It was almost dusk before we reached the town and for the last few miles we were forced to crawl, part of a long line of carts all making for the gates – wheeled transport is only permitted in Glevum after dark. Already there was shouting and cursing up ahead as drivers prepared to make deliveries of things too inconvenient to be moved by day. Several of the wagons – happily for us – had lighted torches which helped illuminate the way.
We did not take our own cart into town – that would have left the problem of what to do with it – we left it at the hiring stables just outside the walls, where we often left the mule. My intention was also to leave Kurso there tonight to unhitch the ox and bed down on the cart. It is usual to leave a slave to ‘guard the cargo’ in this way, though on this occasion my only thought was speed – Kurso was too small and timid to be much use confronting thieves.
But when I went to pay the fee, the owner – far from charging extra, which I expected, since I had not booked ahead – insisted on summoning his son to guard the cart for me, while he himself produced a lighted torch and personally accompanied us into the town. He had heard about my tragedy, he said, and was anxious to assist.
Kurso – thus freed to help unload and carry things – was overcome with awe as we passed the sentry on watch, and went through the arch into the shadowed town. He pressed very close beside me, which I could understand. The streets were unfrequented (no unloading here); the dark and silence broken only by a shaft of light and burst of rowdy noise from the open doors of an occasional tavern or a hot-soup stall. I was glad of the illumination of the torch myself, as we came to my apartment block and climbed the unlit stairs.
We knocked on the door and waited – for some little time. We were not expected and the slaves had gone to bed (a practice I encourage when I am not there: it saves both heat and candles and they rise at dawn). I had to fairly batter before we heard the bolt go back. The door was opened half a finger-span and Ossius appeared, clutching a feeble taper in his hand.
He peered at us, obviously dazzled by our brighter light. ‘Who are you at this time of night? The master isn’t here.’
‘He is now,’ I said softly, and the slave leapt back with feverish apologies. He let us pass, then helped us to unload our parcels on the floor. I gave the stable-owner a substantial tip, and he hurried off before I changed my mind.
Ossius was apologizing still. ‘Master, you were not expected! Nothing is prepared.’ He kept darting startled glances at my Celtic plaid, as if unsure that it was really me.
Servus emerged, disturbed by all the noise, still in the undertunic in which he’d gone to bed. Then, seeing who it was, he brought out bread and cheese and a little jug of milk. Not a feast, but I was not hungry anyway. My roundhouse slaves tucked into it, though they were looking as weary as I felt.
I gestured to the bundles still littering the floor. ‘This will keep till morning. Kurso can make a nest among the blankets here and I’ll sleep with Minimus at my feet as usual.’
But I was wrong on both counts. I did not sleep – I was too full of anger, hurt and grief – but when morning came, I rose to find that everything was neatly put away, though I hadn’t heard a sound. Neither had I any appetite, though I pretended to nibble a piece of oatcake which Servus – knowing my tastes – had gone out and bought for me. This morning it tasted like ashes on my tongue.
I was grateful that I’d set myself a lot of things to do. Empty hours would have stretched before me like the sea.
Visiting the temple was the first thing on my list. I’d resolved to make a Roman-style sacrifice for Gwellia, as well. Whatever happened next, I did not wish my fellow citizens to suppose that I’d shown her disrespect.
I had rescued several garments from the roundhouse yesterday, so leaving my other slaves to sponge and air my curial robes (which smelt of smoke and were dusty to the hems) I got Minimus to help me into mourning clothes – a dark-coloured toga and tunic – and set off with him for the Capitoline shrine.
I did not call a litter. I preferred to walk, despite my awkward robes, rather than have time to sit and think. I should have guessed that I would be approached by many previous customers and fellow councillors, who had heard the rumours and wished to sympathize. Cyrus and Decimus Valerius came hurrying across to offer their condolences and ask if the ‘dreadful news’ was true. I acknowledged that it was, adding that I was on my way to make memorial sacrifice, but that proper Celtic rites had already taken place. Given my audience, that should be around the town within the hour!
