleep when we arrived. It was cold and hardly light, and I was roped up between much bigger slaves. Anyway, they walked so quickly I had to watch my feet. It was all I could do to stay upright and not be dragged along. I couldn’t see a thing until we got to the slave-market and not very much of that. By the time that Marcus bought us – the lot of us – it was almost dusk and they hustled us straight out of the gates into a cart. I’d never have forgotten Glevum if I’d known what it was like.’

  I looked around myself. The streets were very busy, certainly, though that was only normal on a ‘well-favoured’ day, when all the shops and law courts and markets were operational. (On ill-omened dates – the so-called ‘nefas’ days – the courts and theatres were shut, and the streets were much less crowded. But even that would have astounded Tenuis, I think.)

  Today had been a fairly ‘ill-omened’ day for me, I thought, whatever the official calendar might say. But here one could believe in pleasant auguries. There were builders whistling as they climbed their flimsy scaffolding, carrying baskets full of bricks, or cursing as their winches swung the heavy stone aloft. Traders with creaking handcarts lumbered past, inviting inspection of their piles of wood and furs. Street vendors shouted the prices of their trays of steaming pies. There were foreign merchants in exotic clothes, women in carrying-litters, slaves with water jugs, and moving against them from the marketplace, a tide of people with their morning’s purchases: eels, cheeses, bolts of coloured cloth, one man even driving a pair of mangy sheep. Nothing at all unusual, although to Tenuis, used to working on a villa farm, it no doubt seemed a jumble of colour, noise and smells.

  ‘The town is certainly busy,’ I agreed. ‘And we have got to get through it quickly with this mule. I think we’ll go the back route, along the smaller lanes. This way, Tenuis!’ And I led him down an alley to the less frequented streets.

  Even then I had to urge him constantly along. He wanted to stop at every shopfront that we passed and gaze at the various carpets, vegetables, pots and leather goods displayed on tables outside the premises or spilling out onto the pavement underneath our feet. Fortunately the traders didn’t bother us today. Usually they clutch your garments as you pass with urgent inducements to come and try their wares, but this morning we were spared their molestations by Arlina, who seemed embarrassingly eager to sample what they sold. Horrified traders clapped their hands and shooed us on our way. (Mercifully, with Tenuis dragging her in front and me plying the switch on her behind, we did prevent her from actually eating anything.)

  All the same it took a long time to struggle through the town, and I was almost wishing I’d taken the longer route around the eastern walls, although that track is very damp and difficult – it passes close to beds of watercress and reeds, which skinny peasants bring into the marketplace to sell. But the way we’d come seemed blighted with obstacles today. So I was glad when by and by we reached the further gate, though Tenuis seemed disappointed to be outside the walls again and walking through the muddy suburb where my workshop lies.

  ‘There it is,’ I told him, pointing to my shop. ‘Just between that candlemakers and the tannery. And look, there’s Junio, just coming through the door. And Maximus is with him. They must have found a driver to bring them into town. They’ve started work already, by the look of it, and are coming to select some pieces from the stockpiles.’ I gestured proudly at the heaps of different-coloured stone which were the raw materials for our tesserae. ‘That’s what we make the tiles for our mosaics from.’

  Tenuis looked blankly at them, clearly unimpressed. I was about to explain to him how it was done when Junio looked over and caught sight of us. He left what he was doing, and hurried down to meet us, signalling to Maximus to follow him.

  ‘You found a driver, then?’ I said, as he approached.

  He grinned, squeezing my shoulders in a filial embrace. ‘We were very lucky there. A trapper with a wagon-load of furs. So we rode here in comfort. I half expected to pass you on the road, but of course we never did. I was beginning to wonder what had become of you, in fact. Your toga was still here, so I knew you hadn’t come to the workshop and gone away again. But here you are at last, so we’ll help you to get dressed, though it is getting late. You have just missed a customer, as well. A handsome contract, by the sound of it. A man who’s just retired here from Londinium. He’s buying the old Egidius villa and wants new floors throughout.’

  I made a little face. ‘I suppose he doesn’t know the reputation of the place.’

  The Egidius villa was a famous one – the most lavish in the district until the owner had been exiled years ago for murdering his wife – since when it had fallen into disuse and decay. It should have been seized and sold a long time ago to swell the Imperial purse, but the family fought bitter battles in the courts, claiming that it was bought with money they had lent and should revert to them. Marcus – who, as presiding magistrate had told me all of this – had prudently found in favour of the Emperor, but up to now no buyer had been found. But, finally, it seemed, a bargain had been struck.

  Of course, it was derelict and had been a murder scene, and one of the ruined family committed suicide by hanging himself at the entrance in despair, so there were the usual stories of a curse. But a purifying sacrifice would see to that! And there were rumoured to be twenty rooms or more. A contract of that size was a rare event and now – because of my vain attempt to visit the commander when I did – it seemed I’d missed the opportunity. I was almost tempted to curse the Fates. But there was no point in offending supposed immortals, even Roman ones. Perhaps I had already offended them, I thought. This ‘well-favoured’ day, for me, could hardly have been worse. First the grisly scene at Marcus’s, then my ignominious failure at the garrison, and now this!

