A Roman Ransom Read online

  Pulcrus looked as though he wanted to protest, but seeing Marcus’s face he clearly thought better of it, and the last we saw of him he was standing forlornly at the cottage gate as we lurched and jolted back along the lane towards the villa, where the escort party was by this time no doubt awaiting our return.

  Chapter Sixteen

  They were. As soon as we drew up at the gate Philades came bustling out to greet us with the news. ‘The guards from Glevum have arrived with their prisoner, Excellence. They came some time ago.’ There was a sort of suppressed excitement in his tone. He was clearly bursting with importance at having been asked to act on Marcus’s behalf, but it was more than that – the air of a man who’s staked a fortune on the dice, and knows that he is just about to win. He was smiling fulsomely at my patron as he spoke. He ignored me utterly.

  Marcus nodded tetchily. He had summoned Malodius to the carriage door, and was giving instructions about where to put the grisly cargo and the blanket from the cart, and which group of land slaves he was then to transport to Myrna’s house as guards. The medicus had all but interrupted him. Anyone else would have earned a sharp rebuke for having spoken out of turn, but the doctor – as usual – seemed immune from reprimand.

  Philades seemed oblivious of possible offence. He was still buoyed up by that curious energy. ‘I had the girl locked up as you required,’ he went on, ‘but as soon as I heard that your carriage had arrived, I instructed them to take her to the atrium. I trust that meets with your approval? I thought it would be more convenient for you to question her in there.’

  Marcus assented with a dismissive nod. ‘We have found Myrna,’ he said wearily. ‘You’d better have a look at her a little later on – although there’s nothing you can do for her just now.’ He had descended from the carriage, and Junio was assisting me to do the same.

  Philades did not even spare a glance for that pathetic, shrouded figure on the cart. ‘I will be extremely glad to, Excellence, whenever you command. But here are your two serving boys to escort you to the house. The prisoner is being taken to the atrium as we speak. I have ordered wine and dates for you, and a folding chair as well.’

  Maximus and Minimus had come out to us by now, and my patron – in the absence of his page – allowed them to escort him to the house and bring some perfumed water so we could rinse our hands and faces. ‘We’ll have a stool for Libertus, too,’ he said to Minimus, handing him the linen towel. ‘I want him to be present when I interview this girl. With the permission of the medicus, of course.’

  I had my own face in the water bowl by now, so I could not see the expression on the doctor’s face. I expected him to veto such a plan, and I was so tired that I would not have cared, but to my surprise I heard him say, ‘That might be very wise. I think that he should see her. It is possible that there are some interesting questions to be asked.’ He paused, and as I straightened up and leaned on Junio, he added, with a curious little smile, ‘But obviously, Excellence, that is for you to judge.’

  It was clear that this last remark was somehow aimed at me, but in my fuddled state I had no notion what he meant. I did not even know who this famous captive was – since it clearly wasn’t the wet nurse after all. I had searched my mind the whole way back and had come to the conclusion that Myrna’s sister was the most likely candidate – and I had no association with her of any kind. As far as I was aware, I’d never seen the girl, though I admit to feeling curious to meet her now.

  But it wasn’t Myrna’s sister. I followed Marcus and his little red-haired slaves into the atrium, and saw the girl led in. I was still leaning heavily on Junio’s arm, and perhaps it was convenient that I was – I might have fallen otherwise, from shock.

  ‘Cilla?’ I could not believe my eyes. It was my own wife’s attendant, gagged and bound and looking terrified – as well she might. She was surrounded by four soldiers, all with daggers drawn; and one of them also held a length of heavy chain, which had been secured round her waist and wrists, and by which she had evidently been dragged along. Her forearms and knees were grazed and streaked with dirt, her face was muddy and her new tunic was torn. She looked a sorry sight.

  All the same, she was defiant still. Her eyes were flashing and she was struggling to speak. Marcus looked as surprised as I was to see Cilla there, but he evidently intended to conduct things formally. He settled himself magisterially on the carved folding chair which Maximus had brought, gestured for the doctor and myself to sit on either side, and gave the signal to tear away the gag.