At the stalls beside the temple, I bought some incense and a pair of turtle doves, and arranged to have them offered at the shrine at my expense. Even the stallholder had heard about my wife – immediately suggesting a prayer-disc which I could have inscribed for her, together with a curse ‘on whoever caused her death’. Minimus looked astonished that I did not purchase them. I told him that both these matters had been attended to – I had forgotten that he had not been there to see the talismans.
Our next task was to call on Tertillius again. My status in this household had obviously improved. This time, though we arrived on foot, we were greeted as honoured visitors. The gatekeeper went so far as to desert his post and escort us up to the inner door himself.
Glaber opened it. ‘Councillor Libertus!’ he exclaimed, bowing very low. ‘You wish to see the master? I think he is still here. There is no meeting of the curia this morning – though you will no doubt be aware of that.’
‘Of course!’ I muttered, though not really in reply. I had not given the council calendar a thought – but today was still a council holiday, so I had not been missed. It meant, though, that Tertillius was likely to be home. ‘And I’d like a moment with his sister, too, if that is possible.’
Glaber gave another bow. ‘I’ll go and see if they’re available. If you would be good enough to wait.’ He indicated the cushioned bench again. ‘And if your servant would like to come with me, I’ll see he has refreshments and that some are sent to you.’ Clearly the man was learning what his new role entailed.
I had hardly touched my breakfast and I was not hungry now, but I toyed a little with the cheese and dates, and sipped the proffered wine, more as a way of passing time than anything. My host outranked me, so I expected a delay, but in fact it was not long before Tertillius appeared. He was dressed for a day at home in a lime-green synthesis (that useful combination of tunic and toga) and his greeting was equally relaxed.
‘Libertus, you are welcome to my house. I hope your presence means that you have found your wife?’ He had seized me by my elbows and was warmly shaking both my arms, before he registered the colour of my clothes. ‘But, I see, your costume …’ He tailed off in dismay.
This social blundering unmanned me totally. I’d succeeded in maintaining my composure up till now, by concentrating fiercely on what I had to say and do, but suddenly I found hot tears were in my eyes. ‘Of course,’ I managed, ‘you won’t have heard the news. She is dead and in the plague pit.’
‘Duumvir! Not Gwellia?’ He was horrified. ‘How, by all the gods?’
‘By command of your new friend the Senator!’ I told him the whole tale – without revealing who my informant was. If I sounded bitter, I no longer cared.
Tertillius had a parchment skin in any case, but he’d grown paler still. ‘Hortius Valens is no friend of mine – nor ever was. He has treated me in public with total disrespect. My courting of him – as I thought you knew – was simply a desire not to make a powerful enemy. And at my sister’s urging. I regret it now.’ He squeezed my arms again. ‘If I’d ever had a friendly thought towards the man, what you have just told me would have eliminated it. I can’t believe it. Can you challenge him in court?’ But Tertillius, the expert on the law, was looking doubtful as he spoke. ‘There might, at least, be reparation you can claim?’
‘I lost my wife, Tertillius,’ I said. I could taste the bitter bile upon my tongue. ‘What could possibly compensate for that? The army-cart had taken her, as my informant said, but I could not even get permission to retrieve the corpse. There have been rumours of a plague, so everything was immediately limed and sealed. They’ve posted guard on it.’ I broke off as I realized Glaber had come back, this time with the lady Fulvia at his heels. They’d clearly been listening to my last remarks and both were looking stricken – though for different reasons, I was sure.
‘You poor man. Who was your witness? We will see this through the courts.’ The woman came across to me and offered both veined hands in sympathy.
She seemed smaller and frailer than I had recalled, and for a moment I had doubts about involving her. But I steeled myself sufficiently to say, ‘Not the courts, I think. For legal reasons that will not be possible. The testimony of a slave would bear no weight and calling him to testify would merely bring him grief.’ I looked past her at the steward, and saw him close his eyes in gratitude. ‘Suffice to say, it happened near my home, I know the slave concerned and I believe his tale.’
‘But this is simply terrible!’ Fulvia exclaimed. ‘Is there nothing whatever we can do?’
I hesitated for a moment, even then, before I said, ‘There might be something, though there would be a risk. Mostly to me, but to your household too. And it would disoblige the Senator, of course – greatly disoblige him – which I know you have been careful to avoid. Though I would try not to involve you publicly, of course.’
