‘Down!’ I said sharply, and it skulked and bared its teeth.
I kept my eyes fixed firmly on it as I addressed the man. ‘Farathetos! I hear you wanted me?’
He answered me in Latin. ‘That’s right, citizen. I want a word with you. Alone if possible!’ He jerked a scornful head towards the women as he spoke. ‘This is men’s business, not for women’s ears.’
Then, to my astonishment, a familiar voice broke in. ‘This gentleman came asking for you at the roundhouse, husband. He wouldn’t tell me what it was about, but says he is the father of the missing girl. I knew that you were anxious for any news of her, so naturally I brought him here at once.’
I whirled to face her, taking my eyes off the dog again. ‘Gwellia!’ It was indeed my wife. I almost went towards her, but a growl prevented me.
She gave me an understanding smile. ‘I am sorry if we have disturbed you at an awkward time. I told this fellow what Cilla had earlier told me – that the villa was in mourning and that you were required to stand in for Marcus at the cremation of a slave – but he was insistent that he’d discovered something that you’d want to know, and was not content to simply leave a message at the house.’
The farmer scowled. ‘Can’t even speak in Latin now and not be listened to! But she’s quite right, citizen. This is not for anyone else’s ears but yours.’
‘As he says, husband,’ Gwellia went on in her sweetest tone, ‘he wished to speak to you himself. I reasoned that a slave funeral would not take very long. So, seeing that I was known to all the servants here, and I was planning to come anyway, I suggested that I would accompany him and ask the gatekeeper to have you found and brought to us.’
Farathetos spat impatiently. ‘And what a waste of time! I would have done better to have come and asked myself.’
I braved the dog this time, and crossed to Gwellia. ‘I’m sorry you had such a discourteous greeting here.’ I took her hand and pressed it.
She smiled up at me. ‘I didn’t know the man on duty at the time. And it was mutual!’ She nodded towards the gatehouse. ‘What has happened to Aulus, anyway?’
I shook my head. ‘That’s another problem: no one seems to know, though Marcus does not seem to take it very seriously yet. I’ll tell you later. You go on inside – Junio is there. We were going to go back to the roundhouse to see you very soon, but there is no need since you have come to us. Perhaps you would let the pageboy know he won’t be needed now.’
She nodded. ‘But I think we should go back home in any case. You will want to get ready for the feast tonight. I was only anxious to see that you were well. But since I’ve come, I’ll go and pay Julia my respects and offer the household my condolences. I will see you when you have finished here. Meanwhile your toga-hood’s in disarray.’ She reached up, as if to put it right, and as she did so she whispered in my ear, ‘There may be things that I can help you with. I have had an interesting conversation with the wife.’ Then she turned and went in through the gate, which opened instantly to let her pass.
Chapter Nineteen
I gazed after Gwellia’s retreating form. She had spoken of ‘the wife’. I looked across at the other hooded figure in the road, and there was Morella’s mother standing patiently by. I had been so busy with the dog, and then with Gwellia, I hadn’t realised who she was.
She saw me looking and raised her face to me, gave me a brief, abject, snaggled smile, and dropped her eyes again. Of course, she would not have followed much that had been said – we had been speaking in a tongue she didn’t understand. I turned to face the man and the still grumbling dog.
‘You have news about Morella?’ I spoke in Celtic now.
He recognised the strategy. A brusque, unwilling nod.
‘Something that has come to light since we talked earlier? You haven’t found her?’
He snorted. ‘I only wish I had. I’d give her such a beating she’d wish she’d not been born.’ He still spoke in Latin, as he’d done throughout – as if he had deliberately declined to take my lead. ‘She’s stolen money from me, that’s what she’s done! No wonder you said that she had quite a lot!’
‘Morella didn’t mean it,’ her mother pleaded. She had clearly derived his meaning from his tone. She turned to me. ‘I don’t know what he’s saying, but she is not a thief. If she took money, she thought it was her share. He must have told them a hundred times that he’d put cash by for them all. I know Morella – she won’t have taken it all. It can’t have been more than a few denarii.’
