The Chariots of Calyx (16 page)

The commander was unfortunately occupied, I was informed, but his resources were at my disposal. The
optio
delivered this message breathlessly and then retired, while my remaining escort took up a post outside the door – through whether this was to guard me against the army, or vice versa, it was hard to determine.

‘So the garrison is at my disposal, eh?’ I grumbled to Junio. ‘I suppose the commander is obliged to say that, since Pertinax is commander-in-chief of all the British legions, but from where I’m sitting I can’t see much sign of it.’ I craned my neck to look through the open door of the ante-room to the main street of the fort, and the lines of identical barrack-rooms opposite. ‘The legion is far too busy with its own business.’

‘At least it gives us something to look at while we are waiting, master,’ Junio said.

He was right. There was constant activity: working parties with waggons bringing in supplies, messengers coming and going with sealed orders, even fatigue detachments marching to the latrines with buckets and brooms. The entertainment of watching them palled quite quickly as the morning wore on, however. I sat on my bench and kicked my heels, while Junio hovered helpfully beside me.

We waited. After what seemed at least a decade, a silent soldier brought us more hard biscuits and watered wine and disappeared again without a word.

‘How do legionaries manage to live on these things?’ I said.

‘Lots of them
prefer
wheatcakes,’ Junio said. ‘They think that meat is decadent and makes a fellow soft.’

I was about to make some scornful comment when the
optio
appeared again. He was looking important and at his heels came our so-called ‘messenger’, red-faced and panting as if he had run all the way from the town.

I waved aside the usual civilities, and once he had recovered his breath the man delivered his message in that singularly toneless voice that
nuncios
use when reporting to a senior officer. ‘I beg to report, citizen, that the rumours all appear to be true. Fortunatus was observed to leave for Londinium just before noon on the
Nones
.’

‘The very first morning of the games!’ I exclaimed. That was exactly what I had wanted to know. If he left Verulamium before midday, then Fortunatus could indeed have been in Londinium on the evening of the murder, despite what Fulvia had told us to the contrary.

The soldier, who had been staring straight ahead, dutifully waited until I had finished my interruption and then resumed his sing-song narrative. ‘He was carried back to the team inn about the third hour. It was a fine day and this same time is estimated by three other witnesses.’

I nodded. The time, of course, could only be approximate. The army has calibrated candles to ensure that guard watches are changed at regular intervals, but most mere civilians can only estimate things by the sun. ‘About mid-morning, then. Go on.’

‘He was visited by the
medicus
soon after – there are two more people ready to swear to that – and permission was granted for him to return to Londinium. That was arranged at once. I interviewed the slave who hired the carriage.’

He paused, and I asked – as I was clearly expected to do – ‘What did he say?’

The soldier cleared his throat and quoted the slave in a curious high-pitched voice, as if to underline that this was not part of his own recital. ‘ “Fortunatus said he would be more comfortable in his own quarters and the team surgeon agreed. Of course the charioteer is a wealthy man and he hired his own carriage.” Those were his words, citizen. The carriage left the town before midday – the slave says so and the guard on duty agrees. That is all I could discover, citizen.’ He touched his helmet in salute and brought his heels together so sharply that his plate mail rattled.

That was not quite as I had heard the story earlier. ‘Fortunatus himself suggested the return to Londinium?’

‘So I understand, citizen.’

That was interesting, too. I said, ‘And the team coach let him go? It seems to me that if he was well enough to travel, let alone to make his own arrangements, his manager would have thought him well enough to race.’

I was half talking to myself, but the soldier obviously felt that having delivered his information he had done all that could be required of him. Still standing stiffly to attention, he rapped out, ‘That is all I know, citizen.’

It was the
optio
who said, ‘Fortunatus is said to have been blinded by the blow to his head, citizen. He could hardly race in that condition and in that case the team would have no further interest in him. I should think that Calyx was glad to see him go, and have one less billet to pay for.’

I said nothing.

