A Roman Ransom (21 page)

‘If the old man is too ill for visitors,’ I voiced my thoughts aloud, ‘he certainly was not sending ransom notes. And it would explain why there have been no callers at the house.’

Marcus frowned. ‘Then it’s doubly surprising that Lallius has not come home. You would have expected him to come at once, if his father’s on his deathbed, wouldn’t you – even if they were not on the best of terms?’ Because Lallius as the only son would be the heir, he meant. Heirs are expected to do things properly – close the eyes and start off the lament, as well as arranging for elaborate biers, pyres, musicians, and the rest of it – often as a prerequisite of the inheritance.

‘Apparently they were always quarrelling,’ Cilla supplied, still from her position on the floor. ‘Lallius was too fond of gambling and wine, and he was dreadfully in debt, and his father was a very careful man. There were dreadful arguments. They almost came to blows quite recently and Lallius stormed out in a rage. He did attempt to make amends, as usual – sent his father an amphora of his favourite wine – but this time Numidius refused to pardon him, because Lallius had been charged with fighting in the street. The old man was furious at the disgrace.’

‘How do you know all this? I thought you claimed you had never spoken to the man or been into the house?’ The doctor barked the question before Marcus could.

‘I haven’t,’ Cilla said. ‘I spoke to one of Numidius’s slaves, that’s all. The potman pointed the woman out to us – she had come into the forum to buy some bread and fish. You know it’s always cheaper at the end of the day, and the household was in need of food, she said. Numidius was too ill to order things himself, so she had found a coin and come out to buy a few scraps for the slaves to eat, and meats for the funeral if it came to it. We walked back to the street with her and she showed us the house.’

‘So you admit that you were there last evening, and again today!’ Marcus had relaxed enough by now to be picking at the dates and wine the doctor had sent for earlier. He made no attempt to share them, but I was reassured. Up until this moment he had been too tense to eat.

‘Excellence, I have not denied that I was in the street,’ my slave-girl said. ‘But I have never been inside the house. It was obvious the place was under guard. There was a group of soldiers on the corner of the road: they had been there all day, the servant said, and it was clearly Numidius’s house that they were watching. They questioned all the slaves when they went in and out. The cook-woman we spoke to said they’d stopped and questioned her the minute she left the house, and that was why she’d come to the market so late.’

Marcus was looking furious again – but this time at the guard. ‘Surveillance of a property is not a lot of use if it is obvious to everyone that you’re watching it,’ he said. ‘So, Cilla, you saw the soldiers. What did you do then?’

‘Well, naturally we went away again – but not before they’d had a good look at us. It was clear that we’d get stopped if we went there again, so my mistress came up with a plan. I would go to the house, this morning, and make myself conspicuous outside. The guards would stop and question me, she said, and she would take the opportunity to approach the house. It worked, as well. As I was being marched away, I saw a servant let her in.’

Philades had been listening impatiently to this and now he could contain himself no longer. ‘This is blatant nonsense, Excellence. The truth is clearly this – Libertus has some connection with Lallius. The girl has just admitted a conspiracy to avoid the guard, and get her mistress into Numidius’s house without their seeing her. Is that the action of an honest citizen?’

I had been thinking that the girl’s account did not argue much intelligence on the watchers’ part. Obviously the same thing had occurred to the burly soldier, too, because a dull flush was creeping up around his ears and he looked so mortified that I was almost tempted to a smile. Knowing that Gwellia was safe had made that possible.

The doctor’s, next words, however, wiped amusement from my face. ‘And now we learn that Numidius is ill. Libertus has just been suffering from a fever too. I wonder if that is significant?’

Marcus turned to me and his tone was urgent and intense. ‘Libertus. Tell me the truth. Have you ever had dealings of any kind either with Numidius or with his son?’

That was difficult. Naturally, like any tradesman in the town, I had dealt with the coin inspector once or twice. ‘Only with the coin inspector, Excellence,’ I said apologetically. ‘And only in the normal course of business.’

