I pulled on my sandals and my cloak, and stooped down through the door to go outside. Tullio was working in the rain, twisting wet osiers into a funnel shape which I recognised as another trap for fish. He straightened up as I approached, raindrops running down his face and dripping from his hair and nose. He put down his handiwork and signalled that I should follow him. This was not a family of many words.
The mist seemed thicker as we picked our way across the marsh, and by the time we reached the path it was getting difficult to see, so when a sudden figure loomed up through the murk I was glad when it resolved itself into Cornovacus’s lanky form.
I pressed a coin into Tullio’s hand and set off with Cornovacus through the drizzling gloom, this time in the direction of the town. I tried to question him again, but he would not be drawn. ‘Wait and see, for Pluto’s sake! You won’t believe me, anyway, unless you see it for yourself.’
He walked so quickly as he led the way that very soon I was too out of breath to talk, even when we reached the major road. There were few people on the move today, and even the handful that we passed were muffled up in cloaks and hoods and kept their heads down to avoid the rain. I had been apprehensive, thinking of the guard, but no one showed any interest in us.
I was concerned about how I was to pass the gate, but Cornovacus – or more likely Sosso – had a plan. As we approached, my companion drew me off the road, arranged my cloak to shield my face and stuck a length of rough branch in my hand. Then he instructed me to close my eyes, and led me by the hand. As we joined the little group of jostlers at the gate I heard him calling, ‘Alms! Alms! Alms for the blind.’ Once I even heard the chink of coins.
It was alarming to walk along like this without seeing where I was, and entirely in Cornovacus’s care. I expected any moment that he’d seize my money-belt and leave me to the mercies of the guard, but nothing happened. There was no attempt to stop us entering the town and soon I could hear the sounds of commerce all around and feel fine paving underneath my feet.
Presently Cornovacus released my hand and hissed at me that we were safe. I was glad to open my eyes and find myself in one of the familiar alleyways behind the market place.
‘Come on,’ Cornovacus said, and we were off again. I made to throw away my stick but he prevented me, saying that I’d need it later.
He led on, past wretched pedlars huddling in doorways with their wares, but avoided the main streets as much as possible. By this time I half suspected where he was taking me and I was not surprised when he instructed me to close my eyes again and led me through the northern gate, to the alley where my ruined workshop was.
When I opened my eyes, Cornovacus turned to face me with a grin. ‘Now do you believe me, citizen? You see the plan? Neat as a Vestal’s girdle, isn’t it? The guards have been withdrawn. Who’d look for dignitaries here? And even if they’re found, they’ve only to look innocent and say you asked them here, to talk about your patron’s case.’
In spite of myself, I was impressed. Marcus’s enemies could hardly have chosen a safer place to meet. It was secluded, empty, and had been searched – and looted – days ago. One could hide small objects with impunity – a seal-ring, for instance, or even a document – as long as I was on the run. Best of all, the place belonged to me – if by some accident the guard came back and anything was found, blame would fall on a foolish pavement-maker, with known links to Marcus and interfering ways.
‘Come on then, let’s go,’ I said, tightening my grip upon my staff.
He shook his head, and took it from me with a smile. ‘Gently, citizen. We don’t want to be seen. Fortunately there’s nobody about.’ It was true, I realised with surprise. The rain seemed to have cleared even the usual passers-by and donkeys from the street. ‘We’ll go and lie in wait for them, up on the sleeping floor. It isn’t easy, since the ladder’s burned, but there’s enough floor left up there to hide. If you like I’ll hoist you on my back.’
I led the way, with Cornovacus urging caution at my heels. I hurried past the stone heaps which were still outside the shop and was about to step inside when suddenly an urgent voice rang out. ‘Don’t go in there, master! It’s a trap.’
I whirled round. A curly-headed figure had burst out from the building opposite. I stepped towards him. ‘Junio? What are you doing here?’
‘Look out!’ he shouted, and I turned again.
