The Chariots of Calyx

Chapter Twenty

The reception that awaited me when I arrived could not have been more gracious and concerned if I had been the Emperor Commodus himself. As soon as Junio got ashore and the events of the day were told, a whole army of slaves, carrying beds, cushions, blankets and reviving cordials, was sent to bring me home. There was even a priest in my room when I arrived, scattering libations to every god in the pantheon, and I heard later that an ox was sacrificed — to the delight of the barge crew, who were invited to eat the parts of it not wanted by the deities.

Junio and the retinue of slaves half carried me to my bed, where I was soon visited by a medicus. He eased and bathed away my bloodstained clothes — a process which almost made me pass out again — and chewed up soothing herbs to treat my cuts. His salves and ointments made me sweat and swear, but once the initial sting had passed I could feel the heat subsiding from my burns. Then he bound up my wounds, dressed me in a spare slave’s tunic from the palace and gave me a strong potion to drink which ushered me into instant oblivion.

When I dreamed, it was of furnaces. I was in a dark cavern full of crawling things, but when I opened my mouth to scream, blessed cool water trickled through my lips — and somehow I knew that it was Junio, giving me a welcome sponge to drink. I sank back in relief, and slept again.

I awoke to find the governor himself at my bedside, with a small regiment of slaves behind him.

‘Good afternoon, my friend,’ he greeted me. ‘I trust you wake a little more refreshed?’

I moved my head and limbs exploratorily. I ached in every fibre, and my chest felt as if it had been carried in a brazier, but my body seemed to answer to my will, and although it was acutely painful, I could move.

‘I think so, Excellence,’ I said, struggling to sit up. It seemed improper to be lying down while the most powerful man in Britain was standing at my feet. My mouth felt like a furnace, and I was grateful for the beaker of water which, at the governor’s signal, one of the house-slaves pressed into my hands. Something occurred to me. ‘Good afternoon, you say,’ I said when I had moistened my lips. It must have been midday when I went to bed. ‘How long have I been asleep?’

Pertinax’s stern face softened in a smile. ‘Only a day or so.’ He must have seen my look of consternation. ‘We have been watching you. The medicus thought you should be left to sleep, but I asked him to fetch me as soon as you awoke. He said that you were stirring, so I came. He will look in again tomorrow, he assures me.’ He looked at me anxiously. ‘For now, if you are sufficiently recovered, I want to hear your version of what occurred. I have heard some of it from my bargeman, of course. That fellow should be whipped for letting you be harmed.’

I drained the rest of the beaker in a gulp. I found that I was hungry, which was an encouraging sign. My recollections of the day before were hazy and confused, but I managed to piece together an account of the significant events. ‘And do not blame your boatman,’ I added. ‘I owe my life to him.’

Pertinax nodded thoughtfully. ‘Those two ruffians he captured are both dead. One of them never recovered from his injury, and the other was cut down trying to escape. A pity. We shall get nothing from them now.’

The words reminded me so forcefully of my own experience that for a moment I felt quite faint again. ‘What about Glaucus, Excellence? He was the one who tortured me. Have you captured him?’

The governor shook his head. ‘Unfortunately not. I sent troops to arrest him at the factio — Junio said he was connected with the team — but I think he found out somehow we were after him. I’ve left a guard on the building where they held you, but he has not been back. He seems to have disappeared from the city without trace and taken Fortunatus with him.’

Something half heard drifted back to me. I hoisted myself higher on my pillows and tried to look intelligent. ‘I think you will find them at Camulodunum next week,’ I said.

Pertinax looked doubtful. ‘I thought that Fortunatus was injured — or pretending to be.’

‘He will be racing,’ I said, with sudden certainty. ‘No doubt he will grow a beard and dye his hair and be registered at the course under some other name, or perhaps he will just make a last-minute recovery, but he will race, I’m sure. Just as I’m sure that Citus, the Reds’ new wonder horse, will mysteriously go lame, unless a careful watch is kept on his stable.’

‘Glaucus told you this?’

