I was about to offer to withdraw and give them privacy – after all I had that promise of the record scrolls, which answered what I’d come for – but Lucius straightened to a sitting pose (a signal that we two should do the same) and seized my arm again, saying heartily to his other guest, ‘You may speak freely. There are no strangers here. Libertus already knows about the loan I hope to get from you and why.’
Alfredus looked embarrassed. He took another handful of the nuts and cleared his throat. ‘Then I’ll confess it straightaway. I’ll have to disappoint you, I’m afraid – unless or until Genialis comes to light. You’ve heard that he owes me money, I expect? No doubt that’s common knowledge in the town.’
Lucius nodded. ‘Libertus heard it in the forum, I believe.’
Alfredus made a face. ‘I was obliged to make a shaming public statement at the basilica, in front of everyone, that I can’t pay my creditors. If Genialis were available I would simply delegate – pass the debts to him, as the law permits – there is no requirement that he should agree. But it seems he’s disappeared, and one cannot declare delegatio without the knowledge of the man involved – so I’ve simply had to ask for the customary length of time to pay.’
‘Thirty days? And that will be enough?’ Lucius sounded genuinely interested now.
‘By that time, I hope, I can sell my usual crops again – I’ve not been able to do so with the recent snow – and that should be sufficient to pay my creditors. But it doesn’t solve the problem of what Genialis owes to me. At present it is legally “impossible to pay” and so there is no immediate redress. If he’s dead I’ll have to sue from his estate, though that clearly won’t be possible within the thirty days.’ He gave a bitter smile. ‘Just as well they’ve done away with old-style punishments for defaulters, that’s all I can say.’
I remembered what Marcus had once told me about that. The ancient law provided that a man could chain his debtor up for the whole period – without the necessity of offering him food – and if the money was not paid in time, the creditors had the right, not just to seize his goods (as happened nowadays) but to share up his body in equitable parts.
‘When did you discover he was missing?’ Lucius asked. ‘We weren’t aware of it ourselves until a day or two ago.’
‘I expected to see him at the Agonalia feast – it was the day the debt was due and I thought he would have travelled back to keep the feast: he had intended to, he said, in fact he was furious when he could not provide the ram. I spoke to Bernadus – knowing that Genialis had been to stay with him.’ Alfredus tossed another shelled walnut down his throat and took a sip of wine. ‘He was surprised, himself. He said that Genialis ought to be in town: he had left the villa several days before, with instructions that his bride-to-be should follow him to town on the day of sacrifice, and she had done so – though she’d left a lot of her effects behind.’
‘He wasn’t here to meet her, though!’ Lucius said. ‘The doorkeeper hadn’t seen his master since the day he left.’
Alfredus frowned. ‘So I understand. I tried the house, myself. There was a special meeting of the curia – in relation to the proclamation of the new Emperor – so I couldn’t go at once, but as soon as it was over, I called there straight away. But the doorkeeper told me that his master hadn’t come and Silvia had been taken into temporary potestas by His Excellence. That was the moment I began to fear that I’d lost my money. And the gold is not among the things that were left behind at the villa. I went straight to Bernadus’s villa, the first thing next day, and he helped me institute a search, but …’ He trailed off helplessly. ‘The coffer was there, but it was emptied of its gold. It seems he’s simply vanished and the money too.’
‘Then perhaps he had it with him?’ I suggested, brightening. ‘Intending to repay you when he got to town. That might explain his disappearance, mightn’t it? If he were intercepted by some robber on the road and found to be carrying a lot of money it is more than possible that he was murdered for his purse.’
In fact this seemed an obvious theory, now I had thought of it, and the more I considered it, the likelier it seemed. Violence and robbery on the public road is a crucifying offence so victims of such crimes are more often killed than not – dead men cannot identify a thief. And it would fit with what Lucius and Adonisius thought as well – that he’d gone off in a hurry to meet a secret creditor. I only wondered that I had not thought of it before!
