It was humiliating, but it did have one effect: people melted back at once to let us pass. Fortunate perhaps – if we’d been jostled, I’d have run into the blade – but it is a phenomenon that I have seen before. When someone is being marched to the garrison under Roman guard, everyone gives him as much space as possible – as though his fate might be contagious, like the plague, or leprosy. It wasn’t long before we got back to the gate.
It was dark and cool inside the guardhouse, as it always is, though there were candles burning in sconces on the walls. We did not pause in the guardroom as I’d expected to; instead my escort gestured with his dagger up the stairs to where the garrison commander had his room. I was to see the most important officer in town.
He rose to meet me as I came in: a tall, rangy, athletic-looking man with a lined and weathered face, and the general appearance of a shrewd intelligence. His armour shone so you could see your face in it.
I glanced around. A bare room, furnished with a table and a stool, with the shadowy statue of a deity on the far wall. A pile of scrolls and scraps of folded bark showed that he had been working on letters when we arrived. No comforts except an oil lamp and a flask of wine. The commander of the garrison had always been austere.
The fat guard snapped to a salute. ‘In the name of His Imperial Divinity . . .’ he began, but his superior brushed all that aside.
‘Citizen Libertus? I think we’ve met before.’ His voice was cool but courteous and his eyes were sharp.
I nodded. ‘In the service of my patron, Marcus Septimus,’ I said, getting that important name in as early as I could. ‘I was privileged to help him with a problem he had.’
The commander smiled. ‘So I recollect. In fact he was here a little earlier – with your adopted son – asking some questions on your behalf, he said. So perhaps you can resolve another little problem we have here.’ He nodded to the fat guard. ‘Bring the young man in.’
I heard the hobnailed sandals go clattering down the stairs, and a little afterwards come clattering up again accompanied by softer footfalls, which proved to belong to . . .
‘Minimus!’ I exclaimed.
The commander of the garrison looked stonily at him. ‘You admit that you know this boy then, citizen? There seems to be some doubt about whose slave he really is. One moment he claims to be in Marcus’s employ, bringing letters which are fastened with His Excellence’s seal, and the next he is causing a rumpus in the streets, and insisting that he belongs to you.’ He came round the table as he spoke, and, pushing back the styluses and seal-wax and pots of octopus ink, squatted on the edge and looked very hard at me.
‘It’s really very simple.’ I was burbling. I thought I understood what had occurred, by now. ‘He is in the service of my patron, but he’s been loaned to me – there’s another one as well, a snowy-headed one, who came into town with me. The one who gave you my description, I believe. I’d just sent him on an errand when the horse went past. I think that Niveus saw that it was Minimus and tried to make him stop . . .’
The commander raised a laconic eyebrow. ‘Not because he had been robbing the market stall, you mean?’
‘Stealing?’ I was horrified. Only a few years ago, theft by a slave was a capital offence, and even now it often meant a sentence to the mines. I could not believe that Minimus would be so foolish as to take the risk, and I was about to protest on his behalf, but when I glanced towards him the words died on my lips. He was pink and guiltily staring at the floor, the very personification of discomfiture.
‘He can hardly deny it. They found him with the goods. We brought you here to see if you would intervene on his behalf.’ The officer was clearly doing his very best for me – and for my patron at the same time, of course. The usual treatment for a thief was very different.
Minimus gave me a shamefaced, sideways look. ‘I’m very sorry, master, but I didn’t mean to steal. I thought I had a contract for borrowing the things. I even left my leather belt behind, as surety for her.’
‘A belt which by your own admission is not even yours. It’s simply part of your villa uniform, and therefore belongs to your owner – not to you!’ The officer was sharp.
Minimus had no reply to this. He went back to examining his sandal straps again.
I looked at the commander. He raised his brows at me. ‘He does claim he made a promise to bring the asking price, if his master found the goods were satisfactory.’
I nodded in relief. Such an arrangement is not unusual, when a slave is sent to negotiate a purchase on his owner’s behalf – the more so if the owner is a well-known wealthy man, and has not actually seen the goods himself. ‘But surely, if he was acting on His Excellence’s behalf, any stall-holder would be happy to agree to such a thing?’ I assumed it was Marcus the boy was acting for – I hadn’t asked him to buy me anything.
