The Vestal Vanishes

by Rosemary Rowe

  It was hardly an encouraging start to dealing with the man, but I dusted down my toga and said doggedly, ‘By having this raeda-driver’s bonds released a bit, so I can question him. I sent to make the request to your steward earlier.’

  The long brow darkened. ‘So I understand. Though I can’t imagine what you hope to gain.’ He looked at the raedarius, lying helpless on the floor. ‘This wretch is culpable of carelessness at least, and possibly much worse. More sensible to have him tortured till he tells us everything.’

  I said (as I have said to Marcus many times), ‘Flog him and you may force an admission out of him – some men will agree to anything you choose, simply provided that the torturer will stop. However, I am more concerned with getting at the truth – that is the only way to find your niece alive.’ Even supposing that she’s not already dead, I added inwardly, though I knew better than to voice that thought aloud. Lavinius was already looking unconvinced.

  It was Publius who unexpectedly came to my support. ‘He may be right, you know, Lavinius my friend. I’ve been witness to such things in Rome. Evidence extorted is not always true.’

  I could see Lavinius wavering, and I pressed the point. ‘What I need from this raedarius, you see, are little details of the trip – perhaps things that did not seem important at the time, but which in retrospect may be significant. He tells me, for instance, that they had to stop to let a legion of marching troops go past. That might be the place where the kidnapping took place, and not in Glevum as we thought at first—’

  ‘So,’ Lavinius interrupted curtly. ‘Why ease his limbs for that? It seems to me that a modicum of pain has already spurred his memory.’

  ‘If we loosen his bonds there may be more that he recalls – a man can’t think clearly about details like that when his mind is focussed on his suffering.’

  ‘Have them cut the bonds, Lavinius’ Publius urged. I’d obviously swayed him by my argument, ‘I’m willing to try anything to find Audelia. And what is there to lose? This pavement-maker has already learned something that we did not know before. Nothing that your steward’s flogging managed to obtain has, up to now, been of any use at all.’

  I turned to my unexpected ally with a smile. ‘Respected citizen, if you are really willing to try anything, the really useful thing would be to have this driver take me to the place where he was compelled to stop because the troops went past. If he can identify the spot, it is possible I can discover something there. Though there is still the question of the maidservant—’

  Lavinius’s snort of outrage interrupted me again. ‘You can’t mean that you expect me not just to loose the bonds – though, Jove knows that is extraordinary enough – but actually to let this fellow go? And more than that, to give his raeda back and actively encourage him to drive away from town in it? Citizen, you have a very strange idea of how Roman justice works.’

  Actually I had a pretty clear idea, and I could see that I was likely to end up in court myself – charged with conspiring to help a prisoner escape – if I persisted in this argument. I was about to say that I’d abandoned the idea, when Publius again spoke up in my defence.

  ‘Perhaps we should try it his way, Lavinius, my friend. There seems to be very little else that we can do, and this is at least something positive. The place where the raeda stopped might well be relevant, but it will not be easy to identify the spot, unless the driver is there to point it out. And, as the citizen suggests, the easiest way of him achieving that is for the raedarius himself to take him there. I’ll bear responsibility, if trouble comes of it.’

  I was warming to this fellow, despite his podgy pompous looks. Perhaps it was his open nature which had won Audelia. I would have liked to ask him how he came to know his bride, but Lavinius was already saying angrily, ‘I can’t agree to that. It was the pavement-maker citizen who suggested this, and he alone must be responsible. I think the whole idea is ludicrous, but you are the bridegroom, and my guest besides, so of course the choice is yours. If you wish me to indulge this citizen in his unlikely plans, then I must comply. But only if the pavement-maker will pledge a hundred aureii on the driver’s safe return.’ He cast a triumphant, cunning look at me. ‘And I give him fair warning that if he lets the man escape then I will drag him through the courts for full payment of the debt – and the value of whatever jewels were lost as well.’

