‘What’s your interest?’ I said, and realized that I had confirmed the story by my words.
He gazed into my face. ‘I heard it earlier, from a passer-by, but I didn’t trust the man, he’s only a water-seller and a well-known cheat – he fills his barrel from the public fount and sells it to the rich and credulous, claiming that it’s purer and from a country well. But if what he said was accurate, for once, I’d like to be the one to tell the commandant the news.’ He grinned again. ‘And I see it is, so thank you, citizen. They are offering a bonus at the fort for any news of incipient trouble in the town. Favour for favour.’ He let go of the rein.
I breathed out heavily, hardly able to believe that I’d escaped. But the soldier seemed to have lost all interest in me now and had turned to talk to a fellow with an empty hand-cart and a spade who had been waiting patiently outside the gate for us to let him pass. He was doubtless going into the town to clear the stinking midden-heaps and take the reeking, rotting slime to fertilize his fields. I felt that I was carrying home unpleasant things, myself.
I dug my heels into Arlina’s ribs and made good our escape before the soldier changed his mind, almost glad when we were in the shelter of the trees – though conscious that there might be other threats awaiting us. But nothing happened: no one came jumping out at us and no one barred our way. No glimpses of colour among the leaves this time and no rustling in the bushes by the path, though I could not relax until we were out of the gloomy forest and trotting down the open lane past my son’s roundhouse and towards my own.
As we did so, someone called my name. I started, but when I turned my head I saw a familiar figure waving from behind the palisaded fence. It was Junio’s wife Cilla, with the infant in her arms and behind her Junio walking with the older boy – it was obvious that they were just returning home.
I shouted a greeting in return and brought Arlina to a halt. ‘I’m sorry to have missed your visit,’ I called out, in genuine disappointment.
In answer, Cilla brought the infant closer to the fence, so I let my slave-boy slither to the ground. ‘Tenuis, go and tell your mistress I am here and safe, but that I am going straight on to Marcus’s with a message. Don’t come back, I will journey on alone – though just for a moment, I would like to stop and see the child.’
He scurried off, while Cilla held the infant up for me to admire. ‘There is your grand-dad, Titus. Give him a big smile,’ she said, whereupon the baby burst into tears at once. She laughed. ‘I’m sorry, Father, he is hungry, I expect. I’d better go and feed him straight away. Don’t worry, we’ll come again to visit you the next time you’re at home – probably the next ill-omened day! But if you’ve really got a message for your patron, you’d better hurry on. Mother won’t be pleased, though – she’s been concerned all day, and she’ll scold you for not coming home at once.’
‘Why do you think I sent Tenuis on ahead, instead of calling in to tell Gwellia myself?’ I grinned at her.
But Cilla did not smile. ‘I mean it, Father. She is really anxious – more so than usual. You know what she is like!’ She hitched the child on her hip and mimicked the voice and posture of my wife. ‘“Your father’s up to something and I don’t know what – but I’m almost sure that it is dangerous. I shan’t be easy in my mind till he gets home. And it’s all the fault of Marcus – I wish he’d stayed in Rome!” That’s what she said, though she probably wouldn’t thank me for repeating it!’
Cilla had imitated Gwellia so well, it almost made me laugh, though I was not surprised. Her gift for mimicry had been of use to me before – helping to identify a suspect in a crime. I said, ‘I’ll go and calm her fears as soon as possible. But I really must deliver this urgent message first.’
‘Urgent message?’ Junio and his toddling son had joined us at the fence. Cilla took the small boy’s hand and made him wave to me, then took him and the wailing infant inside to be fed. Junio came a little closer to the palisade. ‘From the commandant, I suppose? Are you free to talk? It must be a verbal answer since I see no scroll and seal. News of the army’s movements, I presume?’
I shook my head. ‘You might imagine something of the kind, but all he did was send his greetings back and promise a proper written message later on. The real tidings that I bring are from Marcus’s prospective dinner guests tonight.’
‘Marcus is having another of his feasts? He’s only just come back from travelling! I didn’t know he’d even ventured into town as yet.’