But Lucius was making a disbelieving face. ‘But surely thieves would just have dumped the corpse beside the road? That’s what they generally do. And I’ve never heard of any thief who didn’t try to seize the horse – especially a valuable animal like that – or at least the trappings, which are easier to sell. Yet when that horse was found, it still had its saddle on, although the reins were broken. What robber would do that? That saddle would bring a good price at any market stall.’
Alfredus had finished all the walnuts by this time and was eating almonds now. ‘And if Genialis were carrying a large amount of gold, wouldn’t he have had the casket with him too? Bernadus said he was carrying a purse, but that would not hold the amount of gold I lent to him. Besides,’ he added, ‘I don’t believe that he meant to pay me back. In that case, why did he want the loan at all? There was nothing whatever to spend it on while he was at the villa, and no opportunity of gaining extra funds. He was relying on some deal that he hoped to make, he said.’
There was some sense in all of this, but I did not give up without a fight. ‘Or perhaps Bernadus stole it, after his guests had left,’ I suggested doubtfully. ‘Such things have happened.’
Alfredus gave that mirthless smile again. ‘I don’t think so, pavement-maker. Bernadus had agreed to act as surety – so if that money’s missing, he must make it up himself. Only, since he is a sort of friend, I swore in the stipulatio that I would not sue until it was proved “impossible” for Genialis to repay – so there is no legal way that I can call on him for it just now.’ He turned to Lucius. ‘So you see why I cannot – at the moment – offer you the loan.’
Lucius laughed and clapped him on the arm. ‘Oddly enough, it does not matter much, while Genialis is unaccounted for. And if he’s dead, I may not need a loan at all.’ He looked at me and grinned. ‘Supposing that my hopes of matrimony come to pass.’ Then he sobered suddenly. ‘But I thought you had recently sold a piece of land. Surely you didn’t lend Genialis all of th—?’
Alfredus brought his fists down on the table with such violence that the bronze dish which had held the nuts bounced off and hit the floor. ‘That is the worst of it! I have been such a fool! He swore – upon the altar, in the presence of a priest – that he would return it to me by the Agonalia, and even add a little interest. There were urgent expenses which he had to meet in Dorn – largely for his intended marriage to his ward – but he’d arranged to sell some business interests within a day or two, and this loan was simply to see him through till then. But I’m not sure that’s true. Bernadus tells me he was laughing afterwards, when they were dining at the villa the next day, saying that he’d duped me, and this merely a device to find out exactly how much he dared to ask for those business assets. Though I don’t understand how that could be.’
Lucius’s smile had faded and he was looking grim. ‘I think perhaps I do,’ he said through gritted teeth. ‘He knew that I was anxious to try to buy him out, and somehow learned that you were planning to make a loan to me – though I tried to keep it from him. He wanted as high a price as possible, of course, but didn’t know exactly what I could afford to pay. So he duped you into this – he now knew the maximum that he could ask of me, no doubt adding a little extra on for luck, including the interest that he promised you. So when he paid you back, you’d lend the gold to me and I would give it back to him again – that was the strategy. And it was not the wedding that he needed all this money for, it was his gambling debts.’
But I was hardly listening to this tale of perfidy. I turned to the purple-striper
urgently. ‘You say you swore your stipulatio in the presence of a priest? Not by any chance the ancient one that tried to make the Janus sacrifice?’
Alfredus looked at me in some surprise. ‘How did you know that citizen? Of course, he hadn’t made – or failed to make – the sacrifice to them, otherwise I should never have consented to involve him in the act. I wasn’t very keen in any case – I would have preferred a senior magistrate – but Bernadus was insistent that we should ask the priest. A vow was better than a simple pact, he said, and this priest was willing to do things for a fee. So I agreed to it. And so did Genialis. Well he broke his vow – and now they are looking for his corpse, and serve him right.’
He said it with such venom that I was slightly shocked. ‘But I thought you were a friend? Were you not supporting him to be an aedile?’ I was only guessing that, but he did not demur.