  I gasped. A hundred aureii was a huge amount of gold – more than I had ever set eyes on in my life, and certainly a good deal more than my whole estate was worth. The mere suggestion took my breath away. Of course I realized that Lavinius was perfectly aware of how I would react, and this was simply a way of making sure that I declined the trip. But before I had recovered my wits enough to utter the legal formula required to refuse a bargain and so make it void, my defender Publius had intervened and was clapping me on the shoulder with a friendly smile.

  ‘Well then, pavement-maker . . .’ Before I realized what was happening he had seized my unsuspecting hand and thrust it into Lavinius’s bony grasp. ‘There! You have shaken hands and I have witnessed it, so the contract between you now has legal force. Come, steward, cut the driver’s bonds and let him go.’ He turned to Lavinius with his chubby smile. ‘If His Excellence Marcus Septimus has such confidence in our mosaicist, then I am inclined to act on his advice – and if he is right there is no time to lose. The sooner he finds out where the stop took place, the faster my dear bride is likely to be found.’

  EIGHT

  To say that I was utterly appalled by this does not come close to describing how I felt. I was literally speechless with dismay. Not only was I legally compelled to bring the driver back, on penalty of a small fortune in gold coins, but I was also apparently expected to set off at once – when it was already the middle of the afternoon – to a town that was fully twenty miles away, with not the slightest prospect of getting back that day. Whatever else, I’d not intended that.

  ‘But my family, mightiness,’ I burbled. ‘They won’t know where I am. Besides, it will be dark in only a few hours and I have no money for an inn. What am I to do when I get to Corinium? Or do you expect me to sleep beside the road?’

  Lavinius gave me his icy pale-blue stare. ‘Citizen, I have complied with your request.’ (In fact he hadn’t – the driver was still bound.) ‘After that – as far as I’m concerned – the matter rests with you. If there are resultant problems, that’s not my affair. Perhaps you should have thought the matter through a little more.’ He turned to the steward, who was hovering nearby. ‘Slave, do as this pavement-maker says. Cut this scoundrel’s bonds then go and fetch the iron-smith to strike the fetters off his feet. If he tries to run away, arrest the citizen.’

  The steward stepped forward and drew out a long knife from his belt. He pulled the driver roughly up onto his knees, causing him to groan in agony and, propping him in that position against the sacks, began – none too gently – to hack at the rope tethered between the feet and hands. As he worked, the pressure on the bonds was visibly increased and I could see the driver biting his lip to stop himself from crying out. Then the tether snapped and the captive, suddenly released from being tensioned like a bow, toppled over and fell forward on the floor.

  The steward kicked him over on his side and knelt to cut the belt that bound the hands.

  ‘You need not let the prisoner go entirely,’ Publius put in. ‘He does not have to drive his raeda yet – that’s still outside of Glevum anyway. In fact he does not have to drive the thing at all. Lavinius, you could send them in your gig. There would be just room for both the prisoner and Libertus at a pinch, and that way you could keep the man in bonds throughout.’

  That was quite an intelligent idea: not only did it appease Lavinius, it might save me a good deal of anxiety besides.

  Before I could voice this, the raeda driver spoke up from the floor – unbowed as ever, it appeared. ‘The box containing all Audelia’s wedding-gifts is still inside my coach – at least I hope it is – and I imagine you
will want it back? There would be not room to take that with us in the gig.’

  It earned him a savage thump across his back from the steward. Lavinius scowled at the prisoner’s impudence, and Publius looked affronted at this challenge to his words. For two quadrans, I could see, he would wash his hands of this.

  I did not wish to lose the only ally that I had, so I gave him what I hoped was an ingratiating smile. ‘Citizen Publius, with the greatest of respect, that raeda is the last place that Audelia was seen. I would like to stop and take a look at it. There may be signs of struggle, or some other sort of clue. Perhaps – as you suggest – the gig could take us to the gates, and then we could go on in the raeda after that. The man you set to guard it could travel on with us, in the front so that the raedarius couldn’t run away. The gig meanwhile, could bring the box back here.’

  Publius frowned. ‘The slave I left on guard is not mine to command. He was borrowed from the pontifex, and will be wanted in the temple later on tonight, I’m sure.’

  ‘Then Fiscus, perhaps, could help me,’ I ventured, hopefully.