  They pushed the girl before us, with a shove that made her stagger. ‘Master?’ the girl said breathlessly to me, as soon as she could speak. ‘Tell them to let me go. I’m innocent. They claim that I’m in contact with this Lallius, but I’ve never seen or spoken to the man, and I haven’t been inside the house, I keep on telling them.’

  The burliest of the guards gave her a savage shake. ‘Be silent, girl. Speak when you are spoken to, and not until – and when you do, address His Excellence. You’ve called on his protection, I recall. So why are you now appealing to this citizen?’ I saw him exchange a look with Philades.

  My patron intervened before I had a chance to speak at all. He sounded weary. ‘She was my slave once. I gave her as a gift to this citizen and his wife. I am his patron, so the girl is right to call on both of us. Let her go.’

  The burly guard looked almost mutinous. He glanced at Philades again as if in mute appeal, but, finding no assistance there, put away his dagger and signalled to the others to sheathe theirs. ‘We’ll have to get an ironsmith to strike off that chain,’ he muttered, as he dropped his end of it with a deliberate clatter on the floor. ‘It isn’t my fault, Excellence, if we arrested one of yours. You asked us to detain anyone who visited the coin inspector’s house – and she was lurking in the street outside at dawn. And it was not the first time. She was there last night as well.’

  ‘Is this true, Cilla?’ Marcus was more severe than I have ever heard him sound. ‘What were you doing there?’

  ‘Obeying my mistress’s commands,’ the slave-girl said, and I felt a shock run down my spine – quickly followed by a shiver of relief. I remembered what the messenger had said. There had been an older woman seen with the prisoner late the night before. I had supposed, at the time, that it was the old woman with the herbs, but suddenly I was delirious with hope.

  ‘Gwellia was with you?’ I blurted. It wasn’t my place to interrupt, but the words were forced out of me.

  Cilla shook her head. ‘Not at that moment, master. That was the whole idea . . .’ She looked somewhat nervously around her at the guards, and then turned to Marcus. ‘May I speak frankly, Excellence? Without fear of punishment?’

  Marcus was unsmiling. ‘Your best hope of avoiding punishment is to be as frank as possible. What is it you are wishing to confess? You had some secret reason for visiting the house? Some conspiratorial errand on your mistress’s behalf?’

  ‘It was for my master, really,’ Cilla said, and despite the fact that I was sitting on a stool I felt as if the ground had given under me. I swayed and felt Junio’s supporting hand against my back.

  ‘Some business of your master’s? That’s what you’re telling me?’ Marcus didn’t look at me but I could sense he felt betrayed.

  ‘Patron, I know nothing of this,’ I murmured in despair. I glanced towards him, but he had turned away and refused to meet my eyes. Philades, beside him, was looking flushed and smug.

  ‘Excellence, I don’t know how freely I can speak,’ Cilla went on. ‘My mistress told me the matter was not to be divulged, except in private to my master and yourself. That’s why I refused to tell them anything.’ She gestured at the guards.

  Marcus dismissed her scruples crisply. ‘I have no secrets from this company. What have you got to say?’

  Cilla took a deep breath. She was still bound and bedraggled, but she spoke with dignity. ‘It is about Lallius – the coin inspector’s son. You were’ – she looked around at he
r expectant audience and went on – ‘obliged to release him yesterday, I understand.’

  There was an uncomfortable muttering among the listeners in the room. I suspected that this was news to most of them.

  Marcus had turned crimson. ‘There was an irregularity in the formula of the preliminary trials,’ he snapped. ‘Several cases had to be withdrawn. The high priest of Jupiter himself demanded it.’ He glanced around. You could almost feel the tension in the atrium. ‘The law is no concern of yours. How dare you speak of that?’

  He was impressive in his anger, but Cilla was not cowed. She had been a servant in this house, and she knew Marcus well enough to know that – given time – he would not be deliberately unjust. She knelt before him, forehead to his feet. ‘Excellence, forgive me, but I did suggest a private interview,’ she ventured, in a humble voice.