‘Not in so many words, Excellence. He was talking to his guards and he thought I was unconscious, as I nearly was. But that is what will happen, I’d put money on it. As I’m sure that Glaucus and his team already have.’ I handed my empty cup to Junio, who refilled it instantly. ‘As for Fortunatus, I have not seen the man, but I am almost certain that he feigned that accident at Verulamium. And the team coach knew it, too. Someone paid them handsomely for that — Glaucus himself, no doubt.’ My brain seemed to be functioning, if nothing else was. ‘He does more than run the team’s finances, Excellence: I think he runs a private gambling syndicate — and tries to improve his chances by ensuring the result.’

Pertinax looked grave. Both of these things were crimes, with serious penalties. ‘You think the whole Blue factio are involved in this?’

‘I doubt that very much. The fewer people involved, the greater the share of the profits and the less chance of someone betraying the rest to the authorities. But there is a lot of money in this, Excellence. Glaucus talked of making thousands from one race — and that was for each of them!’

‘Could he be sure of that?’

‘I think he could. All the money was on the Blues at Verulamium — so anyone who bet against them stood to win handsomely. At Camulodunum the opposite applies. The Reds are clearly favourites there, with Fortunatus hurt — and they have their wonderful new horse as well. Of course, Glaucus plans to tamper with the horse, just to make sure. Hardly anyone will be betting on the Blues at that meeting — their substitute driver is virtually unknown. So Glaucus will wager for the Blue team at the course and get attractive odds. Meantime, his illegal syndicate will privately take huge bets for the Reds. Both ways, they win.’

I turned myself tentatively on the bed, and tried to sit upright. My chest protested violently, but otherwise I seemed to be in working order. Pertinax watched me anxiously.

‘Thousands upon thousands of denarii — certainly enough to kill men for. You think they murdered Monnius?’ he said.

‘Perhaps they did not kill him, Excellence; they were at Verulamium. But there is some connection, I am sure. Everyone jumped like guilty fleas as soon as I mentioned his name.’

‘We shall find out,’ Pertinax said grimly, ‘when we get our hands on Glaucus. And we will. I’ll send a messenger to every legion and garrison in the province. He won’t get far. A racing fraud — the soldiers won’t think much of that. They’ll bring him in, if he is anywhere to be found. And when they do he’ll wish he’d shown a little more respect for my warrant. As for Fortunatus, if you are right we can pick him up at the race.’

‘If you time it carefully, Excellence, you could catch them in the act. Trying to get to Citus, for example. Otherwise all this might be difficult to prove. The attack on me is a different matter. I could testify to that — but there is no proof that anyone other than Glaucus was involved. And if we can’t find him, I can’t bring a charge. Now, if you will permit it, Excellence, I should like to try to stand on my feet again.’ It would not have been polite to make the attempt without his agreement.

He gave it readily, but was gratifyingly anxious for my strength. I lowered an exploratory foot to the floor. The world had not come apart, I discovered, and I cautiously allowed my second foot to follow the first.

‘Men who have been in slavery develop fortitude,’ I said, as Junio knelt to fasten on my sandals.

Pertinax nodded. I reached out a hand to Junio and another slave also came forward to assist me. Leaning heavily on their shoulders, I forced myself upright. The room swam, but I steadied myself and I was standing, rocky but vertical.

Pertinax smiled grimly. ‘You are a stubborn man, Libertus. In the circumstances, I have news for you. At first I thought you were not well enough to hear it. But since I find you determined to get up. .’

I sat down again. ‘More trouble, Excellence?’

He laughed softly. ‘Some men might think so, though after what you have been through it seems trivial enough. Annia Augusta is here. She has been asking to see you — if “ask” is the appropriate word. I sent to tell her that you’d been badly hurt, but she only insisted all the more. She has a sovereign remedy for burns, she says, and now she has sent back to the house for that. She was not content to send a message to you, either — she insists on seeing you in person. She is outside now, in my reception room, no doubt terrorising the servants. I would have sent her away but she is a determined woman. She threatened to create a disturbance in the street and I believed her.’

