But the girl surprised me. She did not even glance at Paigh again, but there was clearly communication between the two of them, because she raised her head and, without the slightest hesitation, murmured with a smile, ‘Father, this gift was intended as a compliment to you. Of course, I shall be delighted to accept.’
TWENTY-SIX
I was enormously relieved, though it meant a return to slavery. The certainty of shelter, food and decent clothes is infinitely better than the galleys or the mines. And as a steward, I consoled myself, perhaps in time I could arrange to get a message home and let my wife and patron know my whereabouts. So it was with genuine gratitude that I embraced her feet and promised her my service ‘as long as I’m your slave’.
I half-expected that the false Libertus would object again and try to have me punished for my alleged misdeeds or sold on to obscurity at once. But having won the battle of identity, he seemed to lose all interest in what became of me, and was more concerned to talk to Gnaeus about boats: what ships were in harbour at Portus Abonae, who the masters were, and who could most readily be bribed to go to sea. It was clear that he was really intent on going to Gaul as soon as possible.
Darturius was clearly happy at this resolution of my fate – because it avoided potential offence to Marcus, probably – and ordered that I should be taken out and cleaned, and put to work as soon as possible. ‘Find him some decent clothing, Paigh. What he is wearing is not suitable for a senior slave, especially in a Roman household, such as Gnaeus’s. My steward must have an old robe that he could use, and find him some proper sandals, if you can. My old ones, if you can find no others, though I doubt that they’d fit. And you’d better take him to the slave quarters and show him where to sleep. Then find a use for him. He won’t have normal duties till my daughter’s wed, but with the marriage imminent there is much to be prepared.’
Paigh bowed, nodded and led me from the room.
‘You understand the language, though you do not speak it well,’ I observed as he ushered me outside, into what would be a courtyard garden when it was complete. There were paths and seats and little flowerbeds, though there was little sign of plants, and statues of deities in half-constructed arbours either side. Most of all, there was a central hole – clearly intended to become a pool – where there was a statue of Neptune sitting on a rock, with an open mouth for a waterfall to spurt. Paigh saw me looking, and I spoke again. ‘I wondered how you would have managed as a slave, in Gnaeus’s house where Latin is spoken all the time.’
‘I have been studying,’ he answered. ‘Aigneis teaches me.’
‘And you would do a great deal to accompany her, I think. I am sorry if I have disturbed your plans. It was not my intention.’
He stopped and looked at me. ‘Nor your patron’s, if I read the situation right. I have come to wonder if you might be right, and you really are Libertus as you claim to be. I saw how you answered to the name – and he did not.’
I felt a swell of hope. ‘So you believe me?’
He shook his head. ‘It seems incredible. That man arrived with proper documents, a travel warrant and a letter – under seal – saying that he was also bringing you, to be a wedding gift. I was there when the document was read aloud, and it said that you were talented and quick, but anxious to obtain your freedom and willing to achieve it by almost any means – though adding that you were no longer young so it would be best to keep you for a time and then allow you to buy freedom when you were too old to work and would otherwise become a burden on the house. There was mention of a driver-slave as well, though he was not recommended – able, but lazy and headstrong and disinclined to work.’ He looked at me and shrugged. ‘How do you explain it?’
‘I can’t,’ I said. ‘It seems his claims are irrefutable. And yet I tell you that they are completely false. I am Libertus – and what’s more, my little friend is genuinely called Trinculus and he is no deserter. He is a soldier on detachment from the Uudum guard. That, at least, should be easy to confirm.’
Paigh shook his head. ‘But not by me, I fear. I have no influence with Darturius. Aigneis might persuade him, if she would agree to help.’ He led the way out through the gateway as he spoke, and I found myself in a Celtic farm again, with animals and crops and a scattering of storage huts, and – further off – another larger building with a chimney hole, through which was issuing the smoke that I had noticed from the shore. Two slaves were feeding the furnace as I watched. Clearly this was the salt refinery.
