The Ides of June

by Rosemary Rowe

  Marcus smiled again. ‘I can imagine that she would not make a gracious guest. Tough as a centurion! She would have made a splendid male! Still, it’s generous of Varius to offer her a home – he’s no direct descendent, so he’s not obliged by law. However, he’s a fairly wealthy man, and can no doubt afford to keep her in some style.’

  ‘She doesn’t like it,’ I observed. ‘Though she’s done her best to thank him, in her way. She nursed him through the other bout of sickness that he had – it appears she got there shortly after he fell ill.’

  ‘I hope she’s grateful for his generosity.’ He picked another leaf of bay and crushed it carefully. ‘And she should thank the gods that she escaped this poisoning – if you are right, and that is what it was. At her age it would probably have killed her.’ He stopped and frowned at me. ‘You don’t think she …?’

  I shook my head. ‘I think she owes her fortunate escape to age and stubbornness. She declines to eat with Varius himself – declares the food too rich and subsists on bread and cheese. It’s a kind of protest against being there, of course – but it’s one of the things that makes me sure that this is poisoning, and not just a sudden illness which struck the household down. If it were some contagion – like an infectious plague – the old and weak would be affected first …’ I broke off as the pretty page came bursting through the door out of the atrium. He gazed around the courtyard till he caught sight of us, and then came scurrying over and fell down upon his knees.

  ‘Your pardon, Master!’

  Marcus was frowning with displeasure. ‘I thought I made it clear I was not to be disturbed?’

  The page looked up at his owner, with pleading eyes. ‘Master, I know. I told the steward so, but he insisted that I came. This is a matter of some urgency, he says. A mounted messenger has just arrived from town. He brings important tidings and demands an audience.’

  Marcus scowled but turned to say to me, ‘This will be the promised message from the commandant, I expect. I’d better have him in. We can resume this conversation afterwards.’ He nodded to the page. ‘Very well, you are excused. We’ll see this courier. Bring him through. I will receive him here.’

  The page sprang to his feet and hurried off, relieved.

  ‘Patron,’ I said, meekly, ‘this may be private. This message is obviously intended for your ears alone. Do you wish me to withdraw?’

  He shook his head. ‘The fort should have had the courtesy to send a message back with you,’ he said. ‘I decline to—’ He broke off, in surprise. ‘Why, who is this? This is no military courier! This is a common servant!’

  I looked up and saw the flustered slave he was referring to – a tall, thin aging person whose ochre hems were clearly visible beneath the dark brown travelling cloak and whose flushed cheeks and breathless haste I recognized at once. ‘I know him, Excellence,’ I said. ‘This is Hebestus, Eliana’s private slave.’

  ‘Then we’d better hear him, I suppose!’ Marcus said, rising magisterially to his feet.

  I stood up too, as courtesy required.

  Hebestus ventured nearer, bowed to Marcus, and then turned eagerly to me. ‘Citizen, I wondered if I would find you here. I hoped to overtake you on the road. My mistress bade me hire a horse and ride—’

  ‘You are a horseman?’ I was incredulous. It did not seem a likely skill for a skinny, aging slave.

  ‘I learned to ride when I was still a page. Among my other functions I was used as messenger, so I’m not unfamiliar with a horse – though I’ve not ridden one for many years.’

  I exchanged a glance with Marcus. ‘So why didn’t your mistress send the message here with you, instead of me – or with an urchin, as she intended to?’

  ‘And leave herself without attendants in a town she didn’t know?’ Hebestus made a little face at me. ‘That’s not Eliana’s way. Besides, she counts the quadrans, citizen – as you may have observed. Hiring a horse costs money. An urchin’s time comes cheap.’

  I nodded. ‘And my services cost nothing?’

  ‘Exactly, citizen. But this time she decided that speed was paramount. Unfortunately, though, I didn’t know the way and had to stop and ask directions several times. But here I am, and I bring sober tidings, I’m afraid.’

  Marcus interrupted this exchange. ‘Then pray deliver them.’ He was stony-faced.