The shrewd eyes were boring into me. ‘Exactly so, my friend. So it comes as rather a surprise that the moment that he mentioned it, the woman changed her mind.’
‘We had an agreement . . .’ Minimus began, but a jerk from the fat guard silenced him at once.
I raised my eyebrows. ‘But they did have a legal arrangement, didn’t they?’ And then I realised. ‘Oh, I see. She claims that the verbal contract has no force in law, because he is a slave?’
‘I see you understand. She suddenly declared that it was null and void. But he had the goods by then, and . . .’ He waved a languid hand. ‘She tried to stop him, but he rode away.’
‘I saw a group of people giving chase,’ I said. ‘Of course I didn’t realise then it was Minimus on the horse.’
‘She called on some other stall-holders to help. She obviously couldn’t run fast enough herself. They didn’t catch up with him until he’d gone through the gates – I don’t think that they would have stopped him even then, if that child hadn’t darted out and clutched the horse’s tail.’
The boy looked ruefully at me. ‘I slowed down because I heard someone call my name. It was Niveus, of course, and once he’d taken hold I couldn’t gallop off and drag him down the lanes.’ He shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, citizen. I didn’t mean to bring this trouble on us all.’
The commander quelled him with a single look. I was to be treated with a certain courtesy, but the favour did not extend to slaves.
‘So he was arrested?’ I said, finally.
‘That’s the funny thing. At first the woman didn’t seem to want to make a charge – until we threatened to flog her for falsely claiming to be robbed. As I said, she now accuses him of theft. And you know what the punishment for that is apt to be?’ He gave me a half-smile which reminded me that he was on my side – thanks to Marcus, as I had no doubt. ‘Unless you are prepared to act on his behalf, confirm that he was acting as your agent in all this, and that any penalty should be referred to you?’
My spirits sank. I knew what this would mean. A fine was the standard penalty for petty theft, when it applied freemen and citizens. Fourfold restitution was the standard rate – and no doubt the woman would quote the highest asking price. Of course, I’d not mandated Minimus to purchase anything, but I could not see him sentenced to the mines on my account.
I sighed. Whatever this famous item was, it would cost me very dear. I only hoped that it was worth the price.
‘He was acting on my mandate,’ I said reluctantly. ‘I agree to formal liability for any debt or fine. Though I too will have to ask for a delay. I have come to Glevum without my purse.’
The commander nodded. ‘Then we shall have the woman in, and see if she consents – all three parties must agree, of course – and if she does, we’ll let this fellow go.’ He got to his feet. ‘Soldier, go and fetch her.’
The fat guard was looking rather sourly at me, as if this outcome had disappointed him. He clearly felt aggrieved that he was still on duty, and not in the barracks enjoying his weak wine and army stew. But he said, ‘At once, sir,’ and set off down the stairs.
The commander had turned his back on us to return to his stool, so I took the opportunity to mouth at Minimus, ‘What was it?’
He just had time to answer silently, ‘Tunic!’ before the guard came in again, with the plump puffing woman I’d seen before.
When she saw Minimus she waved a fist at him. ‘That’s him – the one who robbed me. And me a widow, too. Thinks he can come and trick me, because he has a fancy horse. Then telling me he was His Excellence’s slave! Well, I knew that it was nonsense, so of course I changed my mind. I’ve seen His Excellence’s messengers in town – all scarlet tunics and fancy capes and things. Give a good price for one of those, I would.’ The woman folded her plump arms across her chest. ‘And that’s another thing. What would His Excellence want old tunics for?’
‘I think he will be glad to see it,’ I observed. ‘If it’s the tunic that I think it is. Did you sell one like it to a passing peasant girl?’
I had confirmed that my patron had an interest in the case, and I saw that the officer had taken note of that, but the woman rattled on without pausing for a breath.
‘Sell it to the peasant girl? That’s what the slave boy asked and I told him then I’ve never sold her anything at all. Of course, I’ve seen her in the forum market with her mother many times – the girl with the peculiar greeny plaits, if that’s the one you mean. In fact, she used to come sometimes and look at what I had. If anyone needed my stuff it was her – that dress she wore had got to be at least a size too small. But I used to shoo her off because she never bought. Where would she get the money from?’
