The Ghosts of Glevum

XI

As I struggled to regain my breath I tried to think. I had not expected such sudden capitulation, and the direct challenge caught me unawares. I realised I had no sensible reply to give.

I was suddenly horribly aware of how feeble my bargaining position was. I had no idea, in fact, what sort of ‘good reward’ Marcus was likely to agree to pay on my account, even supposing he was ever freed — and that looked far from certain, whatever I had said. Or he might be exiled — forbidden ‘fire and water’ within the Empire, as the formula required. In that case his goods would be forfeit to the state. It was even possible that, if he were suddenly released, he would pretend to regard the whole suggestion as a joke: Marcus was notoriously careful with every quadrans and of course I had no undertaking from him that he would pay anything at all.

It was a worry. No doubt these men would set the figure high, and I had no money of my own. Literally no money, now that Junio had my purse — not even at the roundhouse, if my instructions had been obeyed.

‘We’re waiting!’ The wraith, who still had me in his grip, gave me a savage little shake. ‘And no more lies about losing money on the chariots. We’ve asked. We know that you were never there last night!’

I had forgotten my pathetic little subterfuge, so this disconcerted me; and the suggestion that my story had been checked out like this made me more disturbed than ever. ‘My patron knows how to show his gratitude,’ I burbled, trying to avoid naming an outright sum. ‘I’m sure that, when he’s freed, he will surprise you with his generosity.’

I knew that it was weak. The man with half a hand obviously thought so too. He shook his head. ‘Not good enough!’ he said. ‘We see money here and now, otherwise I vote we rob and kill him straight away. That way we’re sure of something, anyway. Bury the body in the marsh; they’ll never find it there.’

There was another murmur of agreement round the fire at this.

Lercius waved his jagged piece of wood again, his face in the sullen firelight wreathed in smiles. ‘I’ll find out if he has money, if you like. Or if you’re going to push him in the river, let me have him first,’ he pleaded.

There was something disquietingly infantile in his enthusiasm, and it dawned on me chillingly for the first time that he was not entirely sane. He was like a child who likes tormenting flies. The idea that I might become a human version of the fly was enough to send shudders down my spine. I tried to speak, but no words came out.

‘Just a little bit?’ he begged.

Sosso shook his head at him, but the wraith said warningly to me, ‘He’s right. You pay us something now, or there’s no deal at all.’

I found my voice, but it was still unsteady as I said, ‘I’ll give you something when I reach the house. But I don’t have my purse. .’

At this Sosso gave a nod towards the man with the scars, who got up and shambled to my side. Then, almost before I knew what was afoot, a pair of expert hands were travelling over me, so quick and light that I scarcely felt them move.

‘No purse,’ the man reported, and melted back into the dark.

‘He’s got that fancy oyster spoon,’ the woman said. ‘That should be worth a sestertius or two. We’ll have that for a start.’

‘My spoon?’ I hadn’t thought of that. It was the one object of any value that I had with me, but it had hardly seemed adequate as a bribe. That was no problem. I would have given a thousand oyster spoons to be away from there. ‘Very well,’ I muttered hastily, eyeing Lercius, who was still loitering. ‘The oyster spoon it is.’ I started to unclip it from my belt, but Sosso intervened.

‘Belt too!’ he grunted, and there was nothing I could do but take that off as well.

‘Now those.’ He pointed to my shoes.

I did gulp a bit at this. I was almost freezing as it was. The idea of walking barefoot in cold ooze and mud, with who knew what lurking underneath the mire, sent physical shivers down my spine. Besides, once I had parted with my shoes, I had nothing left to barter with at all. Yet there was not really an alternative.

I made a last attempt. ‘The spoon and belt now and the shoes when I get clear.’

‘You heard. He asked you for the shoes! No arguments.’ The wraith’s iron grip tightened on my arm. ‘You want us to let Lercius loose on you?’

I squatted on the ground and took off my shoes. It occurred to me that I was now entirely at the mercy of the gang. Why should I expect them to keep their word and help me? I couldn’t run and they had everything I owned, except my tunic and my underpants. It would not surprise me now if they took those as well, and either left me here to freeze or trussed me up and tossed me into the Sabrina then and there. In fact I was half expecting it. I could see that it would give Lercius a thrill to undertake the job on their behalf.

