Vespillo nodded, smiling ruefully. ‘There were always plenty of men who had saved enough coin to get out of a labour duty, or to pay a fine to avoid a punishment for a minor misdemeanour. They were the sensible ones, that didn’t drink, gamble and whore their pay away the moment it arrived.’
‘Twenty-five years of service adds up. I own a small farm in Campania that I have never visited, but which provides me with an income. I have money deposited with an argentarius, which earns a little interest. I have some cash I keep on me or at home. And as you know, I now own a tavern and two slaves.’
‘That certainly takes you above the requirement for the corn dole,’ said Vespillo.
Carbo nodded. ‘I certainly won’t starve, nor really need to work. So what’s the relevance?’
‘Why don’t you just offer to buy this slave, this, what was her name?’
‘Rufa.’ Carbo looked thoughtful. ‘I’m not sure. I don’t get the impression that Rufa’s mistress is poor, so the money is unlikely to be an incentive.’
‘But it might save face for her. It is a lot easier to explain her absence by saying she has been sold than that she has absconded. Less likely to give the other slaves ideas.’
‘But if, as Rufa says, the child is somehow marked for something sinister, then surely her mistress will want her back at any cost?’
‘Do you really believe that part of her story? How sure are you that she isn’t just a runaway? A freeborn woman, wanting her freedom back, wanting better than slavery for her child? You only have her word for what she saw. Even if she is telling the truth, maybe she misinterpreted everything. The gods know there are a multitude of bizarre cults in Rome, all with their quirks, idiosyncrasies and disturbing rituals. We aren’t like the Jews. As long as proper respect is paid to the gods of Rome, people can follow whoever and however they please.’
Carbo looked doubtful. ‘Maybe you are right. I wouldn’t want to risk returning her to her mistress, though, in case her story is true.’
‘Nor am I asking you to. But buying her and making her your property would be by far the simplest thing. Then you can free her if you wish. Or keep her as your own slave, if you prefer. She is attractive?’
Carbo frowned. ‘I wouldn’t… couldn’t… keep her. You are right, though. If I could buy her, there is no longer a problem. The difficulty is, what if I am turned down? Then she knows the girl is with me.’
‘What you need is a trusted agent to act as a go-between. Someone who will keep your secret, but can negotiate on your behalf.’
Carbo looked at Vespillo steadily. Realization of what he had said dawned on Vespillo’s face.
‘Hercules’ prick,’ he swore. ‘I walked into that one.’ He sighed. ‘Tomorrow, then.’
* * *
Elissa sat alone in the peristylium, eyes closed and head bowed. Worries and anxieties crowded her mind, too many for her to concentrate on any one of them. What if it rained that day, or the air was still? What if the fire failed to catch, or was extinguished too quickly? What if someone betrayed her, or the authorities discovered her plans somehow? And how would the Lord and Lady react if they did not receive their promised sacrifice?
Her lips moved in silent prayer.
‘O Lord Ba’al Hammon and Lady Tanit, Face of Ba’al. Bless your servant and your followers. Bless this holy task you have given me, and make me strong enough to do you honour. Make your enemies stumble and fall and let their people and armies and gods be destroyed by your fierce anger. Lord and Lady, keep me strong in your faith.’
She felt a sense of calm suffuse her, spreading from her centre out through all her limbs, warming her. Her features relaxed, and her anxieties evaporated. She smiled softly to herself. She had no need to worry. The Lord and Lady would make sure all was well.
A polite cough disturbed her reverie. She looked up to see Shafat standing a respectful distance away.
‘What is it?’ she asked.
‘There is someone here to see you, Mother.’
* * *
Vespillo sat in Elissa’s atrium and looked around him. The entrance hall to the domus was traditional in most ways. It was open to the air, with the ubiquitous impluvium, the marble basin that collected water, as a centrepiece. A few pot plants and statues were scattered around, and the walls were decorated with beautiful, if somewhat tired-looking frescoes of pastoral scenes. A little oddly, the lararium, the shrine to the lares, the household gods, looked particularly neglected. The lararium wasn’t just the wall niche or painting seen in poorer houses, but was a proper miniature temple, set on a podium with marble sides. Within it was a representation of the lares, a little silver statue of a pair of youths, dressed in the short-sleeved tunic worn in the country, holding a horn and a dish in the traditional manner. But there was no evidence of daily or even monthly libations, no wine or perfume or burnt offering. The statues themselves were tarnished, and the shrine held a sheen of dust.