Paigh, however, was still following the previous line of thought. ‘Though I doubt that she could sway him even then. He is much impressed by Roman seals and official documents – such as the one you brought.’
‘I have a theory about that,’ I said, following him into the largest of the huts – clearly the sleeping-quarters for the slaves. I outlined my suspicions about the mansio and the part that the so-called Posthumous had played. ‘There was a slave who did the massage,’ I explained, ‘a handsome-looking, very dark-haired boy.’
Paigh, who had been rearranging palliasses on the floor, straightened up at this and looked at me. ‘Stranger, you convince me more and more. The fellow is at this moment in the waiting-room for slaves, where he has been allowed to sit idle half the day as the attendant of an honoured visitor. Later I will take you there, and you can see if he’s the one. Though how Darturius is to be persuaded of the truth I cannot see.’
‘Perhaps his daughter could suggest that if he doesn’t hear me out, and give me the opportunity to try and prove my claim, then he runs the risk of offending Marcus very much – treating his representative as a common slave?’
‘If your claim should turn out to be true?’ Paigh said, but I knew that he could see the merits of the strategy. ‘Very well. Best to leave this till tomorrow, probably – my master is too busy trying to impress the bridegroom now. But on the day before the wedding …’
I nodded. The marriage-eve is always a special day for brides, especially Roman ones, when her childhood is ritually laid aside – her toys and playthings offered on the fire – and she is bathed and perfumed and generally indulged. ‘Gnaeus will not be here?’ I enquired. It is usual for the bridegroom to stay well away, so she may have the last day with her family, but here – with the causeway – it might be different.
Paigh laughed. ‘He is due to stay with one of the citizens nearby – who will come back with him to be a witness. You – or your namesake – will be another one, and the rest will be composed of family. It is not to be a very grand affair. Darturius is insisting on the plaits and veil, and is even demanding that there be a wedding feast, but this is a coemptio marriage – where Gnaeus ritually ‘buys’ her from her father – and all the rest is simply show. And the feasting will be short – they’ll have to choose their moment to drive across the bay, though the tides are improving slightly every day. But this was the only favourable day before the Saturnalia, all the others were ill-omened. So it was then, or not until next year.’
I looked at him. ‘Would that have been so very terrible? I don’t imagine you are pleased to see her wed.’
He shrugged his shoulders. ‘It will be the saving of us all. There are too few women in the family, and too many men. Even for the marriage customs, as you’ll see. She has no mother to escort her through the rites – only a young sister and an ancient aunt.’
‘But she has handmaidens, at least?’
‘Not any more.’ He gave another shrug. ‘Aeignis had an attendant maid, of course, but only recently the girl was sold. For some misdemeanour.’
Something in his manner made me say, ‘At your instigation, I assume? So that the natural companion would be gone, and you could accompany Aigneis in her stead?’ Paigh did not answer and I pressed the point. ‘What was your intention, anyway? It’s clear that you love her – and she is fond of you. Could you not have simply married her?’
He shook his head. ‘Darturius would not hear of it – I’m not a citizen – and anyway it wou
ld have led to ruin. I told you earlier, there are too many men. My father had six brothers … and all of them had boys. Except Darturius, my eldest uncle, who as chance would have it, fathered the only girls.’ He made a little gesture of despair. ‘You are a Celt, you know how these things work.’
I did. It was the story of the goatboy, in a different guise. The estate would be divided among all the heirs (meaning the males, of course) with the eldest receiving the greater part each time – and without daughters to ally to other families, how could this be maintained? Women needed dowries, but – if they were comely enough – these need not represent substantial capital. Aigneis would bring hardly anything.
‘So she marries Gnaeus, for her family’s sake, and you accompany her as slave. What did you hope then? Presuming you did not intend to murder him!’
He gave a mirthless laugh. ‘Nothing so dramatic. It is enough to wait. Gnaeus is old and cannot last for many years. And once she has produced an heir, the matter is resolved. The child will be a citizen for life and the saltern will remain within the family, even if Aigneis loses rank by marrying again. So either Darturius will no longer care, or she can defy him and run away with me. I shall be free by then. Within two years I shall have worked out father’s debt.’