‘She did have money, before she died,’ I said.
‘Not when she came to me she didn’t, citizen. The last time I saw her, she even said as much. She was bemoaning the fact that she didn’t have the means to bribe that fellow in the town who was offering all the street acts a chance to show their skills and possibly be chosen to be sent to Rome. Not that she would have had the slightest chance – she couldn’t sing or anything as far as I’m aware, and anyway he disappeared and most of the acts were disappointed in the end. But she was desperate to try and he was taking anything people offered him, even a few
quadrans
if it came to it. But she didn’t even have that. So she certainly couldn’t have afforded that tunic – even if I’d had it at the time, which I didn’t anyway. It’s not a cheap item, as I told the lad.’
The commander was clearly impatient with all this gossiping. ‘So, what is the value you claim that you are owed? It was a second-hand tunic, is that what I understand?’
‘But an expensive item, mightiness, all the same. Almost entirely unused, and lovely soft material – flimsy, cut low round the arms and neck, and dyed in the most expensive yellow dye. Granted there is a nasty tear across the back, but it could be mended with a little care. The nicest thing that I have had all year – and he just thinks he can walk off with it.’ She nodded towards Minimus with a spiteful look. ‘Or are you going to pay me what he owes me, citizen?’ She named a price that would have made a statue blink.
The slave boy shot me an apologetic glance. ‘That’s what I promised her. I’m sorry, citizen. But I was certain you’d want the tunic when I saw it on the stall.’
‘Silence, slave!’ The commanding officer was brisk.
‘Speak when you are spoken to and not before. You hear?’ The fat guard gave the boy a shake to underline his point.
Minimus looked appealingly at me. ‘But master! It’s the one I saw Morella wearing that day. I’m sure I’m not mistaken – it’s not a colour or material that you see every day. I thought it would help you and His Excellence with your enquiries—’
‘Silence, prisoner! I am making the enquiry here!’ The commandant gestured briskly to the guard. ‘Take him outside until I call for him,’ he ordered, and without further ceremony the boy was marched away.
‘So there might be more enquiries?’ I saw the woman blanch, and tug at the leather apron she wore. Something had made her nervous, and it gave me an idea.
‘Where did you get the tunic from, anyway?’ I risked a little enquiry of my own. ‘Since the servant says he saw the girl in it, and you agree that it was on your stall today?’
The change in her manner was quite remarkable. ‘I’m just a poor old widow, citizen. I bought it in good faith. If it was stolen, how was I to know? I don’t ask too many questions – in my trade, you don’t. A young man brought it to me, and I gave him a good price. That’s all I can tell you.’
I glanced towards the officer for permission to go on. He had been listening intently, and he signalled his agreement with his brows.
‘This young man you speak of. Would you know him again?’
She shook her head. ‘Not really. It was not a face I knew. Funny sort of accent, that’s what I noticed most – I guessed he’d come from Venta, or somewhere west like that. He clearly was a trader: he had pots and things to sell.’ A reluctant shrug. ‘They were good items – I didn’t haggle.’
‘Items?’ That was the commander.
She nodded. ‘Offered me some sandals – very nearly new. I didn’t put those on the stall, because they fitted me. A little bit small across the top, but good enough to wear.’ She lifted her brown tunic to exhibit them. ‘And
those
were not Morella’s, I can tell you that! She was still wearing those awful boots of hers when I last caught sight of her.’
‘What do you mean, “still wearing”?’ I pounced on this at once. ‘You saw her in that tunic, didn’t you? And don’t attempt to lie. Remember, we can make enquiries in the marketplace. If you saw her, other people will have seen her too.’
The market woman had turned an unhappy scarlet by this time. ‘All right – I might have seen the girl in something similar, I suppose – if you ask round the market they will tell you that – but how was I supposed to know that this was hers? Anyway, it seems that the previous owner had discarded all the things. The fellow said he’d found them stuffed into a hedge, wrapped in a bit of sack – well, who’d do that if they still wanted them? Stands to reason they’d been thrown away.’
‘You said yourself the tunic was most unusual,’ I said. ‘You must have been suspicious when it turned up for sale. Didn’t you even wonder what had happened to the girl? Especially since you knew her well enough to know her name.’