A Roman Ransom (11 page)

I had already made a mental resolution not to swallow anything further that the doctor made for me, unless it had been tested by a poison-taster first. Marcus had promised me one, after all. However, I did not say that to Junio. He would have volunteered his services at once – and his life was as precious to me as my own.

‘Hydromel is not too bad,’ I said. ‘Honey and water mixtures I can stand. But a light food diet!’ I feigned a playful groan. ‘Snails, green vegetables and vinegar? How could anyone get well on that?’

Junio took the bowl away and laughed. ‘Well, you can have some fruit and seafood too. That’s what Celsus recommends, apparently, and Philades is a follower of his. He’s got all his prescriptions written in a scroll and he has been into the kitchens to instruct the cooks. But there is a long list of forbidden foods, I fear. No cheese, bread, poultry, meat or roots until you are safely on the mend.’

I looked at Junio. I wondered about voicing my uneasiness to him. ‘I don’t altogether trust that medicus,’ I said.

Junio clearly thought I was referring to the food. ‘I’m not surprised. I know that you hate snails. But don’t despair. There are other recommended remedies which he has in store as well, some of them a bit more interesting. He is talking about visits to the steam room here, when you are well enough. Marcus has the bath-house furnace stoked in readiness. To cleanse the blood, apparently. And even carriage rides are good, it seems. I heard him telling Marcus that it’s “passive exercise”. A little rocking will improve your health, he said, that’s why he decided to put you on the cart this afternoon and give you a little outing through the fields.’

I felt that stirring of alarm again. I had intended to complain to my patron about that uncomfortable ride, but clever Philades had got ahead of me. Of course, it was still possible that what he said was true – even I had heard of ‘rocking therapy’ – but earlier that very day he’d been concerned that I should avoid the jolt of carriages in my weakened state. I did not think he’d simply changed his mind. However, I did not wish to cause Junio alarm.

‘Well, I hope there are not too many treatments of that sort,’ I muttered. ‘That journey almost killed me. I confess that I prefer your remedy.’ I gestured to the bowl. ‘That mead has done me good. I feel stronger than I’ve done for days. And more clear-headed too. Though I don’t think our physician would much approve of it.’

Junio gave me a look of wide-eyed innocence. ‘There was no mention of spiced mead on his forbidden list, so I did as I thought fit and made you some.’ He winked at me. ‘He didn’t mention oatcakes either, I recall. Not specifically. So if I should happen to find one in my pouch . . .’ He produced one, as he spoke, and handed it to me with a grin. ‘The one you had before has clearly done no harm, and I know how much you like them. Indeed, I think my mistress plans to bring some when she comes – she says that Roman kitchens never make them properly.’

The oatcake was delicious, if a little crushed. I relished every crumb. ‘Thank you, Junio.’

He smoothed my pillows, took the bowl and moved towards the door. ‘I’m glad I pleased you, master. However, I am told that now I must go away and let you rest. I’ll wait outside the door. Unless there’s some further service that you’d like me to perform?’

There was. The hot mead did seem to have revived my brain. I pulled myself a little more upright. ‘In fact, Junio, there is something you can do,’ I said, dropping my voice so we could not be heard. I know, from my own experience, how whispers travel in a house full of slaves. ‘If you can find any of the household slaves who saw Julia and the child that afternoon, before they disappeared, I would like to have a word with them as soon as possible.’

He shook his head. ‘Marcus has left instructions that you’re not to be disturbed. And he has already questioned all the slaves himself.’

‘I know,’ I said. ‘And he discovered nothing. But that does not mean that there is nothing to be learned.’ I glanced at the doorway to ensure that we were not being overheard. ‘I am sure that someone inside the villa is involved in this affair.’

Junio looked horrified. ‘Someone inside the villa! Not just a trusted visitor? Dear gods!’ He came back to me and gazed into my face. ‘I know you, master. It is more than that. You are thinking of someone in particular. Whom do you suspect?’

He spoke too loudly, and I shook my head. If there were any listeners in the court they would be straining now to capture every word – and in any household there are always spies. Besides, I still had no proof at all against the medicus – and naming him might do more harm than good. I decided I would try another ploy: laying the facts before my slave and seeing if he would come up with the same conclusion for himself. He has been following my methods for a long time now, and prides himself upon his reasoning.