‘Not an aureus for example? And some other golden coins?’ I had supposed we were talking about the treasure in the hem.
The worn face looked quite startled. ‘Good Jupiter! Where would a farmer get gold pieces from? Why, the only time I’ve ever seen an aureus in my life was when my uncle got a couple amongst the coins they gave him for his farm land, years ago.’
‘Silence, woman! What has that to do with it?’ Farathetos was speaking Celtic now.
I paid no attention. ‘Your uncle’s land?’ I said. ‘That was a payment from the army, I presume?’
She looked apprehensive, but she answered with a nod. ‘Six gold pieces they gave him, when they seized his farm. He was quite pleased to start with. More than his forefathers had got, he said – but when he took one to the market they confiscated it. Said it wasn’t proper coinage, or something of the kind. The disappointment was what killed him in the end, I think. He had the others buried with him when he died.’
The man had been trying to interrupt her throughout, between attempts to quell the dog. I ignored him. A horrible suspicion was forming in my mind.
‘Buried with him? As his funeral goods? I can imagine that. We Celts like to give a man his finest possessions when he dies, so that he has them with him in the afterlife. And there is nothing that a Celt likes more than gold. Even if he cannot spend it in the marketplace.’ I glanced at her husband, who was scarlet-faced.
She looked defeated. ‘It was still pure gold,’ she said. ‘Valuable if it was only melted down. I think he always meant to do it, though he never did. He feared they’d confiscate the rest of it as well.’ She glanced towards her husband, who was looking thunderous. ‘But I don’t know why I am telling you all this. The gold was buried with him – nothing to do with what Morella took. It’s just that you asked about the aureus. Of course there was no question of anything like that. The most she could have taken were some silver coins.’
‘How much exactly?’
She looked at him for guidance, but he simply scowled. ‘There might have been a double denarius or two, and altogether it could have added up to quite a lot – though I never saw it personally, of course. My husband never told me where he’d hidden it, though he was always saying he had a wedding portion for the girls, and threatening to cut them off if they displeased him in any way.’
It was too much for the farmer. ‘Silence, wife!’ He aimed a kick at her, and in the process almost loosed the dog. ‘Here, take this blasted animal and keep an eye on it and leave us men to talk without your whining on. It’s half impossible to hold a conversation like this.’
He thrust the rope into her veined and work-worn hands. The creature was too strong for her, you could see that instantly, and I was afraid that in her less restraining grasp the brute would get away and go for me again; but once it sensed its freedom it rushed off the other way, down the lane and into the forest opposite, dragging the unfortunate woman after it. We could hear them in the distance: the dog’s persistent bark, and the woman’s plaintive cries for him to stop.
‘Caught the scent of something,’ was all the farmer said. ‘Stupid woman hasn’t the first idea how to handle that dog. Fortunately it will always come back when I call.’ He spat and rubbed his hands. ‘Now where were we?’
‘You discovered that Morella had taken money from you, I believe,’ I said. ‘Four golden coins? Is that the truth of it? Money that you stole from your wife’s uncle’s grave?’
He had
turned a shifty red but he held his ground. ‘Of course I wouldn’t stoop to steal them from the grave. They weren’t ever buried – and they were mine in any case. The dying man had told me to keep them for myself, and that is what I did. I took them out before we sealed the grave. Of course I did not say anything to anyone – they’d only have insisted that I put them back. I was going to have them melted down, in time – the gold has got value if the coins have not. And why shouldn’t I? He’d given it to me. It was the family’s money and it was no use to the dead.’
I stared at him. I did not believe a word of his account and I doubted that his wife and her family would either. I wondered what would happen if they learned he’d robbed a grave. Probably, at best, he would be outcast from the tribe – lose his wife and children and his land as well, and be driven into exile by being wholly shunned. At worst? It made me shudder. Yet, by claiming that Morella had robbed him of the coins, he had put himself in danger of something of the kind. So why had he come to me?
