A Pattern of Blood (21 page)

It was too much for the youth. He cast a terrified look in my direction and, stopping to pick up a small urn from one of the niches, bolted for the door and disappeared. Junio was ready to run after him, but I called him back.

‘Let him go. We have other matters to attend to, and the baths will be a better place without him.’

Junio nodded reluctantly. ‘If you say so, master. After all, he wasn’t a slave.’

That was no idle distinction. Permitting a slave to escape is a serious offence – although it is even more serious for the deserter. Runaway slaves are hunted by everyone, from the authorities downwards, and are likely to be severely whipped or fed to the beasts when recaptured. Or both. Those that fail to escape must often wish that they had perished less painfully in the attempt.

However, we need not fear the justices. Our man was one of the freeborn poor. That was why I had let him go. I should have handed him over to the authorities – he was a blackmailer and a thief – but I couldn’t help feeling a twinge of sympathy for him, abandoned at an early age into a poky hovel and scratching a living where he could. After all, I told myself, he had done no great harm. He had stolen a few trinkets and forced Maximilian to pay a high price for his foolishness, but there could be no court case against him for that, because Maximilian had not complained about it at once as the law demanded. No doubt most of the things could be recovered – the little weasel was too terrified to return to his flat.

There would be no ‘little business’ for him now, either. Instead, I guessed, he would join the bands of ragged beggars and tricksters who frequent the highways, supported by whatever he had hidden in that urn. All in all, I did not feel that Corinium would suffer his loss.

In the meantime, the baths were short of an attendant and the place was filling up quickly.

‘Marcus will be waiting,’ I said to Junio, ‘and in any case, I think it is time we left. Prospective bathers are already shouting for somebody to watch their clothes. Besides, I want to go to the forum and hear the reading of the will. It will be starting soon.’

The boy shot me a delighted grin and we went out, back into the hubbub of the town. It was well past noon now, and a crowd was beginning to gather and make its way, jostling, under the carved portico and into the forum. We joined them and soon reached the steps of the basilica, where the ceremony would take place.

The basilica was a fine building, despite the works that were being carried out to it – a huge marble-faced edifice with an apse at one end and a flight of imposing stone steps leading up to the entrance. It was fronted by a number of fine statues, and in particular by Jupiter’s column, which had a decided cant. I remembered what Lupus had said about the collection of taxes for its repair.

I had plenty of time to admire it, because there was an appreciable wait. I was beginning to consider giving up and going back to find Marcus before we exhausted his patience, when there was a little stir at the entrance and people stood back to let two litters pass, accompanied by a small retinue on foot. Julia and Sollers had arrived, with Mutuus and a pair of slaves in attendance. I was surprised. It is not usual for a woman to attend, but Julia had defied convention, and although she wore a loose veil over her head, she had not covered her face as most widows do. She walked to the steps of the basilica with a firm tread and her head held high. What a woman she was. I looked for Maximilian, but there was no sign of him. A pity. I had things to say to him.

A group of toga-ed officials appeared from within the building, some with their staffs of office carried before them by
lictors
, while a chair was fetched and the presiding magistrate seated himself importantly upon it. As a decurion, Quintus could expect to have proper ceremony attending the opening of his will. The precious scroll was produced – an impressive legal document on fine parchment, sealed with heavy wax – the seals were broken (ceremonially, with the crowd crying ‘ahh!’ at each seal) and the reading commenced.

The will was concise, as far as Roman wills ever are. Quintus had eschewed the common practice of using his will as an opportunity to malign his enemies, and apart from a slighting reference to Lupus, ‘that vain and grotesque parcel of lascivious bones’, there was little in the preamble to delight the crowd. The endowments, too, were simple enough. His debts were first to be paid (cheers from the bystanders, including the fuller and his son whom I had spotted among the audience). Then, a great feast was to be held in the market square (louder cheers), followed by a gladiatorial contest and chariot racing in the arena. (Prolonged cheering, after which many of the audience began to drift away.) A series of substitute legatees was named, in case the prime and secondary heirs refused to inherit, as they sometimes did, and a number of small bequests were made to clientes ‘in remembrance of duty owed’. Manumission for the chief slave and a formal ending of Mutuus’s bond were also granted, although the remaining crowd was visibly less interested in these provisions.

