He gazed around as if searching for a site. ‘Up at the other property, perhaps? Not the vineyard field, but a fallow one that hasn’t been brought under proper cultivation yet? Then the funeral urns could all be buried in the master’s land without too much disruption to the crops. You’re in his confidence, what would you suggest? It would take too long to send word to him to ask him for advice.’
‘But of course his wife is in Corinium,’ I said, ‘That is only a half-day’s ride away. If you’re concerned, I am confident that she will give consent.’
The land-slave captain shook his head. ‘Send her a message? But I don’t know who—’
I cut him off. ‘I shall be going to Glevum later on, myself. The garrison commander is a friend of Marcus’s and he has the swiftest couriers available. I mean to ask him to send a messenger to my patron anyway – your owner should know what’s happened here as soon as possible – and I’m sure a rider can be sent to Julia as well. And I’ll speak to the Slaves’ Guild for you while I am in the town.’
He did not thank me, just gave a sober nod and looked down at the bloodied bodies of people he had known. ‘Then, with your permission, citizen, I’ll get back to my work. I’ll send a land-slave up here to start on the lament. It seems to be the least that we can do. And having someone here might put a stop to these flies!’ He flapped away a pair of lazy, bloated ones which had settled on the dead cook’s severed neck. ‘Perhaps we could find something with which to cover up the dead?’ For the first time there was genuine emotion in his voice – it actually seemed liable to break.
‘I think there are some blankets in the slave quarters,’ I said.
But before I’d even managed to complete the words, he was halfway across the orchard with that loping run of his. A moment later I heard a mighty shout. ‘Got them!’ and he was running back again.
It did not take an instant to cover up the slaves and once we had done so I, too, felt more at ease. ‘Now, then …’ I began, as we left the orchard and walked back into the enclosure where the slave quarters were. I was about to suggest that I would wait until he’d sent his promised mourner back, preferably with Minimus, so that once the lamentation had begun I could set off on my mission to the town. But before I’d manage to complete the words, I was interrupted by a frenzied rattling at the main gates at the rear.
I froze, feeling a prickle of cold sweat run down my neck. Who would be coming to the back entrance of the villa now? A carter with deliveries, possibly – but what would they be bringing while Marcus was away, and would they dare to rattle on the gates like that? Yet if wasn’t that, who was it? Could it be the armed intruders coming back again?
I looked at Georgicus and he looked at me. ‘Tradesman with deliveries?’ he murmured.
‘At this time of day, I suppose that’s possible. On the other hand …’ I cast around for something with which to arm myself, but could think of nothing better than the kitchen knives I’d noticed earlier. ‘Wait here!’ I called to Georgicus. I dashed in through the arch towards the house, burst into the kitchen block, picked up the biggest blade that I could find and thrust it through my belt – to the side where it would not dig into me but was still easy to get to, underneath my cloak. I picked up the pestle for good measure, too. It wasn’t very heavy but it would make a cosh, of sorts.
I hurried back. At first sight I couldn’t see Georgicus anywhere, though the rattling at the gate was even louder now. I was still not altogether sure of him and glanced around in panic. Then I saw him. His thoughts must have been turning the same way as my own, because he’d knelt beside the gatehouse to remove the heavy timber that was used to bar the gate. As I watched, he slid it from its frame, where, when the gates were sealed, it lay crosswise across the aperture as an additional security to the bolts. It was long and stout and sturdy. He got up, carrying it loosely in one hand, weighing it against the other as though it were a club. I could scarcely have lifted it with both.
‘Undo the bolts,’ he told me, gesturing for me to join him at the gates ‘If that is just a tradesman delivering to the villa, well and good. But if it isn’t …’ He mimed the act of hoisting the piece of wood above his head and smashing it down on top of someone’s skull. ‘If it is our murderous friends again they are doubtless armed with swords. But we’ll take someone with us, or my name’s not Georgicus.’
I nodded. I was just a little thoughtful about being the person to unbolt the gate when he was standing behind me with his makeshift weapon raised. However, I bent and put my free hand to the lower bolt. It was surprisingly difficult to move as it was vibrating with the violent rattling of the gate, which now seemed even more peremptory than before. Even when I put down my cosh and used both hands I couldn’t pull it back.
