A Coin for the Ferryman

by Rosemary Rowe

  I flashed a smile in acknowledgement and turned back to my host. ‘He did give me information of a kind,’ I said. ‘He claims the girl had robbed him of the coins that we discovered in her dress. I think he was hoping I could arrange to give them back, but until I have more proof I did not promise to do anything at all. But I do bring other news – much more immediate and serious, I fear. I have found Aulus.’

  ‘Aulus! Where is he? What has he to say? Bring him to me instantly. What are we waiting for?’ Marcus was annoyed. Almost without seeming to be aware of it, he had pulled a piece of ferny branch from one of the floral offerings round his father’s neck, and was tapping it impatiently against his other hand, as though it were his magisterial baton. This was a habit I’d often seen before: it augured no good to those who crossed him in this mood. I felt actually uneasy when he turned to me and scowled. ‘Where did you find the wretch?’

  ‘He was in the forest,’ I answered the simple question first. ‘I have taken the liberty of sending some of your land slaves out to bring him home again. I’ve sent Junio to make the arrangements for it now.’

  ‘Why in the name of Jupiter do the land slaves—’ Marcus began hotly, then seemed to realise that something was amiss. His manner changed. He looked into my face. ‘You don’t mean that something has befallen him? Not Aulus, surely? He’s too big to be attacked.’

  I said nothing. It was more than eloquent.

  ‘Are you telling us that the fellow’s dead?’ Lucius rapped out the question, like an officer giving the order to throw spears. The answer must have been written on my face, because before I could summon a reply he turned his back on me. ‘I can’t believe it, cousin. There must be some mistake. He was perfectly well when I last spoke to him. What can possibly have happened to him since?’ He shook his head. ‘If this is true, I have to suspect a supernatural hand. This is another omen, as surely as Jove makes thunderbolts. I don’t know what my aunt Honoria will say.’

  Marcus held up a hand to silence him. ‘My mother is unlikely to find out,’ he said, with the kind of resolute finality he did not often show in the company of his visitor from Rome. ‘Not until I get there, anyway. Unless, of course, cousin, you propose to write to her? Which, given her bereavement, I suggest you do not do. No need to cause her added anxiety, I think.’

  It was as near a prohibition as it could politely be. Lucius looked affronted, and said in strangled tones, ‘She is your mother, cousin. You must do as you see fit. She is under your official tutelage and protection now.’

  Marcus smiled bleakly. ‘Exactly. Just as this household is.’

  It was a reminder of who was master of the house, but Lucius was not so easily subdued. ‘So you will want to make immediate arrangements to cremate your slave. Fortunately we already have the funeral herbs and the pyre is barely cool. I left the priest of Jupiter in the new wing of the house – he asked to have a rest after his ritual exertions and his visit to the bath-house afterwards – and he will advise us as to how we should proceed. It is fortunate that he has not left the premises – I assume that he has been invited to join us for the feast.’

  ‘Then you assume correctly,’ Marcus snapped, ‘in that regard at least. But whatever customs may prevail in Rome, in Britannia we do not shuffle a faithful gatekeeper on to a funeral fire without a proper ceremony as tribute to his soul. Nor without attempting to discover how he came to die.’ He turned to me. ‘Libertus, old friend, you say you found his corpse. Have you any idea what might have brought about his death? Dragged away by brigands or attacked by bears? Or is this another of those unfortunate affairs with mutilated features and a choke-mark round the neck?’

  I shook my head. ‘None of those things, Excellence. I believe that he was poisoned.’

  ‘Poisoned!’ The cousins spoke together, though their tones were quite distinct. Marcus sounded horrified, and Lucius full of scorn.

  ‘How could he possibly be poisoned?’ Marcus said. ‘He eats the food and drink that all the servants do.’

  There was a little silence. Julia had turned pale, and Gwellia was looking at me with a glance that said ‘I told you this affair was dangerous’ more forcefully than if she’d voiced the words aloud.