‘A friend?’ For a moment the pale eyes sparked with unaccustomed fire. ‘A man like Genialis does not have real friends. Only people who are useful and people who are used.’ He gave that little mirthless laugh again. ‘I was fool enough to think that I was in the former group – but tonight I have discovered otherwise. Well if he has perished, he brought it on himself. The gods have punished him.’
Lucius gave a barking laugh. ‘And the old priest as well – though that was most likely because he spoiled the sacrifice. You have heard the story of the finding of his corpse?’ He told it, much as I’d related it to him, though omitting the grisly details of the missing upper parts.
Alfredus, however, was looking worried now. ‘So there is no longer a witness to our vow. I wonder how that will affect things in the court. You don’t think Genialis had a hand in that? We don’t know that he is actually dead.’
‘That is why we’re mounting this enormous search for him. Libertus here intends to join it, in the morning I believe, and you are welcome to send a slave to help.’
Alfredus was already rising to his feet. ‘I think I’ll do that. I hope the corpse turns up. If he’s dead there’ll be no problem in suing his estate – Bernadus will simply be relieved of acting surety and I’m sure he’ll testify for me, if there’s no penalty to pay.’ He bowed in our direction. ‘In the meantime, gentleman, I will go back home and find a servant I can spare to join the hunt.’
Lucius rapped the table with the jug to bring the servants back. Alfredus’s attendant (who, unbeknown to me, was being entertained by Vesperion in his warehouse lair) was sent for, and despatched to find a litter to take his master home. Meanwhile Adonisius went off to find my cloak and came back wearing a warm cape of his own, and carrying a lighted pitch-torch in his hand.
‘If you are ready, citizen? I will escort you to your shop.’ And together we set off into the night.
SEVENTEEN
The walk back to my workshop took much longer than I thought it would. Away from the docks, where an inn was brightly lit, and the prostitutes were lurking under every arch, I had expected that the streets would be deserted by this time. Unless people were invited somewhere else to dine, as I had been, or had a night-time funeral to attend, most respectable townsfolk are usually in bed an hour after sunset at any time of year, and certainly at home with all the shutters up – especially in winter when the nights are cold.
But tonight there was a different feel about the town – a background murmur like a thousand far-off bees – and as we picked our way along the snow-piled streets, I began to hear an individual shout or two. More alarmingly, a fiery glow was visible against the evening sky – and it came from the forum, by the look of it.
Of course, fire is not uncommon in a big town like this: some careless soul who overturns a lamp, or uses a taper to find something on the floor and accidentally sets the bed alight. (I had a fire in my own workshop once, which half-destroyed the roof and – despite the efforts of the fire watch to which I paid my dues, who brought buckets from the river and tried to put it out – I’ve never been able to live in the upstairs rooms again.)
A night fire is always a public spectacle, of course – people will always leave their homes to watch, if not to help – but this evening it seemed to be rather more than that. Every hot-soup stall or wine shop we came to had lighted links outside, and was clearly doing a brisk and noisy trade, and there were flickering torches visible down every street we passed, with cloaked figures hurrying towards the centre of the town – despite the fact that it was getting very cold and the pavements were already treacherous. It was obvious that something unusual was afoot.
Moreover, the red glow which was visible above the roofs was now beginning to flicker with leaping yellow flame. I began to wonder if a wagon had caught fire: such vehicles, which are not permitted in the day, come rumbling into Glevum for an hour at dusk to make deliveries, and the air is often loud with the rumbling of wheels and the curses of the drivers as their carts get stuck in ruts. A cartload of logs might create a blaze like that. But the recent snow and the condition of the roads had put a temporary stop to most wheeled trade into town and there was scarcely a vehicle to be seen tonight – only an old peasant with a donkey cart, at the corner of a narrow alleyway, shovelling up a frozen midden heap to take back and spread to fertilize whatever crops remained.
He looked up as I passed him, glancing with envy at the splendid slave, and then realized that his little vehicle – which he had positioned to hold the torch that he was working by – had blocked the pavement and was standing in our path.