‘All right!’ I shouted to whoever was outside. ‘Give me a moment to undo the bolt.’ The rattling ceased abruptly, but there was no reply. That was alarming. One might have expected a cart-driver to have shouted back. I called again. ‘Who is it anyway?’ But once again there was no response at all.
As I straightened up I noticed a knot-hole in the wood-strut of the gate, just a little above my shoulder height – hollowed out by some imaginative guard, no doubt, to give a view of anybody in the lane outside. I was about to bend over and apply to my eye to it when I realised that Georgicus had stepped up very close to me and was hovering, his hulk of wood upraised.
‘Go on! Have a look!’ he murmured in my ear.
More nervous now than ever, I did as I was told. It wasn’t possible to keep one eye on Georgicus as I would have liked, so I had to commit myself to peering through the hole – and found to my astonishment that there was nothing to be seen. I wriggled round to adjust my vantage point, but there did not appear to be anyone at the gate, or in the small portion of the lane that I could see. That was somehow more worrying than a brace of swordsmen with their weapons drawn.
I turned to Georgicus. My mouth was suddenly too dry for speech. I shrugged my shoulders at him, and spread my hands apart to indicate that there was no one there. ‘Nothing!’ I managed. I drew out my blade.
‘May be a trap,’ he whispered. ‘Be careful, citizen.’
Better to face danger head on than wait for it, I thought. I clenched my knife more tightly and – keeping it firmly levelled at what I hoped would be chest-height to any incomer – I pulled the bolts back with my other hand. They moved easily enough now that the rattling had stopped but, though I tried to do it silently, the metal squeaked loudly.
Georgicus came back to stand beside me with his baulk of wood upraised. He gave me a curt nod, and – realising finally that I was not at risk from him – with a sudden movement I thrust the gates apart.
I was half expecting killers, dangerous and armed. What I found, when I had lowered my eyes sufficiently, was an extremely frightened little boy – a sort of infant land-slave, from the ragged tunic that he wore. I hadn’t seen him through the knot-hole because he was so small. I was so relieved that I could hardly speak, just stood there staring at him stupidly.
He might have been perhaps as much as five or six years old, though he was so under-developed that it was hard to tell. His dirty, tousled carrot-coloured curls reached scarcely to my hips. He was as thin as he was tiny, and his legs were bare, though an enormous pair of cut-down peasant ‘boots’ reached almost to his knees. (These rough bags of cow-skin were far too big for him and had clearly been formed on someone else’s feet.) His skinny face was filthy, streaked with mud and tears, and his red-rimmed eyes were staring in terror at my knife.
I heard the thud behind me as Georgicus let fall his makeshift club. ‘Tenuis! What in the name of all the gods …’
The child’s gaze never faltered from the blade. ‘Captain! Overseer Georgicus! You can see it’s only me. Don’t let the citizen stab me with his knife.’
I pulled myself together, turned the blade aside, and stood back to let the child come in. ‘One of your land-slaves?’ I said to Georgicus, trying to sound as if I hadn’t b
een afraid. ‘He seems to know who I am, since he calls me citizen.’
‘All my land-slaves know who you are, citizen. And he’s mine all right. But as to land-slave, I am not so sure, though that is what they call him. The smallest one we’ve got,’ Georgicus said. ‘Come on in then, Tenuis.’
The apparition unwillingly obeyed.
‘Came as part of a job lot that the master bought last year,’ his overseer said, putting a hand on one shoulder to usher him inside. ‘I was at the slave market with him at the time. There were four half-decent land-slaves at an attractive price. I only wanted them, but the dealer insisted that we took this one as well. Though it is a puzzle what to do with him.’ He put a finger underneath the small boy’s chin and tilted up the face. ‘Not pretty enough to be a household page, and far too small and puny to be useful otherwise. No good for proper land-work, because he isn’t strong enough to dig, but he can fetch eggs and carry firewood and that sort of thing. When he keeps his mind on it, which he obviously can’t. He was sent to look for kindling this morning in the woods, not come wandering to the villa of his own accord.’ He squeezed the chin quite roughly before he let it go.
