A Coin for the Ferryman

Chapter Eleven

When I got out into the atrium, it was to find Marcus and his cousin alone — apart from the usual attendant slaves, of course. The ladies were nowhere to be seen. Lucius was loudly complaining of the cold, despite the glow of a cheerful brazier which had been lit while we were lying down to dine.

‘The climate in this province is so unpleasant, cousin, that I don’t know how you have survived it for so long.’ He looked disparagingly round the handsome room, with its fine mosaic of aquatic scenes. ‘No wonder that your atrium is roofed, and you have opted for a pavement picture instead of a real pool. If the room was on the Roman pattern you would die of chill.’ He blew theatrically on hands. ‘Indeed, with your permission, citizens, I think I shall retire to my sleeping room.’

Marcus wore a smile which did not reach his eyes. ‘I believe you will find it a little warmer there. You seem to have been comfortable in it up to now. Of course, you have the bedchamber which used to be my own, and like the dining room it has a hypercaust.’

‘Of course,’ Lucius acknowledged, although he contrived to sound as if such luxuries as underfloor heating were commonplace. ‘My own slave will attend me; I need not trouble yours. If you will simply send me another jug of wine, and perhaps some oil for my lamp? I like to keep one burning — the mornings in this province are so overcast, and the nights so damnably dreary. So, I will say goodnight. My apologies to the ladies, naturally.’ He bowed distantly, and turned to where his slave was waiting with a taper to light him to his room.

Marcus watched him go. He said nothing, but from the way he tapped his hand against his thigh I knew that my patron was seething inwardly. I heard him mutter, ‘Insufferable man! They should have named him Odius, not Lucius, at his bulla ceremony.’

‘Excellence?’ I gave him an uncomfortable glance. There were servants in the room, and though Marcus’s household was commendably faithful on the whole, it was always possible that Lucius’s purse had bought a pair of spying eyes and ears.

Marcus seemed to realise what I was hinting at. He frowned. ‘I’m worried about him. I’m sure he has already written to my mother about this wretched corpse — he sent a messenger post-haste this afternoon, so half of Rome will know about it by the time we arrive. If we are not careful we shall be thought nefastus’ — he meant unlucky, if not downright out of favour with the gods — ‘and certainly inauspicious to do business with. That would work against me in all my dealings there, and it’s just the sort of thing that would please Lucius very much: I’d have to throw myself upon his patronage and make him look important by comparison. Cost me a fortune in propitiatory sacrifice as well. I might have to do that in any case, I fear. You haven’t made any progress with the mystery, Libertus, I suppose?’

It was the first time he had mentioned the matter since we’d arrived to feast, and he said it casually enough, but I could see by his face that he had thought of little else.

I shook my head. ‘Unfortunately not. I have made a few enquiries but I’ve not got very far. I promised Aulus I would tell you that he tried to help.’

Marcus raised his eyebrows. ‘Let me know if he tells you anything of use. You can try again tomorrow. I am counting on your help.’ He sighed. ‘And, for Pluto’s sake, don’t mention to Julia what I told you about Rome. She is unwilling enough to go there as it is.’

‘Where are the ladies, anyway?’ I said, attempting to lighten the moment with a smile.

Marcus looked towards Niveus who was standing by the wall.

‘They have gone with my mistress to the other wing. I believe they were going to look in at Marcellinus while he slept,’ the page said earnestly. ‘Should I go and fetch them?’

Marcus looked a little disapproving. He and Julia were unfashionably besotted with their son, but cooing over children was not the Roman way.

‘Doubtless Gwellia suggested it,’ I said. ‘And Cilla of course was an attendant in this house when the child was very young.’ I turned to Niveus. ‘But it is long past dark and the night is getting cold — outside this warm villa at any rate — and we should make our preparations to depart at once.’

‘When you have spoken to the ladies,’ Marcus murmured to his page, ‘you can go and fetch Minimus and Maximus as well.’

I smiled as Niveus scuttled from the room. I had almost forgotten that the boys were lent to me, and would be waiting in the servants’ room to escort us home. I was just wondering whether I should ask for torches — bundles of small branches dipped in pitch and set alight — so that the slaves could light us on our way, when Marcus said, ‘The cart is standing by to take the dancing girls back to Glevum. Why don’t you ride with them? They will almost pass your door.’

‘Tonight?’ I muttered stupidly. Of course, with Marcus’s warrant the cart could use the military road, which was so well made that it was possible to travel quickly, even in the dark. In fact, with the prohibition on wheeled traffic in the town by day, there was often quite a queue of carts and wagons lining up at dusk — a mass of groaning wheels and shouted oaths, as red-faced men with torches jostled to get in through the gates.