‘I don’t believe he has. This is his way of avoiding doing so. Varius Quintus wanted to see him privately and was invited here to dine. And it’s not the first time either – he was expected once before, but wasn’t well enough to come. And now he and his brother have been taken ill again, and all their household with them, so they cannot come tonight.’
Junio made a face. ‘Then you won’t be looking forward to the interview with Marcus. When there’s bad news he always blames the person bringing it!’
‘I’m aware of that,’ I said. ‘But this was very sudden, and Marcus needs to know before the kitchen spends more time on preparation for the feast.’
In truth, that was the least of my concerns. Never mind the non-appearance of the dinner guests, Marcus might be in mortal danger as we spoke. Furthermore I was a client and confidante of Marcus’s myself, and – judging by the poisoning of Claudius – that might put me and mine in jeopardy as well. But I didn’t want to worry Junio with that, just yet. ‘Best if I tell him as soon as possible,’ I said.
Junio nodded and turned as if to leave, then seemed to change his mind. ‘But how do you come to be the messenger for Varius, anyway? Especially if he’s ill. You did not go and call on him, I suppose?’
‘I was commissioned by an aged relative of his,’ I replied, grinning at the recollection, though I was inwardly anxious to be off. ‘A fearsome lady. I met her in the town.’
‘A helpful accident!’ He raised a brow at me.
‘No accident at all. Someone had told her to come and seek me out.’ I felt my smile fading and I stopped and stared at him. I’d failed to think of any way of smuggling Julia away, though I’d puzzled over it all the afternoon, but suddenly … Roman matrons’ veils and Cilla’s mimicry …
‘Dear Gods! Of course! There is a way in which it could be done. Pardon me, Junio, I must go and speak to Marcus urgently! He is in secret danger, which might touch all of us. But it might yet be thwarted – with a little help from you and your good wife.’
‘Of course, we’ll help in any way we can. But don’t keep your patron waiting. You must not delay. Explain to us tomorrow.’
I shook my head. ‘It cannot wait till then. I’ll come up to your roundhouse when the children are asleep.’ I smacked Arlina’s rump and shocked her to a trot, then called over my shoulder to my bewildered son, ‘If Marcus will agree to this, we’ll have to act at once!’
And I urged Arlina on towards my patron’s house as fast as her reluctant legs would carry me.
EIGHT
Inevitably, because I was anxious to speak to Marcus now, this time when I got to the villa I was made to wait – and when my patron finally arrived he was already dressed for dinner in a fresh blue synthesis. He bustled in, smelling of sweet oils, while his face was freshly-scraped and very pink around the jaw, suggesting that a barber-slave had been at work. He was accompanied by the pretty page I’d spoken to before, and was clearly not best pleased that I had interrupted him.
‘Libertus!’ He came over, offering a ringed and perfumed hand for me to kiss. ‘I hope this is important. I am expecting dinner guests – two important members of the curia …’ He waited while I knelt and pressed my lips against the seal. No impatience with the courtesies this time! ‘If the commander’s sent a message, you could have left it at the gate.’
I got painfully upright. ‘There is no letter from the garrison. The commander sends his greetings, that is all. He says he’ll write to you.’
He looked at me sharply. �
�Then surely you could have simply said so to my slaves?’
‘This is not about the garrison,’ I said, darting a warning glance towards the page. ‘But I do have important information to impart – related to the matter we spoke of earlier.’
‘I see.’ His manner changed at once. ‘I knew I could rely on you to find a stratagem. But you’ve been rather quicker than I thought and I fear it’s not convenient to speak of this just now. Even if Varius consulted the sundial in town, it will be difficult for him to judge the hour – so he and his brother may arrive at any time, and I can hardly abandon my invited guests to come and talk to you.’ He softened this social dismissal with a smile. ‘A man of such importance needs time and privacy – and whatever your suggestion, we can’t do anything today. Come back tomorrow and we’ll discuss it then.’
‘But Excellence …’ I hadn’t dared to interrupt my patron till now, but he had paused for breath.