‘I would be very glad to disoblige the monster – and I do not care how much,’ Tertillius burst out. ‘If it were not for my sister I would never have tried to lick his toga-hems. After the way that he insulted me …’ He shot the lady a reproachful look. ‘Public indignitas. Men have killed for less.’
‘Brother, it was for your protection,’ she replied. ‘The man is well-connected, rich and powerful.’ She caught my eye and paused. ‘Power which he abuses, duumvir, I know. Permit us to try to make it up to you.’
As if anything under heaven could do that, I thought, but I said with courtesy, ‘Nothing that you did caused my wife to die. Hortius is responsible, and Hortius alone. And Tertillius’s flattery of him may assist me, now. This feast which Marcus is proposing was first your idea, I think?’
‘Though Hortius declined when I first offered it. Another insult!’ Tertillius complained.
His sister interrupted by holding up her hand. ‘Steward, you may leave us. Go and wait outside, and close the door.’ She waited a moment till the servant had complied, then turned to me again. ‘Does this scheme of yours concern the feast? I’ve undertaken, at His Excellence’s request, to go myself – at least to the entertainment afterwards – and to take Druscilla Livia with me. To reintroduce her to her bridegroom, I believe? Would you rather I did not?’ She smiled, but did not wait for my reply. ‘It would not be difficult to persuade me to decline. Or Druscilla either. She’s expected here today. I am warned that if she discovers that Hortius will be there – or even that he’s in Glevum – she will refuse to go.’
Tertillius snorted. ‘Or run away again! I would, if I were to be forced to marry him.’
Fulvia ignored him. ‘I will try to keep the secret, naturally – although in this house it might now be difficult, since you tell me that Glaber was once Hortius’s slave. I’m surprised you’ve managed to keep her in ignorance thus far.’
I shook my head. ‘Glaber would not betray us, or speak to Hortius at all – he is too afraid that he’ll return him to the mines. But it does not matter, now, in any case. Druscilla already knows the Senator is here and will be at the feast.’
‘And she still intends to come? I could withdraw the invitation, if you wish – perfectly properly,’ Fulvia exclaimed. ‘You mentioned that there have been rumours of a plague, so there’d be no disrespect, and it would be no hardship to forgo her company. She does not sound a very pleasant guest and I am not much drawn to banquets these days anyway. Especially since – I now assume – you won’t be there yourself?’
‘On the contrary,’ I said, ‘It’s important I attend. I do not like Druscilla, I confess. She is spoiled and vain. But even she deserves protection from a brute like Hortius. Marcus dare not thwart him, but I no longer care. I propose to bring her under my own potestas – I think I see how it could legally be done. I shall be happy to deprive that monster of his bride. He has robbed me of mine.’
Fulvia was frowning. ‘But how? His Excellence would scarcely dare transfer his guardianship to you.’
I smiled. ‘There is a way – and that, my friends, is where your help comes in.’ I briefly outlined what I had in mind. ‘There will have to be a binding contract,’ I said finally. ‘Tertillius, you understand the letter of the law. I need your guidance. Could it be achieved?’
The old man was clearly doubtful, but I’d appealed to his professional pride. ‘A written form is surer,’ he said, thoughtfully. ‘That leaves no room for later argument – though a patrician’s word, in front of witnesses, should be binding under law. If written, the wording must be very careful, though. The slightest error and it will not stand. Give me a few minutes to go and think this through and I’ll try to draft you something satisfactory.’ He clapped his hands for Glaber, who came hurrying in – so quickly that I suspected he’d been listening at the door. ‘Escort me to my study, and bring me quills and ink. Fortunately I have some bark-paper prepared.’ He turned to me again. ‘It might be possible – if you can make him sign, and are prepared to live with the danger afterwards.’
He went out, leaving Fulvia alone with me again. To my relief, she was delighted with my scheme. ‘Hortius deserves it, and what have I to lose? I should be very happy to assist you to avenge your loss! But if you will excuse me, duumvir? We are expecting Druscilla later on today – as I believe you know – and now there is a lot to be arranged.’
So, when I left a little later – with my document – it was all agreed.