The Vestal Vanishes Read online

  ‘I leave that up to you.’ He gave a fleeting smile. ‘I’m sure you’ll find a way. You’ve done such things before.’

  I tried to protest that this was different. I didn’t know the woman or the man concerned (they did not even know each other, it appeared), both of them were strangers to the town, and the kidnapping – if that was what it was – had not happened here. But Marcus brushed aside such trivial complaints.

  ‘It cannot be as difficult as you pretend, old friend. She was seen this morning by lots of witnesses – according to the carriage-driver, anyway – and the carriage did not stop until it reached the city-gate. So she was either seized immediately before she left Corinium, or smuggled from the carriage as soon as it reached here. As long as you find her in a day or two – before Publius has to leave – I’m sure you’ll find the bridegroom generous in his gratitude.’

  I felt my throat go dry. Not only was I commanded to find the missing bride, but I was expected to do so in just ‘a day or two’. However, I was not in a position to refuse so I said, resignedly, ‘Very well, Excellence. I have no hopes of this, but – as ever – I am at your command. If you wish me to, I’ll go straight in and speak to Publius.’ At least it would give my poor numb feet a rest, I thought. My legs were almost dead with kneeling by this time. I started to get out.

  Marcus’s firm grasp on my arm prevented me. ‘But of course you can’t do that. The populace would see. This whole enquiry will have to be discreet.’

  ‘So I’ll have to wait until the games are over, Excellence? Obviously I must speak to Publius and I thought you wanted me to make a start at once?’

  ‘Of course I do.’ The baton was tapping on the leg again. ‘I suppose I can tell you what Publius told me – that might give you somewhere to begin . . .’ He broke off as his words were drowned out by another cheer. ‘Though I cannot be long. The fights are underway, and my absence will be noted, if I linger here.’

  I was as keen to move as he was. ‘What did Publius say?’

  Marcus was distracted – it was evident that his mind was already on the games – but he did his best. ‘When he got the message, he went outside the gate – the north one, which links up with the east road to Londinium – and met the carriage-driver who was waiting there and who, of course, had sent the messenger.’

  I nodded to show that I had understood.

  ‘The fellow was almost inarticulate with fear, but he claims he saw the Vestal into the coach himself and did not know that she was missing till he drew up outside the town. It took him only minutes to secure the horse, he says, but when he went to help her down he found that she was gone – together with her attendant and her dowry box. Of course he sent for Publius at once and also contacted the woman’s family – but they sent a slave to say that she was not with them. They were not expecting her until the feast was finished here.’

  ‘After Publius had presented her in public as his prospective bride?’

  ‘Exactly. The father of the family was here in Glevum, at the rites himself, but the rest of the household had remained at home and was preparing for the wedding later on today – but they had heard nothing from the Vestal.’

  ‘Or from her kidnappers? One might have expected a ransom note by now.’

  ‘That is what worried Publius most of all. He fears it may have been a bandit robbery, he said.’

  I knew what that implied. The penalty for robbery on the public road is crucifixion, ruthlessly applied, so victims of banditry are usually found dead – thus ensuring that they cannot testify. ‘So the bride may be in danger if he does not find her soon?’

  ‘Exactly. But where was Publius to look? He does not know the town. He found the paterfamilias – who was among the official guests of course and was walking to the games – and alerted him, and they came to find me quietly and ask me what I thought.’ He looked me in the eye. ‘I spoke most highly of your abilities, and obviously since Publius is a guest of mine . . .’

  I said nothing and went on saying it.

  He made a helpless little gesture with his hands. ‘You know, of course, that he’s been very generous? Not only the sacrificial bull and birthday games, but he’s promising to fund another fountain and some drains. And he gave me Fiscus as a gift. Under the circumstances . . .’ He gave my arm a pat. ‘I rely on you, Libertus.’ And to my astonishment, he pulled the drapes aside and gestured to Fiscus to assist him down.

  I scrambled after him, saying in an urgent whisper, ‘But, Excellence. What am I to do? You say I cannot speak to Publius.’

  ‘Start with the driver of the coach, perhaps?’ he hissed, impatiently.

  ‘Do you know where I can find him, Excellence? Or what he looks like? If he is at the gate, it won’t be easy even to discover which carriage-man it was, without asking questions . . .’

  Marcus paused to look at me at last, and shook his head. ‘That won’t be necessary. I believe that Publius had him seized and escorted back to the Vestal’s family home, where he is no doubt under lock and key. I am not entirely certain where the villa is, but I am sure that you can get directions to the place.’

  ‘Without attracting more suspicion?’ I enquired, trying to restore some life into my feet by stamping them discreetly on the ground. ‘If Publius had a driver arrested at the gates, that will have given rise to public comment as it is – without my drawing more attention to the incident and directing gossip towards the woman’s home.’

  Fiscus, who had withdrawn to stand discreetly to one side, came forward with a bow. ‘Masters, forgive me, I could not help but overhear. It is possible that I could assist the citizen. I have some notion of where the family live – my previous owner called upon them yesterday.’

