There was a silence, while I tried to catch my wits.
‘Father?’ Junio’s voice appeared to come from far away. I realized that I was goggling – literally goggling – staring open-eyed and slack-jawed with disbelief.
‘Father?’ The words were sharp with evident concern, but for a moment I could not answer him. This was a horror beyond imagining.
Such barbarous punishment is not unknown, of course. There are famous stories of it being used in Rome, to punish traitors or sometimes slaves convicted of a lie. The Emperor Commodus was even rumoured to have ordered it performed for the entertainment of his dinner guests – but it is not listed as an official penalty, even for those who speak against the Emperor.
In my long life I have seen it only once, and that was many, many years ago – inflicted by the pirates who captured me and sold me into slavery, and it was done to one of my fellow captives who complained too long and loud. What struck me most about that terrible event was the huge amount of blood – no wonder that Dasypyges had mentioned ‘lots of it’.
It is not invariably a death sentence, of course, which may be why the Roman system does not favour it. A few survive to be unhappy mutes. But most die, either from drowning in their own blood at once, or – like my hold-companion – linger for several agonizing days, and starve to death because they lack the means of swallowing. At least my poor slave’s fate was mercifully quick.
I did not share these frightful memories with my son – in fact, I could not have done so if I tried. The image of what must had happened to my unhappy slave was so appalling that – like him – I was deprived of speech, unable to contemplate such wanton cruelty.
‘Father?’ Junio’s voice was getting urgent now. ‘I knew this news would shock you – but should I call back Tenuis and use the mule to take you home? You have turned so pale …’
I forced myself to speak. ‘Why did you not tell me yesterday?’ It was all that I could manage to articulate, although I knew the answer before he uttered it.
‘I thought to spare you. I knew that the knowledge would only cost you sleep – and there was nothing whatever you could do, by then. The body was already on its way to be cremated on the pyre – so no proof is possible. And without it, this remains mere rumour – as the Senator would certainly point out. And who could contradict his version of events? The funeral guild will doubtless have been silenced by this time – if Hortius has not bribed them into feigning ignorance, he will have terrified them into it. And Marcus’s household dare not speak – at least while Hortius is in Britannia – for fear of bringing the same fate on themselves.’
‘But you believe the story?’ I cleared my throat and managed to go on. ‘It is so extreme it seems … improbable.’
‘I’m afraid I do. Why would the undertaker’s guild invent a thing like that? And it explains why Hortius was so keen to have the cremation straight away, whatever the expense. I don’t imagine for a moment that he genuinely feared he would attract bad luck by a delay. If Rastus was going to haunt him afterwards, it’s likely to be for ordering his death, rather than for leaving his corpse unburied on the Ides! Yet Hortius does not seem to have been troubled about that.’
‘Though it’s said that he’s superstitious,’ I put in. ‘Marcus is rather depending on that fact to keep him from the villa – at least until Julia and the babes are purified.’
Junio snorted. ‘Hortius would doubtless see that differently. Patrician birth, especially of twins, may be of some interest to the Fates – the death of a mere domestic tool would hardly trouble them. That is what my earliest master would certainly have thought. I’m not sure Hortius believes that slaves have souls at all. Besides, it is “the hand that strikes the murderous blow that draws the haunting ghost” – and I doubt that Hortius did the deed himself.’ He gave a mirthless grin. ‘You saw the escort he had with him at the birthday rites?’
I had. Great hulking fellows armed with clubs and knives. Presumably most were still quartered in the military inn, though some – at least – must have accompanied Hortius to my patron’s flat. I wondered how Marcus could accommodate these brutes. On mats beside their master’s bed, no doubt – there was little extra space in the servants’ sleeping room.
‘Such men would not be squeamish,’ Junio went on. ‘And would no doubt do anything he asked – dispensing “justice” at his lightest whim. In Rome he would have lictors to do exactly that—’ He broke off as little Tenuis came panting back towards us down the path.
I raised an eyebrow and tried to raise a smile. ‘What is it, Tenuis?’
‘Master, I was getting worried. You have been so long. I’ve tied Arlina to a tree …’ He looked uncertainly from me to Junio and back.
‘Just discussing matters. We are coming now.’ I forced a grin and waved him back along the track again. He looked reluctant, but he went dutifully away.
As we followed him slowly – the path was particularly steep and stony here – I turned to Junio. ‘Speaking of discussions, I suppose we should decide what we are going to do when we arrive in town. For one thing, I suggest we do not tell the other servants what you have just told me. It would disturb their dreams.’
‘Much better not to,’ Junio agreed, ‘and if they should hear the story on the street, we assure them it is rumour – which is strictly true. And wisest – I think – to pretend you have not heard yourself, when you speak to Hortius. It is enough to know he “accidentally” killed your slave. As it is, he’s put himself into an awkwardness – for which he will find it hard to forgive you, I expect.’
