Requiem for a Slave

Twenty

When Maximus saw the body on the floor, he turned so deathly white I thought that he would faint. It was a ghastly spectacle, it’s true, but the strength of this reaction shocked and startled me. As I’d said to Radixrapum himself the day before, there are worse sights at the side of every road. And my slave had not even known the turnip-seller.

Perhaps he had never seen a strangled man before and he was less accustomed to the sight of murdered men than I had come to be. But I was startled to see him shaking like a willow leaf. ‘Maximus?’ I murmured.

He came across and almost huddled close to me, as though tempted to bury his face in my toga hems, like the child he was. He did not speak. I realized that he was close to vomiting with fright.

I put a hand on his shoulder. ‘I am not surprised that this distresses you. But try to compose yourself; we may require your help.’

Maximus looked up at me. His face was taut with fear. ‘You think that the people who did this have kidnapped Minimus?’

So that was it! Of course, I should have guessed. He did not know what I had discovered about his fellow slave’s fate!

I crouched down beside him and looked into his face. ‘I promise you, Minimus is safe from this, at least,’ I said. ‘He is somewhere in the colonia under lock and key, accused of robbery and awaiting trial.’

It was strange information to make him so relieved. ‘So he is safe?’

‘Comparatively so.’ I owed the lad the truth. ‘They found him with incriminating evidence, it appears. He may have been ill-treated to force him to confess, but almost certainly he is alive.’

‘That will be pretty grim, but I suppose it’s better than being questioned by brigands in the woods,’ Junio chimed in. ‘Can we arrange to see him and help with his defence? Could Quintus be persuaded to admit us, do you think? I assume it was Quintus who arrested him? I heard what you were saying to Virilis at the door.’

I realized that this was true. He’d heard what I had told the cursor, and he’d made what seemed an obvious inference. I struggled to my feet again to ease my aching knees, but my heart was heavy with the news I had to break.

‘It wasn’t Quintus who arrested him,’ I supplied, flapping rather ineffectually at my tunic hems, which now bore the marks of stone and plaster from the floor. ‘Or the town watch, either,’ I added dismally, as well-trained Maximus hastened to assist, kneeling at my feet to brush my garments properly.

‘So it must have been the troops,’ Junio said at once. He glanced triumphantly at me, looking for me to commend him on his skill for thinking logically. ‘Well, Father, you know the commander of the garrison, and Marcus Septimus has some sway with him, so if they’re the ones who’ve got him locked away, it should be easy for you to. .’ He tailed off, looking at my face. ‘Not the garrison. .?’

I shook my head. ‘That’s the worst of it. I don’t know who it is. Minimus was taken by someone’s private guard — I have discovered that much — but I don’t know whose they were or where they’ve taken him. If I did, I would be trying to get him freed by now, though it might require a hearing before a magistrate. Even Quintus has no information, so he says, although the arrest was made on his authority, so he may know rather more than he pretends.’

Maximus looked up, struggling with tears. Years of serving in a Roman house had taught him not to weep. ‘But, master, he’s accused of robbery, you say? That can’t be right. Minimus wouldn’t have stolen anything, whatever proof they think they might have found.’

‘I am quite sure of that,’ I told him. ‘But whoever arrested him may have to be convinced.’

Maximus nodded dumbly and went back to his task.

‘It must be someone of importance, to have a private bodyguard,’ Junio put in. ‘Even Marcus doesn’t have one as a general rule. A slave or two, perhaps, to clear a way for him.’

‘And an armed escort following behind, to protect him if there’s any kind of incident,’ I pointed out. ‘He is a very important person after all.’

‘Exactly,’ Junio said triumphantly. ‘So is this some kind of public official, do you think? It’s against the law for private citizens to carry weapons in the streets, and how else could someone have effected an arrest?’

I considered this a moment. ‘It is hard to say. There’s certainly been fashion this last moon or two for wealthy citizens to keep a bodyguard — supposedly to protect them in case the rebels strike.’ It was true. One increasingly saw little groups of burly slaves beside litters and generally accompanying their masters around town, though I had assumed it was generally more for show than anything.