Sosso had unexpectedly put down his knife and was sitting on the ground beside the fire, pulling off his own ancient, tattered buskins — if that is not too grand a name for them. They were foot-coverings of the crude old-fashioned type that land slaves sometimes wear: mere bags of uncured cowhide, stripped still bloody from the animal, bound around the foot, and worn until it has dried out to a kind of formless boot. Even in the dim light of the fire I could see that Sosso’s were split and full of holes, and had rubbed raw patches on both his feet — the same feet which he was now trying to force into my soft leather shoes.

They were proper shoes, not sandals — the only ones I had — worn in honour of my visit to the garrison. They had been made specially for me by a shoemaker as part of my payment when I’d designed a pavement for him once, and they were made of soft goatskin, cut to fit my foot. They were designed to lace together like a sandal at the top, admittedly, but on Sosso’s filthy and misshapen feet they looked ridiculous. Both of them were far too small for him, but the one into which he’d pushed his swollen foot scarcely stretched further than the sole, and he struggled to make the laces meet at all. Sosso, though, seemed pleased with the effect, pointing his feet and wiggling his toes like a Lydian dancing girl.

His delight in such a simple thing was so self-evident that, at any other time, I could have felt a pang of sympathy for him, but then I felt only resentment and despair. Acute discomfort, too. I now had no shoes myself and as soon as I stood up freezing slime oozed in between my toes while my soles sank into cold and gritty mud. Walking anywhere like this would be a misery. Though, I told myself, that was probably the very least of my concerns — I would be lucky to walk anywhere again.

Or see anything either, if Lercius had his way. He had crept forward while Sosso was preoccupied, and taken up my spoon. He was now holding it towards me and making little stabbing motions with the oyster-spike in the direction of my eyes. When he saw me flinch he giggled and gave it an unpleasant little twist. In his hands it was a weapon.

The wraith, who had been watching Sosso, turned to him. ‘Put that down, Lercius. It is not for you. It’s to trade for food,’ he said firmly, and to my surprise Lercius gave a sulky shrug and did as he was told.

‘Speaking of food,’ grumbled the ragged woman, whose child had by now set up a thin, hungry wail, ‘here’s Parva with the soup. And none too soon. Grossus promised it to us hours ago.’ She pointed down the alleyway, where the pock-faced girl was struggling towards us through the gloom, carrying a pail of something in both her hands.

Soup. At the very thought of it my stomach growled, and when the girl edged towards the fire — no reluctance to make way for her now! — and lifted off the lid, I thought that I should faint from hunger at the smell of it. No matter that it was the worst kind of soup the cheap hot-food shops sell: a thin and greasy brew in which fragments of fur and hoof are often visible and a bit of gristle is a tasty treat. No matter that it was the drainings of the pot. Tonight it might have been ambrosia.

I wondered how the waiting group would eat, since there were no bowls or spoons in evidence, but the girl unslung a sacking bag which she had been carrying, and opened it to reveal some broken loaves of bread. These she spread out on the upturned bucket-lid, while people clustered round impatiently. The bread was obviously hard and stale, but everyone fell on it at once, seizing a piece and dipping it into the soup, then sucking it voraciously. As if their lives depended on it — as perhaps they did.

Even Sosso had stopped admiring his shoes and sprang up from his muddy perch to take his place. I noticed that the others left him the biggest piece of bread. He impaled it on his knife blade and immersed it in the pail. He did not stop to savour it, as the others did, but gnawed at it hungrily at once, then dipped the remnants in the soup again and stuffed the whole thing in his mouth.

I had been watching all this hungrily, and was surprised at his restraint, but the reason for it soon became obvious. He speared another piece and gave it to the wraith, who was thus able to eat his meagre meal without for an instant letting go of me. Sosso took up his former station guarding me. The burned man produced a large dead eel from a sack, swiftly struck off its head with a sharp stone, stripped off its skin between his forefinger and thumb, then thrust a long stick down its throat and set it to cook across the fire. It was all done in a moment, and soon the smell of cooking eel arose. I have never cared for eel, but it smelt so good it almost made me faint.

‘I need food,’ I said uncertainly. ‘Give me some. I’ll pay.’

Sosso sneered. ‘How? Your underpants?’ The knife-blade flickered closer as he spoke.

