A Roman Ransom

Chapter Eleven

‘Come in!’ I called, and at once a plump young face peered round the entrance door, followed an instant later by the owner of the face — a little freckled dumpling of a girl. She might have been perhaps thirteen, and even without the pink uniform tunic I would have known that it was one of Julia’s maids, simply because her face was rather plain. It was one of Julia’s more unappealing little vanities — surrounding herself with handmaidens who were less than beautiful, so that she looked more handsome by comparison. (It was not a necessary strategy: Julia was lovely in any company.)

This dumpling gave a sketchy little bob.

‘You wanted something?’ I enquired from my bed, in what I hoped was my most paternal tone.

The girl, though, had no eyes for me at all. She looked at Junio and her cheeks turned even more pink and mottled than before. ‘I heard your signal, Junio. At least I thought I did. Did you want me now?’

I found that I was grinning inwardly. I find it hard to picture Junio as a heart-breaker, though no doubt the cheerful smile and tumbled curls do have a boyish charm. But the dumpling was clearly quite enamoured of him. And, of course, the boy is growing up; almost sixteen, we think, although — since he was born in slavery and no record of his birth was ever made — that is an estimate. He does not know how old he was when I acquired him, and he was so undernourished at the time that I can only guess. But somehow the frightened scrap that I took pity on and bought, all those years ago, had become the strapping fellow who was before me now, blushing to the roots of his unruly hair.

I gave him a knowing wink, which made him pinker still. I had no qualms about teasing him a bit, because of course there was no chance of any serious romance. The law forbade slaves to form personal attachments of that kind, and these two belonged to different households anyway. Besides, I was aware that, even if he had the chance, Junio would bestow his affections nearer home — on plump, dark-haired little Cilla, my Gwellia’s serving maid.

Nonetheless, he’d clearly made another conquest here — and probably without intending to. So I could not resist a touch of banter in my tone. ‘And who is this young person?’ I enquired

‘She is called. . um. .’ He hesitated. I was right. Though he had fluttered her a little, he didn’t know her name.

‘I am Porphyllia, citizen,’ she supplied. ‘One of the handmaids to the mistress here. Not an important one, you understand. Mostly I work where I am out of sight, though I sometimes do assist the mistress with her wigs.’

I nodded. Another of Julia’s little vanities. Like many Roman matrons she has several wigs, and has been known to buy a fair-headed slave especially for her hair, shave her and then sell her on again. ‘So what are your duties?’ I enquired.

‘Fetching and carrying for the mistress when she’s here, and cleaning her apartment when she’s out. Mixing up her perfumes and her beauty creams. My special responsibility is for her clothes, mending them, or sponging muddy hems — if it is a garment that she wants to wear again — or sorting things out for the fuller’s man. I bring the washing water from the well, and stand by while they help her wash and dress. I’m not one of those who accompanies her about.’ She dipped another little curtsey in my direction, for politeness’s sake, and went on staring straight at Junio. ‘At least until I’m older, anyway. Anyway, she always takes the wet nurse with her now.’

‘There’s four of them like her,’ Junio said. ‘I thought you’d like to speak to them yourself. Porphyllia has no other duties to perform just now, so I asked her to wait out in the court till she was called. I assured her that it was quite permissible to come and talk to you, now that her master’s back. He only said that no one was to come while he was gone. I found her in the servants’ waiting room.’

I nodded. Every Roman house of any size has an ante-room where waiting slaves can sit until their services are next required.

The girl, however, was alarmed by Junio’s words and anxious to assure me that she was no idler. ‘There isn’t a great deal of work for any of us, now that the mistress isn’t here,’ she blurted. ‘I wanted to help with looking after Marcellinus — feeding him goat’s milk in a cup like the other girls — but they wouldn’t hear of it. Said I was too little and I didn’t know enough. Well, possibly they’re right, but I would like to learn. He’s. .’ She was obviously a girl who liked to talk a lot.

Junio cut across all this to say to me, ‘Porphyllia was attending Julia on the day she disappeared.’

The freckled face turned still more scarlet underneath the telltale dots. ‘Well, not attending her exactly. I was to sponge the dress that she’d been wearing earlier, and grind some chalk and arsenic for her face. I took them to our room — the sleeping quarters for the female slaves. And not just me. She sent us all away.’

That was just what Junio had said. ‘Was that unusual?’ I urged.

Porphyllia refused to look me in the face. ‘Not really. She often did that in the afternoon. She liked to have Marcellinus to herself — she even found other errands for Myrna when she could. But it’s nonsense what they say. I don’t think the mistress was jealous of the wet nurse in the least — it was just that she preferred to tend the child herself.’

There it was again: the suggestion that Julia had become possessive of the child, because the nurse had become too fond of him. ‘Myrna was too affectionate to the boy, perhaps?’ I said gently.

She avoided my eyes again. ‘I’m not claiming that. Julia is my mistress, and it isn’t up to me to say anything at all. But if she was as jealous of the wet nurse as the others say, she wouldn’t have kept her on — she got rid of the other poor girl, after all. But she took Myrna with her as an attendant almost everywhere — anywhere that she could take the boy, at least. Even that morning, before she disappeared, she had Myrna to attend her when she went out visiting. And she always turned to Myrna for advice — even if some people think she shouldn’t have and that if she’d kept him swaddled up properly and indoors in his crib, instead of letting him crawl round the courtyard with his wooden dog, none of this would have happened.’

‘You don’t agree with air and exercise?’

