A Roman Ransom

by Rosemary Rowe

  ‘Excellence!’ It was the physician’s sing-song voice. ‘With due respect, you must not tire him out. The old man is clearly tougher than I thought he was, but you can see that he has had enough. If you weary him too much he will relapse, and I cannot answer for what might happen then. What this man needs is rest and nourishment. I will prepare some medicine for him. Sleep herbs perhaps to help him through the night, a compress of sweet cecily to hold the fever down, and feverfew to keep the sweats at bay. That way there is more chance that he’ll recuperate and be able to assist Your Excellence again.’

  I felt a rush of helpless gratitude. I was aware of being extremely tired, and the effort of concentration was draining me. However, far from leaving me alone, Marcus was moving to kneel down by the bed. That was so amazing that it made me smile. I have never known my patron bend the knee to any man, even the provincial governor himself, yet here he was grovelling on my roundhouse floor. It was a sign, I thought vaguely, of how distraught he was and possibly of how unwell I’d been.

  ‘Libertus,’ he was saying urgently, ‘don’t you slip away as well.’

  ‘Don’t touch him, Excellence.’ The physician’s voice was sharp. ‘Forgive me, but you are getting far too close. There is still a chance of plague. I would be failing in my duties as a medicus if I did not beg you – require you – to move back.’

  Even in my drowsy state I understood how dangerously daring that remark had been. I heard my patron give a shocked intake of breath, but – unwillingly – he did get to his feet. However, he could not let the matter pass without rebuke.

  ‘Medicus, you overstep the mark. You only came into my employ a couple of days ago,’ he grumbled. ‘The fact that I paid you handsomely to leave the service of the household where you were before does not give you the authority to speak to me like that. If there are orders to be given, I will issue them. Is that understood?’

  A lesser man might have retreated and apologised, but the medicus was made of stronger stuff. ‘You have given me authority to protect your well-being,’ he said. ‘If you set a man to guard a town, you would call him a traitor if he failed to warn you of danger on his watch. I am merely doing the same thing for your health.’

  Marcus snorted and I held my breath, expecting an outraged outburst, but there was none. My patron simply did what he was told and retreated to the safety of the fire.

  ‘I am grateful to you for your understanding, Excellence,’ the medicus was saying in that high-pitched voice of his. ‘What would the province do if you fell ill yourself? Now, you engaged me to bring the pavement-maker to himself again, and I have done so with some success so far. But, if you wish me to continue with the task, then we should leave him now. Not only for his own sake, but for yours as well. This roundhouse is a draughty, smoky place – and whereas he, as a Celt, is doubtless used to it, you, Excellence, are manifestly not. You have been continually coughing and your eyes are red. I recommend that you return at once to the comfort and warmth of your own home. I will keep my litter here, and follow you as soon as possible.’

  Marcus grunted briefly in consent, and turned to Gwellia. I was drifting softly, but I heard him murmuring, ‘Would it be a good idea, do you suppose, to transfer him to the villa when he is well enough? It would be much easier for you to care for him – we could put him in a proper Roman bed, in one of the heated rooms, perhaps, where there is a hypocaust underneath the floor. My kitchens could try to tempt his appetite. I am sure that he would recover far more quickly there, and the medicus would be on the spot.’

  What the physician might have thought of that, I do not know. I simply heard my wife begin to say ‘You are most thoughtful, Excellence . . .’ and then stop as there came the sound of running footsteps at the door.

  ‘Excellence!’ It was the voice of Junio, my curly-headed slave. Usually he slept beside my bed, saw to my needs and acted as assistant-cum-companion in my workshop in the town, but in my illness he’d been banished from my side and it seemed that he’d been keeping watch outdoors. Now he sounded breathless and upset. ‘Excellence, forgive my interrupting here. There is a messenger at the gate for you. One of the servants from your country house. I am to bring you this at once.’

  ‘What is it?’ Marcus said.

  ‘This letter, Excellence. It was delivered to your villa a little while ago – though no one quite knows when. One of the gate-keepers found it left inside the porch – it seems it had been thrown there by a passer-by.’