‘I believe that someone knew our plans today.’ Quickly, I outlined my thoughts about the blockage on the road, and the way the child had been returned to us.

‘Too convenient to be an accident?’ Junio nodded. ‘You know, exactly the same thought occurred to me – and to the doctor, too. He said as much to Marcus. That’s why His Excellence is half convinced that you arranged this with the kidnappers.’

‘Which you know that I did not.’ I looked at him.

‘Of course not . . .’ He broke off. ‘Great Minerva! But I do see what you mean. If you didn’t tell the kidnappers, who did? Only our household and the villa staff had any notion that you were coming here – and even that was not until today. So it must be someone in this house. That would fit with what we thought before.’ He paused and shook his head. ‘But what have any of them to do with Lallius?’

I had not even thought of that myself. I’d been so caught up with thoughts of Philades I had quite forgotten the coin official’s son. ‘A shrewd question, Junio,’ I said.

He flushed with pleasure. ‘And another thing. Why did the kidnappers change their minds like that, about returning Julia and the child tonight? They’d already left instructions about the gate. Why stick the boy into your litter, anyway?’ He frowned. ‘Maybe the child was crying and proving difficult to hide and they were eager to get rid of it, do you think?’

‘It’s possible. They gave him poppy juice to keep him quiet.’

‘Well, in any case it doesn’t matter now. He’s been returned to us unharmed, and Julia is likely to be free tonight as well. Then all we shall have to do is catch the kidnappers.’

I shook my head. ‘I wish it was as easy as you say. I’ve always thought she wouldn’t be released – not without further payment, anyway.’ I paused. ‘Perhaps not even then.’

He caught his breath. ‘You think it’s possible? Even now that the child has been returned?’

‘Julia was always under greatest threat. You work it out. Marcellinus hasn’t learned to talk, so it’s obviously safe to let him go. But Julia . . .’

That seemed to startle Junio. ‘Great Jupiter, that’s true. You said before it would be dangerous for them to set her free. And she’s a clever lady. She will have worked that out. She must be terrified, especially now she’s been separated from the child.’

There was a silence. I think both of us were fearing that Julia might be already dead.

Then Junio spoke again. ‘So it looks as if someone in the household has been involved in this – by passing information to the kidnappers? It might have been by accident, of course. She was very much beloved.’

‘You see why it is necessary for me to talk to Julia’s slaves?’

Junio nodded. ‘Of course. I’ll see what I can do to find those girls and you can question them as soon as you have slept. Though, master, I’m afraid that you will have to wait till then. Marcus has left the strictest instructions with the staff that no one but myself is to come into your room till he gets back. His servants will not disobey his explicit command, and we can’t expect them to.’

‘So this room is out of bounds to everyone? No doubt the medicus suggested that as well?’

Junio laughed. ‘Well, something clearly needed to be done. The slaves were all crowding round the door when you arrived, all buzzing to hear your story for themselves, till Marcus barked at them to keep away. They tried to ask me questions in the kitchen, when I went to get your mead, but of course I didn’t tell them anything – I didn’t know exactly what had happened anyway. I’m sure they’d all love to talk to you, but just for now they can’t. However, I’ll see what I can do. I might even try to win their confidence and have a word with them myself.’

And before I could summon the effort to protest, he’d tiptoed from the room.

It was irksome to be lying helplessly in bed, unable to do anything to solve this mystery; and it was worrying to know that I was in the doctor’s hands. I have rarely felt so powerless and so trapped.

I controlled my panic. Philades had gone to Glevum, so I was safe for now. I was still struggling with the effects of my previous sleeping draught and that jolting journey had exhausted me, so – even without the doctor’s suspect bowl of herbs – I was already drifting into sleep. I tried to fight it, but the bed was luxurious and warm. I felt my eyelids close.

When I opened them again it was to realise that it was already getting dark and someone had lit an oil lamp in the room.

It was Marcus’s voice which brought me to myself. ‘You are awake, Libertus?’ I looked up and found that he was standing at my bedside, with the pageboy and Junio attending him. No medicus, I thought. That was good. Now, perhaps, I would have a chance to talk in confidence.