  Hebestus seemed to realize that he had been impolite. It was my fault, of course. He should have delivered his message directly to our host – and I should never have deflected him. He made a deeper bow to Marcus. ‘Your pardon, Excellence. I did not mean to be discourteous. I am sent to tell you that Varius is dead—!’

  My patron interrupted him again. ‘Dead?’ he echoed, as he turned to me. His face was deathly white.

  The old slave nodded. ‘I fear so, Excellence. Dead by the time we got back to the house. My mistress felt that you should know at once. And the medicus declares that there’s no hope for Claudius. The vomiting and seizures are getting so severe he can’t even swallow poppy juice to try to dull the pain.’

  His Excellence said nothing. He was looking stunned. I realized the truth that had struck him suddenly – his household might be next. I could see beads of perspiration forming on his brow.

  But he was a Roman, trained to keep emotion to himself. He managed to maintain his outward poise and his voice was carefully steady as he asked, ‘And the others living in the house?’ His patrician forebears would have been proud of him.

  Hebestus was clearly oblivious of the effect of his account. ‘Apart from Varius and his brother, no one of any consequence is ill. There’s just the household staff – though most of them are close to death as well, and all of them are sick. But they are fortunate. At my mistress’s insistence, the doctor’s with them now, cupping the strongest and least affected ones. He says that if he does that straight away, and manages to force salted water down their throats – to cleanse the toxins out – one or two are likely to survive.’

  ‘And what will happen to your mistress?’ I enquired. ‘Now that her host is dead? Is she entitled to stay on in the house?’

  Hebestus shrugged. ‘I really do not know – and I don’t think she cares. She’ll stay there for the funeral, I suppose. Someone will have to organize the rites: no doubt it will be me. But after that, I really could not say. Perhaps she’ll find somebody to plead for her and apply to go back to the estate. I don’t know what happens, now the presumptive heir is dead.’

  ‘It will depend upon the provisions of his will,’ my patron said, suddenly imperious in his role as magistrate. ‘I think I remember that he drew one up last year, and asked various council members to be witnesses – though I wasn’t one of them.’

  I nodded. Most councillors made wills (sometimes several versions) as a way to gain support, by promising favours after they are dead. Each version must be formally revoked and the new one sworn before seven witnesses, all Roman citizens, and after the funeral the final document is read aloud on the steps of the basilica – in their presence – after which it is binding under law. Was it significant that Varius had not chosen Marcus for the role?

  My patron, though, was following a different train of thought. ‘Of course it may be that Claudius inherits everything – in which case much depends on what his will might say, supposing that he has one. But Eliana was a woman of some family. She will have brought a dowry to her husband when she wed, and that will revert to her now Varius is dead, so she will not be destitute. Indeed, if there’s no provision in his will, the court can appoint another legal guardian – or even find a husband for her – to see that she’s provided for, in return for the use of any capital she has.’

  I looked doubtfully at him. ‘Would that be wise?’ I said, thinking of Eliana’s happiness.

  He misunderstood my meaning. ‘Well, she’s old and difficult, of course. But there are lots of men who’d have her if the dowry’s big enough, so once the mourning period for her first spouse is fulfilled that arrangement could take
place at once. That’s probably the best. If there is any problem I will speak for her myself. I could not help her last time, but I can do this for her.’

  Hebestus made a despairing gesture with his hands. ‘If she lives as long as that. I’m afraid that my poor mistress has sustained a dreadful shock. She didn’t realize that this sickness was so serious, she was making mock of it, and it has shaken her. She blames herself for not sending for assistance earlier.’ He looked into my eyes and I saw that his were misting with real tears. ‘Citizens, she has taken to her room, and gone into full mourning, refusing meat or drink – even the medicus could not persuade her to take anything at all, not even poppy juice to help her sleep. I fear she plans to starve herself to death.’

  Marcus tutted. ‘I know that widows sometimes do so out of grief – and all honour to them if they do – but if Eliana planned to do that, she should have done it when her husband died, not waited until now. Though I own I am surprised. She does not seem the sort of woman who would give up gracefully!’