He straightened up and sighed. ‘Want to come down this way, do you? Let me move the cart.’ He tugged at the reluctant animal. It moved a pace or two. ‘There you are. I think there’s room to pass. Going to join that rumpus in the town, I suppose? Well, if you think it’s worth it, then good luck to you!’ He stamped his hide-bound feet impatiently as if to keep them warm, obviously waiting to move the cart again.
‘Some sort of fire? It seems a nasty one.’ I paused in the act of edging through the space that he had cleared, a narrow strip of pavement flanked by dirty piles of snow. ‘Looks as if it’s coming from the forum square. Do you know what’s alight? I suppose it isn’t the basilica?’
He gave a dreadful smile that showed, even by torchlight, his yellow, jagged teeth. ‘Not unless some idiot’s set fire to that as well. Though it wouldn’t be surprising, if this mob gets out of hand. That’s a triumphal bonfire they’ve lit. There’s been cavorting in the forum for an hour or more – ever since the military legate got here, shortly before dusk, to announce the news he’d just delivered to the garrison.’
‘News?’
‘If you can call it that. The latest bulletin from Rome, at any rate. All properly signed and sealed on an official scroll, this time.’
‘What’s happened? The Emperor Commodus isn’t dead at all?’ That would explain the people on the streets and the lighting of a celebratory fire: people would be very anxious to be seen demonstrating loyal joy, especially those who had most loudly cheered the news of his demise. Paid spies would be taking note of everything.
But my aged informant shook his grizzled head. He had a piece of ancient sack tied round it as a hood, but it seemed to offer no protection to his ears and allowed his straggling grey locks to show. ‘Oh, he is dead all right – his body was dragged around the city on the hook – and this new man Pertinax was installed instead. That’s what all the celebrations are about.’
‘I see!’ I said. ‘I’m very pleased myself, but I’m surprised that the people have taken to the streets – especially at night when the weather is so bad – just because their former Governor has been appointed Emperor.’
He laughed. ‘It isn’t that so much. Of course they’re calling him the Great and Merciful – he rescued the hook-torn body from the crowd, as soon as his own accession was agreed, and insisted it was given proper burial. Or so the legate says. And he’s declared an extra holiday next moon. But most of all, he’s rescinded all the stupid edicts people hate so much. He’s formally declared that Rome is Rome ag
ain, and not Commodiana, as it was supposed to be: the months have all reverted to their proper names, and aren’t called after the Emperor’s honorifics any longer, so no one can be flogged for forgetting which is which. That’s what caused the real excitement here – people came rushing out on to the street, the instant that they heard, cheering Pertinax and pulling down all the statues of Commodus they could find. And the town watch hasn’t stopped them – the crowd has done the same in Rome, apparently, and no one has been condemned to punishment, by order of the Great and Merciful.’
I glanced toward the distant flames, which were leaping higher now. ‘How do you know all this?’
He shrugged his bony shoulders under the shrouding sack. ‘Oh, I was in the forum when the message came – I’d brought in a few turnips, and I was selling those before I came out here to take away the pile. But I’ve got a farm to see to and a wife to keep. I’m not risking prison by setting fire to things and causing a disturbance in the street. I don’t see that it matters at this stage anyway, whether they dragged Commodus behind a hook or not – and the new fellow may be Great and Merciful, but I don’t know what difference he’s going to make to me. I’ll still be doing this same stinking job until the day I drop. But Hail Caesar anyway – I’d better say that, I suppose, or with my luck you’ll turn out to be a spy. And good luck with your bonfire – I hope the gods approve.’
He spat on his chapped fingers – which were all that protruded from the rags wrapped round his hands – urged the donkey back into its former place, and turned to his unlovely task again. At least with the snow, I thought, his makeshift fertilizer would not smell so much.
I said to Adonisius, who’d been listening to all this, ‘We’ll go through the forum, then, and see what’s happening. It’s as good a route as any to the other side of town. My workshop lies outside the northern walls, of course, and the gate is now doubtless shut again till dawn – we’ll have to find a sentry to open up for us.’
Dark Omens Page 17