‘I was taken before the governor, ready to receive my punishment. In view of the way I had fought, and the reasons for my desertion, he took pity on me. I was dishonourably discharged, quietly and without fuss. I lost my back pay and my chance of any land on retirement. I made my way back to Rome, doing odd jobs along the way, or begging scraps of food.
‘When I arrived in Rome, I was destitute. I was sleeping under the aqueducts and in the temple doorways, begging along with the rest of the poor. Some of the crippled veterans I begged with told me about the vigiles, how they would take anyone, so I applied. They were right. I didn’t hide the truth of my dishonourable discharge, but my recruiting officer didn’t care. The vigiles were made up of thugs and freedmen, and they were keen to have someone with experience of the legions, especially an officer.
‘I threw myself into the work, and found that I enjoyed it. It’s exciting and rewarding, genuinely helping the people of Rome. I could put the memories aside and I could try to restore my pride, bury the dishonour of desertion, and of failing to save my family. My work and command experience were noticed and I was promoted quickly. I met Severa, who was the widow of a local tradesman, and we married. Life now is good. I enjoy my work, I command a lot of men, I have a position in the community, respect, and a wife who loves me.’
‘Yet still you have something to prove, don’t you,’ said Carbo quietly.
‘Yes,’ said Vespillo. ‘And I always will.’
They remained quiet, drinking together in silence, while the hubbub of the busy bar swirled around them. Eventually Vespillo looked up at Carbo.
‘And you? You have a story to tell?’
Carbo shook his head. ‘Not today. Maybe never.’
Vespillo’s face showed disappointment that his openness had not been reciprocated. But when he saw Carbo’s stare into middle distance, his stillness, the tension in his jaw, he realized he shouldn’t press the subject. He sighed and drained his glass.
‘So, now you know all about me. Maybe you understand a bit more why I wanted to help you and Rufa. I couldn’t protect the ones in my charge, but I can help you protect yours.’
‘Thank you,’ said Carbo. ‘For that, and for sharing your past with me.’
Vespillo waved the thanks away. ‘So, the question is, what next? Can we do anything with the information we got from Kahotep?’
Carbo considered the question. ‘We need more specifics, don’t we? We need to find out what Elissa is up to.’
‘Slaves are usually easy enough to bribe. Ask Rufa who she thinks would be the best one to approach.’
‘Good idea. I’ll go and talk to her. Thanks again, Vespillo. I’m sorry for judging you. You are a friend.’
Vespillo smiled. ‘It seems I am.’
* * *
Carbo sat in the back room of the tavern with Rufa. Her expression was tight, and she was snappy when Fabilla’s childish singing irritated her. For her part, Fabilla was quick to tears at the rebuke, and it required a hug and an apology from Rufa to calm her. Carbo realized that Rufa and Fabilla had been confined to this one room and the bedroom for several days now. He reached out across the table and covered her hand with his. She looked up at him and suddenly her eyes were full with tears.
‘What is going to become of us, Carbo?’ she asked.
‘That’s what I’m working on. I need to persuade Elissa to leave you alone. Vespillo and I think we need to find out more about Elissa’s activities, so we can have some leverage.’
‘You told Vespillo about me?’
Carbo nodded. ‘I can’t do this alone, Rufa. It’s too big.’
Rufa turned away. ‘I’m being unfair on you, aren’t I? I’ve come here, calling in a promise you made to a little girl a lifetime ago.’
Carbo squeezed her hand. ‘I made the promise and I will stick by it. Now, have you told me everything you know about Elissa and what she does?’
‘I think so. She has these meetings with people who seem important, but I don’t know them.’
‘Do you remember any names?’
She closed her eyes in concentration. ‘There was a woman called… Metella, I think.’
‘The Metelli are a big family, that doesn’t narrow it down too much.’
‘There was someone called Scrofa too. I overheard the mistress ask how things were in the office of the Urban Prefect.’
‘She isn’t your mistress any more, Rufa.’
Rufa looked down, then shook her head. ‘I’m sorry. I feel a long way from being free. I might as well be imprisoned. It’s only been a few days and already I’m chafing to see a street, a crowd.’