Philades had sensed my hesitation and he pounced on me at once. ‘You see, Excellence? He knew the family. He can’t deny the fact, Indeed, his wife has gone to visit them this very day, and his slave-girl was arrested at the house. The same slave-girl that I saw standing at the roundhouse gate talking to the wet nurse, who then disappeared. It is time to stop pretending. I formally accuse this man of criminal complicity in the abduction of your wife. Let’s hear what he’s got to say to that!’

For a moment I had nothing to say at all. I was incapable of speech. I could not have been more shocked and terrified if the painted birds and cherubs on the frieze round the wall had suddenly detached themselves and flown across the room.

For this was very serious indeed. A formal accusation of that type, made before a person in authority and in the presence of the man accused, is legally all that is required for an arrest – though Marcus, as a senior magistrate, had discretion to decide whether a prosecution should proceed. I remember thinking that this ordered atrium, with its fine mosaics and gilded sacred niche, was a strange place to find oneself effectively on trial.

Marcus, too, was staring in astonishment. He had been nibbling at a date but now he sat transfixed, as if the words had turned him into stone with his hand halfway to his mouth. There was a pause before he put the remnant down, drew himself magisterially erect and said, in his coldest, most unbending tone, ‘I regret, Libertus, that you have chosen not to mention Myrna’s visit until now. Cilla, is it true?’

Even the burly guard could see that the tone of questioning had abruptly changed. He stepped forward, seized Cilla by the hair and hauled her roughly to her feet. ‘Answer His Excellence,’ he snarled, thrusting her forward as he spoke.

Cilla’s head was forced backwards by his grasp but through gritted teeth she stammered out, ‘I don’t know anything about a nurse. Ow, let me go!’

The soldier did not relax his grip.

Philades said coldly, ‘Don’t tell us lies, girl. Nothing you can say will protect your master now. I saw you with the woman only yesterday, when I came with the litter to escort Libertus here. I saw you talking to her at the gate.’

Cilla said, ‘That woman? I remember her – ow! – at least I could do, if I had a chance to think, instead of having my hair pulled out by this man.’ She was forced to speak to the ceiling, as she could not look at us.

My patron nodded at the soldier, and he let her go – though not without a spiteful parting yank.

‘So now you do admit it?’ Marcus barked.

Cilla’s eyes had filled with tears of pain. ‘I didn’t know she was the wet nurse here. She didn’t say she worked for you. She certainly wasn’t here when I was – Julia had another woman then. Excellence, I swear, I didn’t know. I thought she’d come about a pavement. She wanted the mosaic-maker, she said.’

‘So you admit that she had business with your master?’ That was Philades.

Cilla nodded. ‘She asked to see him, as they always do. It has happened several times since he’s been ill. So I said what I always say: “It’s quite impossible. He’s been very ill. He’s resting at the moment and can’t be disturbed.” I asked if it was a commission, and she said it was – “And a very urgent one as well, and nobody but Libertus Flavius will do. He’ll want to see me when he knows what it’s about.” Well, I’ve heard that before, as well. I was quite stern with her. “If it’s about a pavement, it will have to wait. You can come back in a day or two,” I said. I didn’t want to put her off too much. My master was getting a little better, after all, and I thought he might want the commission, later on – obviously he hasn’t earned since he’s been ill.’

Marcus had been listening to this narrative with care. ‘So you told her to come back later on? And what did Myrna say to that?’

‘Myrna, is that her name? She wasn’t pleased. In fact, she went quite pale and jumpy suddenly – I thought her master must be very cruel, and that she was expecting to be whipped when she got home for failing to deliver the message properly. I felt quite sorry for her. So I said, “You can leave the details with me. I’ll see he gets the message when he’s better.” But that wasn’t good enough. “I have to speak to him myself,” she said, as sharp as she could be. “I’ll come back a bit later on this afternoon, if there is a chance he’ll be awake. I tell you, you’ll regret it if you don’t let me see him soon.”’ Cilla had never been trained in rhetoric but she had a natural sense of theatre: she told this story as if talking to a child, altering her tone for every speaker and acting out each part.

Marcus acknowledged the performance with a nod. ‘And?’

