The message, when it finally appeared, was not written on my patron’s fancy writing-block, it was written on the one which had contained the threat. Marcus had symbolically obliterated it by warming up the wax and scratching over it. It was not what I’d expected, and I was sure it was not wise – there was now no proof of what the original had said. But it was clearly too late now. He hadn’t even attached his seal to it, merely tied it with the fraying cords which were affixed.
It was delivered to me by a pretty little page – one of my patron’s recent purchases – whom I’d not seen before and who had nothing whatever to report.
‘No further message?’
The servant shook his head. ‘Master says that you’ll know what to do with it.’
I gazed at the wax tablet. Could it tell me anything? It had been handsome, once, with carving on the frame – clearly the possession of a wealthy man. I had seen such things before, imported at some cost for private customers, who might in fact buy several at a time. It might be possible to trace who’d purchased it, if the original importer could be found, though it was clearly very old and worn. Besides, the recipient of a message, where there is no reply, is often expected to keep the tablet as a gift – as Marcus had effectively just done, himself – so this one might have changed hands several times by now, or even been collected from a rubbish pile.
My thoughts were interrupted by the page. ‘Citizen, if you are ready to depart, your attendant is already awaiting you outside,’ the boy said, sweetly, pulling back the inner door. ‘I’ll show you out to him. And then, if you’ll excuse me, I have other tasks to do. My master is expecting dinner guests tonight.’
I paused mid-pace and turned to stare at him. ‘The household is expecting visitors?’ Any one of which could be the letter-writer, I thought bitterly. How like Marcus not to think of that – or mention it to me.
The boy gazed innocently back at me. Clearly he was not in his master’s confidence and saw no threat at all. And I knew Marcus was anxious to behave as if everything was normal in the house. So how should I proceed? I chose my words with care.
‘Tell your owner to be careful whom he invites here from now on,’ I said.
The boy looked startled. ‘Citizen! I would not dare to speak to him like that.’
‘Tell him it’s a message from Libertus.’ His face was still doubtful and I pressed the point. ‘Warn him from me that the times are dangerous. After all, the Emperor Pertinax is dead. Your master may have hidden enemies.’
A disbelieving smile curved the pretty lips. ‘Oh, these are ancient friends. Councillor Varius Quintus Flavius and his brother Claudius.’
I nodded. I slightly knew the councillor concerned – handsome, charming and ruthless as a bull. ‘A long-standing invitation?’ It occurred to me that Marcus had ruled against him once in a legal wrangle pertaining to some land. Yet apparently it had not crossed my patron’s mind that the man might be the author of the note. ‘I did not know His Excellence had been in touch with anyone in the colonia as yet.’
The page was already opening the outer door. ‘He did not contact Varius, citizen. Varius sent to him. He sent a messenger requesting an urgent audience – something about hoping to speed up a hearing in the courts – but the master was still weary from his travelling and didn’t want to go into the town, so he invited Varius and his brother to dine here next day.’
‘But they did not come?’ That was disquieting. A sign that Marcus’s status had declined.
‘There was a sudden sickness in the house and they sent again to say they could not come that night, so His Excellence renewed the invitation for today. It gave them time for the malady to pass and if they really wanted him, they would ignore the Ides, he said. Besides, he’s decided that he wants them to be witnesses of some document that he is drawing up – he has to have Roman citizens for that. I thought that’s why he might have wanted you.’
‘I would not have been suitable at all,’ I said. It sounded deprecating but it was the truth – since the document was almost certainly the one he’d told me of and I could not be a witness since it appointed me. ‘Nonetheless,’ I went on firmly, ‘since he has guests tonight, please pass my message on. Tell him – from me – to keep armed slaves around him at all times and advise him, in particular, not to partake of any gifts of food or wine. Not without employing a slave as food-taster.’
‘If you say so, citizen,’ the pageboy said, in a tone which made me doubt that he would do so, even now. ‘And now – if you permit, my master is waiting for me to help him change and wash his feet before he eats.’ And nothing, he implied, must keep Marcus from his food. ‘This way, citizen.’ He gestured me firmly towards the entrance court.
I longed to speak to Marcus and warn him of my fears, but there was nothing I could do. I sighed and allowed the page to usher me outside. I collected my own servant, who was waiting in the lane. ‘Home!’ I told him, and together we set off down the wooded lane. ‘I’ve got to go to Glevum, but the way leads past our gate.’ Besides, I would have to tell my wife where I was going.
How one event can change an atmosphere! Only a little earlier – on the way to Marcus’s – I had revelled in the beauty of the stony lane dappled with sunlight through the bright green leaves and the summer forest, still and silent as a sleeping slave. Now all at once, the woods seemed menacing. I was convinced that there were unseen eyes trained on me from the trees and the undergrowth seemed full of rustlings. I was glad that I had brought an attendant slave with me, though I’d only done so for convention’s sake. Such things – like the clumsy toga that I wore – were expected when calling on His Excellence.