Because he knew I might be able to trace the coins back? They were so unusual that it was more than possible. Some army requisition officer had clearly palmed the uncle off with coinage which was a problem to dispose of otherwise: probably he had taken it as loot himself or as a secret bribe, so he would hardly come forward to acknowledge it, but it would not be difficult to find out who it was: the man who had been in charge of requisitioning the land for expanding the territorium – the army farm – would be a matter of record in the garrison.
But if Farathetos had not told me that he’d lost the coins, I would never have known the story of the purchase of the farm, so why should anybody learn that they weren’t safely in the grave? I knew he wouldn’t tell me what his reasons were, even if I asked. I tried another tack. ‘And Morella knew where you’d hidden the coins?’
He spat. ‘She wouldn’t have gone digging by the hollow tree by chance. She must have known where I hid my money all along. She didn’t know I had those particular coins, of course. She’d only seen them when we carried her great-uncle to his grave. But she knew that I had money. As her mother says, it was supposed to be her wedding portion, and her sisters’ too.’
‘Yet she only took a part of what you had concealed?’ I said. ‘She might not have realised exactly what she’d found.’
‘Not realised?’ A derisive snort. ‘Of course she realised! Morella’s simple-minded but she’s not completely daft. She knows gold when she sees it – and she must have guessed where I had got it from.’ He glared at me. ‘And now look what she’s done. She’s going to ruin me. I had matches in prospect for my next two girls, you know – far more valuable and pretty than Morella ever was.’
‘And you can’t afford to pay the dowries now?’
‘Worse than that, by Mithras.’ He was scowling at me as if this whole affair had been my fault. ‘I’d made a marriage pact for them, though I haven’t told them or their mother yet. Two brothers in the jewellery business in Corinium. Not young, but quite successful. I’ve dealt with them before. They agreed to take the girls, on condition that I would give the coins as dowry when they wed. It seemed a neat solution, with benefits all round – they could melt them down and work the gold, and no questions asked. I didn’t tell them where I got the coins from, and they didn’t enquire. I didn’t have to tell the women what the bargain was.’
‘And these jewellers have been known to handle that sort of thing before?’ I asked. I have been to Corinium many times myself, and I thought I knew the shady little goldsmiths he meant.
He didn’t answer. ‘I was fool enough to swear a contract with them half a moon ago. Before seven witnesses – they insisted upon that. Five gold pieces I promised them. I don’t think the value in denarii would do, even if I had it, which I don’t.’ He looked at me and I could see the desperation behind the angry eyes. ‘When you talked this morning about that cursed girl having a bit of money in her skirts, I never thought of this. I thought she’d got a few quadrans the way she did before, letting some farmer fellow have his way with her.’
‘Morella did that?’ I was so startled I interrupted him. This was a new aspect of her history and not a happy one.
‘Promised to marry her, I expect, though of course he never would. Morella would always believe what people said to her. Just as well I got to hear of it, and gave her the thrashing of her life, otherwise we would have had another mouth to feed, and then I’d never have found anyone to take her off my hands. Always a danger with a girl like that. Why do you think I was so delighted to get her married off?’ He shook his head. ‘Stupid little cow! And now see what’s she’s done. After you left I went out to the tree to make sure my little hoard was safe – and when I dug it up, I found the coins were gone! Not the silver ones – those I wouldn’t mind so much, and in fact I would have paid a few denarii to be rid of her – but, may she rot in Hades, she had to take the gold!’
He was almost shouting in frustration by this time, and the gatekeeper on duty came out to have a look. Perhaps it was just as well for me, because the farmer had seized me by my upper arms and would have shaken me, I think, if the guard had not been there. As it was he let me go and took a step away.
I rearranged my toga. ‘And what has this to do with me?’
‘Citizen,’ he almost bellowed, with anguish in his voice, ‘you found the coins. I’ve got to have them back. She stole them, I tell you – they belong to me. I know what will happen if I can’t produce them when I’m asked. The prospective grooms are wealthy – they understand the law. They’ll claim that I should pay them and the contract stands, or they will take me before the magistrates and lay a charge on me.’