‘Well, I was a bit annoyed, to tell the truth. Talking to me in that sort of voice, when all I wanted was to help her out. So I went all official. “I’m afraid it won’t do you any good at all,” I said. “He’s going to the villa of his patron later on today.” And just to make sure she got the point, I added. “That’s His Excellence Marcus Aurelius Septimus. You can see the litter now, just coming down the lane.” Well, I could see from her face she was impressed, and she starting backing away from me at once. That’ll teach her to have a bit more respect, I thought, and so it did. Next thing I knew she’d scuttled off without a word.’

Philades was visibly impatient. He gave a derisive snort. ‘Excellence, how long are you going to listen to these lies? It’s quite clear that Myrna went to the pavement-maker’s house. Even this slave admits the fact. And an hour afterwards, at most, your son mysteriously reappears. Myrna has always seemed suspicious to me. She was the one servant who was anywhere near Julia the day she disappeared – and she was conveniently in the kitchens at the time. Then, when you send for her again, she can’t be found. Do you really believe this is coincidence?’

‘But I’ve never spoken to the wet nurse,’ I protested. ‘You heard what Cilla said. She didn’t get a chance to speak to me, even if she did come to the house.’

‘All the more suspicious,’ the doctor said, in a most unpleasant tone. ‘Clearly some arrangement was already made. Excellence, you heard the maidservant. It’s clear the roundhouse was the centre of all this. There have been several people calling there, she says, on the pretence of wanting pavements made. Do you believe that they’d come all that way, when there are other pavement-makers in the town?’

‘My master is renowned for miles around,’ Cilla said stoutly. It was meant in my defence but it earned her another vicious shove.

‘Silence!’ Marcus snapped the word. He turned towards me and his eyes were cold. He had slipped on the role of impartial magistrate as certainly as if he were in the courts. ‘Libertus, it pains me to have to say so, but this does look bad for you. The doctor’s right. Myrna calls at your house, and shortly afterwards my son appears again – with you. Then your slave and your wife are found at Lallius’s house, and Lallius is clearly implicated in the kidnapping.’

‘But, Excellence . . .’ I had half started from my stool, but a gesture from Marcus sent me to my knees, another petitioner alongside Cilla on the floor. ‘I swear that I know nothing of any of this.’

‘He’s lying, Excellence,’ Philades said, and his lips twisted into that strange smile again. ‘I should warn him that I have other evidence against him, which emerged while you were out. More than enough to have this accusation brought to court.’

‘Evidence?’ My patron and I exclaimed in chorus.

The medicus gave another of his smiles. ‘Excellence, it is more than evidence – it is outright proof. As soon as this girl was brought here by the guard I remembered where I’d seen her earlier. I asked the officer commanding to send two of his mounted escorts back at once to search the mosaic-maker’s house again.’ He glanced at me. ‘And to do it properly this time.’

Marcus looked annoyed at this – it was not the doctor’s place to organise the guard – and I was about to make a feeble protest too, but the medicus held up his hand. ‘Excellence, I presumed on your authority a little, and I apologise. But hear me out. I know that you were there in person a little while ago, but I knew that you would not go inside the house yourself, and if there was anything to find the pavement-maker would obviously not produce it. And I think you will agree that I was justified. He has been a party to everything – as, Excellence, I hope to prove to you. If I may have a servant . . .?’

‘But . . .’ I began.

‘Silence, pavement-maker!’ my patron barked at me. My heart sank to my sandal-soles. He would never normally address me in that way.

He clapped his hands together, and at once Minimus and Maximus appeared – so quickly that I was left in little doubt that there’d been listeners in the court with their ears pressed eagerly against the door. News would be round the villa in a trice. My patron took their alacrity for granted, as he always did. He gestured for the medicus to instruct them what to do.

‘Fetch the bag that was brought back from the roundhouse earlier.’

‘Bag, Excellence?’ I echoed stupidly. I might have tried to rise, but a push from the burly guard reminded me that this was not a good idea. ‘I noticed that a bag was missing from the house, but I supposed that Gwellia had taken it.’

‘A clever answer, citizen, as I might have expected from your lips. But this is no bag of yours,’ the doctor said, his pinched face sharp and shrewd.

I was surprised by the wave of helpless fury which washed over me. All this, I was convinced, was his doing in some way. He had set out to undermine my patron’s trust in me and he seemed to be succeeding. I wondered what the famous ‘proof’ would be.