The child recognised that he had been rebuked. ‘I know you told us not to come up to the house,’ – his voice was terrified – ‘but the others sent me here.’
‘The others?’ I echoed. ‘You mean the land-slaves who were supposed to be working in the fields? We didn’t see them as we came along.’
Tenuis nodded eagerly. ‘Exactly. They saw you though, captain. You were running up the lane. They decided you must be coming up here to the house, but of course they didn’t dare to leave their posts themselves. So they sent me to find you. Then if anyone was punished …’
‘It would be you,’ I said, moving to close the heavy gates again.
Tenuis seemed unaware of any irony. He turned towards me. ‘Exactly, citizen. But they weren’t expecting any trouble of that kind. I’m younger than they are and I can run in and out without the house staff taking much account.’
‘You were trying to avoid the house staff then?’ Georgicus raised an eyebrow and jerked his head towards the orchard wall. I knew exactly what he was signalling – that Tenuis, at least, had no idea of what had happened there.
I nodded to show I’d understood and murmured to the boy, ‘Go on with your account.’
Tenuis needed no encouragement. ‘I didn’t care about the steward, anyway, today, ’cause I had a proper errand. I was sent to find you, captain.’ He turned to Georgicus. ‘They want to know if it’s all right to go back to their tasks and leave the wood-pile unattended for a time. Nobody has come for it, though they’ve been waiting hours.’ He dropped his glance and muttered to his feet. ‘At least that’s what they say. I think there’s really something else that they’re not telling me. There was an awful lot of whispering that I couldn’t hear.’
But Georgicus was not listening. He had crouched down to gaze intently into the slave-boy’s face. He turned the lad towards him, holding both the skinny shoulders as he said, ‘What wood-pile is this?’
NINE
Tenuis looked at him with startled eyes. ‘Why, captain, the wood-piles that you told them to build up yesterday. You know, all the dead boughs and fallen branches from the wood …’ He saw the expression on the overseer’s face and trailed off into silence. ‘At least, they said you told them …’
‘I did no such thing. I did give them instructions, but my orders were specifically for jobs to do elsewhere: pruning and weeding and working in the fields. Surely you heard me. I make these announcements in front of everyone!’
Tenuis shook his head. ‘But … wasn’t that countermanded afterwards?’
Georgicus let go of the boy, stood up and frowned at me. ‘Did our intruders contrive this, do you think? Just to make sure that there was nobody about to see them come and go?’
I had been busy bolting up the gates and struggling to put back the heavy wooden bar. ‘It’s possible,’ I said addressing Georgicus over the head of the boy, who had his back to me. ‘But your land-slaves wouldn’t take orders from a stranger, do you think? Especially not if they contradicted yours.’
Tenuis whirled around to stare at me with startled eyes. ‘Strangers? Intruders? What …? Oh!’ He clapped a startled hand across his mouth. ‘Has there been some sort of problem overnight? Is that why the back gate was all locked and barred with no gatekeeper on duty to let anybody in?’
Georgicus turned impatiently to him. ‘Never mind that now. Though we do have a problem, certainly. I’ll tell you in good time. Meantime, you can tell me about my land-slaves and who it is that they’ve been talking to. The citizen is right. I had given them orders for the day. Who told them otherwise?’
The boy shrugged skinny shoulders. ‘I don’t really know. I thought that it was you. If not, it must have been the chief steward, I suppose.’
I would have come to that conclusion in his place, I thought. The chief steward was officially in charge of everyone, including the land-slaves, while the master was away. He would have authority to overrule any orders which Georgicus gave – though to do so without informing him would be discourteous at best.
The captain of the land-slaves clearly thought so, too. ‘Did they just receive a message? Or did the steward come himself?’
Tenuis shrugged. ‘I wasn’t there when the new instructions came. The others were all over working in the fields, but I was out there in the forest anyway, picking up kindling, like you told me to. Then they came rushing over, saying that they had this urgent job. I didn’t ask who gave them orders to do that. They wouldn’t have answered me in any case, but they certainly did not seem to think they’d disobeyed.’