  Marcus gave a sharp, impatient sigh. ‘Oh, very well. Perhaps, after all, I should hear this girl in camera. Slaves, guards, attendants – leave us. Go and wait outside. Libertus – as her owner – you may stay.’

  Since, without the help of Junio, I could no more have struggled to my feet and walked than used my arms to fly, this was perhaps a wise decision on his part. However, there was no time to feel relief, because my patron added instantly, ‘You too, medicus.’

  The servants and the soldiers straggled out until only the burly captain of the guard remained. Then Marcus had the folding screen pulled to – to the chagrin of those now left outside, whose curiosity had clearly been aroused.

  ‘Now!’ Marcus said. He sounded furious. ‘What is this all about? You have caused me public embarrassment. I hope you have good reason for it, or I shall have you flogged.’

  I longed to point out that he’d invited her to speak, but I didn’t dare. Instead I ventured to express what I’d deduced. ‘Gwellia sent you to the house today to discover what you could about Lallius because she knew His Excellence had sought my help in finding out who sent the ransom note. Is that it, Cilla? Something of the kind?’

  She was still kneeling on the floor, but now she raised her head. She looked relieved. ‘Master, I knew you’d understand. When . . .’

  Philades interrupted scornfully. ‘Do not believe it, Excellence,’ he said. ‘The citizen is putting words into her mouth.’

  Marcus quelled him with a look. ‘Go on,’ he said to Cilla. ‘When . . .?’

  She took a deep breath, and the words came in a rush. ‘When the oil-delivery man arrived with your message telling the mistress not to come here yesterday, she was upset, of course. She called me to her side. “There’s something more to this than my husband’s being ill,” she said. “He would want me by his side if he was sick, and anyway he was clearly on the mend. And why not send Junio if there was a message for this house? There’s something new afoot, I’m sure of it. Well, I can’t sit here all night and not attempt to help. What would Libertus do, if he was here?” I said that I supposed he’d go and ask some questions, and she replied, “Exactly, and that’s precisely what we’re going to do, as well. That oil cart is going to Glevum, so the driver can take us there. We can make a few enquiries in the morning and come back on foot. Perhaps I’ll have something to tell them at the villa when I go.”’ Cilla paused. ‘So that is what we did. The driver didn’t mind.’

  Philades was derisive. ‘And you expect us to believe this tale? She suddenly decides to go to Glevum, all alone, where nobody’s expecting her – and in the dusk, as well?’

  Cilla looked defiantly at him. ‘Well, obviously she didn’t go alone. She took me and Kurso with her. She was all prepared to leave the house in any case – because she was intending to come here – and the animals were settled for the night. It didn’t take a minute to get on to the cart. And as for anyone expecting us, we hardly needed that. My master has a workshop in the town with a sleeping area over it, where he used to live. Of course, no one has slept there now for a moon or two, but when we got to Glevum my mistress sent Kurso ahead to beg bedstraw and some embers from neighbours round about so he could light a fire and warm the workshop up. You can ask the potter opposite, if you doubt my word. No doubt they would remember, because they gave him some.’

  I was almost light-headed with relief by now. Gwellia was safe in Glevum after all. That possibility had not occurred to me, though perhaps it should have done. She has been proud to help with my enquiries before, and has proved herself to be resourceful more than once.

  Marcus, however, was impatient with these domestic details. ‘What has all this to do with Lallius?’

  ‘I am coming to that, Excellence,’ the girl replied. ‘Kurso went ahead, as I say, but I stayed with my mistress. “Well, we’ve got to find out where this Lallius lives,” she said. “His father is the coin inspector, as I understand, so let’s start with that.” So we went into the forum, where he has his niche, but the stalls were closing down, and there was no sign of Numidius at all. Then we found an old man selling pots, and he said that Numidius had not been there for days and a younger man had been working there instead. “The old man’s desperately ill, from what I hear,” the potman said. “It’s not expected that he’ll last the night. They’re waiting for that boy of his to come, so they can start to make arrangements for the funeral.”’ She turned to Marcus. ‘You may already know this, Excellence, since they’ve appointed someone else to take his place. I don’t know the new coin inspector’s name – we didn’t think to ask – but any of the market police will tell you who it is.’