The
optio
paused, and then said in a different tone, ‘Although, of course, they say he will recover – and in that case you’d expect Calyx to keep him here, wouldn’t you, if there was any sign of improvement? If only so that the team doctors could keep an eye on him and make sure that he could get back in a chariot again as soon as possible. Great Jupiter, Greatest and Best. I do believe you are right, citizen! It
is
odd, when you stop to consider it. What do you suppose the motive is?’

I shook my head. ‘I don’t know. Fortunatus may have had his own reasons for wanting to return to the city at that time, and perhaps he bribed Calyx to let him do it without disappointing the racegoers.’ It was logically possible. Fortunatus could have bribed Calyx to look the other way, staged an accident and so contrived to return to Londinium in time to strangle Monnius. Even if his return was noted, those feigned head injuries would be an alibi. It was difficult and dangerous, but possible – and if anyone had cool nerve, Fortunatus did.

Perhaps it was not even as dangerous as all that – if I had not arrived asking questions, no one would have thought about it twice. I wondered how big a bribe would be needed to corrupt Calyx. Though I must not jump to conclusions, of course: there might be some other explanation altogether.

I did not explain any of this to the
optio
. I said, ‘I wish I knew how seriously Fortunatus really hurt his head, and how and why that shipwreck happened when it did.’

‘Permission to speak, citizen?’ the soldier put in.

‘Go on,’ I said. ‘Have you thought of something else?’

The soldier continued to gaze at the painted plaster above my head, but he had lost his official monotone as he said, ‘Forgive me, citizen, it may not be important. I thought nothing of it at the time. But the slave who hired the carriage did tell me that Fortunatus was very suspicious of the inn servants. Insisted on keeping his purse in his own hand and counting out his money to pay the driver. The boy was thinking only that the man mistrusted him, and I suppose one might count out money from the shape of the coins, but . . .’ He tailed off.

I grinned. ‘You mean, it rather sounds as if Fortunatus could see, at that stage? Well done, soldier. I suppose the inn-slave didn’t let slip anything else?’

He glanced at me in an embarrassed fashion. ‘He did say that when the slaves came in to take Fortunatus to the carriage, the charioteer seemed so impatient that he got up from his couch and lay down on the shutter himself. Then a moment later he was back to moaning and holding his head as if he couldn’t do a thing unaided. Of course, I have no other witnesses to this. I promised the boy I wouldn’t mention it – he seemed to think that it might earn him a flogging – but in the circumstances . . .’ He seemed to recall himself, and with a muttered ‘Citizen!’ he stood to attention again and resumed his contemplation of the wall.

The
optio
puffed up like a fighting cock and seemed about to speak to him severely, but I cut in quickly, ‘You have done well, soldier, and I promise you that no action will be taken against the slave in question. You have my word as representative of the governor.’

The
optio
turned as red as a Druid’s apron, but he could hardly gainsay that authority. ‘Very well. Dismissed. Back to your detachment,’ he barked, and the soldier, with a muttered, ‘Thank you, citizen,’ prepared to obey.

He laid one hand upon his sword hilt and raised the other to heaven. ‘I will do all that may be ordered, and am ready to obey every command. May Jove and all the gods bless our Lord the Emperor, the Divine and Immortal Commodus Britannicus Caesar,’ he intoned, then swivelled smartly on his heel and marched away.

The
optio
turned to me. ‘So, citizen, you wish to return to Londinium? Your gig is ready and waiting – the garrison commander has given the order. He wishes me to ask if you are sure that there is no further assistance he can give.’

‘There is,’ I said. ‘I would be very grateful if he could arrange for someone to keep an eye on Calyx while he is in the town. Whatever Fortunatus is up to, I suspect that the Blues manager is in it too, and that there is money in it for him. Quite large amounts of money, since he takes the loss of the prize purse so calmly.’

‘I see.’ A gleam appeared in the
optio
’s eye. ‘Certainly, citizen. I’m sure that something could be arranged, although it may mean sparing someone from the garrison to return to the races for the rest of the day. Myself, perhaps, since I know what he looks like, and I was detailed to accompany you there in any case.’