I smiled at this vision of domestic happiness. ‘Always supposing that she does produce a child.’
‘Oh, I think we can be certain about that,’ Paigh said, too quickly.
I looked at him. ‘Meaning that you already suspect she is with child?’ Another moment, and realisation struck. ‘Yours?’
He shrugged his shoulders, and did not reply, but I had my answer. This was urgent then. No wonder that the bride was so anxious to be wed, regardless of the tides and the dismal time of year. ‘You will be very anxious to be with her afterwards?’ I said.
‘Let us say I have an interest in proving who you are,’ the youth replied. ‘In the meantime, this is where you’ll sleep. I’ll have the garden slaves prepare a palliasse. I’ve placed you next to me, and you can share my space tonight. There is talk of building a Roman servants’ hall, but Jove alone knows when.’
‘And little Trinculus?’ I said.
‘He will have been taken into master’s custody. It won’t be pleasant but he’ll be clothed and fed. If you prove your case tomorrow you can plead on his behalf.’ He was impatient, suddenly. ‘Now, come, we have been talking far too long. We must not displease Darturius tonight, if tomorrow Aigneis is to plead your cause.’ He was in the act of leading me outside, when he paused and looked at me. ‘As a member of my master’s household now, you’ll have to serve at dinner, I suppose. Do you know what is required? You were a slave, I think? Marcus told us – and I saw the scar.’
I nodded. ‘I’ll manage, I am sure. Though it will irk me greatly if I have to serve that fraud. He will be laughing at me behind his toga-folds.’
‘He has a slave brand, too, were you aware of that?’
I shook my head. I’d hoped to use that mark in evidence, but if he had one too it was no proof of anything. I would have to find another way. In the meantime, there was work to do, and uniforms to find.
‘Lead on,’ I said to Paigh.
TWENTY-SEVEN
I had forgotten how hard it was to be a slave. Not that the work itself was very arduous – as a man of steward status I was given easy tasks – but even so I was exhausted long before it stopped. The endless standing and waiting by the wall, the kneeling and bowing as one passed the plates and cups, and the requirement for silence while keeping bright alert made me so tired that afterwards I could hardly eat my meal – though, in deference to my supposed rank, Paigh had contrived to have me offered the best leftover scraps.
He had also managed to have me serving on the master’s right, meaning that I was dealing with Gnaeus rather than the presumptuous slave who had usurped my name. Somehow the knowledge of that slave brand – which usually created fellow feeling – filled me with additional indignity. It was horrible to watch him eating too – tearing at his food like a barbarian, and failing to rinse his fingers in the fingerbowls. Worse to know that the other diners thought that it was me!
I had hoped to get a glimpse of the dark-haired slave, to reassure myself that my theory was correct, but he was not in evidence. He had been given food and gone upstairs to ‘prepare his master’s bed’ and doubtless sleep in comfort on a soft rug at his feet. Meantime, I had a prickly palliasse. It was hardly comfort but, because I was so worn and the hour now so late (dinner duties do not finish for the slaves just because the diners have retired to bed) as soon as I lay down I fell asleep at once and did not stir till Paigh awakened me.
‘Come, fellow Celt,’ he said, and I was pleased to see him smile. ‘It is late and you are wanted in the house. Gnaeus has left and your namesake is asking where you are. Aigneis is preparing for the bridal sacrifice, and she’s speaking to her father – but he’ll soon be back, and if she succeeds you’ll have your opportunity. I was sent to fetch you – you had best be quick.’
I groaned and rolled myself onto my aching knees, then heaved myself upright. Every joint was painful. I have never felt so old. I pulled on the sandals which Paigh had found for me – more in keeping with my status, but so tight they pinched my toes. I would have splashed my face and hands but Paigh clucked impatiently, so I abandoned my ablutions (and all hope of food) and followed him back through the half-completed garden to the house.