I found myself frowning. What possible circumstance could drive Annia Augusta — a mother in mourning for her son — to abandon her home and come storming to the governor’s palace in search of me? She was in danger of undoing all the purification rites for the funeral. What did she want to tell me which one of her household servants could not have come and told me just as well?

I asked, ‘Has Caius Monnius been cremated yet?’

Pertinax looked surprised. ‘I believe the funeral is scheduled for tonight. I suppose I shall be expected to attend, or at least to send a representative. .’ He stopped. ‘I see! She has left the house, so the matter must be serious. Nevertheless, citizen, I can have her sent away. You have been injured.’

I shook my head. ‘As you say, Mightiness, Annia Augusta is formidable, but after Glaucus. .’ I let the sentence hang unfinished in the air. ‘Perhaps a little sustenance, and then I will see the lady — and her remedies.’

‘My dear friend, of course. It shall be done at once. I have ordered something for you on the instructions of the medicus. It should be ready for you now.’ Pertinax clapped his hands and a servant scampered off to the kitchens at once, to reappear a moment later with a tray. It was the sort of soft food I have seen served to invalids — eggs whisked and cooked with herbs, barley gruel, hot milk and honey.

The governor made his farewells — ‘I am leaving some of my servants with you as well as your own slave. If there is anything you require, you have only to ask for it’ — and I was left to enjoy my nursery meal in peace.

It did not take long. I was not as hungry as I thought I was, but I ate most of the egg and I was as ready as I’d ever be to face the formidable Annia.

Formidable she was. She swept into the room like a black barge under full sail, towing a laden maidservant in her wake. Annia was veiled and cloaked, but hardly had the courtesies been fulfilled when she bundled off her constricting outer garment and thrust it unceremoniously at the slave. Then she folded her arms grimly and stood looking down at me.

‘Hmm,’ she said (I was reminded of the chicken-buying cook again), ‘you’re looking very pale. They told me you were hurt.’ She strode over to the bed where I was sitting. ‘Get rid of some of these slaves and let’s have a look at you. The governor has given his permission. All very well on a battlefield, these army medici, but when it comes to domestic injury you want a woman’s touch.’

I thought, rather sourly, that deliberate torture hardly came into the category of ‘domestic injury’ and if the woman in question was Annia Augusta her touch was likely to be — at best — robust. But I had no chance to argue. Most of the waiting slaves had already disappeared, and her maidservant, having disencumbered herself of the cloak, was juggling a variety of bottles, phials and bowls out of the woven basket she was carrying.

‘Take off that tunic and lie back,’ Annia said, and I found myself obeying — to the evident amusement of Junio who was grinning widely as he assisted me. I was glad that, in putting me to bed, the medicus had left my underbritches on.

The grin faded, however, as Annia peeled back the bandages. The linen strips had stuck in parts and I heard her tut to herself impatiently, but there was nothing impatient about the way she soaked the cloth (‘cooled boiled water, brought a flagon with me, much the best’) and eased it gently away with surprisingly expert, reassuring hands. It was like being under the care of my grandmother again.

‘Just as I thought,’ she muttered. ‘Those cuts are healing well. But the burns — no idea, some of these military men. Lavender and true aloe, that’s what we want here. Bring me that purple salve, girl, and the drops in that tall phial on the end.’

She might be poisoning me, for all I knew, I thought: but there were too many witnesses for that. Besides, the salve that she applied was blissfully soothing, and by the time she had bound my wounds I was feeling more comfortable than I had done all day. Even then Annia Augusta was not satisfied.

‘Sit up and drink this,’ she said, pouring a thick vile-looking yellow liquid into the goblet I had used earlier.

It smelt almost as evil as it looked, and tasted even worse, but — as I realised afterwards — it was effective, too. At the time, however, my only sensation was of a revolting taste and a consistency almost impossible to swallow. Not until I had signalled furiously to Junio and gulped down another half-pitcher of water did I feel able to look up and meet Annia Augusta’s eyes.