Cornovacus was advancing on me with my staff. ‘Confounded slave,’ he muttered angrily, and aimed a blow me. But Junio’s warning had alerted me and I dodged aside in time. The stick hit the ground with so much force it broke. Cornovacus gave a frustrated roar and lunged at me again, and at the same moment Bullface came from my workshop in a clattering run, while his half-dozen men emerged from the neighbouring businesses, weapons drawn, cutting off all prospect of escape. I understood now why the lane was so deserted when we entered it.
Junio had reached me by this time, and we stood back to back, although I had no knife to defend myself, and Junio wasn’t armed.
Cornovacus approached us with the broken wood, his lips curled in his most unpleasant smile. ‘Think that you could cheat me of my reward, did you, pavement-maker? We’ll see what patterns blood and brains will make.’
Junio made a sudden move and tried to dive beneath his upraised arm to seize a missile from the pile of stones, but Cornovacus was too quick for him. With one hand he grabbed Junio by the neck and with the other he stabbed down viciously with the jagged stick.
What happened next was so confused that it is hard to give a true account of it. The first thing I saw was a lithe figure dropping from a roof, and grasping Cornovacus round the knees. The tall thief tumbled forward, and I was aware of Lercius grinning up at me before he sank his teeth into a leg, while Junio seized the chance to wriggle free and sit down on his erstwhile captor’s head, forcing Cornovacus’s face into the mud.
This was no more than a temporary respite, for Bullface and his men were closing in, forming an ugly circle round us now – though the sudden appearance of Lercius from above had startled them and halted their progress momentarily. Then all at once the air was full of shouts, and flying objects – pebbles, shoes, lumps of mud, even rotten fish and fruit – went whistling past our ears. Bullface ducked in time, and so did I, but several of the other guards were hit. One fell face downwards on the ground and lay there very still. The others turned, instinctively, to face the newcomers.
Sosso and several of his gang were loping towards us from the right, while the remainder were approaching from the left, all shouting, screaming, yelling at the limit of their lungs and hurling any missile that came to hand. Among them I saw Grossus, towering above the rest, and wielding a piece of timber that might have been a door. As I watched he brought it swinging down to fell another soldier.
The whole of the alley was in chaos now. The soldiers, unprepared for this attack, had lost formation and were skirmishing; but swords are little use against a hail of stones, and a faceful of stinking mud is not an encouragement to discipline. All the same they might have won the day, by regrouping in obedience to Bullface’s roared commands, except that the inhabitants of the area – excited by the noise and being no lovers of the guard in any case – had poured into the street to join the fray. A woman threw a urine collection pot from an upper storey, covering Bullface with its contents as it fell; while someone from the candlemaker’s overturned a vat of tallow in the lane to send a tide of slippery grease towards us all.
I looked around. Cornovacus had shaken Lercius off and tumbled Junio to the ground. He was on his haunches in a trice, ready to make another dart at me, but suddenly the dwarf was standing at his side. Something glittered, and Cornovacus gave a groan and rolled sideways in the mud. A soldier bore down on Sosso. Junio turned and fled.
I was the still centre of a heaving world, but it could not be for long. I darted towards the shelter of my shop, to my surprise I saw a figure in the gloom. I did not stop to think – I lowered my head a
nd launched myself with all my might. I felt my head connect with a stomach, and the intruder fell backwards with an ‘Ooff!’ I imitated Junio’s technique and sat down on my victim’s chest, seizing my chisel and mallet from the toolbag on the floor. I placed the pointed metal on the skin between the eyes and saw for the first time who it was I’d caught.
Balbus. A different Balbus now. A white-faced Balbus with an uncertain voice, ‘I beg you, citizen . . .’
‘All right. Stand up and don’t try anything.’ When I relaxed my grip he did as he was told and struggled upright, back against the wall, still watching the mallet with terror in his eyes. I moved my chisel so that it was level with his heart. ‘If those are your guards, call them off,’ I said.
He nodded and ran a tongue around his lips. I allowed him to shuffle to the door and stood behind him with the mallet as he called, ‘Enough! Disperse!’ Over the hubbub he had to shout it twice. Even then it was a moment before it took effect.