I smiled and tried to clear my pounding head. I tried a foolish little pleasantry. ‘I am now, Excellence,’ I said.

There was no vestige of an answering smile. ‘Then I would like to ask your counsel, if you are well enough.’ He was dressed in his official robes after visiting the shrine. The distinctive smell of the thanksgiving sacrifice – smoke, incense, and burnt feathers – still clung to him, but there was no hint of his earlier rejoicing manner now. His face was stern and sombre and he sounded drawn and strained.

I half sat up at once. ‘What is it, Excellence?’ I was alarmed. What had the physician been telling him? Or was there something the matter with the child, after all? Or bad news of Julia? I seized on the least worrying possibility. ‘Is Marcellinus well?’

‘Excellence!’ The voice came from the door and I saw Philades, who had been standing round the corner in the court. I felt my spirits sink.

My patron seemed about to reply to what I’d said, but the doctor came pattering forward to his side and whispered in that high-pitched voice of his, ‘Allow me, Excellence. Better if I handle this for you – I can assess the patient, and decide if he is well enough to stand up to questioning.’

Marcus nodded, glanced towards me, and said nothing more. This was not like my patron. He never allowed others to tell him what to do and usually he confided everything to me.

I did not know what Philades was up to, but I did not trust the man – and judging by the look he was giving me, dislike was mutual. And yet my life and health were in his hands: that was inescapable, as long as I was here. I would have to be doubly on my guard, I thought.

The doctor made no move to approach the bed and he kept his hands uncomfortably behind him all the time. His manner and his cracked careful Latin suggested that he was giving evidence in court, rather than replying to an innocent enquiry. ‘The child is well enough. Indeed, he seems surprisingly unscathed. Not even particularly disturbed by his ordeal – too young, I suppose, to really comprehend. Unfortunately, he is also too young to tell us what occurred – which, as I am sure you would agree, is fortunate for the conspirators.’ He aimed a short, grim smile at me, as if he had scored some point at my expense, and then retired to resume his glowering behind my patron’s back.

Marcus was still frowning. He had pushed back his ceremonial wreath and was raking his fingers repeatedly through his curls – a sure sign that he was seriously agitated and disturbed. Then he said, in a flat voice, ‘I should thank you once again for your part in bringing my son home. And it is true. He seems to be in splendid health. It’s only a pity that his mother isn’t here as well, to care for him properly.’ He glanced at me. ‘I will do anything to ensure her safe return.’

So he was still hoping that I could somehow help in this. I wanted to disabuse him of that idea as soon as possible. ‘I don’t know what to advise, Excellence,’ I said. ‘Do you propose to do as the kidnappers suggest?’

He looked at Philades, and Philades looked at me. ‘What do you mean by that?’ the doctor snapped.

‘Leaving the gate open and unguarded,’ I answered in surprise. Surely they had not forgotten that?

A look of what might have been relief crossed Marcus’s strained face. ‘So you don’t know what has been happening, old friend! I was almost sure that you did not, though some people have tried to convince me otherwise.’ He turned to the medicus, a measure of impatience in his tone. ‘Well, come on. Show him, Philades.’ He waved the doctor forward.

Philades sidled to the bed and most unwillingly handed me the object which up to now he had been keeping carefully concealed behind his back.

It was a writing block.

Not the kind of writing block which I’d expect to find here in the villa, but the simplest kind, the sort that schoolboys use. No fancy carvings or delicate ivory here: simply a wax tablet in a crude hinged wooden frame, though this one had been roughly daubed on either side with some kind of reddish pigment. The original ties to fasten it had long since broken off and there was no sign of a seal, but it had been bound shut with a length of leather cord, which was wrapped round it twice and knotted very tight.

I looked at Marcus, but he simply gave a nod as though I should carry on. Not knowing what else to do, I began to pick at the leather fastening, but my fingers seemed peculiarly inept and in the end I had to pass it on to Junio, who took it from me and began to work it free.

While he struggled with the knots I voiced the obvious. ‘Another message from the kidnappers? With more demands, no doubt?’