  I stared at Marcus. He had bowed his head and was scowling at the mosaic of Neptune on the floor, obviously as startled as he was furious. I should not care to be the commander of the guard, I thought. All his attention had been on finding Lallius at his house, and though his messenger had told us that no one but the slaves had come and gone all day, we had not seen the significance of his words. But of course we should have done – since, by implication, there was no sign of Numidius himself going about his usual business in the forum. Yet his illness was obviously no secret in the town. The briefest of enquiries would have established as much.

  ‘If the old man is too ill for visitors,’ I voiced my thoughts aloud, ‘he certainly was not sending ransom notes. And it would explain why there have been no callers at the house.’

  Marcus frowned. ‘Then it’s doubly surprising that Lallius has not come home. You would have expected him to come at once, if his father’s on his deathbed, wouldn’t you – even if they were not on the best of terms?’ Because Lallius as the only son would be the heir, he meant. Heirs are expected to do things properly – close the eyes and start off the lament, as well as arranging for elaborate biers, pyres, musicians, and the rest of it – often as a prerequisite of the inheritance.

  ‘Apparently they were always quarrelling,’ Cilla supplied, still from her position on the floor. ‘Lallius was too fond of gambling and wine, and he was dreadfully in debt, and his father was a very careful man. There were dreadful arguments. They almost came to blows quite recently and Lallius stormed out in a rage. He did attempt to make amends, as usual – sent his father an amphora of his favourite wine – but this time Numidius refused to pardon him, because Lallius had been charged with fighting in the street. The old man was furious at the disgrace.’

  ‘How do you know all this? I thought you claimed you had never spoken to the man or been into the house?’ The doctor barked the question before Marcus could.

  ‘I haven’t,’ Cilla said. ‘I spoke to one of Numidius’s slaves, that’s all. The potman pointed the woman out to us – she had come into the forum to buy some bread and fish. You know it’s always cheaper at the end of the day, and the household was in need of food, she said. Numidius was too ill to order things himself, so she had found a coin and come out to buy a few scraps for the slaves to eat, and meats for the funeral if it came to it. We walked back to the street with her and she showed us the house.’

  ‘So you admit that you were there last evening, and again today!’ Marcus h
ad relaxed enough by now to be picking at the dates and wine the doctor had sent for earlier. He made no attempt to share them, but I was reassured. Up until this moment he had been too tense to eat.

  ‘Excellence, I have not denied that I was in the street,’ my slave-girl said. ‘But I have never been inside the house. It was obvious the place was under guard. There was a group of soldiers on the corner of the road: they had been there all day, the servant said, and it was clearly Numidius’s house that they were watching. They questioned all the slaves when they went in and out. The cook-woman we spoke to said they’d stopped and questioned her the minute she left the house, and that was why she’d come to the market so late.’

  Marcus was looking furious again – but this time at the guard. ‘Surveillance of a property is not a lot of use if it is obvious to everyone that you’re watching it,’ he said. ‘So, Cilla, you saw the soldiers. What did you do then?’

  ‘Well, naturally we went away again – but not before they’d had a good look at us. It was clear that we’d get stopped if we went there again, so my mistress came up with a plan. I would go to the house, this morning, and make myself conspicuous outside. The guards would stop and question me, she said, and she would take the opportunity to approach the house. It worked, as well. As I was being marched away, I saw a servant let her in.’

  Philades had been listening impatiently to this and now he could contain himself no longer. ‘This is blatant nonsense, Excellence. The truth is clearly this – Libertus has some connection with Lallius. The girl has just admitted a conspiracy to avoid the guard, and get her mistress into Numidius’s house without their seeing her. Is that the action of an honest citizen?’

  I had been thinking that the girl’s account did not argue much intelligence on the watchers’ part. Obviously the same thing had occurred to the burly soldier, too, because a dull flush was creeping up around his ears and he looked so mortified that I was almost tempted to a smile. Knowing that Gwellia was safe had made that possible.