‘You know why you must stay out of sight, Rufa.’
‘I know, Carbo, but it’s not just me. How do you explain to a seven-year-old child why we must remain hidden?’
‘It’s not worth the risk.’
‘Rome is a big place, Carbo. With my hair under my hood, I would never be recognized.’
Carbo changed the subject. ‘I need to speak to someone from Elissa’s household to find out more. Do you think any of the slaves would talk to me? One who might have some knowledge of what goes on in that house?’
Rufa considered for a moment. ‘I shared my quarters with my friend Natta and her husband Cossus. He was Elissa’s caretaker. He would know everything about that house. He wouldn’t talk to you, though. He doesn’t know you. Why would he risk punishment?’
‘I can make him talk to me.’
‘You think threatening him will get you the information you want? He would probably just tell you anything he thought you wanted to hear, and then go and tell Elissa.’
‘There’s no alternative.’
‘There is. I will come with you. He might talk to me.’
Carbo shook his head firmly. ‘No, it’s too dangerous.’
‘Is it more dangerous than sitting here and waiting to be found?’
Carbo thought for a while. ‘He could come here, couldn’t he? There would be no need for you to go out.’
‘And how would you get him a message? He can’t read. Who would you trust to talk to him? I know his schedule. He usually goes out for supplies for repairs and suchlike early each morning. We could wait for him.’
Carbo sighed. ‘Are you sure you want to do this?’
‘Yes. I need to. Staying here and not knowing what will happen to me is killing me. If you think getting more information will be of use, then I can help.’
‘Fine. Tomorrow morning then. I’m going to get some sleep.’
‘I will retire too. Fabilla, bedtime.’
‘Mummy,’ moaned the young girl, who had been rolling some knuckle bones.
‘No argument.’ Rufa took Fabilla’s hand and led her upstairs. Carbo poured himself a glass of watered wine and drank. Marsia entered the kitchen to fetch a bowl of soup to take back to the bar, which was still noisy.
‘I’m going to bed, Marsia. Close up the bar when the last customer has gone.’
‘Yes, Master.’
Carbo made his way up the wooden stairs to the first-floor bedroom. He found that Rufa had settled Fabilla onto the mattress on the floor that Carbo had been sleeping on. Fabilla was already snoring, and Carbo marvelled at the way children could go from fully awake to asleep so quickly. He wished he had that ability. Rufa looked up and whispered, ‘I’m sorry, is it OK if she takes the mattress on the floor? She will sleep better if she has her own space.’
‘Of course.’ He looked around. ‘I suppose I will find a corner.’
Rufa looked at him shyly. ‘You can share the bed with me.’ She let her dress fall to the floor and she was wearing only a brief loincloth and a breast band beneath. Carbo felt his lust stirring as his eyes moved over her lithe body, her smooth skin marred only by the brand on her arm. She stepped forward and slid one arm around his waist, then slowly pulled him down to the bed, kissing him softly. His fingers slid over her skin and he sighed softly at her touch. Her hand moved down his chest, lower, light fingerti
ps, seeking, till they reached his hardness.
For a moment, he tried not to think, tried to lose himself in the feeling. Then images started to flash in his mind. His heart started to race, he started to sweat, his breathing became tight, and his erection disappeared like a flower wilting in the heat. Rufa looked into his eyes.
‘Do you not like me in that way?’ she asked, her voice small.
Carbo shook his head. ‘It’s not you, it’s…’ He swallowed, fighting down the familiar sensation of rising panic. Rufa watched him for a moment, seeing his anxiety. She didn’t say anything further. She just slid her arms around him and cradled his head against her shoulder. They lay together and Carbo found to his amazement that his racing heart, the knot in his stomach, his fast breathing, all started to settle. He held Rufa close and he marvelled at the strange sensation, one that he hadn’t felt for so long, one that with his past, and with what was happening in his life right now, he knew was inappropriate. He felt relaxed. He fell asleep, holding onto Rufa.