The soldiers who were nearest to us stopped, though one who dropped his shield was caught by an apple in the face. There was a hush. People ceased to hurl things after that, and bit by bit the skirmishing decreased.
‘Disperse!’ Balbus roared again. Bullface and a couple of his men had fought their way out to the corner of the lane, and when they heard the order they took it as retreat. They immediately sheathed their weapons, formed up and marched away. The two guards still in the lane withdrew in disarray, taking their injured comrades with them – one of them hobbling, the other with black eyes and injured pride. The rioters vanished into doors and alleyways like smoke.
Suddenly the lane was empty, silent, littered with chunks of brick and stone and fruit. A helmet lay discarded in the mud. Only Cornovacus was still there, lying in the congealing tallow with a dark stain oozing from his back.
Now that the immediate danger from the crowd had passed, Balbus was recovering himself. ‘This is an outrage, citizen,’ he said, in something approaching his accustomed style. ‘I call my soldiers to a riot in the street, and I am threatened with a pointed instrument. I shall bring a case against you for injuria, for the assault upon my dignity.’
‘I think not, magistrate,’ I said, gesturing him back into the shop. ‘You have a better knowledge of the law. You failed to show the legally required “resentment” at the time – there are witnesses to that – and that is enough to bar the case.’
He attempted a sneer. ‘Witnesses! A drunken rabble in defiance of the law. They will be caught and punished, all of them. And don’t think you will get away unscathed. My personal servants have instructions to come here very soon, to escort me home. If any harm should come to me, you’ll suffer for it, mark my words. To say nothing of that assault upon my guards.’
‘Your guards?’ I seized on the words. ‘On whose authority?’
I still had the chisel and mallet in my hand, but he was swaggering now. ‘That of Romnus Nonnius, Praxus’s second in command. As leader of the council, I possess the right to request the use of soldiers if I choose, in the pursuit of justice and the maintenance of the law. And following the murder of his senior officer, he was anxious to oblige. He permitted me to use the bodyguard.’
‘And the pursuit of justice involved arresting me?’ It was clear now who had set Bullface on my trail. ‘Or were there instructions that I should be killed?’
He flushed, and glanced towards the mallet. ‘I gave no such instructions, naturally.’
‘But if I happened to resist arrest?’
He shrugged.
‘And you offered a reward, of course – which is why your informant told you where to look. I wondered how the guard had come to search the kindling-seller’s hut. Cornovacus told them, naturally.’
‘There is no law against it, citizen. And when your patron is accused of a crime against the state . . .’
‘Ah yes, the famous document. You have seen it, I presume?’
‘Naturally I have. I ordered Praxus’s bodyguard to search the house, and that was when the letter came to light. There is no doubt about it, citizen. Only a few words, but it is enough. I write in haste to urge you, dispose of that beast Praxus by any means you can. Your own brave Romnus Nonnius will take his place. Of course he will know nothing of events, but we shall see who is prepared to take a stand against that trumped-up idiot in Rome. You see? It urges Praxus’s murder and threatens revolt against the Emperor.’
‘It didn’t say who wrote it?’
‘It did not need to. It was under Marcus’s seal. I have the ring – I ordered it removed as soon as the document was brought to me – and it matches perfectly.’
‘And was that the only document you seized?’
He looked impatient. ‘What other did we need? That was evidence enough!’
‘But how could you know that, magistrate? The document was sealed. Unless, of course, you took the ring and put my patron’s seal on it yourself?’ I said, remembering how I had remelted wax and resealed Julia’s writing frame. ‘And why, in any case, should Marcus urge someone else to topple Praxus, if he’s supposed to have murdered him himself?’ I raised the mallet as I spoke.
‘You think you’re very clever, citizen!’ He was breathing hard. ‘But you can’t prove anything. Praxus’s bodyguard will swear they found it, as I said.’
‘And that’s another thing,’ I said. ‘The bodyguard. On the authority of Romnus Nonnius you said. But where is Romnus Nonnius now? In Gaul? Only Praxus and his guard came ahead, I understand. So how did this authority arise?’