Suddenly an inspiration dawned. ‘I know where there’s a denarius,’ I said.

The knife withdrew perceptibly. ‘Where?’

‘In the fountain of Apollo, near the market place. I dropped it there myself. Or rather, I offered it to someone from the garrison, if he could get a message to my patron or give me some information at the least. But first of all he wasn’t any help and then he accidentally knocked it in. It should still be there.’

‘Not any more it’s not.’ The man they called Cornovacus stepped forward suddenly and I got my first proper look at him. He was tall and thin and scrawny, wrapped in filthy rags, and his face had the pointed features of a rat, but there was a certain darting sharpness in his eyes. He had a silver coin in his hand. ‘This is the money, Sosso. I was going to give it to you for the common purse. By Dis, I think he’s telling us the truth. He was at the fountain earlier — I saw him there. And he did put money on the water trough. Three whole denarii. I saw the wretch that he was talking to — a cursed fellow in a military cloak — stick out his greedy little hand and scoop the others up, may Jupiter turn his cursed blood to bile. But this one fell in.’ He turned it in his hand. ‘I got it out. I thought the Fates had smiled on me at last.’

‘How could you know all that?’ I was startled into speech. ‘There was nobody about.’

Cornovacus laughed mirthlessly. ‘That’s what you think, my friend! We don’t survive by being visible — especially not those of us who need to take a purse or two to live. I was there all right — in the shadows by the fish market. I saw you, as I say.’

That was a sobering idea, in itself, but now that he had testified on my account I almost began to hope again. Then, suddenly, I saw the implications. If he had seen me, he had seen me in a toga, and in that case I was probably as good as dead.

His next words to Sosso confirmed my darkest fears. ‘This scum on the wine of Bacchus may be what he claims. But that’s not all he is. He put the coins on the corner of the trough. I saw him do it. But I didn’t realise it was him. He didn’t look much like a tradesman then.’ The little rat eyes glittered as he looked at me. ‘Dressed up in very fancy clothes, he was.’

There! It was out. I closed my eyes, and waited for Lercius and his piece of wood. But it was Sosso who whirled round to me. ‘Where’s your purse? Had money then.’ His speech might be slow and jerky, I admitted to myself, but his thought was quicker than a flashing sword.

I am not prone to the sorts of oaths that Cornovacus used, but at that moment I almost cursed the Fates. If I had kept my purse I might have got away — or at least have eaten something warm before I died. ‘I gave it to my slave to take home,’ I said reluctantly, resigned to the truth now that I had nothing left to lose. ‘Together with my toga. But I did have money earlier. Your friend is right.’

‘Up to something with the soldiers, eh?’ Sosso sneered. It was a long utterance for him.

‘I keep telling you. I brought the money to try to bribe the guard. I wanted information, that’s all. That’s why I gave it to that man — he’s a military secretary with the garrison. A nervous sort of fellow with a tic.’

Parva with the pock-marked face spoke up again. ‘That’s true, too. I know the man. He’s the one I was. .’ She paused, then went on in a different tone of voice, ‘The rat. He was carrying at least two denarii, and he only gave me three lousy quadrantes. Said it was all the coin he had.’

Sosso ignored her. He turned away and held a muttered conference with Cornovacus and the wraith, leaving me, for a moment, without a guard. Shoeless and helpless as I was, I contemplated making a bolt for it, but the sight of Lercius at my elbow dissuaded me. The others were still whispering, though I could not catch the words. I didn’t like the look of it at all. What were they scheming now?

Suddenly Sosso came loping back to me, and the wraith resumed his firm grip on my arm. ‘Agreed?’ he asked the group.

‘If he can afford to bribe the secretary, he can afford to pay to save his wretched skin,’ the woman said. ‘He’s worth a denarius or two, by the look of him. Just the sort to have a wealthy patron, too. Let him promise, and make sure he pays.’

‘If there is any problem, Lercius will soon take care of it,’ the scarred man put in. ‘Splinters under the fingernails and a heated brand or two. You know what these accursed white-robers are. He had a purse. It must be somewhere. I didn’t lift it from him, that’s all I know. He’ll pay.’

Sosso nodded to Cornovacus. ‘Very well. Get Tullio,’ and the man slipped away, like the shadow that he almost was.

