A Roman Ransom (7 page)

‘But who could have got into the council room?’

‘Well, almost anyone. The councillors, of course. The slaves who clean the place. The guards. Or almost anyone with business in the court – and there were enough of those today.’ He looked embarrassed.

It was the medicus who hastened to explain. ‘There were several bakers there, presenting a complaint. We’ve had a lot of rain these last few months, and the standard of the grain ration is poor. It’s begun to sprout, they say, and is turning sour, so it is impossible to use. They want the corn officer dismissed and forced to pay.’

Marcus shrugged. ‘The town has brought in grain from warehouses elsewhere, but that has proved expensive and it hasn’t helped. These bakers get their friends and families to come into the forum and demand a trial by popular acclaim – like the old “people’s court” there used to be. And other people come to urge them on and bring petitions to the council room. It’s quite impossible to keep them out. Any of them could have left the note.’

I gazed at him. ‘So you will leave the gates of your villa open and unguarded in the dark, and hope your wife and baby are returned?’

I had put it very bluntly and it appeared to sober him. The falsely cheerful smile faded. ‘There will be no further danger to the house. All the inside servants will be armed. I shall have secret watchers put in place, of course.’

‘And you don’t think the kidnappers will be expecting that? And be ready to take action if you do?’

The hunted look had come back to his face. ‘The hidden guards will make no move until my family is returned. That’s obvious. I can’t endanger them.’

‘So you’ll have to let the abductors think they’ve got away? Get clear of the villa grounds, in fact? Suppose that they disappear into the woods? It would not be difficult – the area around the house is forest everywhere.’

He shrugged. At that moment he looked an aged man. ‘That is just a risk I have to take. But what else can I do? Julia is in danger of her life, and Marcellinus too. But the kidnappers won’t get away. I’ll see to that. And you, my friend, are going to come up to the villa as my guest and help make sure they don’t. Provided that the medicus agrees.’

Only a little while earlier I had been joking that I would enjoy the luxury of staying in the villa for a day or two, but suddenly I didn’t want to go.

This was not mere contrariness. Now that Marcus had let Lallius go, I feared the worst. Political ransoms of this sort are rare but they are always difficult to deal with, and this one seemed particularly so. The abduction had obviously been carried out with considerable care and cunning, and the kidnappers had won resoundingly. Marcus had no guarantee of any kind that his wife and child would really be released – in fact he did not even know for sure who he was dealing with: I was convinced we hadn’t heard the end of it, and that there would be new and more extreme demands.

However, if my fears were proved correct – or even if they weren’t – I knew how my patron would react. Torn between love and duty he’d be beside himself. He’d ask for my advice at every turn – and very likely ignore it anyway – but if anything went wrong it would always be my fault, for not counselling him to do things differently. Since he had already involved the high priest of Jupiter in this, I would much prefer that he continued to seek sacerdotal help: then, no matter what counsel he received or what the outcome was, it could all be blamed upon the gods.

However, I could not refuse outright to help, and once Marcus had decided on a course it was extremely difficult to change his mind. In vain I pleaded that I was happy where I was, and that I would make a swifter recovery in my own domain, surrounded by my loving wife and slaves.

Marcus dismissed my protestations with a lofty wave. His house was warmer, it was free of draughts and smoke, the food was plentiful and better quality, and the medicus would be at hand to keep an eye on me. As to my household, they could come as well, if I so desired, although any of his servants would be at my beck and call. Indeed, since I was obviously still feeling delicate, he would order his cook to make special food for me and provide a slave to taste it before I ate, to make sure that I didn’t swallow the seeds of any more disease.

‘In fact, old friend,’ he finished cheerfully, ‘you could come with us now. I have a carriage standing at the door. Philades can walk back to the house.’

