Dark Omens

TWENTY

It did not really take me very long to fetch the mule. Of course, it was by now half an hour past dawn, so the gates were open and the whole colonia was waking for the day. An enterprising tradesman had set up a booth inside the arch, selling leafy garlands and strips of cloth on which the legend ‘Long Live the Emperor Pertinax’ had been daubed, and was already doing a brisk trade with visitors. Otherwise the town appeared as usual. Shopkeepers were busy sweeping down their slushy frontages, taking shutters down or laying their goods out on the freshly cleared pavement in the hope of attracting passing customers. Two slaves were struggling to the fuller’s with a brimming urine pot, and the first street vendors were hollering their wares: ‘Fresh milk!’ ‘Hot pies. Finest horsemeat. Cheapest in the town!’ But there were hardly any other pedestrians as yet, and it was possible to walk quickly through the streets — though I did encounter a little flock of geese, being driven towards the market to be killed and sold.

The gooseherd looked up at me as I tried to pass. ‘In a hurry, mister? You wouldn’t like a goose? Make a feast in honour of the new Emperor? I’m prepared to take an offer, though I won’t be selling cheap. There haven’t been fresh birds like this for sale since Janus feast.’

I shook my head and thanked him and attempted to walk on, though his flock came flapping after me, hissing and pecking at my ankles till he shooed them off. However that was the only enforced delay I encountered.

In the end, I made a little detour of my own. The quickest route lay close to the centre of the town and as I passed the forum I could not resist going there to have a look. But by now there was nothing much to see. A contingent of soldiers had been hard at work, piling last night’s debris into a hand-cart, which was standing by, laden with pieces of half-burnt wood and broken drinking pots. Now they were busy sweeping up the ash, leaving only a burnt place on the paving stones and an empty column where the late Emperor’s statue used to stand as evidence of what had happened here last night.

The market booths were already opening, and even the stalls on the temple steps were readying themselves for customers. One owner was hanging up the cages of small birds which he would later sell as offerings, while another hung a notice above his door, advertising the engraving of curse and prayer tablets. That must be the one the temple-slave had meant. Any moment now, I thought, the slave would come himself, and as I did not want him to find me standing here, I hastened off towards the southern gate.

My mule was at a manger stall when I arrived, looking contented and well fed, and after a little bartering, I secured agreement that I could bring her back tonight if I desired. A stable slave had meanwhile strapped the saddle on, and with the help of a handy mounting-stone I was hoisted up — though I had to take my rabbit mittens off to hold the reins.

For a moment I thought that Arlina was not going to move, since no amount of digging with my strangely booted feet had the least effect on her, but a well aimed stick across the rump (wielded by the stable owner) seemed to do the trick, and she ambled into motion willingly enough.

‘I should take this with you!’ The fellow tossed the stick to me, and thus equipped I managed well enough. There is no law, of course, against riding through the town by day — only horse-drawn vehicles are prohibited — and soon I was trotting through the streets again, urging Arlina forward every now and then. Then it was through the northern gate and out on to the road, following the way the cart had travelled earlier.

I had the impression I was moving fairly fast — certainly quicker than I could have walked the route — but after an hour or so I still had not caught the cart, and I began to wonder if I had missed my promised guide. However, just when I was beginning to despair, I turned a corner and caught sight of him.

He pushed his hood back and I saw that it was Pustulus! He was sitting on a wall beside the road, looking cold and even more unhappy than before. I ambled up and reined Arlina in.

‘This is where the cart went?’ It was a foolish thing to say. As the driver had predicted I could see the tracks, veering off the main road and down a narrow lane between a little cottage and a wood store opposite. In the distance I could see a tangle of high trees where the cleared land ended and the forest wilds began.

Pustulus said nothing, just gave a sullen nod. It was not mere discourtesy, I realized: his lips and hands were turning blue and he was genuinely chilled from waiting in the cold.

‘Get on the mule,’ I said. ‘And you can ride from here.’ The offer earned me a disbelieving look, but I shuffled backwards and showed him how he could sit in front of me, as Minimus had done the day before. Pustulus still seemed a little hesitant, but he’d been loaned to me and an order had to be obeyed.

He came and clambered on the wall, from where I could assist him up on to the animal, and as I took his hand I realized that his fingers were almost numb with cold. I pulled my rabbit mittens from inside my belt, where I had stowed them when I took the reins, and handed them to him. ‘And put these on! If your hands are frozen you will be no help at all.’

He gave me another startled look but did as he was told. I put one arm around his waist to steady him, since he seemed incapable of holding on himself, then reached around and with my spare hand flicked Arlina with the stick until she lumbered into motion once again.

It was not hard to follow where the cart had gone. This far from town the snow was fairly deep and undisturbed, except for a few footprints and the tracks of animals. The wagon had effectively cleared a rutted path for us and Arlina walked along it with confidence and surprising daintiness, and very shortly we were in the shelter of the trees. After a few minutes we saw the cart ahead, pulled up on a patch of frozen bracken by the road.