He waved my words aside, impatiently. ‘Best wait until the morning. They will be gone by then. I imagine that Varius will have hired transport of some kind – I don’t think he keeps a private gig in town. So, provided I see his slaves and horses are well fed and offer him lighted torches when he goes, I won’t have to ask them to remain here for the night, though Julia thinks I should. After we have feasted they won’t want to tarry long: it’s a long dark journey back to town at any time of year, even if you have slaves to guard you on the way. So I shan’t be late to bed. Call back in the morning, about the second hour – and then we can discuss things properly.’
I smiled ruefully. By the second hour of daylight, I am halfway to Glevum in the ordinary way. It would not occur to Marcus that I had a business to attend to and might have work to do.
He saw the smile and took it for assent. ‘Then it’s agreed,’ he said dismissively, before I had managed to form a single word. ‘My page will see you out.’ He made a gesture to his slave to usher me away.
I stood my ground. ‘I fear not, Excellence.’ He was clearly horrified at this breach of normal etiquette, but I went on nonetheless. ‘I’m sorry, but I must beg you to stay and hear me out. In the first place, I bring urgent news about those dinner guests, and there are other things besides.’ Marcus was still looking blankly at me, so I said again – jerking my chin towards the page, ‘Private matters, which it is absolutely vital that I tell you straight away.’
‘Ah!’ A look of cunning comprehension crossed his face. ‘Then perhaps we’ll take a little stroll into the courtyard, you and I. If this really is important, I will spare the time for that.’ He turned towards the page. ‘Slave, you won’t be wanted for a while. I’ll leave you here in case the guests arrive.’
I shook my head. ‘They won’t be coming, patron. That – at least partly – is what I’ve come to say.’
‘Not coming?’ He was outraged. ‘This is most discourteous. Once is unfortunate, twice is impolite. What is the excuse this time?’
‘They have been taken sick.’
Marcus looked petulant. ‘Not again!’ he muttered. ‘If they had not recovered fully, they should have sent and let me know. My kitchen slaves have been preparing special food for days.’
‘This was quite sudden and violent, Excellence, as I understand.’ I tried to keep my voice dispassionate. ‘It happened just today – and all the household have been stricken down with it. It was quite impossible for anyone to tell you earlier.’
‘I see!’ My patron adopted his most judicious face. ‘Most likely something in the water, then. I remember there was trouble with the town-supply before. They say some animal – a rat, perhaps – crawled into it and died, and lots of people who drank nearby were very sick for days. Probably this is something similar.’
‘Possibly, though I’m inclined to think that it was something else.’ I raised my brows and swivelled my eyes to indicate the little slave-boy who was politely gazing at the painted frieze above our heads, but obviously listening eagerly to everything we said. ‘What’s certain is that Varius and Claudius cannot come. Perhaps you should inform your kitchens straight away.’
Marcus followed the direction of my glance. ‘Ah!’ he said, again. My patron can take a hint if it is broad enough. ‘A sensible suggestion, my old friend,’ he said in a falsely hearty tone of voice. ‘Slave, go tell the kitchens that the guests will not be here and that I will dine in private with my wife. And don’t stand there staring, go and do it now.’
The page-boy bowed himself away and hurried off. Marcus turned to me.
‘Into the courtyard garden, then, where we cannot be heard? We can’t be too careful, with these new slaves around – I can’t be certain about their loyalties.’ He led the way into the peristyle. There were a pair of kitchen-boys out there, gathering herbs and scented petals for the feast, but Marcus barked an order and they went scurrying off.
The courtyard garden is divided into quarters by a pair of crossing paths, with a fountain in the centre, but there are niches all around. My patron led me to a secluded little arbour to one side, where there was a little statue and a bench. ‘Now then, Libertus, what is this about? You feel there’s something strange about Varius being taken ill, I can see that – though I can’t imagine why. Unless you think that he’s deliberately insulting me, perhaps?’ He sat down and motioned me to do the same. ‘It’s possible, I suppose. I did find against him once.’ He stopped and stared at me. ‘You don’t suppose he is the one who wrote that threatening note?’