Then came the real business of the day. There was a generous sum for Sollers, together with a small but adequate pension for life. To Julia, Quintus left his country house (I was not aware that he had one), and one third of the fortune. The town house and the rest of the estate went to Maximilian, who was named as principal heir. And then came the real surprise.

‘I appoint my esteemed friend, Marcus Aurelius Septimus, if he will accept the office, to act as legal sponsor to my wife, in all matters of contract and in the courts, on the understanding that he will act only according to her wishes; and she may marry or use her endowment as she will.’

That would please Marcus, I thought. I wondered if he had known of it.

Maximilian had still not put in an appearance. As the crowd began to drift away. I made my way through the remaining bystanders until I reached the basilica steps. Julia saw me and gave me one of her heart-stopping smiles. As I came towards the little party, she reached out a welcoming hand. There were, I noticed, tears glistening in the saffron-lidded eyes.

‘It is a mournful business, is it not? But Quintus has dealt generously with us all. Naming Marcus as my protector was a clever move. It will save me from Flavius. I was afraid he would try to claim jurisdiction over me. And there are a good many public endowments.’

I smiled grimly. ‘But not, I fear, anything about pavements.’

‘Quintus obviously expected to donate that while he lived.’ She turned impulsively to Sollers. ‘We might, don’t you think, commission one all the same? In memory of my husband?’

He looked at her indulgently. ‘Julia, my dear. The fortune is yours. Marcus is notionally your sponsor, but you heard the terms of the will. You are no longer in tutelage, either as a daughter or a wife. You must spend your money as you please. However, since you suggest it, such a gesture would be a gracious one.’

She smiled at me again. ‘Then, Libertus, the commission is yours.’ She seemed to stop and consider. ‘A bold design is best, I think. It will in any case be difficult to see the mosaic through the steam. When the funeral is over, I will speak to your patron about keeping you here a while.’ Julia, it seemed, had little difficulty making decisions, once the chance was offered.

I thanked her gravely, although, of course, without a nominated price such a promise does not constitute a contract – as I have learned before, to my cost. I wondered if Julia knew that. She raised her hand in dismissal, then turned and made her way towards the waiting litter.

Sollers might have followed her, but I detained him. I was delighted by the kindness of her offer, but I had concerns about it. ‘Will there,’ I asked him seriously, ‘be sufficient funds for such an endowment? I should not like the lady to overreach herself for my benefit.’

He laughed. ‘There is no fear of that. Quintus was worth a considerable fortune. Julia was always wealthy, my friend. Now she is very rich indeed.’

‘And Maximilian?’

His face clouded. ‘Maximilian even more so. He will have, of course, to take his father’s place as decurion in due course, but mercifully he cannot seek election until he is twenty-five. Perhaps by then he will have learned some greater discretion.’

‘And you, what will you do now?’

He shook his head. ‘I do not know as yet. Nothing, perhaps, for a little while. Quintus has been most generous to me. Much more than I expected or deserved. Perhaps I will seek a civic appointment. Or perhaps Julia will have a use for me.’

He sounded so forlorn that I was moved to say, suddenly, ‘Have you no idea at all? What was it that the soothsayer foretold?’

He looked at me in surprise.

‘That evening,’ I said, ‘when you were returning from the chariot races. Did she give you no advice?’

He gave me a wry smile. ‘Oh, yes, I had forgotten you were there. It was much as you’d expect. The usual mixture of wild promises and dreadful warnings. I paid no attention to her. I fear the gods, and have a proper respect for omens and the established augurs, but I do not pay much credence to the ramblings of warty old beggar-women who claim to see meaning in a flock of birds. And now, excuse me: I must return to the house. There is much still to do. Do you wish to accompany us?’

The thought of trailing along on foot beside the litters with the slaves while he rode in style with Julia was not appealing. However, I had my excuse to hand. ‘I have not quite finished my enquiries, medicus. I have learned something interesting in the town. Something of great significance. Please give that message to my patron and tell him I will not be long.’

