Dark Omens

ELEVEN

I lay awake a long time, all the same.

I decided that I would tackle Lucius alone by calling on him at his warehouse in the town. I reasoned that — even if he’d been offered hospitality at Marcus’s overnight after delivering Silvia and her luggage to the house — he should be back in his Glevum warehouse by late afternoon. Of course I would have to pay the money-lenders before I went to him, but the docks are famous for working after dark — ships need to load and unload to catch tides and winds — so I calculated that, with luck, I could still arrive in time to find him at his desk. My excuse would be to volunteer to join the search: I could find out what progress had been made so far, and perhaps I could slip in some questions about his trading partners too.

However, it was important that those questions seemed as casual as possible, and only to be related to the search — as though these were people I’d heard of for myself. I must give no hint that I had seen a list: so in the morning, as soon as I awoke, I turned my attention to my reading task. I spent several hours memorizing names and all the other information on the scroll.

Gwellia, gods bless her, did her best to help. Reading is quite difficult for her, but she asked me questions till I had the facts by heart, served me a lunch of quite delicious stew, then gave me a packet of the promised bread and cheese and packed me off to see about the mule.

‘And take a servant with you! Minimus for choice — since you promised yesterday you’d take him the next time you went out. I don’t want you roaming those icy roads on foot. Remember what happened to that poor old herb woman.’ Her voice was gruff, which meant she was disguising tears. ‘Of course it will be different once you have a mule. Those creatures are more sure-footed than a man and they travel faster too. Now, I know I can’t expect you to come home again tonight.’ She brushed aside the servants to tie my cloak herself. ‘But given that you hire the animal, you should be home again quite shortly, shouldn’t you?’

‘Not if I’m to join the search for Genialis,’ I replied, reluctant to see the disappointment on her face. ‘And then there’s Minimus. He isn’t very big, but I doubt that Cantalarius’s skinny animal would carry both of us. So I could only travel as fast as he can walk. Though I suppose that I can drop him back here, on my way past to town.’

The boy’s face fell. I could see that he was fearing that I’d take Maximus again — who was a good deal smaller, despite the name his previous owner had bestowed on him. ‘I could stay in Glevum, Master!’ he proffered, eagerly. ‘That way you would only have to get me there today — and I would be waiting for you every other evening when you came. I could keep the fires burning so the workshop will be warm when you arrive, and make it much easier for you to live in town.’

I made a doubtful face. If I took him with me, the trip to Glevum would take twice as long and if I was to search for Genialis on the road to Dorn, I was not likely to spend much time in the workshop anyway. I looked at Minimus, wondering how to tell him so without upsetting him — and displeasing Gwellia as well — but he gave me such a pleading look that I could not find the words.

He must have sensed that I was wavering. ‘Let me come with you, Master. I promise you’ll be glad. In any case, it wouldn’t be for very long. In a few days’ time the weather will improve, and then you and I and Maximus and Master Junio can all walk together each way every day, just as we always have. In the meantime, I’ll bed down in the shop and attend you when you’re there — and I could deal with any customers who call. You never know who might and you could lose valuable business otherwise. I’ll just take my heavy cloak to be a blanket overnight, then all I’d need is a little bit of food, or a few sesterces to buy a pie or two.’

But Gwellia was already putting extra oatcakes, cheese and hard-cooked eggs into the supper bag and thrusting it into my servant’s hand. ‘A very good suggestion, Minimus. You go with your master. And mind you take good care of him — and of yourself, as well. Now, be off, the pair of you, or it will be too late to bargain for the mule and still get to Glevum before dark. And make sure you check whether it could carry both of you — even if it’s only for a mile or two — that would help you get there before Lucius leaves the docks.’

There was even more urgency than she supposed, of course, since I had other things to do when I arrived, so I nodded and promised that I would. ‘We’ll be home as soon as possible,’ I added in farewell, taking her briefly in my arms. ‘Come, Minimus!’

But the boy already had his cloak around his neck, his sandals buckled and the food bag in his hand. ‘At your service, Master!’ He flung wide the round-house door, scuttled before me to open up the gate, and a moment later he was walking proudly at my side along the lane.