  It was impertinent for a slave to interrupt but Marcus offered no rebuke. His face cleared instantly. ‘A good suggestion, Fiscus. You’ll attend this citizen and show him where to go – treat him as your master till I instruct you otherwise. In the meantime, I must hurry to the games.’ He motioned to his other pages, a pair of matching blond boys, who were waiting by the wall, and went to turn away.

  I prevented him from leaving by falling on one knee so that he was obliged to present me with his ring to kiss. ‘And my own family, Excellence?’ I murmured. ‘Will you send them word? They will think I’ve been arrested if I do not return – they saw me detained by the sentry at the gate.’

  A look of irritation flashed across his face – the roar from the amphitheatre was louder all the time and he was clearly anxious to be gone – but he said readily enough, ‘I’ll send one of my pages to let them know you’re safe – as soon as they have escorted me into the games.’ He motioned me to rise. ‘Report to me at my country house, when you get back, and let me know what you have managed to find out. Perhaps tomorrow. I may be late tonight. I am invited to a birthday feast with Publius’s family and I’ve not heard that it’s cancelled.’

  I got up clumsily. The feeling was coming back into my lower legs, though my foot was still inclined to buckle under me. ‘It may take me a little time to reach the house in any case,’ I said. ‘It is some way to walk.’

  Marcus, who never parted willingly with cash, reached into the purse he carried at his waist and seemed about to fetch some money out. Then his face cleared, and he shook his head. ‘You can have this litter to take you over there – I have reserved if for my personal use this afternoon. I will send the bearers out to you – I gave them permission to watch the games a while – and when you get to the villa you can send them back to me.’

  ‘And when I have finished there? How shall I get home?’

  He waved a lofty hand. ‘Doubtless the bride’s household have a wagon you could use. You may tell them that I suggested it. Now, be off with you, or it will be too late – for you to ask questions, and for me to see the fights.’

  And this time, accompanied by his slaves, he disappeared into the games. A moment later I heard the general cheer that welcomed his appearance in the official box. It was
not until this moment that it occurred to me that I had not remembered to ask about the names of the family that I was intending to approach. Fiscus, when I asked him, was no help at all – on his visit to the house he had been whisked off to the back and entertained with watered wine and cheese in the servant’s sleeping room.

  ‘They talked about the master and mistress, that was all,’ he said. ‘They didn’t mention names.’ An idea so obvious that I should have thought of it.

  I aimed a frustrated kick towards the mounting block, but my dead leg almost crumpled under me.

  There was an ironic jeering from behind us and I turned to see a little crowd of urchins, pie-sellers and curious spectators who had clearly stopped to watch the unlikely spectacle of a pair of citizens crammed into a litter that was not going anywhere. So much for Marcus’s idea of being secretive!

  With such dignity as I could muster I got into the chair, and gestured to Fiscus to find the carriers. After a moment, he came back with them. They were visibly disappointed at being forced to leave, but – like me – they could hardly disobey an order from Marcus Septimus, and with very little grumbling they lifted me aloft.

  Fiscus had to trot beside the chair, of course, and give the bearers directions where to go, but he was athletic and they were young and strong so it was a good deal quicker than my walking to the place, especially when one leg refused to work. I lay back on the cushions and enjoyed the ride.

  It must have been rather less than half an hour before we jolted to a stop and I pulled back the litter-curtains to see that we had halted outside a pleasant country house.

  FOUR

  It was a compact villa, compared to my patron’s vast and rambling one: an attractive single-storey building with two rearward-facing wings, and just a gatehouse and small courtyard in the front, although an adjacent piece of farmland was clearly part of the estate, since a single-cart track led right through the fields to what was presumably another entrance at the back. A half-dozen young land-slaves were leaning on their hoes looking at us with interest from beyond the hedge – till a cursing foreman strode up with a whip, whereupon they turned reluctantly to work.

  The feeling had come back into my feet by now, so as soon as my conveyance was safely on the ground I permitted Fiscus to assist me out of it. But before I had taken a single step towards the house the doorkeeper had come out of the small stone cell where he kept watch and – to my surprise – was hurrying to meet us, wearing the broadest smile of welcome I have ever seen.

  It was just as well, because he was otherwise a most forbidding sight. Unusually for a man who kept the gates (who are most often hairy giants) he was small and squarish, with a bald head that glistened like a wet ballista ball, but what he lacked in size he clearly made up for in strength. His short orange tunic strained across his chest, powerful legs bulged above the heavy boots, the sinews in his arms were like twisted strands of rope and he carried a huge club as if it were a twig. This was a man who could repel unwanted visitors. But there was the smile.

  In fact I was so encouraged by this sign of friendliness that I gestured to the carrying-slaves that they were free to go, although I had previously asked them to delay until I was admitted to the house: I had no wish to be stranded miles from anywhere down a narrow country lane. They were obviously anxious to get back to the games and at my signal they picked up the litter and set off at a run.

  I turned back towards the gatekeeper, a word of cheerful greeting already on my lips, but as he saw my face the smile dissolved like smoke.

  ‘Citizen.’ He fidgeted a little with his club. ‘I didn’t . . . that is . . . the toga – I should have realized.’ He stared from Fiscus and the scarlet uniform, to my much-laundered garments with disapproving disbelief. ‘I don’t believe I know you, after all. You have some business here?’