  ‘Of course, there was the messenger who came from Rome,’ I said. ‘I suppose it is possible that something changed hands at the gate.’ I was not convinced by this theory, but everyone had been looking expectantly at me and I felt that some intelligent suggestion was required.

  Lucius gave a bleak grimace that might have been a smile. ‘I suppose that’s possible.’

  I was encouraged by this unexpected praise. ‘But who in Rome would want to poison Aulus? He wasn’t known to anybody outside Britannia. Unless there was an effort to bring poison to the house, which Aulus managed to take by accident.’

  The smiled had faded, and Lucius looked dour. ‘Of course, you’re right. It is preposterous. More likely the gatekeeper strayed into the woods, and was bitten by a snake or something of the kind. I understand you have vipers in the forest hereabouts? I remember it was spoken of the other night.’

  ‘Would that make him stagger and vomit?’ I enquired. ‘It looked more as if he’d swallowed something poisonous to me, but I have never seen a person bitten by a snake. Certainly there have been vipers in the wood from time to time, but in that case I would have expected to see swelling in his legs.’ Yet even as I spoke, I realised that I might not have noticed fang marks among those streaks of blood.

  My wife stepped forward. It was brave. She had not been invited to contribute anything. ‘Your pardon, Excellences, but I doubt it was a snake. For one thing it is not the time of year. And for another, Aulus is so big. It would have taken quite a lot of venom to have killed him with such speed – our snakes are not like those of other lands which will kill a full-grown man so quickly that he has no time to go for help or suck the venom out. A child, or someone old and frail perhaps, but hardly a strapping brute like Aulus. What do you think, husband? Is it possible?’

  ‘I think that you convince me that it isn’t, wife,’ I said. I was impressed by her clarity of thought, but it was evident that Lucius was not. His look of pained disdain would have shrivelled the marble statue beside him on the plinth, let alone the shrinking woman he was glaring at.

  ‘You are an expert on these things?’ he asked, in icy tones. ‘Perhaps you would care to view the corpse and give us the benefit of your experience? Enlighten us as to what the poison was?’ He turned to Marcus. ‘It seems that in Britannia, cousin, one must learn to take instruction from the most unlikely sources. Freedmen, slaves and women seem free to interrupt the conversation of patricians and – without being asked – offer their opinions about anything at all. This pavement-maker even has the impudence, it seems, calmly to issue instructions to your slaves and tell you afterwards. I assure you, you will find that manners are quite different in Rome.’

  There was a stunned silence. Gwellia looked abashed. Marcus was visibly furious but, like me, he held his tongue. Even the attendant slaves against the wall were exchanging little glances. In the end it was Julia who spoke.

  ‘In Britannia, cousin, when we delegate a task, we do not expect to be constantly consulted as to how it should be done. My husband asked Libertus to investigate a death, and I believe that he is doing that, as usual. I can’t think that Aulus’s poisoning is coincidence. He has served this household without incident for years, and all at once we find that he is dead. It occurs to me to wonder what is different, suddenly?’

  Lucius had turned that ugly pink again. ‘Are you suggesting that my presence here . . .?’

  Julia looked at him in obvious amazement. ‘Not at all. I meant that Aulus’s death was surely related to the other corpse,’ she said.

  Yet Lucius’s reaction was an interesting one. Supposing that Lucius was the connecting link? He did not know anyone in the province except his family, so it seemed unlikely on the face of it. Yet if he had a secret enemy, perhaps, someone who
had followed him from Rome? That had to be a possibility – Lucius was just the kind of person who did make enemies.

  So suppose that there was someone who had tracked him down? Someone who poisoned the gatekeeper to gain access to the place? Attempted to get in more than once, perhaps – there was still the young man’s body to be accounted for, and cremation had not solved the puzzle of its identity. Another person who was party to the plot? Or – I was excited by this piece of reasoning – had our mystery young man stumbled on the would-be murderer somewhere near the house and had to be disposed of and buried hastily? To be a danger he would have had to recognise the man – someone that he’d seen before, perhaps in some quite different place? That would fit my theory that the corpse might have been a page – messengers by nature move from place to place, meeting a lot of people as they go, and – as Junio had pointed out – they may not immediately be missed.