  Hebestus shook his head. ‘You have not seen her, Excellence. When she heard what happened from the medicus, I swear she aged a dozen years before my eyes. All the spirit has gone out of her. I think perhaps it struck her how good Varius had been, and how ungratefully she’d treated him. She actually told me that she’d lived quite long enough, she’d outlived her usefulness and now she hoped the Fates would come and take her next.’

  It was so unlike the woman I had met that for a moment I could think of no reply. It was my patron who spoke first.

  ‘Oh, that is nonsense, and you may tell her so from me. Varius was taken ill before, and I hear she nursed him through that beautifully – why should she suppose that this was any different? And when she realized that he was really ill, she sent for proper help, instead of attempting to give him herbs, herself. What more could she have done?’

  Hebestus exchanged a knowing look with me but he simply bowed. ‘I will take your message to her, Excellence. Though I’m not convinced that it will comfort her. After the death of my master so very recently, I think the Fates have dealt her one blow too many and too soon.’ He bowed again. ‘But, with your permission, citizens, I will get back to her. I’m just a humble manservant, but now I’m all she has.’

  Marcus nodded and the man withdrew, accompanied by the page. My patron turned to me. ‘So, Libertus, you were right to be concerned. There is even more urgency than I supposed. The writer of the letters means exactly what he says – the whole of this household will be under threat – is under threat, right now. We don’t have time to get that warrant witnessed after all. I’ll write you a sealed letter and that will have to do. It’s absolutely vital that you get Julia and the children safely out of here as soon as possible.’

  I nodded. ‘I have a plan of sorts, but you may not care for it.’

  He gripped my shoulder so hard that it hurt. ‘I will agree to anything, provided they are safe.’ He shook his head. ‘Writhing in poisoned agony? I can’t have that for them. Tell me what it is that you propose.’

  So I told him. He didn’t like it, as I feared, but we brought in Julia and she saw the sense of it. It took our combined persuasion, but in the end he did agree.

  NINE

  When I got back to the roundhouse, it was to find my wife tight-lipped. ‘Well, so here you are at last!’ she grumbled, waving to Tenuis to take my cloak from me and pull a stool up closer to the fire. ‘Your soup is halfway spoiled. Sit down and you can tell me what exactly has been happening all day! I’ve been worried half to death about you, ever since I saw that knife!’ She thrust a bowl of steaming soup into my hands.

  I ate it greedily, wiping the bowl out with a hunk of bread.

  ‘Well?’ she demanded, hands upon her hips, as I washed down my simple supper with cool water from the stream. ‘Are you going to tell me?’

  ‘In just a moment!’ I replied. ‘I promised Junio I’d go and call on him. I’m sorry Gwellia, but we’re all involved in this – so if you’re ready we will go there now, and I can tell the story properly – and only once.’ I scrambled to my feet and kissed her on the brow, but she was still sulking and she turned away to dip a brand into the fire and summon Minimus to light us on our way.

  Junio was watching for us at his door, and Cilla had warmed some mead to welcome us. So, as the children slept, I sat in the flickering firelight, sipped the warming brew and told my little family the story of the day – or at least about the threatening letters, the suspicious deaths in Glevum and what I now proposed.

  Cilla’s first reaction was one of simple shock. ‘Threatening Marcus, who is famed for being just!’ she exclaimed. ‘Who would have dreamed it!’ She shook her head. ‘And my dear ex-mistress and those poor babies, too. Think of them poisoned! It would grieve the gods. No wonder she’s agreed to pack for Corinium at once. Of course we must help them!’ She looked into my eyes. Her own were sparkling and I could see that the adventure quite appealed to her. ‘Just tell me what to do.’

  My wife, however, was not at all impressed. She put her mead cup down. ‘But openly sending a carriage to the Corinium house? You must be quite mad. They’ll be spied on all the way.’

  ‘Marcus will provide a mounted guard, though, I suppose?’ Junio put in thoughtfully and I realized that I could rely on his support. ‘And Julia can be briefed on what to do when she arrives. She only has to call in here as she departs.’

  ‘And you don’t think that in itself would be remarkable? Especially to this armed escort you’re so sure about!’ Gwellia retorted.