‘I think it was a fashion which began in Rome — they say the Emperor is so afraid of plots against his life that he has a hefty escort everywhere he goes.’ Junio laughed. ‘Marcus will probably effect one when he comes.’

I nodded. ‘He is not the only one. I’ve seen a dozen people accompanying one man, all carrying batons, wooden clubs and staves. It may not create the same effect that swords and daggers would, but it makes for an ugly picture nonetheless. And an effective deterrent, I suppose. That’s probably the sort of guard our mystery person has.’

Maximus wasn’t listening. He wore a puzzled frown. ‘But why should he do it? Arrest Minimus, I mean.’ He gave a last flick to my toga hem and, glancing up to be reassured that I was satisfied, climbed to his feet again.

‘Presumably he’d heard there was a warrant out,’ Junio said at once. ‘So it must have been someone who met Quintus after he left here and stopped to talk to him. Someone who hoped to gain favour or reward by fulfilling what he thought was the chief decurion’s wish.’ He was clearly reasoning aloud and looking to me for agreement as he spoke.

I nodded my approval of his analysis. ‘That’s certainly a possibility.’

‘Though, in that case, wouldn’t Quintus have known who took the boy? Or worked out who it was?’ Junio mused.

I looked at him wryly. ‘And you don’t suppose he did?’

He slapped his hands together in irritation with himself. ‘I am an idiot! Of course. If the man was a favoured protégé of his, it’s likely that Quintus would say exactly what he did — that he had no information — though no doubt he had a very good idea. But couldn’t we find out? This person must have been in Glevum yesterday, shortly after the litter had left here, and that should give us a useful place to start.’ He brought his hands together with a triumphant clap. ‘Find a rich man who met Quintus on the street and you have found the man who captured Minimus. It’s the only possibility. Until then, only you and Quintus even knew there’d been a crime.’

‘Apart from whoever throttled Lucius, of course,’ I said drily, echoing what Radixrapum had once said to me.

My son looked chagrined. ‘I had forgotten him. But naturally, you’re right. In fact’ — his voice was eager now — ‘not only was the murderer aware there’d been a robbery, he had a lively reason for arresting Minimus — if only to deflect suspicion from himself. But then there was the purse they found on him. .’ He paused and looked at me. ‘Oh, great Jove! I should have thought of that. The murderer could easily have cut that off himself and simply pretended that he’d found it on our slave! What could be more-’ He broke off as there was a tapping on the door.

Events had made us nervous. We exchanged a startled glance.

‘That can’t be the urchin back again so soon,’ I said. ‘He wouldn’t have had time to fetch the stallholder by now. Indeed, he would scarcely have had time to leave the street. More likely the tanner come to have another look!’ But I picked up my heavy hammer as a weapon all the same, before I said to Maximus, ‘You’d better answer it, as usual, to make it seem that things are normal here.’ I gestured to the corpse. ‘But don’t let anybody come inside. I’ll be right behind you. I won’t let you get hurt.’

The slave-boy nodded nervously. He half-opened the door, then, to my surprise, disappeared round it and shut it after him. An instant later he was back again, looking much relieved. ‘It is the urchin, master, but he hasn’t been to town. He has a message for you from the tanner’s house, he says, but he won’t reveal it except to you alone. I think he has been told that there might be a tip.’

I nodded. ‘Very well, I’ll go and speak to him. In the meantime, you two, deal with things in here. Junio, set some candles round the head and use my birrus to cover up the corpse.’

‘It won’t bring curses on us, master?’ Maximus blurted out, with a look of superstitious terror on his face. ‘Dealing with the body of a murdered man?’

I was about to say that I had done so yesterday, and so had Radixrapum, but I saw the flaw in that — in the light of what had happened since, this remark was hardly likely to allay his fears. Instead, I told him gently, ‘It will make no difference now — we will have to purify the workshop and ourselves in any case. Besides, the best way of soothing an unquiet ghost is to afford its mortal body proper rituals.’