At this point, however, the doctor intervened. ‘Your pardon, Excellence. The patient is not well enough for that,’ he said, and I wondered again at the privilege of contradiction his job afforded him. ‘It is possible that he could be transferred this afternoon, but proper preparations must be made. The bedding must be put into the sun to air, and the room warmed up before he comes – an extra brazier in addition to the under-floor hypocaust. And jolting in a carriage is not a good idea. He would be better on a covered litter, where he can be transported lying down, and wrapped in blankets to prevent a chill. After the sun has passed its height, perhaps, to take advantage of what warmth there is. I will accompany him, of course, and give him a potion to help him sleep through the ordeal. Under those conditions, I would be prepared to countenance the move – though necessarily there is a risk. Although I do not think he is infectious now.’

Marcus is not accustomed to taking orders, and I expected an outburst at this high-handed tone, but my patron merely nodded meekly. ‘As you say.’

Of course, Marcus would hardly be the first to forgive a gifted doctor for failures of respect. There is the famous story about Thersis, a young medicus in Rome, who – having bought himself too many expensive hand-copied books – was forced to sell himself into slavery to pay his debts. He too gave orders to his owners all the time, but he was so skilled at healing that they put up with it: so much so that when he later tried to buy his freedom back, they set such a high value on him that he could not afford the price and he ended as a runaway with a bounty on his head. All this was more than twenty years ago, but the attitude of doctors had obviously not changed.

Nevertheless, I hadn’t expected my patron to show such tolerance. He was almost deferential as he said, ‘Everything shall be arranged exactly as the doctor recommends. So, Libertus, that is settled then.’

I tried to protest that Gwellia must be consulted before decisions could be made, but Junio had already gone to waken her. She came in looking tousled and rather bleary-eyed but she was quite alert, and to my dismay – once she had heard the old physician’s view – decided that this was a good idea. In fact I think that she was secretly delighted by the whole prospect.

With very little further reference to me, it was agreed that a litter would be sent and I would be transported to the villa sometime after noon. The medicus would come back to accompany me, with Junio, and Gwellia would follow a little later on. Cilla and Kurso would stay here and mind the house, but would be available if called upon.

‘It’s all very fine for you,’ I muttered to my wife, after our distinguished visitors had gone. ‘Marcus will expect me to help him catch these men, and I think he’s made the task impossible. Everything that he has done so far is absolutely the reverse of what I would advise. He’s given in to their demands, without making the least attempt to find out who they are, and he has no guarantee that they will do anything they promise. We don’t even know how the kidnapping was done. He has consulted the chief priest of Jupiter, whom I can hardly contradict, and I don’t see how I can help at all. And my head is aching dreadfully, as well.’

‘My poor husband.’ She came over and patted my pillows with her hands. ‘It is time for you to rest. Don’t concern yourself too much. You just do what you can. Marcus cannot overtire you with his demands while Philades is on hand to take your part. And a few days up at the villa can only help your health. Philades as good as told us so.’

‘If that doctor had told you that it would improve my health to be dangled from the ankles in a stream, I believe that you would have it done at once,’ I grumbled. ‘I would rather do my resting here, with you and Junio to look after me.’

‘It will be a rest for me, as well,’ she said, and that so shamed me with my thoughtlessness that I made no more objections to the move. When the litter came (a substantial affair, a sort of bed suspended on a frame, with leather curtains all round it to exclude the draught), they brought it right up to the roundhouse door. I submitted to being bundled on to it – carried by four of Marcus’s slaves as though I were a sack of hay or corn – and wrapped in blankets like a newborn child. It was a lengthy business even then. The medicus fussed around me with his herbs, and I was forced to drink another horrid draught before I left. I did, however, score one little victory.

‘If I am well enough to leave the house,’ I whispered to Junio, as they prepared to lurch me to the door, ‘then I am well enough to have an oatcake. Give me one, and never mind what the medicus might think. I’m supposed to be your master, after all.’

He vacillated for a moment, but then he grinned. He gave me a ferocious wink and as he tucked the blankets round me on the litter, he slipped a little oatcake into my hand and pulled the outer covers over it.

‘Don’t choke yourself,’ he whispered, as he dropped the curtain and gave the signal for the bearer-slaves to move.