  My heart sank lower than my sandal-soles. I had been overhasty in letting the litter-bearers go. It did not take an oracle to see the problem here.

  ‘You were expecting Publius?’ I asked, pacifically. ‘Of course. And no doubt my attendant confirmed you in that thought. He tells me he came here with his owner yesterday. I expect you recognized him, despite his change of uniform.’

  The doorkeeper looked distrustfully at me, tapping his left palm with his club meanwhile – so hard that it made my fingers twitch in sympathy. ‘I did,’ he growled at last, evidently deciding that – since I had Fiscus at my side – I should at least be permitted to explain. ‘I saw him running by the litter and naturally I thought that the esteemed Publius and the lady Audelia had come.’

  ‘So that the marriage would take place after all?’ I prompted. I hoped to lure him into saying something that would help, by indicating that I knew about the problem with the bride. ‘No wonder you were pleased. No doubt you intended to escort them in, yourself – and maybe earn a quadrans as the bearer of good news?’ I ventured a confidential smile. ‘I understand your feelings perfectly. I was once a slave myself.’

  He shot me a wry look, as if we shared a secret now, but his manner thawed. ‘More than a quadrans, citizen. A silver coin at least. If you had been the bride and groom, it would have been such a wonderful relief, especially to the mistress – but to all of us, as well. I thought for a moment that our problems had all been sorted out . . .’ He broke off suddenly, as if he’d said too much and a red flush of embarrassment ran up the hairless neck. He began weighing the cudgel in his palm again. ‘But how did you know a wedding had even been proposed? I thought the guests were sworn to secrecy. Were you invited?’

  I took a step backwards, more because of the action of his club than because I was offended by his words, but he seemed to acknowledge that he’d sounded impolite.

  ‘Forgive the challenge, citizen, but that is what a doorkeeper is for, especially in a circumstance like this. I ask again, were you invited to the marriage feast? I understood that only a small selected group were asked – just seven of the magistrates and senior councillors – enough to be the witnesses the law demands. But clearly from your clothing you are not one of them.’

  Fiscus was looking absolutely shocked at this, but it was evident that the doorkeeper meant no disrespect. He was merely talking candidly, now that he knew that I was once a slave myself. And it was true, my toga’s lack of any purple stripe showed that I was not a man of noble Roman birth and – though it was newly-cleaned in honour of the day – it did not dazzle with the expensive spotlessness expected of a candidate in public life.

  So I did not bridle and issue a rebuke, as my attendant clearly expected that I would. I simply made a wry face and observed that I was just a simple tradesman-citizen and could not afford to send my toga to the fuller’s twice a moon.

  Fiscus looked affronted and stared hard at the ground but the doorkeeper made a sympathetic noise. ‘In that case, are you some kind of distant relative? I know that there are other branches of the family here in Britannia but I’d heard that – since they weren’t people of any consequence – they were either not invited or had declined to come. But if you are one of them, let me have your name and I’ll enquire if the mistress will permit you to come in.’

  This suggestion that I was of no account was not a compliment either, but – to Fiscus’s growing horror – I responded with a smile. Even if the gateman turned me from the door, I wanted at least to lure him into saying something more. I had hopes of learning the family’s name, at least, though I dared not show my ignorance by asking him outright. He had already told me – without intending to – that the bride was called Audelia, and I’d also learned much about the household’s attitudes.

  ‘I am not a member of the family,’ I said. ‘I have been sent here by His Excellence, Marcus Aurelius Septimus, to try to find out what happened to the bride. My attendant here will bear me out, I’m sure.’ I gestured at Fiscus who briefly raised his eyes, nodded grimly, and then went back to gazing at his feet. I turned a wheedling smile onto the gatekeeper. ‘Would it be possible for you to l
et us in?’

  The man looked doubtful. ‘Well, I don’t know I’m sure. There’s not a slave to spare that I can send to ask. Wait here and I will go and make enquiries myself.’ And before I could answer he had gone inside the gate and barred the entrance firmly in my face.

  I glanced at Fiscus but he would not meet my eyes. He would never have endured this kind of greeting in his life, and was doubtless mortified at finding himself in attendance to a mere ex-slave. I would have to tell him sometime that – among my own people – I was a nobleman before I was captured into slavery. But in the meantime I was glad that he was there. Without him, I suspected, I would have been turned away before I’d had the opportunity to say a word.

  There was a short uncomfortable silence while we stood there in the lane and I was just beginning to calculate how long it would take us to walk back to the town, when the doorman reappeared. From the haste with which he opened wide the gate and ushered us inside, I deduced that he had been reprimanded for not admitting us at once. The name of Marcus Septimus had no doubt worked its charm.

  The gatekeeper was all obsequious helpfulness now, as he led us through the court. ‘I am sorry, citizen, that there is no page to show you in. The whole of the household is in disarray not knowing whether there will be a wedding feast or not – or whether the whole banquet will be cancelled after all. But I see there is a maidservant waiting at the door, she will escort you and show you where to wait. My mistress will be with you in just a little while.’