Now I understood why he was so upset, and why he had taken the risk of saying what he had to me. Such a formal bargain is enforceable in court on penalty not merely of a very hefty fine but – since the farmer was not a Roman citizen – probably of scourging and imprisonment as well. And claiming that his daughter was a thief was no defence – her father was her guardian in law, and thus legally responsible for redressing her misdeeds.
So he had taken the risk of coming to find me – and had not been able to come without his wife! No doubt the tribal elders had insisted that she accompany him. Perhaps he honestly believed that he could keep the facts from her, or prevent her from telling her family what he’d done – or perhaps he simply feared the torturers more than he feared the tribe. If the Corinium goldsmiths were the ones I knew, they would pursue him through the courts for everything he had. Either way, his future did not look very bright.
I did not feel disposed to show him sympathy. There were not, in any case, as many coins as he claimed. ‘I have handed the gold pieces to His Excellence,’ I began, and saw the look of horror cross the farmer’s face. I was about to add ‘or rather, to his wife’ when we were interrupted by a distant cry.
There was a muttered imprecation to the Celtic gods, a great deal of crashing through the undergrowth, and there was Morella’s mother waving through the trees, her hood thrown back and her skirts in disarray, her face a mask of horror and dismay.
‘Citizen! And you too, husband! Come at once. The dog has found something I think you ought to see.’
Chapter Twenty
The farmer looked as if he might refuse to move, but I did not wait to argue. I turned without another word and followed the woman as she retraced her steps, crashing almost heedless through the trackless undergrowth, following the broken sticks and bracken which marked her headlong flight through the forest to the villa gates. It was awkward going in a toga, but I stumbled after her, her husband, still grumbling, trailing in the rear.
‘Stupid woman! Now where are we going? Couldn’t you see that we were occupied?’ But there could be no doubt of the direction we were following – each pace brought us closer to the frantic yowling of the dog.
Louder and louder, until at last we reached a clearing in the trees. There was a shallow dip there, screened by low bushes from our vantage point, and
on the other side of it I could see the animal, snuffling at something with an excited air. It looked up and howled at its mistress’s approach. She flapped a hand towards the hidden hollow place, but kept her head averted, as if she could not bear to look.
‘There!’ she muttered. I moved forward to look into the dip, and saw what she had seen.
It was Aulus – I knew at once although I could not see the face. That massive bear-like form would have been unmistakable, even if it had not been wearing the distinctive cloak and tunic of the villa guards. He was huddled face downward on the forest floor, pitched forward on his knees as though he had been overcome while kneeling down, and there were fresh bleeding scratches on his legs and thighs all the way from his tunic-hems to his huge sandalled feet. One hairy hand was still clutched to his throat, and there were traces of vomit all round where he lay. Perhaps it was that which had so aroused the dog, which even now was rushing to and fro, its muzzle to the ground, emitting intermittent yelps and growls.
‘I’m very sorry, husband.’ Morella’s mother sounded weak with shock. ‘I could not hold the animal. It got away from me.’ She held out her hands to show the welts the running rope had made. ‘Then, when we got here, it was even worse. It started standing over him and wouldn’t let me near.’
‘Huh!’ The man took a striding step towards the dog, caught the leash and yanked it backwards with considerable force. I felt a momentary sympathy for the unhappy brute as the pull jerked it savagely up on its hind legs, and almost toppled it on to its back. It snarled, snapped at its master, then regained its feet and, deprived of its interesting quarry, sat down on its haunches and gave a whining howl.
However, it was at least now under some control. I ventured past it rather nervously, and picking the cleanest bit of ground I could find I knelt by Aulus and tried to raise his head. His face was never an attractive one, but now – a livid colour, with his eyes rolled back and leaf mould sticking to vomit round his mouth – he was a dreadful sight. It did not need the shocking coldness and the weight to tell me he was dead.
A Coin for the Ferryman Page 19