It did not take us long to reach my neighbour’s farm — only a mile or two past my patron’s villa — and when we got there could see the mules, in a small woven pen just inside the palisade. They looked extremely skinny, but still clearly useable, and they were chomping at something in a stone trough by the hedge.

There was no servant at the enclosure gate and we walked in unchallenged past the mules, and into the area where the farm buildings were: mostly store houses, circular, decaying and roughly thatched with reeds. A group of charred remains showed where the barns had been — I remembered that my neighbour had spoken of a fire.

A mangy dog, tied up against a post, gave a half-hearted growl as we approached and strained against his rope, but we were in no danger of it reaching us and that was the only animal in sight. No pigs or piglets wallowing in the sty, no geese or chickens clucking in the mud. A thin trail of bedraggled rain-soaked wisps of hay and a pitiful lowing from a half-ruined shed nearby suggested the presence of a few sheep perhaps — but the sound was so weak that it was heartrending and a glance into the granary pit showed little sign of feed. It was clear at once that the whole farm was in decline — there was not even smoke ascending from the roundhouse roof, whose thatch was in any case in great need of repair. I could see why Cantalarius believed that he was cursed.

‘Not even a fire,’ I said to Minimus. ‘And I don’t believe that there is anybody in.’

My servant shook his head at me and gestured to the barn. I glanced around and realized that we were not, in fact, alone. A skinny child in ragged slave’s attire — who looked no older than five or six, but was so undernourished he might have been far more — had sidled from the doorway of the shed and was watching us suspiciously with bright mistrustful eyes.

‘I am a neighbour from the roundhouse down the lane,’ I told him, hoping that this explanation would allay his obvious fears. ‘You belong to Cantalarius, I suppose?’

A sullen nod was all the answer I received.

‘I’m looking for your master,’ I prompted, hopefully.

The boy made no response to this at all, so after a moment I added, ‘Is he not at home? Can you tell me where I could look for him?’ I took a step towards him.

The effect was startling and immediate. The boy began to gibber something, though to me — at least — it made no sense at all. It was not another language, either, as far as I could judge — just a rush of guttural noises while he waved his arms about and backed away as far as he could go, against the wall.

‘Don’t be frightened,’ I implored him. ‘I intend no harm. I have come about …’ But I got no further. The boy had slithered past me, made a sudden dart for it and was running as fast as his skinny legs would carry him away from the farmyard to the hill beyond.

I stared at Junio. ‘If that’s the only servant Cantalarius has left, no wonder his wife believes that the household has been cursed. Let’s hope this morning’s ritual went off well and has helped to change their luck.’

Minimus, behind me, had hastened to the house. ‘Well, the priest has clearly been here. The offering has been made.’ He gestured to a little garden shrine beside the door — built in the Roman fashion and looking out of place inside this sorry Celtic farm. There was a plinth behind it — no doubt intended for that hideous statue that I’d seen — but now containing only a small bronze figurine, a portable image of the household Lars. However, the altar had clearly been in use: a pile of half-burnt feathers on the top and a pool of fast-congealing blood around the base, suggested a very recent sacrifice.

‘Probably that ram that he was promising,’ I said.

Minimus nodded. ‘And not very long ago. I can still smell the smoke. Of course the celebrants can eat it afterwards. Do you suppose the priest may still be here?’

I shook my head. ‘That isn’t burning pigeon or sheep that you can smell. That is something else.’ I glanced around, trying to locate the direction of the faint but pungent odour in the air. It was strangely familiar, though I couldn’t for a moment work out what it was.

Minimus was wandering here and there around the court, but suddenly he stopped and beckoned me. ‘You’re quite right, Master! There is a fire on the hill. Look, you can see from over here.’ He gestured past the shed towards the slope behind the house. ‘Up there, where that peculiar slave boy went — that must have been what he was running to.’

I walked across and saw what he was pointing at. From somewhere just behind the summit of the hill, a dense black smoke was curling slowly up and — though the winter air was very crisp and still — the distinctive aroma was getting stronger all the time. Now there was no mistaking that remembered smell.