Vespillo looked over at the porter, who stood against the door, shoulders slumped, head dropping. He was a short, stocky, Gallic type, and as Vespillo watched, he let out a wide yawn.
‘Tired?’ asked Vespillo.
The slave straightened himself and looked chastened. ‘My apologies, Master. I have been working nights as well as days.’
‘Oh? Why is that?’
The porter didn’t meet Vespillo’s gaze. ‘Another porter was… taken ill.’
Vespillo continued to look at the slave, but the porter kept his gaze fixed on a point midway up the wall. Time passed, and Vespillo started to get bored. Moreover, he needed to urinate, the wine he had drunk earlier starting to make its effect felt. He knew, though, that it wasn’t his place to ask to use a toilet within the domus, and he didn’t want to miss his appointment with Elissa by nipping out to piss in the street. He stood, trying to distract himself, but found he was shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot.
‘Vedius Vespillo?’ The enquiring voice had an eastern accent. Vespillo turned to see a tall, thin, balding man with a Syrian appearance. ‘I am Shafat, Mistress Elissa’s steward. She will see you now.’
Vespillo was ushered through to the peristylium, where he was shown to a pale, willowy woman, clothed in a white dress and plain jewellery, who sat on a stone bench near the fountain. To her right stood a scarred giant of a man. Her gaze was fixed on a bronze statue with its arms outstretched. Vespillo recalled the statue being mentioned in Carbo’s retelling of Rufa’s story. As Shafat announced Vespillo’s name, the woman looked up, a faint smile briefly moving across her face. She didn’t stand, but waved Vespillo to a bench at right angles to where she sat.
‘Vespillo,’ she said, regarding him steadily. ‘Tribune of the vigiles. Second station. Am I right?’
Vespillo was taken aback. ‘You are very well informed, my lady.’
‘You have met my steward, Shafat.’ She gestured to the giant. ‘This is Glaukos, a… friend.’ She gave another half smile. ‘So to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit? Have we infringed one of the fire laws?’
‘No, Mistress. In fact I am not here in an official capacity.’
Elissa’s expression held only faint interest.
‘Then please go on.’
Vespillo cleared his throat. He felt oddly intimidated by this slight woman, an unfamiliar feeling for the veteran of the legions, and currently commander of some of the roughest men that Rome kept under arms.
‘I understand you have lost a slave,’ he said tentatively.
Suddenly Elissa was alert. Although she only betrayed the subtlest outward changes in demeanour, a slight widening of the eyes, a straightening of her back, Vespillo did not miss the signs. If he had been in a bar in a garrison town, facing a legionary, he would have been reaching for the reassuring handle of his gladius.
‘You have information for me?’ asked Elissa quietly.
‘In a manner,’ said Vespillo. ‘I am acting as an… agent, on behalf of one who has knowledge of a slave that he has reason to
believe was once your property.’
‘Once my property? I can assure you, Commander, that I have not relinquished any rights over my property.’
‘Of course not, Mistress,’ said Vespillo quickly. ‘My point was that it was uncertain whether this slave was indeed the same as the one you had lost.’
‘Then describe the slave to me.’
Vespillo hesitated, trapped. Describing Rufa and Fabilla to Elissa would make it clear that Vespillo had information about her lost slave, implicating him in Carbo’s failure to return Elissa’s property.
‘She is a young woman, whose most striking feature is her red hair. She has a young daughter, aged around seven years, who has similar hair.’
Elissa nodded. ‘They are mine. Where are they?’
Vespillo spread his hands. ‘Unfortunately, it isn’t quite that simple. The man on whose behalf I have come to you has taken rather a liking to them. He has asked me if you would consider selling them to him.’