I wondered vaguely who Tullio might be and what further trouble he would bring. But there was little time to think of that. Sosso squared up to me — or at least up to my chest, which was about as far up me as he reached. ‘One denarius for food. Two more to get you home. Tonight!’

It might have been a bargain in the normal scheme of things, but tonight he might as well have asked me for the Circus Maximus. Yet I was not in a position to object. I would have to agree and hope that I could barter later on — or perhaps find something in the roundhouse he could have. If Gwellia had not taken everything to Corinium, there was just a chance that I could produce enough to save my skin.

‘Very well.’ I found that I was shaking with relief.

Too quick! The crone said instantly. ‘Make it four denarii. That’s two for us at least. Grossus will want half, if he hears of it. Or maybe five.’

It was absurd, but I had to make a stand. The price could go on rising indefinitely. ‘Three. You’ve already got my spoon and belt and shoes,’ I said.

Sosso stood on tiptoe to leer at me. ‘I know,’ he said. ‘Tough, isn’t it? Four.’

I was shivering with cold. ‘Very well,’ I muttered. ‘Four denarii. And not a quadrans more. And remember I can’t pay you if I have died of cold before you get me home. Nor if I have starved to death. Where is this food you were promising?’

Sosso nodded. He left me to the mercy of the wraith, whose bony grip tightened on my arm, and walked purposefully to his discarded boots. He kicked them towards me. ‘Fair exchange!’

They were split, spoiled, misshapen, but I pulled them on. There was no way to dry or clean my feet, freezing and muddy as they were, but the scant protection of those ill-fitting evil-smelling bags felt like a kind of paradise to me. I knew in that instant why, in this climate, shoes were such a prize and why Sosso had been so delighted to have mine.

Sosso hadn’t finished. ‘Sack,’ he said, and someone fetched the one that had contained the eel. It stank and it was damp, but it was extra warmth, and I wrapped it round my shoulders like a cloak.

Sosso grunted with impatience, snatched it back and made three slashes in it with his knife. ‘Like this,’ he said, and pulled it over me, making a kind of ragged outer tunic of the thing. It was disgusting and uncomfortable, but I saw that he was right. The second layer gave me much more warmth than simply huddling it round me would have done. Then Sosso seized the smaller bread sack and arranged it round my head and shoulders like a sort of cape. I was still chattering with cold, but I was by now better dressed than some of the other members of the group.

‘Food,’ Sosso ordered, and someone handed me a piece of eel on a stick. Blackened on the outside and half cooked within, nevertheless it was hot and it was tasty. ‘Another!’ and I wolfed that down as well. Then someone was sent to put some extra water in the pail (I did not ask where from) and Sosso gave me that, and I found myself drinking the greasy remnants of the soup. Anything edible had been mopped up long before, but I sucked on the remaining bits of bone, and chewed the ear of something, till I felt a little better, and there was nothing left at all.

It was only then that I looked up. The rest were eating eel, though there was an altercation near the fire between the woman with the child and the pock-faced girl. I realised, with a pang of guilt, that I must have eaten someone else’s share. I had been thinking resentfully of what a denarius would buy — honey cakes, hot pie, and a better class of soup — but I began to view my meal rather differently. It was possible these people had not seen food for days. What they had given me, though poor, was all they had — though naturally the weakest suffered most.

I felt better for it, too: not full or comfortable or warm, but I was no longer in danger of a faint. I turned to Sosso since he seemed to be in charge.

‘If you are going to get me out of here, when do we start? And don’t play any tricks. If I turn up dead, they’ll be looking for my shoes.’ That wasn’t true, but it was worth a try. The fire was burning low by now, and I noted with alarm that one or two had wrapped their rags round themselves and were curled up by the wall, as if they intended to be there all night. If I was expected to do that, I thought, I should be dead by dawn. ‘What’s the plan?’

Sosso said nothing.

‘I mean it,’ I said. ‘What’s the plan? Or don’t you have a plan? Are you waiting to discuss it with your bearded friend? And what’s your connection with him, anyway?’

Sosso bared his teeth in a sort of smile. His eyes and blade both glittered in the glow. ‘Too many questions,’ he said. He gestured to a place beside the fire. ‘Sit down there and wait.’

‘Wait for what?’

He smiled more broadly then. ‘You’ll see.’