Marcus was amused. ‘I did offer them accommodation here tonight, but the chaperon refused. Said it would be too crowded in our extra sleeping room, and they are moving on to Isca tomorrow anyway — the commander there has heard of them and wants them for a feast. Supposing Lucius hasn’t commandeered them for the Emperor, that is. But of course he pretends that he’s not interested in them, because they have much more exciting dancing girls in Rome. Though-’ He broke off as the door opened and our wives came in.

They were attended by Atalanta, the plain maidservant I’d spoken to earlier. She gave me a special, knowing smile, as if there was some understanding between the two of us, and then stood back against the wall where Niveus had been. Cilla shuffled in behind them, a little nervously.

‘I am sorry that we delayed you, citizens.’ Julia was as charming as always as she addressed me with a smile. ‘We have been talking about children, now that Gwellia officially has a son as well. The gods go with you on your journey home, especially Junio and Cilla on their first night not as slaves. Has Marcus suggested that you use the cart?’

I hesitated. ‘You are thoughtful, lady, but it would be a squeeze — I saw the number of people who got out of it before, and my wife and family are in their finest clothes.’

Gwellia had no such qualms. ‘A ride home in the cart? That would be wonderful. I don’t like walking along the lane at night, even attended by servants. There are too many robbers and brigands on the roads. And after they found that poor creature in the ditch, not thirty paces from the roundhouse door. .’ She shuddered. ‘What does a little crumpling matter, in comparison to that?’

Julia smiled. ‘Then it is quite agreed. Maximus and Minimus can carry extra torches to light the way. It will help the driver on the unpaved road. Ah, here they come, I think.’

But it was not my servants who burst in as she spoke. It was Niveus — and he was looking a little pink-faced and dismayed. ‘Your pardon, Excellence. The lady who leads the dancing troupe. .’ He paused, and glanced at me. ‘She seemed to think that she had not been paid enough.’

‘Tell her that she is to put her people on the cart, but make sure that they leave a decent space for this citizen and his family — for the first part of the journey, anyway. As for the other matter, I will see to that, as soon as the cart has come round to the front.’

‘As you command.’ Niveus looked unwilling to face the dancing mistress with this news but he disappeared into the court again. Gwellia and our little party made our last farewells, and when the red-haired slaves appeared — with torches at the ready — we said goodnight and Atalanta took us to the gate.

The smell of onions and bad breath told me that Aulus was on duty still. He came out, all solicitousness, to usher Cilla and my wife into the shelter of his cell ‘while they are waiting for the cart’, he told me with a smile.

Aulus’s smile was even less attractive than his scowl, and I noticed that while ushering Cilla into his nasty little niche he found it necessary to touch her several times, although she was smart enough to move away from him. However, it was not very long before we heard the cart, and saw the flaring torches which the driver had set in the metal holders on either side of him. There would be a bucket of glowing embers somewhere in the cart, with a pierced lid, from which he could light another pitch-dipped torch when and if the present ones went out. I only hoped I wasn’t going to have to sit too close to that bucket on my journey home. Warmth is a pleasure, but — even set inside a larger pot — an unstable brazier on a moving cart is not particularly comforting.

I need not have worried. There was room for us — the dwarves and the acrobats had presumably accepted the offer of a servant’s mattress for the night — and the girls were huddled together, giggling, at the far end of the cart, under the stern eye of their chaperon and the skinny musician-conjuror who seemed to be her husband. They had somehow managed to herd the girls so that we had room enough to stand, and by holding on to the framework of the cart we could keep our balance as it lurched away, though I found myself jammed uncomfortably face to face with the dancing woman.

She glared at me, her face ghastly in the light of the torches. Maximus and Minimus were trotting at the wheels, so I was able to make out her expression.

I countered with a smile. ‘You must be very proud of your performers,’ I remarked, though the words came out in little jerks in rhythm with the cart. She made no reply, but we were forced into uneasy intimacy by our position, and I tried again. ‘It is quite an honour to be chosen by His Excellence.’

That stung her into speech. ‘Honour! I suppose so. Just as well. Two rotten denarii — that’s all he’s paid tonight. And I was fool enough to fall for it — all on the promise that we might get invited to serve the Emperor. But one look at that patrician and you could tell it was no use, and of course by then it was too late to ask a higher fee. So our clever magistrate gets a bargain at his feast. I wouldn’t have been much worse off if I’d agreed to pay the bribe! Two denarii — I ask you! For girls who dance like that.’ She spat contemptuously. ‘It doesn’t even pay me for recruiting them.’

‘They do dance very. . well,’ I said. I had been about to say something else, but I remembered that my wife could overhear. ‘Girls who move like that must be difficult to find.’

‘You would not believe the trouble I have.’ Her tongue was loosened now. ‘Not in finding candidates — there are always willing girls. We’ve had three people want to join us since we’ve been staying here. But they’re so rarely suitable. One looked very likely, a nice-looking girl. Nicely spoken, too: it was obvious she’d been properly brought up. I asked her to pick up her stola so I could see her legs, and she was horrified. I could have asked a hefty fee for her, but the next day her father came and found her and took her home again. Turned out she didn’t like his second wife and simply wanted to get away from home. Just as well we didn’t try to use her in the show. Caused enough trouble as it was — he behaved as if we’d taken on a slave that ran away.’