‘No,’ said Elissa simply. ‘Now, if you would make the arrangements for their return, I would be most grateful.’
‘He has authorized me to offer you a considerable sum of money for them.’
‘They aren’t for sale.’
‘He mentioned the sum of two hundred denarii.’
Elissa did not blink at this exorbitant sum of money for the two unskilled female slaves.
‘You seem to be having trouble understanding my words, Tribune. You are familiar with Latin?’
Vespillo’s eyes narrowed, unaccustomed to being insulted.
‘You could buy half a dozen new slaves for that sum, of high quality. May I ask why these two are so important to you?’
Elissa opened her mouth, looking like there was a sharp retort on the tip of her tongue. Then, with a visible effort, her features softened. She looked down, becoming almost coquettish as she glanced back up at him from beneath fluttering eyelids.
‘The woman,’ said Elissa. ‘She is… special to me.’
‘Special?’ asked Vespillo.
Elissa placed her hand to her throat, stroking it gently, letting her hand trail over her breast, before letting the hand fall back to her lap. The simple movement, so discordant with her previous behaviour, startled Vespillo. He was uncertain whether to be aroused or disturbed. Elissa was undoubtedly beautiful, and the simple erotic gesture stirred him, but he felt a deep distrust of this woman. He had to concede to himself that the distrust stemmed almost entirely from Rufa’s story. Now he started to doubt himself. What if Rufa was actually running from Elissa’s unwanted amorous advances? He was a man of the world, he was aware that women had needs as well as men, and that they sometimes sated their lusts with female as well as male slaves. It might be said that female slaves offered some advantages, not having similar problems with unwanted pregnancy, or indeed the occasional failure of a male slave to rise to the occasion, terrified of punishment for poor performance.
‘I understand, Mistress,’ he said. ‘Is this your final answer?’
Elissa sighed. ‘Matters of the heart are rarely overruled by the head. Although I can see the generosity of the offer, I must decline, and ask that my property is returned as soon as possible.’
Vespillo considered whether he should change his advice to Carbo. Why risk so much for a woman that could be lying? Slaves lied all the time. That’s why their testimony was inadmissible in court unless they had been tortured to get to the truth. He looked down. Beneath his seat, something caught his eye. Something small and dark. He couldn’t quite make out what it was.
Shafat appeared behind them. ‘Apologies, Mistress, but you asked to be informed as soon as Pavo arrived.’
‘Thank you, Shafat, please show him in.’
A portly man in his forties entered, flanked by two soldiers of the urban cohorts. He strode straight to Elissa, taking her hand and giving a slight bow. As Elissa greeted the man, her attention off Vespillo momentarily, Vespillo reached down with one hand and retrieved the object from beneath his seat. He looked at it, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. It seemed to be made of cloth, but had been mostly burnt. Parts of it crumbled at his touch, leaving ash on his fingers. Suddenly he realized what he held. It was the cremated remains of a rag doll.
‘Mistress Elissa. You asked for my attendance,’ said the newcomer.
‘Thank you so much for coming, Tribune Pavo. Please take a seat. Do you know Lucius Vedius Vespillo?’
Pavo gave a Vespillo a brief glance. ‘No.’
‘He is a commander in the vigiles.’
Pavo laughed. ‘I understood you wanted the help of the urban cohorts in retrieving some lost property. I don’t think you will need the little bucket boys to assist you.’
‘No, no, Pavo. Vespillo is not here in an official capacity. He has information on the whereabouts of my missing slaves. He was, I believe, about to arrange for their return. I fear you may have had a wasted journey.’
Pavo turned towards Vespillo, a look of contempt mixed with resentment on his face.
‘A visit to you is never a wasted journey, Mistress. But if the matter is successfully resolved in your favour, I am most happy. I am sorry to have interrupted. Please, continue, Vespillo.’
‘Unfortunately, I don’t think things will be that simple. The man on whose behalf I am acting has become very attached to these slaves, and I think will not lightly give them up. I was trying to come to a financial compromise with the mistress here.’
