The Fateful Day

by Rosemary Rowe

  ‘Dear gods!’ I murmured. Obviously Julia had sent this courier long before my message had arrived. I knew that spotted fever was a dreadful thing – those that it did not kill, it often scarred and blinded dreadfully – and could spread as quickly as a fire. Julia would want to get her children safe as soon as possible, not only her new baby but her little son as well. Yet the villa here could not receive them as it was, bereft of slaves and proper furniture. I could only hope that my message had arrived in time and she was not already on her way. Fortunately my patron had a town apartment too, so she would not find herself without a place to stay – though the slaves there wouldn’t be expecting anyone. I would have to send them word.

  However there was a much more pressing problem to be dealt with here. I passed the writing block to Junio, and turned to Minimus. ‘Come here,’ I urged him gently. ‘There’s something I must tell you. You must be very brave. You know what we discovered at the villa earlier?’

  He looked at me with frightened eyes and gave a doubtful nod. ‘You mean in the orchard? Before you left me at the vineyard?’ His voice was quivering.

  ‘I promised then that I would find the men that killed Pauvrissimus,’ I took his hands gently in my own. ‘I’ve got an even stronger reason to try and find them now. You asked if somebody important had died. Well, I’m afraid that’s true. Two important people have been killed. One of them is the Emperor Pertinax himself …’ I squeezed his fingers as I heard him gasp, but he did not interrupt, ‘… which probably explains the soldiers in the streets just now. And the other is someone that the town won’t care about, but is very important indeed to you and me …’

  I felt the shuddering breath that shook the little frame. ‘Not … Maximus …?’ he whispered, and I had to signal that it was.

  ‘This patrician citizen has been very good,’ I said, nodding at our dark-clad visitor and wondering again about his motives for all this. ‘He’s brought the finest funeral herbs that can be had, and arranged for a priest to come and purify the shop – and even a wise woman to bring talismans and cleanse the corpse.’

  At the word ‘corpse’ the sobs and tears began. I forgot convention and simply held him close and let him cry.

  It was a most unRoman thing for me to do, of course, and I was aware of an awkward little pause. Then Vesperion gave a cough and murmured, ‘Citizen?’ as if to signal that it was time to show a little more propriety.

  I glanced around the room, fearing that my behaviour might have caused my visitor offence, but Alfredus Allius seemed a little misty-eyed himself, while Junio had turned away and was deliberately busying himself with setting a new candle on the spike.

  ‘This old one was guttering,’ he said, defensively, disproving this by using it to light the other wick. ‘And we’ll be needing better light. I think the priest and wise woman are here – did you not hear the knock?’

  I hadn’t. I had been too concerned with Minimus, I suppose.

  ‘I tried to draw your attention to it, citizen,’ Vesperion supplied, and I realised that had been the reason for the cough. ‘And there it is again. Would you like me to go and answer it?’

  ‘Thank you, steward, I would be glad of that,’ I said. It should have been Minimus’s job to go, of course, now that he was here. But he was clearly in no condition to deal with visitors.

  Nonetheless I let go of the boy, who gave his wet cheeks a surreptitious wipe and made a visible effort to control his tears. He came and stood behind me deferentially just as Vesperion ushered in not the little party we were expecting but a woman on her own.

  That would have been astonishing enough – respectable women do not generally roam the streets alone – but even more astounding was the way she looked. She was huge, quite the most enormous female I had ever seen. She was not only fairly tall, she was immensely wide, dressed in a long grey Grecian robe that bulged at every seam. Added to that, her feet were sandal-less and her straggling grey hair hung loose down to her waist (or what would have been her waist if she had been less vast). The effect was quite shocking, even when one remembered who she was – only a lunatic or a soothsayer would appear in public dressed like that. She carried a large pail of something in one pudgy hand and smelt strongly – though not unpleasantly – of aniseed and bay.