It is not more than a mile from my roundhouse to the villa, a pleasant enough walk on a summer day with the forest stretching round on every side, but this afternoon the journey seemed to take an age. A carried litter is a bumpy ride, even when the bearers are taking all the care they can. Today each rock and pothole and tree root in the path seemed to send a fresh shock through me, and even with my blankets I was shivering and cold. I was glad when we reached the junction where our little lane meets the main military road, and the worst of the swaying and the jolting ceased. We settled to a rhythmic steady bounce.

After that it was just a question of enduring it. The doctor’s potion had numbed me to a dream-like state, but I did just manage to keep awake enough to work my right hand free and nibble at my oatcake till I’d finished it. I was not really hungry in the least and I hardly did it justice, but it was a gesture of defiance and somehow it made me feel a little more myself. Though a little queasy, too, in truth.

I shut my eyes.

At last the bouncing stopped. I felt a sudden draught and was aware of someone lifting the curtain, but by the time I opened my eyes again, the curtain had fallen back into place. I was in a semi-stupor by this time but I could hear voices some way off, and I assumed that we had halted at the villa gates. The impression was strengthened, a moment afterwards, when I felt the litter being lowered to the ground. I lay back, waiting for someone to come and lift me out.

Nothing happened. More voices. I used my free hand gingerly, and lifted up the curtain at my side to see what was delaying us.

We were still outside the villa. Very close – I could see the wall and the leafless fruit trees of the orchard on the other side – but the gate was not yet in view and there was nothing on the left-hand side but woods. So what had halted us? A bear or wolf, perhaps? There were rumoured to be such animals still living in the forest hereabouts, and bands of brigands too, though I had never set eyes on any of these things. I lifted back the curtain even more, and – with due caution – craned my head to see.

No snarling beasts confronted me, but there was something in the middle of the road. The litter-bearers had put down the chair, and gone to see what the obstruction was.

I struggled up a bit and craned a little more. It looked for all the world like a pile of logs, just dumped in the middle of the road, as if someone had come here with a cart and simply unloaded it where it was most in the way.

I had to lean a long way out to see, but when I did I saw that I was right. It was a pile of wood, and it completely blocked the route. The bearer-slaves were starting to haul parts of it away under the supervision of the medicus, but it was too big a pile for them to move with any ease. Junio, I saw, was clambering round the side and was obviously on the way to the villa to get help.

But help was on the way. A donkey cart had reached the other side and the driver was getting down to see what was afoot. He was a big man and he was furious. I could hear a stream of oaths and curses even from where I lay, but he joined in the job of clearing up the road, lifting huge tree trunks in his burly arms and dragging them aside in a way which made the bearer-slaves look ineffectual, although they were used to lifting things, of course, and were strong lads themselves.

I was so busy watching what was going on that I’d abandoned all pretence of lying still and was propped up on my arm, leaning halfway out of the litter on one side, with the right-hand curtain pulled completely back. Therefore, when somebody lifted the leather curtain behind me, and pushed something hard and bulky in against my legs, it took me a moment to realise that it was happening.

I turned my head as quickly as I could, but already the leather screen had fallen back, and I could not swivel round at first because the object – whatever it might be – was pinning down my feet. I had to make an effort before I freed myself, and by the time I’d rolled across and lifted the other curtain up again, there was nothing to be seen. My visitor – whoever it was – had already disappeared into the trees. However, I could now see what they’d left behind: something large and hard and wicker-basket-like.

Despite my aching head I sat upright to get a better view. A basket, certainly, but of unusual size – the kind of basket people use for storing foodstuffs. It had a sort of cover made of woven reeds and I stretched out an exploring hand to lift the lid. And then I stopped. There was a distinct sensation reaching me, a sort of rocking, as if something inside the basket had begun to move.

I had meant to lift it closer so that I could examine it more carefully, but it was too heavy for me to move one-handed in my state of health, and I could not move without upsetting it – and I wasn’t at all anxious to do that. I was not at my most quick-witted, I suppose, but it was coming to me what other things are kept in woven baskets of this type.