‘Which I rejected, as you will recall, Vespillo. So if you could give the details of their whereabouts to your superior here, the matter can be concluded.’
‘Pavo does not outrank me,’ said Vespillo defensively.
‘Nevertheless, I am your superior,’ said Pavo pompously.
Vespillo suppressed a flush of anger. He was proud of his men, whatever people called them, however they were regarded. There was no gain, though, in arguing their position in this situation. He knew that Pavo undoubtedly received the same disrespect in the presence of an officer of the Praetorians. Unless you were Emperor, there was always someone above you.
‘The man who sent me is not going to return the slaves, I fear.’
Pavo shrugged. ‘No matter. Just tell me where they are and we will go and get them.’
‘I don’t know the location of the slaves,’ said Vespillo.
‘Then give me the name of the man. We will get him instead, and he will soon reveal where he is keeping them.’
‘I can’t give you his name.’
Pavo looked at him sharply. ‘Why ever not? You do know the penalties for aiding the escape of a slave?’
‘Of course I do,’ said Vespillo. ‘Like you, my job is to uphold the law. Maybe more so. We keep the streets safe for everyone. Your job is largely to maintain civil order, for the benefit of the rich.’
Pavo stood, anger on his face. ‘Tell me his name, you pathetic little bucket boy.’
Vespillo stood too, and moved closer to Pavo, obviously shorter than him, but stronger and fitter. The two soldiers moved up behind Pavo. Vespillo calmed himself with a physical effort.
‘I can’t give you his name. I don’t know it.’
‘Pah,’ spat Pavo. ‘How is that possible?’
‘He approached me in a tavern, paid me some coin to convey his message.’
‘Then you are to meet him again, to give him your reply? We can intercept him then.’
‘No. Those of us who work the streets at night have a reputation to keep up. We have informers working for us. The delatores come to us. Slaves and citizens bring us information. If I give my word to act as an honest broker to a man, and betray him, it will damage our relationship with those we walk the streets with at night, who we live alongside, eat and drink with. I cannot allow it.’
‘Cannot?’ roared Pavo. ‘I am your superior.’
‘So you say,’ said Vespillo. ‘But you are not my ranking officer, nor do you command me.’
Vespillo turned to Elissa.
‘If your position remains unchanged, I think we are finished here.’
Elissa’s eyes showed her fury, but she remained composed. Beside her, Glaukos kept a steady, menacing gaze on him. The combination was completely unnerving.
‘Think carefully what you are getting yourself into, Commander. I will recover my property, by whatever means necessary.’
‘Good day to you, Mistress. And to you, Tribune.’
Vespillo offered Elissa his hand. It seemed she wouldn’t take it, then she looked at it more closely, taking it in delicate fingers and pulling it closer for inspection. There was ash on his fingers, and it transferred onto hers. She rubbed at the ash on her pale hand, then looked up at him.
‘Apologies, Mistress,’ said Vespillo insincerely. ‘Hazard of my job.’
He strode towards the exit. The two soldiers of the urban cohorts barred his way temporarily, but an unwavering stare from Vespillo cowed them into parting for him. As he left the peristylium, heading out through the atrium to the street outside, he heard Pavo shouting.
‘Your commander will hear of this!’
Vespillo smiled to himself. They would have to find whichever tavern or whorehouse his commander was holed up in first. He paused outside the front door, suddenly remembering his bladder. He pulled up his tunic and urinated against Elissa’s front door.
Inside the peristylium, Elissa ignored Pavo’s ranting. She looked under Vespillo’s seat, and around where he had been sitting, but found nothing except a slight stain of ash, maybe where a burnt object had sat for a while, not properly cleaned up by the sloppy slaves.
* * *
Carbo was waiting anxiously at his tavern for Vespillo’s return. When Vespillo arrived, his grim expression told Carbo all he needed to know. Carbo called for Marsia to fetch them both a drink. The bar was reasonably quiet, and they took a table in the corner where they could talk without being disturbed, except by Myia who sat beneath the table and noisily scratched her fleas.
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