  Her presence seemed to fill my little outer room, which was small and narrow at the best of times. ‘Councillor Alfredus!’ Her voice was as big as she was. And she had not waited to be addressed by him, as any normal matron would have done with someone of his rank. ‘I hear you summoned me.’

  ‘Ah,’ Alfredus Allius said, in his flat, nasal voice. ‘I see you found the place. Did my servant not come with you? Or has he gone to fetch the priest? I asked him to accompany you to show you where to come. I rather supposed that he would bring you both at once.’ It was a veiled apology, I thought, for having allowed her to walk here on her own.

  But the woman simply snorted. ‘A wise woman has no need of slaves to guide her, citizen. I know the citizen Libertus by repute. It would not be difficult to ask my way. Besides, there are piles of cut stone outside the shop – it isn’t hard to work out where the pavement-maker works.’ She turned and looked full into my eyes – something else no other unfamiliar female would do. Her own were disconcerting: they were bluer than the summer sky, but shrewd and sharp with the suggestion of a knowing twinkle in their depths. ‘I imagine you’re the client I’m supposed to help?’ She did not wait for me to answer, but went on, in ringing tones, ‘I’ll give you some rue to chew for protection later on, and find you an amulet to wear to ward off more bad luck. In the meantime there is work to do. Where’s this corpse of yours?’

  At the mention of a corpse I sensed Minimus stiffen at my back, and realised that he was close to tears again, but all the same there was something in her brisk enquiry which made me feel that we were now in skilled and able hands. ‘Through here,’ I told her, and went to lead the way into the inner room.

  She shook her head. ‘Not you. I’ll take the younger citizen and the old slave with me. You’ll have another visitor – and very soon – and it’s bad luck for us to be disturbed before the corpse is fully cleansed. Besides, it is forbidden for a priest to see the body of the dead.’

  ‘Maximus has been washed and wrapped already,’ Junio ventured, in a tone that was unusually meek. The woman’s forcefulness was clearly starting to affect him too.

  ‘Only with water from the well, though, I presume?’ she said, dismissively. ‘That’s a useful start, but I’ve brought running water from the spring.’ She reached into her pail and produced a little stoppered jug. ‘Much more efficacious in a case like this. I’ve picked fresh herbs as well, as you can see, to ward off any curse. And here’s a little bag of earth to sprinkle on him afterwards to give him the ritual symbol of a burial. It’s a lot of ceremony for a simple slave, I know, but that’s what is required to give a murder victim rest.’

  I boggled at her. ‘How did you know that this was murder?’

  She withered me with those deep blue eyes of hers. ‘Citizen, I am a wise woman and noted for my skills – did you not expect that I would know? Now, you and you …’ She gestured at Vesperion and my son. ‘Come rub these bay leaves on your hands …’ She shook the pail at them, and they sheepishly obeyed. ‘That will keep the victim’s spirit from pursuing you and demanding that you avenge this death. So follow me and you can help me with the ritual. And you …’ she turned to Minimus ‘… can guard the door. Don’t let anybody come in while we’re at work – just wait out here for us. It won’t take very long, and when we’ve finished and the body’s wrapped again the priest can come and purify the room.’

  And without a further glance at Alfredus or myself, she led the way into the inner room and shut the door.

  Alfredus gazed after her with admiring eyes. ‘Isn’t she a wonder? She thinks of everything. You notice that she even goes barefoot, so that there is no knot around her person where evil ghosts might lurk? You’re in
safe hands with her. She’ll purify the corpse and make sure the spirit of your slave can rest.’

  I nodded. It was a good deal more than Marcus’s household slaves were going to get, even with the services of the Funeral Guild.

  ‘And she has psychic powers,’ the councillor went on. ‘See how she found her way here without assistance from my slave – and knew that this was murder without a word from you.’

  ‘I expect she met the woman from the tannery next door, who told her so,’ I said, remembering that I’d seen my neighbour hovering in the street. ‘She knew the truth and she would love to spread a little gossip of that kind.’