‘That is why you want to find his family, I suppose, so they can arrange a funeral?’

‘Exactly. And to call him by his proper name and put money in his mouth to pay the ferryman. In the meantime, we will treat the body with respect. I will come and help you when I’ve spoken to our little messenger.’

With that, I slipped round the door myself and went out into the street.

The drizzle had set in, in good earnest by this time, and the urchin was waiting there impatiently, hopping from foot to foot among the stones and trying to find shelter close against the wall, but he stopped at once when I appeared and stood there silently.

‘You have a message for me from the tanner, I believe,’ I prompted, remaining in the shelter of the doorway as I spoke.

The ragged child looked doubtful. ‘I don’t think it was a tanner — not the man I saw. An old man in a loincloth who said he was a slave. Gypso or Glyppo or something of the kind. He said that you would recognize the name.’ Rain was dripping from his hair on to his ragged tunic as he spoke.

I frowned. ‘I know the man you mean, and he’s indeed a slave. But what was he doing sending you to me?’ It was a reasonable question in the circumstances. It isn’t usual for servants to send private messengers, especially to somebody who only lives next door.

The boy rubbed his wet nose with a grimy hand. ‘I don’t know, citizen. Perhaps the fellow’s mad. I rather thought he was. The message that he gave me was very strange indeed, but he swore that it was important and you would want to know.’

I was still frowning. ‘Then why did he not deliver it himself?’ I did not add that I had an arrangement to meet him later on.

‘I think he would have done.’ The scraggy urchin rubbed his nose again, then wiped his fingers on his tunic skirt. ‘He said to tell you he’d been looking out for you, but hasn’t had a chance to speak to you alone. He doesn’t know how long he can keep coming to the pile, especially now that the rain is setting in. His mistress is suspicious of him running in and out and is threatening to punish him if he does not tend the fire.’

I allowed, rather grudgingly, ‘That makes a kind of sense.’ I glanced towards the tannery, fearing that Glypto was being soundly whipped. But there were no sounds of anguish from the compound opposite. Indeed, there was no sign or sound of anyone, although the gate was open and, despite the rain, a rack of skins remained forlornly on display.

‘Well, I’m glad to hear that it makes sense to you, citizen.’ The skinny shoulders shrugged expressively. ‘Nothing he said made any sense to me and I had to shout at him to tell him anything. I was tempted to ignore him and go straight on into town to find that stallholder, but the slave was so insistent that I decided to come back — in case it was as urgent as he said it was.’ He looked at me slyly. ‘He even suggested that you’d be prepared to pay.’

‘Then you’d better tell me what the message was,’ I parried. ‘Another half a quadrans for you when you do.’

‘Well. .’ He ran a nervous tongue around his grubby lips and burst out in a rush, ‘. . he told me to tell you the green man was here again.’ He paused and looked defiantly at me. ‘There! I told you it was nonsense-’

I interrupted him, trying to work out the implications of the news. ‘When was this, did he tell you? Did he see the man? Or did he only hear him in my workshop overnight?’

The urchin shrugged his shoulders. ‘I don’t know any more. That is all he told me.’ Drips of rain were running down his face by now, making little paler channels in the dirt — he had given up attempting to wipe the water off. ‘I didn’t believe a word of it, in fact — just thought that he was moon-crazed and tried to humour him. Green man, indeed! But I see it does mean something — I can read it in your face.’

I was cursing my carelessness in betraying that — I did not want the urchin telling tales around the town. ‘It’s just his name for someone,’ I said, as airily as if I knew exactly who was meant. ‘But thank you for the message, and I am prepared to pay — when you come back with the stallholder. But be very quick, and this time make sure you’re not waylaid!’

‘I will be faster than the wind,’ he promised, and — judging from the pace at which he set off down the street, his worn-out sandals flapping and squishing through the mire — he meant to try to make that promise good.