  ‘Not really, Mother!’ Junio said, peaceably. ‘Everyone knows how fond you are of those two little ones, and if they are leaving here for an extended stay, it would be mere courtesy to call in and say goodbye.’

  ‘And it would take our children out of danger too – threats against Marcus’s household could endanger us as well.’ I knew that this would sway her more than anything.

  Gwellia looked at me. ‘You really think so, husband?’ It was clear this had just occurred to her.

  I nodded. ‘We all may be in danger – as long as we stay here. That’s why I am anxious that we leave, as well, and go a different way. I have a good enough excuse – Marcus has asked me to investigate where the lady Eliana stands in relation to her previous estate. I intend to take Julia and her offspring there – it is uninhabited, and will make a hiding-place – though no one is to know that, outside of this house – while Cilla and our children go to Corinium. I shall not be missed, in any case – I am often absent from the workshop when there’s a pavement to be laid. But l’ll make sure that everyone in Glevum hears that Julia’s left the town.’

  Gwellia stared. ‘And how will you do that?’

  ‘Mention it to the tanner’s wife, who lives next door to our workshop!’ Junio cried, sipping the last of the delicious mead. ‘One word to her and half the town will know.’

  I nodded. ‘And it will be common knowledge that I’ve hired a travelling carriage, too. Marcus offered to lend me his, of course, but arranging one in public ensures that it is known. If I hire a cart as well, that will occasion no remark.’

  ‘And you’re not afraid the letter-writer will watch and trace where we have gone? Or follow Cilla and the children to Corinium?’

  I was more anxious about that than I cared to say, but I had weighed the odds. ‘He’s more likely to stay here and strike at Marcus,’ I replied. ‘That is his real intention, it appears. He seems to operate in Glevum, if the death of Varius is any guide – and in any case he cannot follow both of us at once. Of course it’s possible that he will send some servant after Julia’s coach, but once Corinium is reached she and her children will have disappeared. He’ll enquire for them in vain.’

  ‘And the staff there won’t betray us?’ Gwellia frowned at me. ‘You think they can be trusted?’

  ‘Better than the villa, in a lot of ways – most of them have been with Julia for years and they would die for her.’ Cilla could hardl
y be argued with, since she had actually worked there, when she was a slave. ‘I’m certain they can be relied upon to do exactly what’s required – especially if they get instructions under Marcus’s seal.’ She had risen and was refilling mead cups as she spoke.

  Gwellia nodded, grudgingly. ‘But it seems to me the journey is a risky enterprise. The roads are likely to be dangerous once the legion’s gone – husband, you said as much yourself. So there may be brigands, quite apart from wolves and bears. Even with a mounted guard I think it’s hazardous. I’m worried for our grandchildren, and Cilla too, of course.’

  ‘Marcus said the same,’ I answered. ‘But I persuaded him. I pointed out that if we move at once, the legion will be marching down that very road, towards Londinium – which guarantees the safety of other travellers, though it may involve delays.’

  Marching troops have precedence on any thoroughfare; all carts, pedestrians and carriages are legally required to move onto the margins and wait for them to pass. However, the presence of soldiers anywhere nearby would certainly deter attack since the penalty for ambush on the public road is crucifixion – and is rigorously applied.

  ‘And the road south is the one you propose that we shall take?’

  I did not answer that. I just said, ‘What alternative is there? Stay at the villa and wait until this letter-writer strikes – as it seems he has already done with Varius?’

  ‘Poor Varius!’ Cilla murmured, sitting down again. ‘I served him once or twice, when he was a guest at Marcus’s. He seemed a charming man, though interested in power, like all councillors. Imagine him dying slowly in such agony! Let’s hope his killer’s brought to justice before the funeral, so at least his ghost can rest in peace.’ She spat on her finger and rubbed it on her ear. (The mention of unquiet spirits is supposed to bring ill-luck.)

  Gwellia had not finished arguing. She shook her head. ‘But Varius was murdered in the town, where his apartment is above a shop and crowds of people are passing all the time. It’s not so easy at the villa when there are high walls all around, and both the gates are guarded, day and night by enormous slaves with clubs. Strangers would be noticed instantly.’