The driver, who was still sitting in his seat, swung himself down to the ground as we approached. ‘Ah, there you are, citizen! I see you found the slave. The search party has spread out on the forest paths around here, but I have left the nearest area for you.’ He made an expansive gesture with his hands, indicating the merest suggestion of a track which wound away between the hazel and ash trees and the massive oaks in front of us. ‘If you hear me whistle, come back here at once. It will be a signal either that something has been found or that it is time to break off for a rest. And you’ll be needing these! I told the slave to leave them in the cart.’

He reached into the back and produced the pair of poles, which Pustulus had brought into my workshop earlier. In order to take them I got down from my mount, followed — in an undignified slither — by my companion, who had taken off my mitts and thrust them at me surreptitiously.

‘Thank you, citizen!’ He flashed me a warm smile — the first time that I’d ever seen his face without a sulk. ‘Allow me to assist you, in my turn.’ He seized the mule and tied it to a tree, then took the poles and demonstrated how to use them to test the piles of snowy leaves beside the path. It was obvious I’d earned myself a friend.

‘If anything is in there, you will feel it with the rod,’ he told me earnestly. ‘We found a couple of dead dogs yesterday.’

I nodded. ‘Then I will come and try it for myself.’ I turned to the driver. ‘Is is safe to leave the mule?’

‘Certainly, citizen, I will not be far away — though I’m to search the borders of this lane myself, Bernadus and Alfredus Allius have contributed another wagon-load of slaves and they will work towards us from each side, and we’ll work out to them. That way they know the whole area has been scoured.’ And so saying he produced a pointed stick himself and began to prod amongst the frosted bracken by the road.

Pustulus was already making for the trees and I pottered after him, still making my peculiar boot tracks in the snow, and together we began the painstaking business of the search. It was bitterly cold and I sent up a mental thanks to Lucius for the protection on my hands and feet: his northern traders clearly knew a thing or two. But even my unconventional boots could not keep out all the chill and very soon my feet had turned to blocks of ice: so how the slaves were faring, with only rags around their legs, it was difficult to guess.

The snow was patchier underneath the trees, but it was still hard work and it seemed like hours before we took a break. The driver gave the whistle — an especially piercing one — and slaves appeared from different areas of the forest on either side. It was obviously too cold to sit down on the ground, so we climbed up on to the cart. He doled out two pieces of dry bread and a wizened apple each, after which there was a swig of watered wine from a communal jug and then it was time to get to work again.

I was thoughtful as I went back to wielding my probe — something else for which I owed Lucius my thanks! Obviously he’d provided enough sustenance for me. I wished I’d had the sense to bring some foodstuffs of my own, but I hadn’t thought of it. Even a slave meal like that was welcome in this cold.

My thoughts were interrupted by a cry from Pustulus. ‘There’s something here!’ he shouted and I turned to look. The driver must have heard as well, because he gave that whistling once again and the other slaves came crashing through the trees from every side.

Pustulus had moved aside the leaves and snow by now, revealing the sorry sight which lay below. It was a body, but it wasn’t Genialis, that was clear at once — just an aged crone who’d obviously been overcome by cold, still clutching the firewood she’d been out to fetch.

‘She must have been there quite a little time, to be so covered with the leaves,’ I said. ‘But she’s quite well preserved. At least …’

I tailed off as Pustulus turned her on her back. Her short patched tunic had been half-torn away, and telltale toothmarks in her side and thighs showed that we were not the first to find the corpse.

‘A wolf, by the look of it.’ Even the driver had left the lane by now and was taking an interest in what Pustulus has found. ‘Bring her to the cart and later I will drive her to the military road. We’ll leave her on the side and tell the army when we get back into town. They’ll come and pick her up.’ The army sent a death cart out from time to time to collect the unclaimed corpses and put them into the communal pit, along with paupers and criminals from town.

‘But she might have family!’ somebody exclaimed.

‘If so, they would have looked for her by now.’ The driver was dismissive. ‘And if she had younger relatives they would have fetched the wood for her — not sent her out to get it and let her freeze to death.’

There might be a sick old husband languishing at home, but I did not point that out. Without a fire it was probable by now that he’d be dead as well. So I simply watched as several of the slaves took up the body and bore it to the cart.

They were just in the act of slinging it up into the back, when the sight of a lone horseman coming down the forest track caused us all to stop and stare. Whoever it was, he was moving very fast and waving one hand agitatedly. As he drew closer, I realized who it was. It was Adonisius and he was out of breath.

He swung down from the saddle. ‘They have found him!’ he told us breathlessly. ‘Alfredus Allius’s men have found the body in a ditch. The search is over. You can bring in all the slaves.’ He turned to me. ‘Though it’s most peculiar. When I got there they had just begun to dig him out … and … well, you’re the expert at solving mysteries. Perhaps you’d better come and take a look yourself.’

But I was already heading for the mule.