  But Alfredus was not to be convinced. ‘I tell you, the wise woman is a wonder, citizen,’ he said, in that peculiar monotone of his. ‘She cleansed my warehouse perfectly. I’d had the priest, of course – the same one who is coming here today – but nothing went right until she took a hand. I’ve started consulting her every day or so. I’m sure that’s why the business is now prospering. And everything she’d told me has turned out to be true. She even predicted there’d be a death today.’

  I looked at him with dawning realisation. ‘She told you to come here?’

  ‘Not directly, citizen, of course. She simply told me that if I heard about a death today – of any person and of any rank – I must avert ill fortune by engaging her at once. That could not apply to Publius or the Emperor, of course, so I knew it had to be your slave.’

  So that explained his presence at my shop and the unnatural generosity towards my slave! I smiled, amused by the shrewd simplicity of the woman’s stratagem and offered a mental apology to my visitor for having doubted his sincerity.

  Alfredus saw the smile. ‘I wonder you don’t ask her who it was that killed your slave. It may be she could cast the stones for you, as well, if you have an aureus or two to spare.’

  An aureus is a lot of money, even for a wealthy citizen like the councillor. For somebody like me, it is an awesome sum – and not one I am likely to expend on doubtful sorcery. ‘You think the stones will tell her, too, who robbed my patron and murdered all his slaves?’ I said, trying to keep derision from my tone. ‘I hardly think so, councillor. Anyone who could genuinely offer knowledge of that kind would be regularly called upon to testify in court, and would be very lucky to survive once guilty people got to hear about her skills.’

  Alfredus looked at me indulgently. ‘You don’t believe her powers? Wait until you get your talisman and see.’

  I did not press the point. I was glad to have the woman’s services in laying out poor little Maximus. It’s acknowledged that the process is best done by female hands, and I did not doubt the woman’s skill with herbs and cleansing rituals. And her presence was welcome for another reason, too. If the tanner’s wife had seen her coming here, as I surmised, the news would swiftly spread – so much the better for the reputation of the shop. Potential customers would have no fear of coming here again once it was generally known that a proper herb woman had attended to the corpse and there was no risk of meeting any vengeful ghosts.

  So I smiled at the councillor and was saying, ‘I’m quite sure she …’ when there was another tapping at the outside door.

  ‘There you are,’ Alfredus said, triumphantly. ‘She said there’d be another visitor, and so there is.’

  I desisted from reminding him that he himself had told her that the priest was on the way. Instead I ordered Minimus to go and let him in.

  It was indeed the priest. He seemed to be an acolyte of Mars or Mercury, an aging man with skin as white as marble and as dry as bark-paper, framed by a fringe of thin white hair and eyebrows of a terrifying size. One of those supported by the temple, I presumed – too old and frail to officiate at public rites again for fear of making errors in the proper rituals, but still available for hire for private rites. He was accompanied by the little slave I’d seen with Alfredus Allius on the street.

  The boy seemed ready to come into the room, but Alfredus ordered him to wait outside. ‘There are too many people in here as it is,’ he said, ‘And until the rite is over, this is a house of death.’

  The boy turned pale and hurried out again.

  The priest inclined his head. ‘I hope you will be good enough to spare him later on to guide me to the villa that I’m to deal with next.’ His voice was high and piping like a child’s, but he exuded a certain dignity.

  ‘Of course!’

  ‘I’ll need his help to carry extra items for that ritual, as well. It will require more than the simple consecrated elements that I’m using here – salt and spelt and water – to pacify the cultus geniali after what happened at that unhappy house. The spirits of the family won’t be pacified with less than the full ritual with oil, scent and smoke and the sacrifice of several doves, at least.’ He pulled up his toga folds to form a hood. ‘So there is much to do, and not much time to do it in. I believe you have the herbs that we require?’

  ‘People are dealing with the body as we speak,’ I said, fetching down the casket from its safe place on the shelf. I was in the act of handing it to him when the woman surprised us all by coming in again – alone – her bucket of equipment in her hand.