‘On the contrary, Excellence,’ I said, sitting as he had invited me to do. ‘That did occur to me, but now I fear he may have had one of his own.’
Marcus whirled round to face me on the bench, so quickly that his fashionable coloured clothing fluttered round him like a bird. He looked immensely shocked. ‘Someone has told you that he received a threat?’
‘Not precisely that. But I’ve heard about the nature of this malady. Sudden sickness, violent cramps and constant vomiting?’ I said. ‘What does that suggest to you? I don’t agree it’s likely that the water is to blame – his home’s provided from the general aquifer. That feeds the public fountains, from which I drank myself – and I’m entirely fit, as you can see. So what other possibilities occur to you?’
He stared at me. ‘You can’t mean poison, surely?’
I did not answer him. He could draw the conclusions for himself.
He did. ‘But who on earth would want to …?’ he exclaimed, so loudly that I put my finger to my lips, fearing that the slaves would hear him from the kitchen-block.
‘That is the vital question, isn’t it! Because it isn’t simply Varius who’s sick. It’s his whole household, by the sound of it.’
‘Meaning, what exactly?’ He twirled the seal-ring on his finger. Marcus tends to fidget when he is disturbed.
I swallowed. Could he really not see what I was hinting at? ‘Doesn’t it remind you of that message you received?’ I murmured. ‘With talk of killing everybody in the house?’
Marcus was beginning to understand. ‘So perhaps he’s had a letter, as you say.’ He shook his head. ‘But Varius isn’t a senior magistrate. He’s a very junior one.’
I held my hands up in a signal that he should not rush on too fast. ‘I’m only guessing that he got a threat. But he is a councillor and magistrate, of sorts – and I’m fairly certain that there are others too, who have received communications rather like your own …’ I said no more. Porteus had asked me to respect his confidence and though I didn’t like the man, I’d given him my word. ‘I heard a whisper when I was in town.’
Marcus looked shaken. ‘So there are several letters? All anonymous, I suppose?’ He tore off a bay leaf from a bush nearby and began to toy with it, twisting it between his fingers and sniffing at the scent, as if the herb might drive away ill-luck. He hardly seemed aware that he was doing it. ‘And you say Varius got one?’
‘That’s my guess,’ I answered. ‘I didn’t speak to Varius – he was too ill to leave his bed. And this poisoning
might be mere coincidence – but I should not like to stake a quadrans on it being so.’
‘And his earlier sickness?’
‘Just a warning, perhaps – and this one may be, too, since it seems that Varius is still alive. But I can’t believe it’s unconnected. What do you suppose?’
He threw the leaf away. ‘You’re sure that Varius Quintus is genuinely ill? I keep thinking of the time he did not get my vote. You don’t think it’s a rumour that he’s put about, in order to deflect suspicion from himself? Where did you hear the news?’
‘I got it from his great-aunt who is living at the house. She seemed convinced enough. Convinced enough to call a professional medicus, in fact.’
‘Really!’ Marcus looked startled. ‘Then he really must be sick! A medicus is an expensive luxury – most people only use one as a last resort. She must be very anxious, to have thought of it.’
‘And equally anxious to let you know that Varius couldn’t come. That’s why she asked me to be the messenger. So here I am. She’s the sister of his grandmother, apparently. Not a woman you can easily refuse.’
Marcus’s tense expression dissolved into a smile. ‘The redoubtable Eliana? She certainly is not.’
‘You know the lady, then?’
‘Not exactly that. I met her once, a good few years ago. She came to petition me to speak for her – some fuss about a contract which she felt had not been met, and her husband was too ill to come to court – but I couldn’t really help her, there were no documents or proper witnesses. But, as you say, you don’t forget her easily.’ He frowned. ‘What is she doing in Glevum, anyway? Did you say that she was living in the house – I thought she had her own estate elsewhere?’
‘The husband’s dead,’ I told him, ‘so she’s moved in with Varius now – though rather under protest, I believe.’
The Ides of June Page 8