‘Does that happen often? Fugitives, I mean?’

She shook her head. ‘More often girls who think it’s glamorous — simply want to do something different with their lives. Of course, it isn’t glamorous at all. The training’s very arduous, and they get too old for it and there’s little chance of marrying afterwards.’ She smiled. ‘We do get one or two who get an offer, though, when we put on a show for someone rich — not as wives, of course, but as concubines and slaves — and I usually won’t stand in their way, although of course I expect a recompense. What I can’t put up with are the ones who get themselves with child, spoil the troupe, waste all those training hours, and not even a financial reward to show for it. Unfortunately there’s always someone who is fool enough to fall for that.’

‘And what becomes of them?’ Junio had been listening. I knew that, like me, he was wondering if this might be relevant to our mystery.

She looked surprised. ‘Occasionally, if they are good-looking, I can sell them on as slaves, and then at least they have a roof above their heads. But the rest of them. .’ She shrugged her shoulders. ‘I have to turn them out. I suppose they beg, or work as prostitutes — and I have to find a substitute, sometimes jolly quickly too.’

‘And you have plenty of suitable candidates?’ I said.

‘Suitable candidates?’ She laughed. ‘And unsuitable as well. We had a smelly peasant turn up the other day — grimy and graceless as it’s possible to be.’

‘A peasant?’ I was paying close attention now. Gwellia, behind me, clutched my hand, and I realised that she, too, was listening to every word.

‘Pudgy face, thick ankles, rawhide boots and a plaid robe she obviously hadn’t changed for years,’ the chaperon said. ‘About as flexible as a chest-plough and as erotic too — her hair was bleached with that awful lime you people use, and it hung in stinking braids right to her waist.’

‘Really?’ I was genuinely surprised. Celtic warriors at one time used to lime their hair, and wear it in thick spikes to scare the enemy, but it was hardly a thing that females often did — any more than they wore earrings or moustaches. Anyway, the lime paste smelt disgusting, as the woman said.

She nodded. ‘I think she must have been dimwitted, but she’d heard about the troupe — swore she had been promised that I would take her on, and she had dreams of going to Rome with us. Of course, I told her in no uncertain. .’ She faltered to a stop. I realised that the cart had halted too. I had been so interested in her story that I hadn’t noticed it.

‘Well, citizen, are you getting down or not?’ the cart-driver shouted, and Junio and I scrambled off and assisted the two women to get down after us.

Gwellia leaned towards me as I helped her down and held her close. ‘So, husband, your peasant was probably a young girl after all.’ She gave me a quick squeeze. ‘Now I must go inside. It is getting late and there are household tasks to do.’ And with that she disengaged herself and went into the house, together with Cilla and the slaves, while I stood thoughtfully watching the wagon lumber off. Suddenly, it seemed, there was a lot to think about.

The dancing woman, however, saw me lingering and was determined to complete her tale. She leaned over the rear plank of the cart, and shouted after me, ‘You know she even offered me a bribe to take her on? If people want to join us, they are prepared to pay.’

Bribe? I was thinking about the coins we’d discovered in the skirt, but the cart was already disappearing down the lane. I did, however, have the wit to call, ‘What did she try to bribe you with?’

Her voice came floating back to me as the cart lurched on. ‘Looked like a gold aureus, but I don’t suppose it was. More likely a forgery — where would a peasant get a coin. . like. . that?’

They turned a corner and the cart was gone.

‘Master. . I mean, Father?’ Junio had been standing at my elbow all this time. He peered at me in the darkness. ‘It must be, don’t you think. .? The person who owned the dress?’

I nodded. ‘It gives us a description to go on, anyway. In the morning, perhaps we can find out who she was. In the meantime, I should talk to Cilla, briefly, in case she found out anything of use. No doubt she will be bursting to tell us if she did.’ I led the way into the roundhouse as I spoke.

But Cilla had disappointingly little to report. None of the villa staff had anything to say about the corpse, except that they wished it buried before the coming festival, and no one had seen a stranger calling at the house.

Of course, Cilla being Cilla, she was anxious to expand and would have given me a word for word account, but by this time it was very late indeed. Gwellia was making signs to me that it was time to go to bed and the boys were doing the last chore of the day, raking some of the ashes round the baking pot so that the yeast cakes could cook in the embers overnight.

‘We’ll talk again tomorrow, Cilla,’ I said with a yawn. ‘It’s been a long, exciting day and an exhausting one.’

She nodded and went out to the servants’ hut where she still had a bed.

Gwellia had already lain down and gone to sleep. I took my sandals and my toga off, snuffed out the taper and did the same myself.