It was little Tenuis who was escorting me today. As the newest and youngest of my household he had been the easiest to spare from other chores and he was intensely proud of being chosen for the task, stalking along in his new tunic like a midget Emperor and swaggering mightily. He could not have been more than five or six years old, at most, so naturally I didn’t tell him anything about my interview – time enough to worry him if anything occurred. Instead, I encouraged him to talk.
The child had been a land-slave before he came to me, and had not been trained in household protocol. So, although he’d now learned to wait respectfully till he was spoken to, once he’d started talking he was hard to stop. Perversely, that was what I was now relying on. If there was anyone loitering nearby, his piping voice would make it clear that I was not alone. (Not that Tenuis would be of any help in fighting off attack, but he was small and slippery as an eel. If nothing else, he could scuttle off and fetch rescue from the house.) So I asked the boy how they’d received him at the villa we’d just left (where he’d once been an outside servant of no account at all) and he prattled cheerfully.
‘Oh they treated me with more respect than you’d believe, master – though only because I now belong to you. Do you know they even offered me some buttermilk and a piece of new-baked bread …’
I listened to his burblings with only half an ear while I scanned the forest for any signs of the watchers that I feared were hiding there. I was beginning to conclude that my qualms weren’t justified when, just as we rounded the corner towards the enclosure where my roundhouse lay, I glimpsed a darting movement in the trees. Animal or human? I could not be sure, but suspicion was enough. I decided in that instant that – since I was forced to go to town – the safest method was to ride there on my mule. Arlina is not the fastest animal alive, but she moves more quickly than I can walk myself – and can deliver a fearsome kick, besides.
I had travelled the road to Glevum many hundred times but suddenly the prospect seemed a daunting one. The track ran for miles through unfrequented woods, and I was acutely conscious, all at once, of how few people ever went that way and of how narrow, steep and treacherous the path can be in parts: ideal for an ambush, if such a thing were planned. And it was already well past noon. If I was to go to the colonia, I must do so soon – it was possible that at the garrison I would be forced to wait some time. The daytime hours are longer at this time of the year but today, of all days, I did not want to be returning in the dusk!
So, as soon as I got home I went inside ready to announce that I was leaving instantly, but I found my assembled family sitting round the fire. Gwellia, my wife, was fussing over the new infant in its mother’s arms while my adopted son, Junio, and his two-year-old boy tucked into the fresh oatcakes that had been baked for them.
‘Ah, Father, there you are at last. Come and see your pretty little grandson,’ Cilla, the new mother, called out to me at once. ‘We’ve saved some oatcakes for you and there’s fresh bread and cheese.’
I shook my head. ‘I’m afraid I cannot stay. I’m obliged to take a message to the garrison at once.’
Gwellia frowned. ‘Could not your patron have excused you that today?’
‘It’s urgent business but it should not take too long.’ I hoped I sounded more convincing than I felt. ‘It’s just a message to the commandant.’
‘Poor Father. Forced to go to Glevum, and on the Ides as well. I can just imagine it,’ Cilla said, and added, in a wonderful imitation of my patron’s voice, ‘Just a small commission for you, my old friend!’
Everybody laughed. She was famous for her mimicry – and knew Marcus well, of course. She had been a slave-girl at the villa once, just as Junio had been a slave of mine. (When I freed him and adopted him, he’d gained my rank, of course, and she’d become a citizen when she married him.)
Today, however, her clowning did not make me smile. ‘It’s a serious matter. I will try to hurry back. I’ll take my toga off and ride the mule to town.’
Gwellia made a little face at me. ‘Trust Marcus to find an errand which must be done at once, so you don’t have time to eat. I’ll wrap some oatcakes for you, to stave off hunger-pangs.’ It was typical of Gwellia to be concerned for me. Of course, she had no notion that there might be a threat, and I certainly wasn’t going to worry her with that – especially in front of our young visitors.
However, while she was busy wrapping the food in a clean cloth and Tenuis was saddling up my animal, I stepped out to the round hut where I kept my tools and took the unusual precaution of sliding a knife into my belt – a very sharp one which I used for pruning trees. My intention was to hide it underneath my cape: carrying a potential weapon in a public place is a serious offence for civilians like myself.
Unfortunately Gwellia had followed me outside, and caught me in the act. ‘What are you doing, husband?’ she exclaimed. Her face was horrified. ‘Dear gods! A knife! What’s Marcus said to you? I knew that there was something that you weren’t telling us. Are there Druid rebels in the woods again?’
I shook my head. ‘Not that I know of,’ I said truthfully – though I was less honest when I added, ‘but it’s the Ides of June – and there are bears about. The general omens are so dreadful nowadays, I felt that some protection would be wise.’
She gave me a look that told me she was not convinced. ‘Don’t get yourself arrested. If anyone sees you carrying that blade in town, there would be Dis to pay. You won’t even have the automatic protection of a toga! Are you sure you shouldn’t wear it after all?’