  ‘What does it say?’ Marcus’s voice was strained.

  ‘They have not opened it. It is a makeshift thing – simply a piece of folded bark, addressed to you in charcoal on the front. The lettering is poor – it might be anything. But it is tied up with a strip of lilac cloth – it seems to have been torn from something, by the ragged edge, but – see – it is embroidered with gold thread. Your servants thought that you should see it as it is. The handmaidens are sure that it’s your wife’s. She was wearing a lilac stola the day she disappeared.’

  ‘Let me see it. More lights here.’ I could almost hear my patron trembling. He moved towards the fire, where the light was best. The medicus and Gwellia both went to him, taking the oil lamp and the candle to assist. There was a silence. I tried to raise myself up on my arm again, and this time I succeeded, more or less.

  ‘It’s from her hem. I’ve seen her wear the garment many times. And look, there is a lock of hair inside the cloth. That is hers too, if I am any judge. And this small downy lock is from the child.’ He wrapped the curls inside the cloth again, and placed it reverently inside his toga, beside the other in the pocket pouch he wore. Then he unfolded the piece of tattered bark.

  ‘What does it say, Excellence?’ I asked him quietly.

  He turned to me, and even in the firelight I could see that he was close to tears.

  ‘It says, “If you wish to see your wife and son again, ensure that Lallius Tiberius is set free.”’

  Chapter Three

  At these astounding words there was a little hush, during which I found that I was – for the first time – wide awake, but before I could say anything at all, the doctor asked the question that was on all our lips.

  ‘Who is Lallius Tiberius?’ he said.

  ‘Obviously some criminal who is in custody and now awaiting trial.’ My patron was struggling to keep his voice under control. ‘In fact, now I come to think of it I seem to know the name – though not in connection with any case of mine.’ As representative of the outgoing governor, Marcus was the senior judicial figure in this whole area of Britannia. Only the most important cases – or those involving the most wealthy citizens – were tried by him, although of course he could be called upon to arbitrate if the need arose.

  The medicus was making himself busy as my patron spoke, officiously moving a little table which I kept in the hut and placing it at the bottom of my bed. ‘I too have heard the name – or something very like it, anyway. But for the moment I can’t think in what connection it arose.’ He turned to Gwellia. ‘A bowl and water, here.’

  Marcus ignored him and pursued his train of thought. ‘I remember! I’ve seen it on the lists for civil trial in one of the minor courts. But I did not preside at the introductory plea. One of my junior magistrates must have heard the accusation and ruled that there’s a case, and it will come before the appointed judge on whatever the temple tells us is the next propitious day. After the ides, I expect. It won’t come before me, even then – merely some elder citizen agreed on by plaintiff and defendant, with a legal officer to see fair play.’

  ‘But surely it must be something serious,’ the doctor said, taking the basin which Gwellia brought to him. ‘For his supporters to have taken such a desperate step.’

  Marcus was staring at the piece of bark, turning it over in his hands. He sounded mystified. ‘Yet I’m quite sure it’s not. I can’t remember what the charges are. Some question about money, I believe – setting on someone in the street and robbing him. Enough to bring
him up before the courts. I doubt if I should have noticed his name at all, except that he attempted to escape during the preliminary hearing – the one to establish that there was a case to answer – and there was an application that he should be held in custody until the proper trial could be heard. At his accuser’s own expense, of course.’ He frowned. ‘I don’t know who is at the bottom of all this, and who could have sent the note. Clearly it wasn’t Lallius himself, since he is presumably still locked up in the cells. It must be his supporters, as the doctor says. But what do they think it has to do with me?’

  ‘You are the most senior magistrate in the province,’ I reminded him. ‘They presumably suppose that you can bring pressure on the court, and have the case dismissed.’