  ‘You showed him the pattern pieces that we keep on the rack?’ I said, without real hope. I always have some samples of popular designs, stuck on linen backing for customers to see.

  Junio made a regretful little face. ‘He wouldn’t look at them. I did the best I could but he refused to talk to me. Says he’d heard your reputation and had thought first of you, but if you weren’t interested in clients he would go elsewhere. He seems a most determined individual. He’d hired a carrying-litter and come out here himself. Didn’t just send a steward here or anything – though he wore a purple stripe to rival Marcus’s. I fou
nd him waiting by the workshop door when I arrived, and he was not best pleased that you weren’t here yourself.’

  I made a rueful face. ‘I can imagine that.’ Patricians don’t like coming to this area of town, never mind standing in the mire to wait. ‘I suppose Marcus must have recommended me to him. Did you find out who he was and where he’s living while he makes the villa habitable again?’

  Junio shook his head. ‘New to the area, that is all I know. He didn’t give his name. In fact, once he found out that he couldn’t talk to you, he hardly deigned to say anything at all.’

  We had reached my piles of sorted stones by now and Junio paused to select some blue-veined slate, while Maximus showed Tenuis where to tie the mule. We’d found a useful ring a little way along the narrow alleyway beside the shop, and though a little further on it was a midden-heap, she seemed contented there, as long as someone provided oats and water in the broken pots that served as feeding troughs nearby, or gave her an apple, as Minimus did now.

  I watched them turn the corner out of sight. ‘Well,’ I said. ‘Well, I don’t suppose it matters who the stranger was. Obviously I won’t get the contract now. Perhaps it’s just as well. I’m going to have my hands full with Marcus’s affairs. I’ll have to try to identify who did that at the house. My patron would expect me to give that priority – and, besides, I promised Minimus.’

  I must have sounded sourer than I meant. ‘Perhaps your mystery customer will come back after all,’ Junio said, soothingly, pushing open the outer workshop door. ‘I suggested that tomorrow you were likely to be here, and he won’t find anybody else to match your skills. Though perhaps you’d rather that he didn’t come. There was something in his matter that I didn’t care for much. I don’t think he’d be the easiest customer to please.’ He paused. ‘But the contract would be useful, Juno only knows. I kept on hoping that you would arrive. What kept you, anyway? I thought you were in a hurry to get that toga on.’

  I put my hand onto his shoulder. ‘I made some bad decisions,’ I said bitterly. ‘Let’s go inside and I’ll tell you everything.’

  TWELVE

  Inside the workshop it was clear that Junio and Maximus had been busy since the customer had left. A pan of my favourite spiced mead was warming on a trivet by the fire – obviously prepared to welcome me when I arrived – and my son insisted that I drank it as we talked. ‘I’m sure you need it, after the shocks you’ve had today!’ he exclaimed. ‘And you’ve had no chance to take refreshment since. Now tell me about this bad decision that you made.’

  So while I told him the humiliating news of what had happened at the garrison I sipped the fragrant drink, though I declined to sit down on the stool beside the hearth.

  ‘I simply haven’t time. I have to try at the garrison again. I must speak to the commander as soon as possible. Though it’s probably too late to have him send those messages today. The noonday trumpet must have sounded by this time.’

  Junio was reaching for my freshly cleaned toga from the shelf. ‘I haven’t heard the signal, though admittedly from here we often don’t, unless the wind is coming from the south.’

  ‘Which it’s not, today,’ I pointed out, taking another gloomy sip of mead. ‘And you realise that there’s no guarantee that the guard will let me in, even if I do go back again. The commander is obviously busy with the curia. Probably arguing with the senior magistrates about who’s going to offer what at the Imperial Birthday Feast. That could go on for hours. But I can only try. Besides, it occurs to me that even if the daily messenger has gone, there may still be time to stop that ship from leaving Glevum with all Marcus’s valuables aboard. Assuming that there ever was a ship, that is.’

  Junio was unfolding the unwieldy piece of cloth, ready to help me drape it on. He looked at me surprised. ‘Of course! We’ve only got the villains’ word for that.’

  I shook my head. ‘Why did it not occur to me to ask the soldier at the city gate whether there had been a cargo delivered to the docks when the carts came in last night? A load like that would have to come by horse-drawn vehicle, which means it couldn’t have come into the town in daylight hours.’

  Junio looked thoughtful. ‘But if there is a ship, and it was still taking cargo late on yesterday, it is quite possible it won’t have sailed as yet.’

  ‘If the wind and tide are right they will have sailed at dawn – they won’t want to be travelling down river in the dark.’