The false Libertus was awaiting me in the draughty atrium. He was sitting on a carved stool by the wall (under the protection of the roof) with a page attending him, and he raised a languid hand as I appeared. ‘Ah, steward!’ – he was gloating, it was unmistakable – ‘I was enquiring for you. I see, from your performance yesterday, your serving skills have not deserted you.’ He waved a cup at me. ‘So fetch me another goblet of that watered wine.’
Helpless fury was pouring through my veins. I was supposed to be a servant and to disobey was death, but this was an insult that I would not endure. ‘I will do nothing of the kind.’
I heard the shocked intake of breath from Paigh behind me and the little page.
‘Then I’ll tell your master and he’ll have you scourged.’ Triumph and satisfaction glittered in his eyes. ‘Page, go and ask Darturius to come and witness this.’
The page looked frightened but he bowed and was in the act of hurrying away when the man in question came into the room, attended by the suave steward of the house (who looked much better in his robes than I did). Darturius bowed a greeting to the charlatan. ‘I apologise for leaving you so long, but there are family rituals to perform.’ He turned to me. ‘Aigneis tells me that you have important claims to make and I must hear you out because they might be true – in which case I am in danger of offering offence to Marcus Septimus, whom I hold in high regard.’
The imposter leapt up to intervene – with no regard for proper courtesy. ‘Pay no attention to what he says, Darturius. I was about to send for you. He has refused an order – in front of witnesses.’
Darturius raised enquiring eyebrows and I dared to speak. ‘True, my Lord Darturius, because I am no slave and this man knows it. I am Libertus and should be your guest, not him – whatever his stolen documents appear to say.’
The big Celt looked appraisingly at me. ‘You realise what a serious claim you’re making against me? Depriving a Roman citizen of his liberty is a serious offence.’
I know how to grovel and I did it now. ‘I know, my lord, but I am not accusing you. The fault is wholly his. You acted on the warrants which he gave to you. You could do no oth—’
The imposter interrupted with a sneer. ‘Intelligent and devious, his master said. Obviously that describes him very well. If he has the slightest proof of what he says, let him produce it now.’
This was the opportunity that I’d been hoping for, but I had no concrete evidence at all. I hesitated.
‘You see? He cannot,’ the false Libertus sneered. ‘You’ve seen my
documents. What more could you require? You’d like me to describe the town of Glevum, possibly? Or my patron’s country house?’
Both these things had occurred to me, of course, though as Darturius had not seen either, nothing could be proved – even if my namesake gave a false account. But it might help me to determine who he really was: it would tell me if he actually knew the town or not. I nodded, weakly. ‘Let him try, my lord.’
Perhaps the invitation was a terrible mistake. The imposter launched at once into a full account. There could be no doubt that he knew Glevum very well.
Darturius turned to me. ‘Well, are you satisfied? Or will you tell me now that he was bound to know, because he is the steward that Marcus promised me?’
I shook my head. ‘I don’t believe that Marcus sent a slave to you at all. I don’t know who this person is – except he isn’t me, and is very possibly a fugitive. And clearly he knows Glevum. Let us see if he can do so well with my patron’s country house.’
There was momentary uncertainty in the fellow’s eyes, but he was clever – cleverer than me. I did not anticipate his swift reply. ‘But surely it is the steward who should speak first this time? Otherwise he can simply echo what I say – and what help is that to you? And I might add that Marcus has a large apartment in the town – I can describe that for you afterwards if you require.’
Darturius was losing patience, I could see. ‘My lord,’ I said, ‘this is not proving anything at all.’ I slipped into Celtic. ‘I speak this tongue – I doubt he does the same.’
Darturius looked at the other man enquiringly, but there was no response. Clearly he had not understood a word. Darturius translated, but the scoundrel only smiled. ‘It is quite true,’ he said. ‘I do not speak the native dialect. But you have only his word for it that Libertus does.’
The Price of Freedom Page 23