  ‘But he was only lent to you to be a guide, I think. Marcus Septimus expects him to be here when he arrives. I’m sorry, Libertus, you will have to watch over the raedarius yourself. I only wish that I was free to come with you, myself, but I cannot desert the birthday feast tonight, at which Lavinius is kind enough to have named me as chief guest. Perhaps, in the circumstances, the gig is good enough. We can arrange to have the box brought here another time.’

  I was not anxious to travel all those miles in a crowded, bouncing, open gig. I had an inspiration. ‘But, supposing that we find Audelia?’ I said, praying that the raedarius would not betray my confidence in him by running off. ‘We would need some comfortable way of bringing her back here. She certainly couldn’t travel with us in the gig.’

  Publius looked approvingly at me. ‘You are quite right, mosaic-maker. That is unthinkable. You may let the prisoner drive the raeda, when you get to it. In the meantime, steward, do not free his hands. Time enough for that when there’s an extra guard.’

  The steward had already sat back on his knees and stopped sawing at the rope while he listened to all this. He glanced towards his owner with an enquiring look.

  Lavinius nodded at him, clearly dismayed at this usurpation of his authority, and equally clearly unable to resist. ‘Very well. Let it be as Publius says. Bring the wretch to us when his feet are freed.’

  ‘Immediately, master!’ and with a parting shove to the unfortunate raedarius the slave got to his feet and went bustling away, no doubt to find the smith.

  ‘We should instruct the gig-slave what to do. The man will want fresh horses, I expect.’ Lavinius was suddenly all brisk efficiency, evidently determined to resume command. He turned to his attendant boy. ‘Page, go and find the gig-slave and tell him what’s required. Publius, my friend, we two will go into the house and wash our feet and I will have someone bring some dates and wine.’

  He had pointedly not invited me and I hesitated, not certain what to do, but Publius gestured to me to accompany them. ‘Libertus must come with us so we can devise a plan. If he does discover something I want to know at once, and we must make arrangements for sending messages.’

  Lavinius scowled, but signalled his reluctant agreement with a nod and led the way back through the gate towards the house, though he made a point of taking Publius on ahead and talking to him in an undertone, making certain that I could not hear and leaving me to trail behind them with the remaining page.

  In the colonnaded garden Publius stopped and turned to me. I was warming to this patrician more and more by now. He may have forced me to a bargain which I could ill afford but this was clearly not the outcome of ill-will – simply the failure of a hugely wealthy man to understand how much a hundred aureii seemed to humbler folk.

  He illustrated the gulf between us by his next words, too. They were addressed to Lavinius but they were meant for me to hear, and once again seemed an attempt to help. ‘About accommodation, is it not the case that Marcus has a second town-house in Corinium? Given his very high opinion of his protégé, surely he would not object to Libertus staying there?’

  In fact I knew my patron would be appalled at the idea. The place was shut up when he was not there, with only a handful of slaves to keep it clean and aired. Besides, I am a simple tradesman, not a Roman patrician. It is true that I did stay at his country villa once, when I was ill and he required my services, but I am not the class of guest he usually invites. The notion of my simply arriving at his Corinium town-house unannounced, demanding food and somewhere warm to sleep, was quite unthinkable.

  How could I explain this to a man like Publius? I shook my head and followed him inside as a smirking Fiscus held open the door of the atrium for us, smiling at his erstwhile master and ignoring me.

  ‘Respected eminence,’ I muttered to Publius, once I was in the room, ‘I am a citizen of very humble rank, and though my patron is very kind to me I could not presume upon him in this way. The house is closed and providing hospitality for me – or any unexpected guest – might be difficult. In any case the servants do not know me there and, without a letter from His Excellence himself, I doubt that they would even let me in.’

  The atrium was full of flowers and scented oil, and servants were already setting a pair of fine carved stools – one ebony, one ivory – on each side of the little table by the wall. Publius seemed to take this as his right, and sat down on the nearer one, saying with a smile, ‘Would it help if I wrote a letter to the house myself.’