Chapter XIV
Carbo and Rufa sat on the edge of a fountain, watching the market traders. It was a nundinae, a market day held every eighth day, when farmers and merchants from the country made their way into the centre of Rome to sell fresh goods. The streets were closed to normal traffic for the day and stalls were crammed into every available space, selling the mundane such as garden vegetables as well as the exotic such as perfumes and fine wines. Slaves and housewives scoured the market for fresh goods to last the eight days until the next market was due to come around.
Rufa breathed in the air deeply, warmed by the late summer sun. She had been in captivity most of her life, but as a domestic slave she had been allowed to wander around the house freely, and was often given errands in the city. The last few days, during which she was terrified of capture, scared to show her face to the world, and yet bored senseless by the confinement, had been among the worst in her life. Compounding it was the problem of Fabilla, who was even more bored and not understanding their situation.
Rufa felt a little guilty at leaving Fabilla behind in Marsia’s care. Fabilla had wept and screamed at the injustice of her mother going out without her, but Rufa knew that it was too dangerous to risk her being seen. Rufa herself felt her heart beating fast, her stomach tightening each time she felt someone’s gaze turn on her, relief flooding through her as the bored eyes scanned away. She wore a plain stola, neither too showy nor too tattered, which Marsia had bought for her on Carbo’s instructions. Her red hair was hidden by a cloak pulled up over her head and she drew the edges of it around her face, so there was little of her on show to be recognized.
Carbo dipped his hand into the water from the fountain and took a slurping drink from his cupped palm. ‘When will he come?’ he asked, for at least the fifth time.
‘I still don’t know,’ said Rufa, a little impatiently, despite her fear and the debt she owned Carbo. ‘He was never the most reliable slave. But he has to get supplies when the market is here, the mistress always insisted on fresh goods.’
Carbo sighed and shifted his weight. His leg ached if he sat in one position for too long, but he didn’t want to leave this vantage point where their target should be visible. He scanned the crowd pointlessly, as he didn’t know what this slave looked like. Rufa remained alert, her eyes darting over the faces. Her hand moved tentatively to his lap. He looked down at it for a moment, then took it gently in his own hand. She looked at him and smiled softly.
A familiar figure caught her eye. The man was dressed plainly and it was impossible to tell from his garb whether he was a slave or a poor free man. She squeezed Carbo’s hand and nodded in the direction of the figure. He was in a sea of heads and too far away for Rufa to be sure it was him. Carbo squinted and looked at her quizzically. The man worked his way through the stalls, coming nearer to their resting place. He turned to a trader to purchase some onions and Rufa lost sight of him momentarily. Then he emerged, coming closer again, and Rufa clearly saw the face of Cossus, partner of Natta, the couple who shared her room during her time in Elissa’s service.
‘That’s him,’ she said. Carbo nodded and stood, grimacing as he stretched out his stiff leg. He took Rufa’s hand and made his way through the crowds. Progress was slow, but his large bulk helped him to make headway and soon he was within a short distance of Cossus. The severe crowding made a subtle approach impossible, so he hung back, watching and following. Cossus had no reason to think he was being followed and didn’t look round once as he made his way about the marketplace. Fortunately he was an efficient shopper and didn’t spend too long haggling or sampling the goods. Before long he had a full bag of goods and was leaving the market. Rufa and Carbo followed at a short distance until the crowds eased. Cossus turned down a quiet alleyway and Carbo spotted an empty doorway up ahead. As Cossus approached it, Carbo took a couple of strides forward and with a strong arm guided him into the recess.
Cossus gasped in alarm, whirling to face his attacker. His arms came up to defend himself, dropping his sack, but Carbo pressed up against him, pinning his arms back.
‘Stand still,’ he hissed.
‘What do you want?’ said Cossus. ‘I’ve spent my money on goods, there is none left.’
Rufa appeared beside Carbo.
‘Cossus,’ she said, pulling her cloak away from her face and revealing a rim of her distinctive face.
Cossus’ eyes widened, then narrowed in anger.
‘You!’ He made to lunge at her, but Carbo restrained him. ‘You evil whore. You cunnus. I spit on your tomb.’ He did spit at her, hitting her on the shoulder. Rufa drew back in shock at the reaction.