She was looking at me complacently, her ample hands clasped at her ample chest. ‘Well?’ she demanded. ‘How are you feeling now?’

I muttered somewhat ungraciously that I was still alive. In fact, I realised with surprise, I was beginning to feel a little better.

She nodded. ‘Very well, young man. You’ll do for now — especially if I keep an eye on you. Get on your clothes and come with me. You can’t walk anywhere, of course — I’ve got a litter waiting. We’ve got all sorts of problems at the house, and I think you should come and talk to Fulvia yourself.’

It was so unexpected that my mouth dropped open and for a moment I was speechless. Not merely that she had called me ‘young man’ (no one had done that for twenty years) but the calm assumption that I was now at her disposal, and could simply rise up from my bed of pain and accompany her as if nothing had happened.

Annia Augusta, though, seemed unaware of my amazement. She had turned away and was packing up her potion basket again: flapping away the efforts of the slave to help, as though she trusted the job to no one but herself. ‘I sent a message to you the other day,’ she was saying, ‘but you didn’t come, only that silly stuck-up palace-slave. I told him then — I thought you’d want to know. Filius heard it somewhere — you know what he is like about chariots. Fortunatus was supposed to be at some big race meeting somewhere the night of the murder, but he wasn’t. He was here in Londinium all the time, claiming to be seriously injured, though Mars alone knows if it is as bad as he pretends. Of course, Fulvia heard of this and insisted on talking to the messenger, so the goddess knows what garbled version of the tale you heard.’

I managed to mutter that the story had reached me much as she had told it. If I had stayed in Londinium, I thought, this amazing woman would have brought me the information which I had travelled so far and worked so hard to find.

‘Of course,’ Annia went on, putting down the basket and holding out her arms to have her cloak put on, ‘I don’t believe a word of it myself. I know what Fortunatus was up to that night, if you don’t. Only of course, Fulvia refuses to admit it. Goes on insisting that it was some stranger who broke in. And that’s the problem, citizen. She claims that somebody is still trying to kill her.’ She plonked herself down on the stool so that her servant could adjust the heavy veil over her face.

‘Has there been another attempt to knife her?’ I asked.

Annia snorted. ‘Not that, citizen. But she has insisted for days that someone is trying to poison her — she even started to use that old slave of hers, Prisca or whatever her name is, as a poison-taster. Just the sort of thing that you might expect from Fulvia — my poor Monnius lying there dead, and she begins upsetting the house and making herself the centre of attention. Of course we are not eating prepared meals until the funeral feast, just dry bread and fruit, but she is still insisting on having hers brought specially, won’t drink water from a jug and all that sort of nonsense. The priest had to have a word with her — you know how mourning rituals have to be observed, just so, in the right order, or the whole thing is invalid and you have to start again. Monnius had a perfect fear of bad omens at a funeral, and she seems determined to bring it about. Well, you can see for yourself.’ She got to her feet. ‘Put on a warm cloak, citizen. You’ll find it cold outside after what you’ve been through, and you can hardly travel through the streets, like that, dressed as a palace-slave.’

While she was talking I had permitted Junio to ease me painfully back into my borrowed tunic. I could see what she meant, but I had no intention of going with Annia in any case. For one thing, I was still unsteady on my feet, and for another I was sure that Glaucus had known Monnius, and I didn’t wish to encounter him again except in the safety of an imperial courtroom.

‘Madam citizen,’ I began, in my most formal apologetic manner, ‘I am flattered by your confidence in my powers, but I fail to see what I can do to help. Fulvia is taking every precaution, and unless something further untoward occurs it seems my presence would only interrupt the rituals still further.’

Annia Augusta stared at me. She was veiled, so I could not see her face, but I could feel the contempt through several layers of net.

‘Untoward?’ she said. ‘Of course it’s untoward. That’s what I have come here to tell you. I don’t know how it can have happened — I was sure that the whole thing was nonsense — but it seems there might have been something in it, after all. Prisca was found last evening outside the study, dead. She seems to have been poisoned tasting Fulvia’s food. Now, are you coming, citizen, or not?’