  ‘What would be really helpful,’ I said urgently, crouching on a lower footstool which Fiscus pointedly had set for me, ‘would be for me to stay at the lodging-house where Audelia stayed last night and where she changed coaches with Lavinia. I might learn something very helpful there.’

  Lavinius had already settled on the ebony chair, dropping his cloak where the slave would pick it up and said, with a sneer, ‘They would not take a stranger they did not expect – they require a letter sent on in advance – that is the very reason that we chose their services. It keeps out the common class of travellers.’

  A thoughtful frown crossed Publius’s pudgy face. ‘Suppose I wrote a letter to them, instead, explaining who I was, and gave it to Libertus to carry to the house. I am quite sure they would admit him then.’

  Fiscus expressed his evident disdain by raising one eyebrow at Lavinius, but our host did not respond. He turned to the house-slave who was already at his side with a silver salver piled with cheese and grapes: I would wager the hundred aureii that these would not be sour. Lavinius selected one and signalled for some wine, before remarking smoothly, ‘The pavement-maker said he had no money for an inn, I think. And this one is not cheap.’

  Publius selected a piece of proffered cheese. ‘I was prepared to offer a reward – or even pay a ransom – for Audelia’s return. I daresay I can undertake to pay for this. I will stop there and settle matters personally, on my way back to Londinium. Perhaps I could even stay there overnight myself, instead of using the military inns as I did on my way here. Courtesy of the provincial governor, of course.’ He smiled at me. ‘Of course, if Libertus is successful in his search, I will have my bride with me by then. So, Lavinius, if you would arrange a wax writing-block for me – or a sheet of bark-paper and some ink – I will compose a note. I have a seal-ring, if you have some wax. Fiscus can fetch the materials, perhaps, if your slaves are—’

  He broke off as Modesta came rushing in, aghast. ‘Master.’ She flung herself breathless at her owner’s feet. ‘Your pardon, master, for disturbing you. There is a man on horseback here, whom I think that you should see.’

  Lavinius made a lofty gesture with his long thin hand. ‘Doubtless one of the early banquet guests.’ He turned to Publius with a knowing smile. ‘This isn’t Rome, you know. A lot of humbler people don’t have water-clocks or well-positioned sundials, even now. Sometimes people find it very hard to j
udge the hour – especially if they know good wine awaits them here.’

  Publius responded with the expected laugh, but Modesta did not smile. ‘But Master, it isn’t you that he is asking for. He insists he wants Audelia – no one else will do – and he won’t believe me when I say she isn’t here.’

  The two patricians exchanged a startled glance, then Lavinius said sternly, ‘Show the fellow in.’ Modesta hurried off to do as she was told.

  Publius put his cup down, half-troubled, half-relieved. ‘This must be a contact from the kidnappers. Or perhaps it is a trick. Do you think, Libertus . . . ?’

  I never heard the rest, because at that moment the slave-girl reappeared, accompanied by one of the most enormous men I’d ever seen.

  NINE

  This newcomer was perhaps not quite as old as I am, but certainly he was no longer young. All the same his presence filled the room. He was not simply hugely tall, he was big and muscular, with a neck that was almost wider than his head and massive thighs like the trunks of well-grown trees. His arms were brawny and in one gigantic hand he held a ridiculously dainty leather bag, which made his fingers look enormous by comparison. His short-cropped head was rounder than an earthen cooking pot and his face, which was baked to terracotta in the sun, was weather-etched with lines. He wore big boots, a yellow tunic and a heavy riding-cape. Modesta had said he was a horseman. I found myself feeling a little sorry for the horse.

  He looked around the atrium and acknowledged the presence of our togas with a bow. ‘Greetings, citizens.’ He made another vague obeisance towards all three of us, as if two of the company were not marked out by patrician purple stripes. ‘Which of you gentlemen is the master of the house?’ His eyes were small and darting and I saw that he was missing several of his teeth. Not a man I’d care to argue with.

  Lavinius stepped forward, all cold authority. ‘I am Lavinius, the paterfamilias of this household and the uncle of that Audelia whom – it seems – you seek. She is not here, as I believe you have already been informed. However, in her absence you may speak to me. What is your business here?’