‘This is going well,’ muttered Carbo.
‘Cossus, why are you saying these things to me?’
‘You ran away. What did you think would happen to the rest of us?’
‘What… what do you mean?’ asked Rufa.
‘She tortured Natta. And Demosthenes. With the flagrum.’
Rufa paled.
‘Is she…?’
‘She lives,’ said Cossus. ‘For now. Her wounds are grave. I… don’t think that she will survive.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ said Rufa, almost whispering, tears filling her eyes. ‘I never meant for any of that to happen.’
Cossus slumped, the fight going out of him. Carbo cautiously let him go and stepped back, keeping an eye on the street. One or two passers-by eyed the small group suspiciously, but no one showed any intention of intervening.
‘Why did you run, Rufa? Why put the rest of us at risk like that?’
‘I didn’t know she would take it out on the rest of you. But I had to leave. Fabilla, she was in danger.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘That’s why we want to talk to you,’ said Carbo.
Cossus turned his gaze on him. ‘And who are you, and why are you assaulting me in broad daylight?’
‘I’m sorry about that,’ said Carbo. ‘We needed to talk to you in private, away from prying eyes and flapping ears.’
‘I’m not interested in talking to you. Or your whore.’
‘Please, Cossus,’ begged Rufa. ‘The mistress means to kill Fabilla.’
Cossus looked defiant, then relented. ‘There is a tavern at the end of this alley. The wine is foul and the food is likely to poison you, so it’s usually quiet. Let’s go there.’
Carbo nodded and let Cossus lead the way.
As Cossus had predicted, the tavern was all but empty. The plump, bald, perspiring proprietor was slumped at the bar, chin on his hands. A small dog sat on one table nibbling its backside and a bored, elderly prostitute seated on a couch raised her eyes briefly as the two men entered, then let her gaze fall to the floor again as she saw the attractive young woman accompanying them. They took a table in a corner, sat and waited. The proprietor sighed, struggled to his feet with a groan and walked over to them stiffly.
‘What do you want?’
Carbo looked around the bar, t
aking in the fading frescoes, the filthy, stained tables, the rickety furniture, and a couple of rats gnawing a bone in one corner.
‘A cup of your finest Falernian, please,’ he said.
The tavern owner seemed to miss the irony completely. ‘Don’t have any.’
Carbo shook his head. ‘Just get us three cups of your least vinegary wine.’
They waited in silence while the tavern owner huffed and puffed, making a big show of selecting a particular wine. He poured three cups and brought them to the table, slopping some of the contents over the side. ‘Ten asses for these. My best wine.’
Carbo took a sip and grimaced. ‘You should pay us to drink this stuff. Take four and be grateful.’ He slipped the copper coins across the table. The tavern owner grumbled, but Carbo’s expression prevented him from arguing his case. He took the coins and wandered off to his station at the bar.
Cossus took a sip of drink as well. Even the slave wrinkled his nose. Rufa left hers untouched.
‘So, as the man said, what do you want?’
Carbo looked across at Rufa.
‘I’m so sorry about Natta,’ she said. ‘I never meant that to happen. Never thought…’
‘What did you think?’ snapped Cossus. ‘That the mistress would celebrate your escape by giving us all honeycakes?’
Rufa looked distraught. ‘I had no choice, Cossus. I found something out. I saw the mistress and some others. They were performing a ceremony. They sacrificed Fabilla’s doll.’
‘So? The mistress is crazy. We all know that.’
‘They marked Fabilla with a sign. They said she was going to be a sacrifice.’
‘It’s just her talk. Her way of stirring up her followers.’ He looked at Carbo. ‘You don’t believe all this nonsense, do you?’
‘Tell me about this cult,’ said Carbo. ‘What do you know?’
Cossus took another sip of wine, then looked like he regretted it.
‘The mistress claims she is Carthaginian. That she fled from the city as a child. That her mother was a priestess, and her mother before her, and that she herself is a priestess of the ancient Carthaginian gods. She is quite… persuasive. She has followers throughout the city, and they meet in secret and rail against the cruelty of the Roman overlords.’
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