‘A funeral pyre!’ I said. ‘Oh, dear gods! Poor old Cantalarius, the curse has struck again. He told me that his last remaining land slave had been taken ill with that fever that killed the other slaves. It doesn’t seem as if the sacrifice has helped. Poor souls. I suppose now that poor gibbering slave boy is all that they’ve got left — and what use will he be, if it comes to working fields?’ I turned towards my own slave with a rueful smile.

Minimus, however, looked ashen-faced. ‘So perhaps it’s not the moment to ask to hire the mule? Don’t you think we ought to leave our errand for today?’ He was already backing up the path.

I’d forgotten that my little red-haired slave (who had been raised in Roman households till he came to me) was likely to have this superstitious attitude. It was not the proximity of the corpse which worried him, of course — one often comes across dead bodies on the road and public cremations take place every day — I knew it was the mention of a curse, and the possibility of our offending the angry underworld.

I gave him my best reassuring smile. ‘On the contrary,’ I told him cheerfully. ‘There could not be a better moment to propose this deal. The blood of sacrifice is hardly dry and someone has come to offer a good price to hire a mule! Cantalarius will be sure the gods are giving him a sign. In his position, would you not feel the same?’

Minimus nodded rather doubtfully. ‘I suppose you’re right, Master. Do you want me to go up there and let them know we’re here?’

I shook my head. ‘I think the slave has managed to convey the fact, somehow. That looks like Cantalarius climbing back across the hill — wearing his toga too. Obviously he’s been officiating at the rites.’ I said this in some surprise. He didn’t have to do that for a simple slave, or indeed provide a proper funeral at all — he must have taken the death of this one very hard indeed.

‘And there’s a woman with him,’ Minimus agreed. ‘That must be his wife. It seems they’ve finished the important rites and left that peculiar servant behind to tend the pyre.’

I watched the pair with interest as they walked back down the hill. I hadn’t met the lady — only heard of her — but even from this distance I could see that she was young. She wore a long belted tunic, in the Celtic style, with a plaid cloak over it, a dark veil draped across her upper face and hair, and she walked soberly enough — but the ankles were shapely and the waist was trim. She was strikingly tall and athletic as she moved — in contrast to her husband’s squat, misshapen form — all of which was rather a surprise.

I knew from Cantalarius that he’d married recently but I’d not expected his wife to look like this: men of his appearance were lucky to find a bride at all. No wonder he was so much in her thrall. Of course, it was possible she had an ugly face, or had survived some youthful scandal, or possessed a biting tongue. The latter, probably, I decided with a grin: remembering that the ill-fated Janus sacrifice had been at her demand.

Yet one had to have a certain sympathy for her, I thought, surveying the decaying remnants of the farm and the crooked ugly husband by her side. Who could blame her for believing in a curse? What a marriage she must feel that she had made! I was glad that I was bringing happier news. ‘Cantalarius!’ I raised my voice and waved.

He peered towards me, shading his eyes against the winter sun. ‘Citizen Libertus? Is that really you?’ He began to hurry down towards me, slithering from time to time on the uneven slope. ‘What brings you to my farmstead?’

I smiled and patted my purse to indicate the reason for my call.

He reached me, breathing rather heavily — probably from the exertion of his abrupt descent — and stood staring disbelievingly at me. ‘Surely you haven’t come all this way, simply to pay me what you owe?’

I nodded. ‘I knew that you would be in want of it. But I confess that there is another reason, too. Something has arisen and I have to go to town with some despatch.’ I had adopted my best official tone. I was not about to tell him about Genialis and the search — the more he knew about my needs, the more he was like to charge me for the mule — when it occurred to me that he might already know. In fact it was more than probable. Cantalarius had been to town the day before and had presumably received a visit from the priest today — and news of the disappearance would be common knowledge now.

So I said to my neighbour with a smile, ‘You were expecting a visitor from Glevum this morning, I believe? So I suppose you’ve heard the news?’

Cantalarius gave a sharp intake of breath, and a look of horror spread across his face. ‘What news would that be, citizen?’