  ‘Well, this message seems to solve one mystery, at least.’ The medicus spoke cheerfully, as if there was no longer any reason for alarm. ‘It is clear now what has happened to your wife and son. Someone has abducted them to force your hand in this – and these people will have to keep them safe and well, otherwise they have nothing they can bargain with.’ As he spoke, he stooped, picked up a small, carved wooden chest from somewhere on the floor, and placed it on the table he’d prepared. I had seen such things before, and knew what it was likely to contain – a selection of dried herbs, each in its own built-in compartment in the box, with differently sized horn scoops suspended from the lid.

  ‘Bring me warm water from the pot beside the fire,’ he said to Gwellia, ‘and a drinking cup. I’ll make a little potion for our friend,’ and with that he began to measure out ingredients, for all the world as though our problems were suddenly resolved. ‘There,’ he went on in his creaking voice, adding the hot water to the mixture he had made, ‘I think that this should send him back to sleep. And once he has finished drinking it, Excellence, I advise you once again that we should go back to the villa and you should try to rest.’

  ‘Philades, be silent!’ Marcus’s voice was sharp. ‘You are quite absurd. How can you suggest I rest tonight?’

  ‘I will make a sedative for you as well,’ the man said, nodding his bony face importantly. ‘There is clearly nothing you can do for now. But first thing in the morning you can make enquiries, and when you find out where this Lallius lives you can send the town guard down there to storm the house. Of course,’ he added, in a judicial tone, ‘I suppose – as you say – he did not do the deed himself, so the captives may not actually be there, but once you’ve made a few arrests the torturers will get the truth from somebody. You’ll soon discover where your wife and son are being held and be able to bring them safely home.’

  Marcus had lost patience. ‘Storm the house? And have these abductors kill their prisoners at once? Of course I shall do nothing of the kind.’ He gave a bitter little laugh. ‘I imagine that’s what they’re relying on. And as to taking sedatives, the thought is quite absurd. How can I rest when I have evidence that they have laid hands on my wife – torn her robe and cut bits from her hair? You expect me to take a draught to make me sleep, when she is lying terrified somewhere? I just thank the gods the child is too young to understand.’

  Marcus pushed past the physician and came close to me, ignoring Philades’ protesting cry of ‘Excellence! I beg of you! The seeds . . .’

  I had managed to raise myself a little more by now and my patron came to kneel beside the bed and handed me the folded piece of bark. ‘Look at it, Libertus. What do you make of it?’

  It was impossible for me to read it properly but Gwellia brought the oil light so I took the bark and turned the message this way and then that, as if by peering at it I could persuade it to tell me something more. My patron looked so stricken that I longed to help, but it was hard to concentrate and I could determine nothing except that the letters were so badly scrawled that they could have been written by a child. Probably deliberate, I thought. This was an adult’s message – short, simple and brutally direct. I passed the letter back.

  ‘Well . . .’ I began, trying to think of something sensible to say.

  ‘Please, Excellence!’ The medicus had come hurrying across with the cup, and now placed himself firmly between my patron and myself. ‘I beg that at least you will stand a little further off. It is said that smoke destroys the evil with its breath. You would be safer over there, beyond the fire.’ Marcus ignored him. I was obliged to do the same.

  ‘This does seem an extraordinary affair,’ I said. ‘You’re sure this Lallius is not wanted on a capital offence?’

  Marcus moved his head to look at me, past his human shield. ‘Not if I recall the details correctly, though he won’t have full Roman rights, of course. I’m pretty sure this Lallius is only a citizen through his colonial birth.’

  I nodded. Glevum was founded for army veterans, a city-republic within the Empire, and has the status of colonia. That means that any townsman born free within the walls is automatically a citizen by right – whatever lineage he may have had. That would explain why Lallius had the full protection of the court, and was not merely tried before some lowly official in a yard somewhere, but obviously he had no serious standing in the town.

  ‘Legally a citizen!’ I said. ‘So he won’t be subject to the harshest punishments. How extraordinary that he ran away.’ I am no expert on the civil law, but I knew that the accuser is required to bring his man to court, using his own guards and at his own expense. It often isn’t easy, but unless it’s done the case will fail. It’s most unusual to lock a wealthy prisoner up, unless it is a really serious affair or he is charged with some criminal offence against the state. Lallius seemed to have brought his incarceration on himself.