‘I assure you, citizen, I have a document . . .’
‘Another document? And when did that arrive? It would take days to send a messenger to Gaul and get an answer back. Or did you get it from a member of the bodyguard, perhaps? Along with a letter from your brother, Romnus Nonnius, urging you to find a way to bring down his senior officer so that he could take command instead, and further his plans to be a senator in Rome? Of course, he took care how he worded it in case the note was intercepted, as anyone with any wit would do, but I have no doubt it could be traced to him. Unfortunate that he mentioned his hatred of the Emperor as well.’
Balbus was looking wildly about, but he was a magistrate. He admitted nothing.
I leaned towards him. ‘Why did you do it, Balbus?’
Silence.
‘Very well, don’t answer me, but I believe I know. Because, once it emerged that Praxus’s death was not an accident, there was to be a search. Mellitus suggested it, not you. He was prepared to search the diners as they left. That must have frightened you. A most important person had just been killed, and there you were with a letter urging you to do that very thing. You must have had it on your person then. You’d just received it from a member of the bodyguard.’
‘How did you . . .’ he began to say, and then fell silent.
I was quite certain now that I was right. ‘You must have done. As you came into the villa, probably. The bodyguard were posted at the gate. The banquet was the only chance you’d had, since Praxus and his party were staying out of town. And you had clearly read it, since you were so alarmed.’
‘It was found by a guard in front of witnesses,’ he said stubbornly. ‘In Marcus’s private rooms.’
‘Of course. No doubt you seized a chance to slip it back to your brother’s messenger, so that he could conveniently discover it. Then when it was duly brought to you, as senior magistrate, you confiscated Marcus’s ring and used it to seal the document. Your friend who found it, naturally, would swear that it was sealed all along. One touch too many, Balbus. It was that which let you down. How could you know which document to seize if it was sealed?’ I paused as there was a clatter in the street.
He was still defiant. One old man with a chisel is not much of a threat. ‘You can prove nothing, citizen. Your word against a senior magistrate? Anyway, you will not have the chance! Here are my servants. They will take you under charge – and since you unfortunately attempted to resist . . .’ He turned. Th
e disturbance was not caused by his slaves. Lercius, Sosso and my servant Junio were standing at the door.
Balbus made a run for it. Sosso would have stopped him, but I shook my head.
‘They will only feed you to the beasts,’ I said, as we heard the councillor disappearing up the lane. ‘And murdering Balbus won’t save Marcus now. Our only hope is in a court of law. Though it will be difficult to prove.’ I told them what I knew.
‘But Balbus is right, master,’ Junio said. ‘He is the senior magistrate, now that Marcus is in jail. Your only witnesses are slaves and thieves. You are in danger too. You need a place to hide.’
I nodded. ‘Corinium’s not safe. Umbris and Mellitus are there, and they’ve been trying to kill me ever since that night – they think that Golbo might have told me what he knew. In fact, I’m sure that’s why Umbris came back to the roundhouse twice: once when he found Golbo, and again when Lercius was there. He came to kill me – not to bring a message to my home at all. I wonder why he decided to tell me what he did – that you were safe and Mellitus was in Corinium? The first thing he thought of, or just to make me feel secure, perhaps?’
‘Remember that he played a double role,’ Junio said anxiously. ‘I sent the message, as he said I did. When he came to the house in Corinium, I asked him to tell you we were there, if he was able to. I hoped you’d know that we had got away – you found the bag?’
‘I did,’ I said. ‘How did you manage that? You left before the soldiers ever came.’
‘Gave it to the turnip-seller from whom I hired the cart,’ Junio explained. ‘The one that drove us to Corinium. I asked him if his household could see that it was hung up in the lane, if soldiers turned up at the roundhouse when I’d gone – said it was a votive offering to the gods. I had to pay him extra in the end, but he gave it to his daughter and said it would be done.’ He grinned. ‘I wasn’t sure it would. Though they are a religious household – I could see that from the amulets they wore – I made sure that there was nothing worth stealing in the bag!’
The Ghosts of Glevum Page 23