She had a point of course – the garment marks a Roman citizen and usually offers some protection from arbitrary arrest – but I shook my head. ‘It is not a suitable garment in which to ride a mule for miles in difficult terrain. Besides, if I did encounter any savage beasts a toga would be nothing but an encumbrance.’ I sounded pompous, even to myself, and Gwellia frowned at me.
‘That’s nonsense and you know it. There’s something else afoot. I don’t like this at all. Surely your patron could wait an hour or two and let you deliver his famous note tomorrow, when the shops are open and you’re in town anyway?’ She saw me shake my head and said impatiently, ‘And I wish at least you’d tell me why you feel you need a knife! You’ve never worried about meeting bears before – has there been someone savaged recently?’
I decided I could tell her a little of the truth – though not about the threat to Marcus, and possibly myself. ‘The fact is, wife, the times are dangerous. Marcus says the garrison is planning to move on – in support of our provincial governor, who does not accept the reign of Didius and wants to claim the purple for himself.’
Gwellia looked appalled. ‘But surely that is treason? The Emperor will send his troops from Rome and decimate the ranks.’
‘Only if they lose!’ I tried to turn the matter to a jest. ‘Marcus seems to think the present situation cannot last in any case.’ I confided what my patron had told me about the chaotic situation in the capital and the two pretenders set to march on Rome.
‘That sounds like civil war! Thank all the gods that we live far away!’
I nodded. ‘Though even in Britannia we may not escape. Marcus had a message from the garrison commander today, saying that he intends to march his legion to Londinium at once. They won’t set off this afternoon, because it is the Ides, but it could be as soon as tomorrow possibly: so if this reply is going to reach him there’s no time to lose. Though you’re not to mention this to anybody else.’
‘I see.’ She glanced towards the knife which I had thrust into my belt. ‘And that? You’re not going to join the fighting personally, I suppose?’
I shook my head. ‘But once the army’s gone – and it seems they’ll only leave a small detachment here, at most – who knows what one might encounter on the roads? Marcus thinks it’s an invitation to criminals and thieves.’
Gwellia sighed. ‘He may be right. Then you must take a slave with you – I know you did not plan to, but husband, I insist. I only wish that Minimus was here, he’s bigger and would be a better guard, but I sent him to the spring for water and Kurso, the kitchen slave, has gone out with the goats – so it will have to be young Tenuis, I suppose. Better a small slave than nobody at all.’
I made a face at her. I wasn’t keen to take the boy this time – he hated being on the mule and was afraid of crowds. ‘He’s far too young and little to be of any help. He isn’t strong enough to stop a chicken in its tracks! What use would he be, if anything occurred?’
‘He’s quick and nimble.’ Gwellia could look and sound determined when she tried. ‘He could run for help – and two people are always safer on the paths than one.’
That was so exactly what I had thought myself, on the way back from the villa, that I could not help but smile.
She seized on that at once and said triumphantly, ‘So that’s decided. Just as well I’ve put sufficient oatcakes in for two!’ She thrust the bag at me. ‘And I wish you’d take your toga – though I don’t suppose you will. Otherwise they might not let you inside the garrison.’
I shook my head. ‘If Marcus is correct about the legion moving on, nobody’s going to let me see the commandant in person, anyway. All I need to do is hand in the writing-block and wait for a reply. But I will take Tenuis, if you insist – though I’m sure there is no need.’
‘I wish I could believe you, since you insist on carrying that knife. Don’t shake your head like that. I know you far too well. I’m sure there’s something else you’re not telling me.’ She turned away, avoiding my embrace and led the way to the enclosure gate, where Tenuis was already waiting with the mule. The boy stepped forward to hand the reins to me, but Gwellia shook her head. ‘You’re going with your master, Tenuis. I’ll tend our guests myself.’
Tenuis glanced nervously at me. Both of us would rather that he’d stayed at home, but I nodded glumly. ‘You will come with me.’ And since he was a slave there could be no argument.
Gwellia said gruffly, ‘Just get home safely, that is all I ask.’ She turned away and went back to the house, not even pausing to wave us on our way.
Perhaps Marcus was right, I thought gloomily as I climbed onto Arlina’s back and settled an unwilling Tenuis up in front of me. Ordinary ordered life was breaking down. Here was I – a generally peaceable and law-abiding man – riding to Glevum on an ill-omened day, clutching a slave who didn’t want to come, refusing to confide in my beloved wife, and defying the authorities by carrying a blade. No wonder Gwellia was affronted and upset.
I resolved that when I got back home I’d tell her everything – supposing that I did get back unharmed! Gwellia was resourceful and intelligent. She might have some suggestions as to how I could best smuggle that young family away – though I could imagine what she would say about that assignment when she knew!
But it was too late for regrets. I turned my attention to urging on the mule.