  But even supposing there was some truth in this (and the more I thought of it, the more I thought there was), how did Morella enter into it? And – the thought struck me with a sudden chill – what had happened to Lucius’s would-be killer now? If he had poisoned the gatekeeper to get into the house, it was possible that he was lurking even as we spoke.

  ‘Forgive me, Excellences, if I am speaking out of turn,’ I said with all the humility of a net-man at the games, ‘but it occurs to me to wonder if the poisoner has not finished yet. Aulus doesn’t seem to be a likely target in himself. There might yet be danger to someone in the house. I think that everyone should be on the alert.’

  ‘More guesswork, citizen? Save your imagination for your pavements, I suggest.’ That was Lucius.

  I had not mentioned my idea that the threat might be to him in particular – I knew that he would merely dismiss it if I did – but his scathing rudeness made me regret that I had bothered to say anything at all. After all, I was only trying to protect his wretched life. Well, I’d not do that again. If anyone wanted to murder Lucius, I thought, I could see a certain merit in their point of view.

  However, I merely cleared my throat and was about to launch into an explanation of what my thinking was when the rear door was opened and Junio came in.

  No need for the homage ritual this time – Junio had presumably done all that before, and, unlike me, he had not since been in contact with a corpse. Marcus, therefore, greeted him at once.

  ‘Ah, Junio? You have sent out a party to bring Aulus in?’

  Junio inclined his head in deference. ‘Indeed. And Stygius has sent land slaves to rebuild the pyre. He asks if there are other arrangements that you wish him to make.’

  A slight frown furrowed Marcus’s brow. ‘Aulus was a member of the funeral guild,’ he said. ‘They would see to everything, and ensure that all was done with decency, with anointers and lamenters and a proper bier, if they were notified. But I doubt that even they could do it before tomorrow night – the ceremonies would have to be completed before midnight, when the spirits walk, and it is already very late to take them word today.’

  ‘Surely, cousin, if you made it clear that it was your request?’ Lucius sounded scornful. ‘A man of your rank and influence? I’m sure it could be done. Even if it is a little rushed, they have the wherewithal to see to it – hired mourners and musicans and all that sort of thing. They could quite easily bring them over here. And even if they couldn’t, does it really signify? The fellow was only a household servant, after all.’

  Marcus ignored him. ‘I suppose I could get the stables to harness up the cart and drive someone to Glevum before the gates are shut, but by the time the cart was ready it would be getting dark. I’ve already sent Minimus on the fastest horse, and with the feast tonight I don’t really have another slave I can spare.’

  I wondered if Niveus could overhear this from the anteroom and would suddenly dart in, eager to offer his services as a messenger. But Junio stepped forward. ‘Your pardon, Excellence, but perhaps we could send a message with the man who brought the wine. I passed him in the rear courtyard just a little while ago, unstacking amphorae from his cart. If we are quick about it, he won’t have finished yet.’

  Julia laughed, a laugh of real relief. ‘A splendid notion, husband. I had quite forgotten that we had ordered fresh supplies for the memorial feast. I’m sure the driver would deliver a message, if you paid him to. Although he is a freeman, I expect he’ll find the guild.’

  A wild idea was forming in my brain by now. ‘Patron, how long is it before your guests arrive?’

  He looked at me, surprised. ‘An hour or two at best. Not all town councillors have water-clocks or sundials, you know – many of them simply have to estimate the hour, and if they prefer to travel out here in the light, I expect the first ones will soon be on their way. Though we won’t lie down to dinner until all of them arrive. Is it important?’

  ‘It occurs to me that one of us might go to Glevum, Excellence, if your wine merchant will agree to take us there. And if one of your guests could be persuaded to bring me back again . . .?’