  ‘Excellence . . .’ Philades began again.

  Marcus waved him impatiently aside and addressed himself exclusively to me. ‘A stupid business really. It’s coming back to me now. Lallius is obviously very anxious not to come to court. Since his attempted escape he has tried every legal trick that he could find. It took hours to agree the formula for trial – you know that if there is irregularity in that, the case can be dismissed – and even now he hasn’t given up. I understand he’s hired an advocate to try to find a flaw in the proceedings, something technical which would get them nullified. It all takes time, and you know what lawyers charge – he must be running up enormous bills.’

  ‘It must be the punishment that frightens him,’ I said. Thinking pained and wearied me, but I did my best.

  Marcus looked surprised at that idea. ‘If he was not a citizen, perhaps that would be understandable. For the lower orders it can be crucifixion for violence and robbery on the public road – though even then the penalty is hardly used these days. But Lallius would be facing exile at most, even if he’d killed the man he robbed – and obviously he has not done that, since his victim is the one who brought the case.’

  ‘And who is this victim?’

  Marcus shrugged. ‘Not anyone of note. Someone called Cassius as I understand, and anyway he wasn’t badly hurt – just pushed roughly to the ground, and punched a bit. It’s possible the judge might call for talio, and rule for some physical revenge – but it’s more likely Lallius will be faced with restitution and a fine.’

  ‘And that might ruin him?’ This wasn’t making any sense to my poor addled brain. ‘You’d hardly think so, if the man can afford a legal advocate!’

  Marcus said thoughtfully, ‘You’re right, of course. It should not cause him any real distress. Fourfold damages, that’s what the law allows – and even that will not be very much. The sum concerned was not a great one, as I understand. A few hundred denarii, no more.’

  I thought privately this might depend on how you looked at it. ‘A few hundred denarii’ seemed an enormous sum to me. And it was clearly significant to the victim too, I thought, since he had taken the trouble to have Lallius arrested at his own expense and then confined to jail. Marcus was the richest man for miles – though he was famously careful with his cash.

  Aloud I said, ‘So there is no question of Lallius being sentenc
ed to the mines, or being forced to sell himself to slavery to pay the fine?’

  ‘Unless some other charge emerges, I doubt it very much.’

  ‘Then, Excellence, does it not occur to you that this is very odd? The penalties for kidnapping are terribly severe – especially when the victim is someone like your wife – and those for attempting to corrupt a magistrate are sterner still. Surely it would make more sense for Lallius to simply face the charge, and pay whatever fine the court awards.’ I was getting animated as I spoke and tried to sit upright, but the doctor prevented me by coming to my side and handing me the cup he had prepared.

  There was no escape. I drank my herbal brew. It tasted horrible.

  Marcus had remained kneeling on the floor beside the bed till now, but it seemed my words had struck home and he leaped up all at once. ‘Odd? Of course it’s odd. It’s worse than odd. It’s unforgivable. My precious wife and child. And when I find the men who did this, I swear by all the gods . . .’

  He seized the lamp from Gwellia, who was still standing by, and deliberately dangled the piece of bark into the flame. We watched in silence as it curled and blackened in the heat, flaring up until at last he dropped it on the floor and ground it with his heel into the beaten earth – as if he was grinding the writer underfoot.

  I waited for another outburst, but he’d regained his self-control. His face was a masterpiece of calm. Only his hands betrayed his state of mind. He fingered the pouch that hung round his neck, stroking it as tenderly as though it was part of his missing family. When he spoke again his voice was harsh. ‘I’ve destroyed their cursed letter, and it’s what I’ll do to them, as well. And I have legal grounds. They’ve attempted to corrupt me! Me – an imperial magistrate, the outgoing governor’s chosen deputy! It’s an insult to the majesty of Rome – and that is a capital offence. Wait till I get these villains to the courts.’