  She saw the priest and gave an awkward bob, setting her rolls of flesh aquiver as she moved. ‘I’ve finished with the body. You can get on with the room,’ she boomed, without ado. ‘I’ve left a slave and a young citizen in there – if you’ve got roast spelt and salt to purify the place, the citizen can help you scatter it, and the slave will help to sweep the floor clean afterwards. There’s a broom of tied twigs hanging up behind the fire.’ She turned to me. ‘Your son has moved your chippings into neater piles, and put the ladder back where it belongs, so the ceremony should not disturb your working place too much.’

  The priest looked quite shocked at the effrontery of this. Women were not expected to know how rituals were performed. But Alfredus Allius gave me a glance that said, ‘What did I tell you? She thinks of everything!’ as clearly as if he’d spoken the sentiment aloud.

  I nodded. I was secretly impressed by her thoroughness, myself.

  She turned to me. ‘Your slave was not registered with the Slave Guild, I assume. Otherwise you would not have called on me. Which means that you are arranging the funeral yourself. If you wish to move the body, you may safely do so now. Where do you hope to take it?’

  ‘To my roundhouse,’ I told her. ‘It is some miles away, but we have a mule outside. We’ll carry him on that.’ Maximus had ridden on Arlina many times – it seemed fitting that she should carry him on his last journey home.

  She nodded. ‘I see that you have wooden racks – to carry your pattern pieces on, your son declares. One of them would make a fitting bier – the body isn’t large, and it would fit on your donkey easily enough.’

  It was a good suggestion, though I hadn’t thought of it – much better than having the poor boy dangling, as he would otherwise have done. ‘Thank you,’ I acknowledged.

  She met my eyes again. ‘And don’t forget that you require a cleansing ritual too. Put out your hands and I’ll pour water over them.’ She lifted out the jug and suited the action to the words, murmuring some incantation which I could not hear. ‘And then you can have a spring of rue to eat – that will cleanse you from the inside out. Open!’ she said, as a mother feeds her child, and put the bitter-smelling herb into my mouth.

  I chewed on it obediently, though it tasted sour and sharp.

  ‘And don’t forget your talisman. I’ve chosen this for you.’ She reached into the inner recesses of her Grecian robe and pulled from somewhere between her massive breasts a thin plaited leather cord on which was suspended a crude miniature marble carving of an arm.

  I could see no evidence of there being any ‘choice’ but since Alfredus Allius was providing this for me, it would have been bad-mannered to refuse. I took it from her with my still-dripping hands.

  ‘Put it round your neck,’ she boomed, imperious as a centurion rallying his
men. ‘And do not take it off until the slave is laid to rest.’

  I did as she instructed, though I felt ridiculous. As I tucked it in my tunic, though, I glanced at the clenched fingers of the modelled hand – and realised why it counted as a talisman. ‘Ah, that’s clever,’ I said, with admiring surprise. ‘The edge of the fingers make the profile of a face.’ It was crude, but quite effective. ‘Is it Jove or Mars – or does it represent some local Celtic god?’

  ‘It is whoever you expect to see,’ she said unhelpfully. ‘And may it guide you safely through the next few hours.’

  This conversation was interrupted by the priest, who was clearly impatient of these rival rituals. ‘Well, if you are going to move the body, citizen, I suggest you do it now – as soon as possible. I can’t pretend that it won’t make my job a great deal easier.’

  ‘And if you’re going into the town I’ll come with you, citizen,’ the councillor chimed in. ‘I’ll pay the celebrants and after that I won’t be needed here. It’s time that I got back to my warehouse, anyway. I’ll take Vesperion to accompany me, and leave my young attendant here to guide the priest. But won’t you need to wait until the shop’s been purified, so that you can lock it after you?’

  I had thought of that. ‘I’ll leave my son,’ I said. ‘He has an errand to the east gate that he’s going to run for me. He’ll wait until rites are finished here and then he’ll follow me. My living slave can help me, and I’ll take my dead one home.’