  ‘Of course they would be anxious to be gone, especially if they’ve got stolen goods aboard. Though the captain may not know that, I suppose, so there’s just a chance he won’t be hurrying.’ He brightened suddenly. ‘I think you’re right and it is worth a try. If Marcus’s possessions are still here, even if they’re already loaded in a hold, one word from the commander would be enough to have them seized. And, of course, you need to see him anyway.’

  I nodded. ‘Really, I ought to go down to the docks myself, in any case. There might be something I could learn, even if the ship’s already sailed. But I need to get Tenuis to the Funeral Guild as well, and that can’t wait all day.’

  Junio grinned. ‘Don’t worry about him. That’s something I can do, thanks to you teaching me to read and write when I was young.’ I knew he meant this as a genuine compliment – not many masters do that for their slaves – but these expressions of gratitude discomfort me sometimes.

  ‘We’ve still got that old wax-tablet block upstairs and there’s a stylus somewhere too,’ I said, speaking briskly to disguise my slight embarrassment. ‘You can write the letter, then seal it with my seal. You know where to find the seal-block and the pot of seal-wax. Though when you’ve written it, you’d better get Maximus to show Tenuis where the slave-guild is. The land-slave’s only little and doesn’t know the town. If you just give him directions he’s likely to get lost.’

  Another cheerful grin. ‘Better than that, I’ll take him there myself, and speak to the leader of the guild. That way we’ll even get the writing tablet back. Now leave all that to me. You worry about getting to the garrison. Let me help you into this. Someone there will have to talk to you, at least, once you are wearing it.’ He held up my toga and shook it out to its full length. It smelt of fulling liquid – urine-bleach and lime – but, I had to own, it looked presentable.

  ‘And take this knife, for Mars’ sake, and put it somewhere safe,’ I said, as I took off my cloak and revealed it at my belt. ‘I nearly got myself arrested for wearing it when I was at the garrison.’

  Junio took it from me and turned it in his hand. ‘You were lucky no one caught you wearing it. No one could mistake this for a dining knife, which is all you are allowed to carry in the street. Though it’s a very splendid one. Look at the handle – made of horn and beautifully etched. Where did it come from?’

  ‘Marcus’s kitchen,’ I replied. ‘I picked it up when Tenuis shook the gate and I thought the thieves were coming back. I’d better take it back where it belongs.’

  ‘Let’s hope that you’re not spotted doing it,’ he said, placing it carefully out of sight on the shelf above the fire. ‘Now, what about this toga?’

  I held out my arms and allowed my son to drape the awkward garment round my portly body and over my left shoulder in the accepted way, then adjusted the folds to make it hang becomingly. It’s no easy matter, but he’d been my slave for years and was adept at it, so by the time the boys came back from dealing with the mule, I was resplendent in my whitened finery. Tenuis, who had never seen me in this guise, looked gratifyingly startled and impressed.

  ‘Master!’ he said, awestruck. ‘I didn’t …’ He lapsed into silence and looked anxiously around. I suspect he was wondering if he ought to kneel to me, as he would have done to Marcus, but he took his cue from Maximus and simply bowed his head.

  ‘Now listen, boys,’ said Junio, taking charge at once. ‘Here’s what we’re going to do. Maximus will go with Father to the garrison.’ He saw that I was likely to protest at that, and held up a warning hand. �
�Take him, Father. You’ll need an attendant slave if you want that guard to treat you like a proper citizen.’

  ‘But what about the shop?’

  He shook his head. ‘I know it means there won’t be anyone here while I am gone, but that won’t be for long. I’ll be back as soon as I’ve delivered Tenuis to the guild. I’m sure your mystery client won’t come back today – and it would make no difference if he did. It doesn’t matter if I’m here or not. In any case he’ll only deal with you.’

  I nodded. My son, as usual had reason on his side, and – all things being equal – I wasn’t sorry to have my little slave with me. ‘Then we should leave at once,’ I said.

  Maximus was already pulling on his cloak with a delighted grin. A stroll to the garrison with me was clearly a more pleasant prospect than one spent sorting stones and fetching water, stoking up the fire and sweeping the chippings from the workshop floor – which is what he would have been doing otherwise. ‘Ready when you are, Master,’ he said eagerly, darting to the door to open it for me.

  ‘But the citizen told me I was to stay with him …’ Tenuis’ childlike tenor followed us, and as we walked out into the street I could hear Junio beginning to explain.

  ‘Don’t worry, Tenuis. I’ll take care of you and take you to the guild …’

  But there was no time to linger. ‘Come then, Maximus!’

  We did not take Arlina, but hurried off on foot. This time our passage through the town was quick – it is amazing what difference the Roman dress can make. Traders who had blundered into us or blocked my way before, now stood politely to one side to let us pass. Only a group of citizens in dark mourning robes delayed us as they crowded down the street, deep in solemn conversation and taking up the whole width of the pavement and the road: rich people by the numbers of slaves attending them, and oblivious to anybody but themselves. They turned into the forum, on their way to the basilica to listen to the formal reading of a will, I guessed, and after that we met no hindrance. In no time at all we had reached the garrison.