‘I think that would be most appropriate,’ I said. I had rather guessed that he would volunteer himself, if it was a question of attending the races again. But I did want him to remember what he was there for. ‘It is important to send someone in authority – someone who will not become so interested in the racing that he forgets to keep track of Calyx – and of those two men whom we saw with him, too, if possible.’

The
optio
understood my meaning. He coughed and then said, ‘Of course, citizen.’

‘In that case,’ I said, ‘I will leave it in your hands. What hour is it? A little past midday?’

He looked uncomfortable, and I realised for the first time that perhaps he had left me waiting a little longer than necessary. ‘A little after that, citizen. I heard the
apparitor
sound the trumpet at the courthouse as I was coming through the town.’

I nodded. We had not heard it at the garrison, but the noonday trumpet was not meant for us, it was meant for those summoned before the day’s courts at the town
curia
– they were obliged to be present before noon, and if they missed the noon fanfare they were officially too late. Of course, on an overcast day like this one, it was not easy to judge the exact moment when the sun was at its highest, but that trumpet marks the legal end of morning, and that was good enough for me.

‘Then I leave here later than Fortunatus,’ I said. ‘Let’s see if it is possible to arrive back in the capital before the city gates are closed. If I can do it, he certainly could have done.’

The
optio
nodded. ‘You wish to try that, citizen? I will explain it to the gig-driver. He is awaiting you now. If you and your attendant would like to follow me . . .’

He must have explained to good effect because we fairly flew along the road, changed horses at the
mansio
and still reached Londinium comfortably before nightfall. Comfortably in the metaphorical sense. I have never been more pleased to see a warm bath-house and a massage in my life. I was blue in unexpected places – and for days afterwards Junio walked with care, like a newcomer to the cavalry.

‘Citizen Libertus,’ the governor was saying, ‘I am extremely glad to see you.’ He had made a point of having me summoned to his rooms, as soon as he heard that I was in the building, so he could speak to me in person. He was being prepared for an official engagement, and a slave was helping him into his
synthesis
– that light and useful combination of toga and tunic which men of substance often wear to formal banquets. ‘I am sorry I am not able to entertain you myself. I was not expecting you back so soon, and this is one of a series of civic banquets to mark the end of my period in office. However, I have made arrangements for a meal to be prepared for you. You may eat in the
triclinium
, or have it served in your room if you prefer.’

The thought of rattling around in the empty dining room of the palace did not appeal to me, so I accepted his latter offer with alacrity, and then, at his urging, told him the events of the day. He listened gravely, while slaves placed rings upon his hands, cleaned his ears with ear scoops and rubbed perfumed oil into his hair.

He was visibly startled when I told him about Fortunatus.

‘You say he has returned to Londinium, hurt?’ He shook his head. ‘He must have entered the city very quietly, otherwise I should have heard of it. He is famous among the soldiers and that kind of news travels very quickly.’

This had not occurred to me, although now that Pertinax had mentioned it, it seemed obvious enough. Of course, wheeled transport was not permitted on urban streets in daylight, and Fortunatus would presumably have had to transfer to a litter to get back to his quarters. That would certainly have drawn attention to his arrival. ‘Unless, of course, he was well enough to walk,’ I said.

In that case, as we both knew, he might well have managed to slip past the town guard unremarked. Even in a place like Glevum, a well-known man could pass the gates unnoticed in a crowd, provided he wore a simple hooded tunic, kept his head down, and there was nothing to connect him to his background. In a city of this size it would be easier still.

Pertinax thought about this for a moment. ‘You think that this charioteer is the killer?’ he said at last.

‘I don’t know, Excellence. I only know that he
was
here in the city that night, after all, and therefore it would have been possible. Unless of course that fall from the chariot has really affected his sight, and he is confined to his bed. I hope to discover that tomorrow. I want to confront Fortunatus in person, if I can.’

The commander-in-chief of all the Britannic legions nodded his head. ‘And if you wish to pay a visit to the grain stores, as you were suggesting, I will arrange to have you taken there. It would be quite convenient. The Blues have their headquarters very close to one of the granaries.’