He looked at me sharply, but I offered no more and finally he said, ‘As you wish, citizen. Till later, then.’

He nodded in farewell, and strode to where the litters were waiting. Julia was getting into one of them, assisted by Mutuus, who was helping her into it with assiduous attention, while Julia smiled her thanks.

At that moment, despite his legacy, Sollers did not look a happy man.

The slaves raised the litters to their shoulders, and, swaying under the weight, moved swiftly out of the forum. I watched them go. It was starting to rain again, and we took shelter under the portico.

Junio looked at me. ‘Further business, you said, master? You want to find that soothsayer?’

I grinned at him. ‘I want to visit the slave market. I still haven’t made any enquiries about Gwellia. But yes, I want to see this soothsayer, before she disappears like the boy from the baths. It appears that she was little better than a beggar. No wonder she was susceptible to Maximilian’s bribe.’ That had surprised me a little at the time. Amateur soothsayers are sometimes crazy, but they are usually sincere.

Junio nodded. ‘No wonder either that Sollers was unimpressed.’

‘I only marvel that he stopped to listen to her at all.’

‘I wonder what she said to him,’ Junio said with a grin. ‘I suppose we can guess what the “dire predictions” were like, since Maximilian was paying her to make them. “Beware the house of the decurion”, no doubt. Or something more mysterious-sounding than that, but meaning the same thing. You know what soothsayers are like.’

I grinned back at him. ‘It seems that you do,’ I said jokingly. ‘She didn’t get around to telling my fortune. I don’t often consult soothsayers. And neither does Sollers, seemingly.’ A thought struck me and I added, more thoughtfully, ‘Though in that case, wasn’t it rather dangerous for Maximilian to choose to delay him with a soothsayer? There must have been a chance that he would ignore her and walk on.’

Junio shook his head. ‘I don’t know. Sollers talked about “the usual things” that soothsayers tell you. That sounds as if he’s talked to them before. And you stopped and listened to her, after all.’

That was well argued. ‘Yes, you are right. He would have stopped and listened if a fortune-teller sought him out, even if afterwards he dismissed it. Especially if the “promises” were what he wanted to hear.’

‘And no doubt Maximilian would have seen to that.’ Junio frowned. ‘Sollers believes that Maximilian killed his father. You saw that demonstration with the purse?’

I smiled appreciatively. ‘I did. And so, apparently, did you.’

Junio ignored the compliment. ‘You do not think the medicus is right, master? Maximilian had much to gain. He was the last to leave his father’s room yesterday. We even know that he spoke to Rollo last night. And now this robbery. You must suspect him, too. Yet you are not convinced.’

‘Not entirely. Or at least, I am not sure that it is all of the picture. Remember, there are those bloodstains on Lupus’s sleeve. They must have come from Quintus, don’t you think? Marcus is equally convinced that Lupus did it. And Julia blames Flavius for it all. After all, it was his dagger. And neither of them had any love for Ulpius.’

He smiled impudently. ‘It is like the curial elections, master. Everyone with a favoured candidate. Though my own vote would still go to Maximilian. Do you not wish to know, for instance, what he arranged with that soothsayer?’

‘I do. And look, the rain has stopped. Perhaps, when we have finished at the slave market, we could hear her version of events. Though Marcus will be getting impatient for our return by now.’

‘That bath attendant told us that she came to the forum.’ Junio looked around hopelessly. ‘I cannot see her anywhere, can you?’

I hadn’t seen her, though I’d been keeping my eyes open since we left the house. ‘There will be people who can guide us to her, no doubt,’ I said. ‘She must be a well-known figure in the town. “Warty old beggar-women” are instantly memorable. We will ask on the way to the slave market.’

I knew where the slave market was, at the back of the basilica. ‘Market’ was a flattering name for it, since it consisted of a small area behind a fountain where half a dozen slaves were shivering in a line, shackled together by chains at neck, hand and foot, and presided over by a surly fellow in a filthy tunic with a brutal whip in one hand. Only the adult slaves were left at this hour: the children and infants who usually make up the bulk of the merchandise (since they can be bought cheap or collected from temples and dumps where they have been abandoned) having presumably found a readier market.