The story was so startling that I joined in as well. ‘Urgent? What made a simple wood-pile so urgent all at once?’
Tenuis looked at me distrustfully. ‘I don’t know, citizen. You’d better ask the steward about that. Something about a provisional contract that the master had agreed, where the conditions had unexpectedly been met. The slaves were to pull all the big dead branches and logs that they could find into the clearing in the middle of the wood. That much I can tell you because I saw them doing it. There was a lot of private grumbling, in fact, because it had to be done as fast as possible and it was very energetic work’
Georgicus exchanged another glance with me. ‘I’m sure it was. No doubt it kept them fully occupied for several hours.’
A nod. ‘And they weren’t slacking either, captain, they worked right through till dusk. They had to take the leaves and little twigs off every branch – which took a lot of time – and then they were to sort the wood according to its size, different kinds of wood in different piles, ready to take away and sell. And if they hadn’t finished by the time that it got dark, they were to carry on this morning until someone came for it so that the master’s profit was as large as possible. Then they were to help to load it on the carts – that was supposed to be about an hour after dawn today. But nothing’s happened.’
‘And nothing’s likely to!’ Georgicus snorted.
The slave-boy stared at him. ‘What do you mean?’ His eyes were very wide. ‘You think all this was nonsense? You don’t believe the steward really ordered this at all. And you didn’t either? Is that possible?’
‘Listen!’ Georgicus had grasped the youngster by the elbows now. ‘I always give out my instructions for the day first thing in the morning. Everyone knows that. So even if people mistakenly supposed that those instructions yesterday had somehow come from me, don’t you think I would have mentioned it today, instead of giving everybody other jobs to do? And the chief steward would have sent me word last night if he had countermanded what I’d ordered my labour force to do – especially if he wanted them to go on doing it. But you were there. You know no message came.’
A shake of tousled curls. ‘But it was supposed to be a secret. That’s what we were told. In case the other slaves were jealous of us having earned a t
ip, and thought they should’ve been relieved of other jobs so they could come and help. Only there wasn’t enough profit for everyone to share.’
‘A tip?’ Georgicus shot a disbelieving glance to heaven. ‘For collecting fallen timber in the wood? You believed that? When did you ever know the master give a land-slave anything? Much less a gratuity for just doing what he’s told?’
An embarrassed shuffle of the enormous boots. ‘We thought that things were different this time, captain. It might be the last time we ever worked for him. And it was a rush, you see. The master had arranged a contract for the wood with whoever it was he bought that villa from in Gaul. But only if there was enough room left over on the ship after all the household goods were loaded on. And it turned out unexpectedly there was. But of course the ship is due to sail for Gaul today, if the wind allows. So if we got the timber on the carts and it reached the docks in time, there would be an as or two for everyone out of the profits as a small reward. But we weren’t to breathe a word to anyone who hadn’t been involved.’
Georgicus shook his head. ‘Especially not to me?’
‘It was a secret, as I said before. And of course, we thought you knew about it anyway.’ He gazed at his overseer with eyes that brimmed with tears.
‘But they told you, of all people – although you weren’t involved, I think?’
‘I couldn’t help but know about it, captain. I was there when they came over to the forest to start to the pile.’ The voice was tremulous. ‘Though, anyway, I was a little bit involved. I brought a branch of pine-wood for the wood-pile, just in case.’ The tears were spilling over and running down his cheeks, but his arms were still imprisoned and he could not dry his face. ‘But now it seems there wasn’t any tip in any case.’
‘You really believed that, didn’t you, you poor little idiot!’ Georgicus released him, stood up and spoke to me. ‘Citizen, it’s clear that Tenuis is telling us the truth, as he understands it. And it’s true that the steward might have over-ridden me if he thought he was serving the master’s interests. But it’s preposterous. Who on earth would want to pay a contract price for bits of fallen wood, which anyone could go into the forest and collect up for themselves? Let alone pay extra to the land-slaves doing it?’
The Fateful Day Page 7