  Marcus almost twinkled. ‘From which I deduce that you intend to go yourself? But it seems a good suggestion. You know where to go?’

  I nodded. ‘I have dealt with a slave funeral before. It won’t take long,’ I said. I did not add that there were other things I hoped to do as well – like talking to the dancing girls again, if possible.

  ‘Then I will arrange it, if you are sure, old friend.’ He clapped his hands, and this time Niveus did come running in. ‘Go and tell the wine merchant I need his services. I want him to take a passenger to Glevum when he goes. Perhaps he could take Junio and Gwellia as well as far as the roundhouse, since the lady wants to go.’ He turned back to me. ‘I’ll write to the garrison, asking them to waylay one of the town councillors coming here to dine and get him to wait for you. Or, if necessary, bring you back themselves. There is plenty of military transport they can use. I will go and do that now.’

  And with that he might have left the room, but Lucius forestalled him with a smile. ‘And, cousin, if I might use your seal to send it by official courier, it occurs to me that I should send a message to my aunt. Offering my condolences on this unhappy day.’

  ‘Of course. My mother would appreciate the gesture, I am sure. Libertus can pick the letters up at the gate, and set off as soon as possible. Meanwhile, Julia my dear,’ he added with a smile, ‘perhaps you could entertain the high priest for me. I see he’s coming through the courtyard garden now. You can take him into the new reception room, perhaps? I’ll send a slave with some refreshments by and by.’

  Julia looked reluctant, but she went without a word, taking Atalanta with her. I wished my patron had not mentioned food – with the discovery of Aulus I had quite forgotten how hungry I’d become, but now I was reminded. I was ravenous.

  ‘Farewell till later then, my friends,’ Marcus said graciously, and he left the room with Lucius and the usual scattering of attendant slaves.

  I turned to Gwellia. ‘At last we have the chance to talk,’ I was saying, when I was aware of a small scuffling at the entranceway.

  Niveus was still hovering there. He looked nervously at me. ‘Master?’

  I realised – eventually – what the trouble was. ‘Find the man in the wine cart and say to him, “Come round to the front gate and wait for passengers,”’ I explained, speaking the message with careful emphasis. ‘And then come to the gatehouse and find me there yourself.’

  Niveus nodded gratefully, and disappeared at once.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Gwellia was not looking very pleased with me. I was in my patron’s villa, and our son was watching us, but I was still tempted to take her in my arms. Fortunately I recollected what is acceptable, and merely raised my eyebrows with a smile.

  ‘What is it, wife?’ I murmured.

  She looked up at me. ‘You are still working on this business, aren’t you? And I’m afraid for you. Morella’s father is an ugly man. And you propose to present yourself at this me
morial feast, it seems, without the opportunity to wash yourself and clean your toga-hems.’

  I laughed. ‘Thanks to the cleansing rituals which I’ve had to undergo, I’ve washed my face so many times today that I’m surprised it hasn’t washed away. And as for my toga-hems, don’t worry about them – ashes and tatters are a measure of respect.’

  She made a tutting noise. ‘Only for the mourning family,’ she exclaimed. ‘And don’t change the subject, husband. This matter’s dangerous. That poor woman who was here a while ago – you know she thinks her husband may have killed the girl?’

  That was a new idea. I turned to stare at her. ‘I’m sure that he could do it,’ I said thoughtfully, and then remembered what had happened at his farm. I shook my head. ‘But I don’t believe he did. He is afraid of being questioned by the torturers – his actions this afternoon have made that clear – but he wasn’t frightened when I spoke to him at first. He was concerned lest I had found her and was going to bring her back. And angry that she had left him with a settlement to pay. Money is more important to him than her welfare, I’m afraid.’

  ‘And if he had killed her he would have taken the coins from the dress?’ Junio had been listening.

  I shook my head again. ‘I don’t believe he knew this morning that she’d taken them,’ I said. ‘He would have been more anxious to ask me about them at the time, instead of having to walk miles to look for me.’