She avoided that one. ‘It wasn’t his mother’s fault if he was taken away — and don’t you listen if they tell you otherwise. She never took her eyes off him, that day, from the moment they came home. Even when he was being fed, she wouldn’t go and eat — she had her own lunch sent in to her room and stayed with him right through, till was time for him to have his daily airing in the court.’

‘She was more watchful than usual? Almost as if she was concerned for him? Fearful that something might happen to the boy?’

She looked thoughtful suddenly. ‘Well, I suppose so.’

‘You noticed she was anxious at the time?’

Her face turned pink. ‘Well, not exactly that. I wasn’t really there. I didn’t see her when she came back from her drive — not properly, I mean. I had my duties, and I got on with them. But since you mention it, perhaps there was a wariness about her, as if she wanted to keep watch on Marcellinus by herself. Mind, she often did send everyone away. There was a lot to do. She liked her things kept nice. If it was not to sponge her hems and clean her perfume box, it was to air the clothes or find the jewels she wanted for that night.’

I interrupted before she gave me a full account of every job she’d ever been called upon to do. ‘So she shooed everyone away that afternoon?’

‘Everyone except the wet nurse, certainly. I know what you are thinking, citizen. Of course, some people say it is bad luck for a lady of quality to have no maids at hand, and therefore she brought her troubles on herself, but it was by her own command. We were just doing what we’d been told to do, and whoever kidnapped the mistress and the child, it obviously wasn’t one of us. I hope you’ll point out to the master, citizen, that none of the handmaidens can possibly be blamed.’

Behind her, Junio pulled a face at me. Now that she had started she was like an undammed brook, and would babble on till I stopped her.

‘Well, you have been most forthcoming, and I’ll tell Marcus what you’ve said. Is there anything else of interest that you can helpfully recall?’ I murmured.

The gentle irony was lost on her. She took a deep breath and lunged on again. ‘Oh, lots of things. I told your manservant. In fact, when you come to think about it, you realise there were a whole host of omens of bad luck that day — though, funnily enough, we didn’t notice at the time. But afterwards, when we were talking in the sleeping room, we all remembered just how bad it was. I told your slave.’ She gave Junio a flirtatious look. ‘I tried to tell my own master about it too, but he wasn’t interested.’

‘My master is!’ Junio said, but she really needed no encouragement. She was already launched upon the list of evil auguries.

‘To start with that morning, the butter wouldn’t set — you know what an awful sign that’s supposed to be. Then the master stumbled on the threshold when he left the house — left foot, too, so it would have been safer not to go out at all. Then Julia’s hem got hitched above her feet so that her ankles and her sandals showed — I saw her like that in the court myself — and for any matron that’s an omen of bad luck. The perfume oils refused to mix, as well, and then — about mid-afternoon — the gate-keeper saw a flock of wild birds flying overhead and they circled round the house from left to right. Well! You know what a dreadful portent that is, if the proper sacrifices don’t get made — and of course they didn’t, ’cause the master wasn’t here. And when he came in, he didn’t seem to care. He was too worried about where his wife and child were gone. But you know what they say: “When the geese fly sinister, there’s trouble for the house.” The gate-keeper was grumbling at the time.’ She flashed a winning smile at Junio. ‘Was that the bit you wanted me to tell?’

I glanced at my slave, who grinned back at me, in a way which suggested that his heart was safe. He nodded. ‘I thought the gate-keeper was interesting. That is why I called her in,’ he said.

‘Which gate-keeper was that?’ I prompted.

‘Aulus, his name is. He’s an awful man. Smells of onions, and tries to put his hands on you when you aren’t looking. But I believe his tale about the birds. It fits in with all the other omens, too. He tried to tell the master, I know that. Not that the master took any heed of it. Aulus has been complaining bitterly for days that he offered information, but was given no reward. Anyone in the servants’ room will vouch for that.’ She glanced at me underneath her lids. ‘Will I be getting anything for this?’

‘I told you,’ Junio said promptly, ‘I’ll see what I can do. It all depends on whatAulus has to add. When he’s off duty, we will have him in.’

She tossed her head. ‘Well, he’s off duty now. He must have been relieved, for a little while at least. I saw him going into the kitchens earlier. Looking for more onions, I shouldn’t be surprised.’

I was about to ask about the rota for the watch — whether Marcus had left the gates unguarded, after all, and at what hour the relief arrived and how long he’d be on guard — when I decided I could derive the information with more certainty from the door-keeper himself. I beckoned Junio.

‘Perhaps we should speak to Aulus.’

He had read my thoughts. ‘I’ll go and summon him.’

‘I’ll show you where the kitchens are!’ That was Porphyllia.

I was about to urge that there was no need for this as Junio knew the house but I realised that I’d disappoint the girl, and — more — that if she didn’t go with him, she’d stay with me, and after all her burbling I was worn out as it was.

‘Do that,’ I said, leaning back upon my pillows with a sense of luxury. ‘Oh, and Junio — while you’re there, tip out that goblet in the gardens as you pass. I don’t care to offend the medicus.’

He picked up the offending cup and went to the door with it. Porphyllia was already waiting for him there, and as they went out into the court I heard her asking, ‘Here, what’s that? A potion from the medicus? They say it’s almost magic, what he does. Would he make me a love draught, do you think? There’s a boy I’m rather fond of, but he doesn’t notice me. I’ve got a few sesterces which I’ve managed to put by and if I asked the doctor. .’

Their voices faded into silence and I leaned back on my bed. I was thinking about Aulus. If I was right, I’d met the man before.