I had picked up a fallen branch (I generally do when I am forced to walk) to form a makeshift staff but I found myself switching with it at the verge. ‘I wish I weren’t compelled to meet him,’ I said savagely. ‘But if am to call on Marcus, I suppose I must!’ I decapitated several fronds of fern, wishing they were Hortius.
‘Then why visit Marcus?’
I paused in my vicarious execution of the plants to stare at him, surprised. ‘To tell him that Druscilla has arrived, of course – supposing that Lentigines has not got there first.’
‘I understand that, Father,’ he said patiently. ‘What I meant was, why do that yourself? Why not let me take the message to his flat? That way you are not obliged to meet the Senator until tomorrow at the slave-market! And, incidentally, no one can see you walking through the town to Marcus’s and then question your absence from the procession for the Ides. I assume that you weren’t planning to attend?’
I said, still flaying at the foliage, ‘I’ve had enough of processions to last a moon or more. And I’m certainly not anxious to parade for miles today, just to accompany a sacrificial lamb, however white and spotless it might be. But if I’m in town, I suppose I’d better go – or Hortius will denounce me for lack of piety. It would please him to have something to accuse me of.’
Juno shook his head. ‘Not if he’s not aware that you’re in town. Everyone on the curia will know by now that you did not stay for the birthday games because your wife is suffering with a badly poisoned wound. Decimus Valerius will have seen to that – he actually tried to tell me, yesterday. And it is not obligatory to turn up at the Ides. So you won’t be expected at the ritual today, unless you’re seen walking in a public place. The forum, for instance.’
‘Which I would have to cross, to call on Marcus. You are right, of course,’ I said with some relief, ‘So I’ll leave that to you. You know what to tell him but try to be discreet – he’ll want it kept from Hortius, for the moment, anyway.’
‘Obviously, Father!’ It was almost a rebuke.
‘I wish it was possible to see Tertillius,’ I said. ‘I’d like to hear his version of what happened at the games. But as it is,’ I added with a sigh, ‘I cannot spare a slave. You had better take Tenuis with you. It is not fitting for a togate citizen to walk around unattended on a festal day like this – and you’ll have to wear your toga if you are visiting His Excellence.’
The drawback with all this was that it pinned me to the flat. I could hardly send Servus out to find Tertillius, or someone might arrive and find me there without a slave at all! And, with Hortius ready to report, I could not walk about the streets myself – even with a servant in attendance – unless I was proposing to process!
Junio appeared to read my thoughts. ‘You’ll have Lentigines.’
‘They will be anxious for his safety at the villa by this time. I must send him home. So let’s catch up with Tenuis, and tell him of our plans, and we’ll drop Arlina at the stables as we pass. Then I suppose I’ll simply have to sit in idleness.’
I spoke of idleness but when we reached my apartment there was a task awaiting me – a thankless one, at that. Servus and Freckle-face had to be informed that Rastus had been killed. I gave them an edited account of where and when. ‘I’m told it was an accident,’ I concluded – truthfully – although I almost choked upon the word.
The pair were so genuinely horrified that I was reassured. Their shock could not be feigned. Of course, they told me, they’d been worried when the lad did not return, but they concluded that he had been sent on some further errand by His Excellence – possibly even to the roundhouse and to me – and had been overtaken by the dark. But, like the obedient servants that they were, they’d stayed where they were told.
‘We expected that he’d come back today. Indeed, when we heard your footsteps at the door we thought he was with you,’ Lentigines’s little freckled face was smudged with tears. ‘I can’t believe what’s happened! Though we were beginning to conclude that something was amiss. I was almost ready to set off—’
I was about to say that I was glad he had not, when Servus – my remaining slave – broke in. He was not weeping, but his face was ashen white. ‘So what’s happened to the body – when is the funeral?’
So there was more bad news to tell them. Lentigines looked aghast and I saw the tears well up in Servus now, but Junio had been listening and he took command.
‘We could not leave the body unburied on the Ides,’ he said briskly, and they nodded grudgingly. ‘So you can undo that bundle, Tenuis, and drape my toga on – and my father’s plain one in case of visitors – then you and I will pay a visit to His Excellence. Lentigines, the steward at the villa will be wondering where you are. You’d best set off at once. Servus, you will attend my father. Make up some hot spiced mead. This death has shaken him and he is not intending to process, or leave the flat today.’
I commended this with the briefest of nods. Keeping busy is Gwellia’s recipe for combating despair.
It was well judged. The boys were clearly glad to have duties to perform. Lentigines was into his cloak and gone a moment after my son had left himself, while Servus busied himself in looking after me. No Roman senator could have been more indulged. He brought my soft house-slippers and propped them by the glowing brazier to warm while he rinsed the dust from my feet – in scented water, too – before fitting them gently onto me, and proudly bringing a piping mug of hot, spiced mead. It was a little stronger than it often was, but I was very glad of that, as I sat down at the table and settled in for my long day of idleness.
I could hear the people passing in the street – the shouts of vendors and the hastening feet – but I dared not even look out through the window-space. The town was full of spies. Somebody might see me standing there and report my presence to the Senator. I sighed and turned my attention to the mead.