Dark Omens (31 page)

It wasn’t easy either. Arlina seemed to know that she was losing me as master very soon. She ambled so slowly it would almost have been quicker to have gone on foot – despite the switch I was deploying on her rump. Minimus was too busy clutching scrolls to help and I was not sorry when at last my roundhouse came into sight.

I stopped at the enclosure entrance and let Minimus get down.

‘You go inside and let your mistress know you’re here. I’ll take this creature to its owner, and then I’ll come myself. And make sure that you take care of those records while I’m gone. I’m going to need to read them overnight so I can report to Marcus before he leaves for Rome.’

I was serious in this. Of course, I knew that there would be no question of investment now – half the warehouse and its contents would be forfeit to the state, once Lucius was legally a fugitive, especially if a charge of
raptus
– abduction – was entered against him in the courts. And that was possible. The fact that Silvia was a willing victim did not change the case. Alternatively, Marcus as her guardian could decide to let her go without entering a formal plea of rape – and in so doing ratify the match.

But whether Marcus chose to recognize their union as a legal one or not, it would be a year before a
usus
marriage would apply. In the meantime he would still have governance over her estate (one reason why I doubted that he’d try to bring her back) so my business information might be useful in the end. He might yet want to find a buyer for her share of everything – even if Lucius’s portion had been forfeited.

Minimus had dropped a number of the scrolls in getting off the mule and he was busily engaged in gathering them up when there was a cry of ‘Master!’ from behind the palisade and Maximus came running out into the lane. I allowed him to greet me and then I sent him on to help pick up the scrolls. ‘Tell your mistress that I shall be hungry by and by,’ I called, and leaving them to it, I rode off down the lane.

Arlina seemed a lot livelier with a smaller load and it was not long before we reached the farm. Once at the gate I slipped down from my seat – or more accurately, I lumbered down, keeping my balance by leaning on the wall – and was about to enter when I heard a voice.

‘Citizen? You have returned more quickly than I thought.’ It was Cantalarius, who was raking hay into the enclosure where the mules were kept. I noticed that the second mule was looking better fed. I was about to say so, when he put away the rake (a sorry object made of iron nails, hammered roughly through a piece of wood and attached to a handle, though it seemed to serve) and came across to meet me at the gate. He wiped both grubby hands on the sacking round his waist and held one out to me. ‘I hope Arlina has been satisfactory? Did you succeed in finding that missing councillor?’

‘Half of him at any rate,’ I said, and was interested to notice that he turned deathly pale. Encouraged by that visible response I said remorselessly, ‘Rather like that ancient priest who promised to come here.’ I was suddenly convinced that Cantalarius knew more about that incident than he’d been telling me.

I had been rather hoping to surprise him into speech but, though he was clearly shaken, he said nothing more, except, ‘Well I’m glad you found the mule to be of use.’

He took the halter from me and led Arlina into the enclosure with the other animal, where – while murmuring endearments in her ear – he removed the harness and put it in the stone hut as before. Then he smacked her on the rump to urge her off towards the hay. By the time he had joined me and shut the gate again, she had already shouldered her companion to one side and was munching happily.

‘Was there something else that I can do to help you, citizen?’

I was startled at the question, although – of course, since I had already paid him for the hire – there was really nothing further that should detain me here. However, I was unwilling to leave him without one more attempt to find out what he knew about the body in the pond. Besides, I’d grown unreasonably fond of his stupid, plucky, self-willed animal.

So I said slowly, ‘Well, I shall come to you again, if I require a mule.’ I was struck by inspiration. ‘Could we come to some more permanent arrangement, possibly? I couldn’t continue to pay you at that rate all the time – but if I were to have her, say, once or twice a month? Could some sort of deal be arrived at, do you think?’

He looked at me suspiciously, but then seemed to conclude that I was serious. He heaved a heavy sigh. ‘Well, I use the mules a lot myself, but I can’t pretend I’d not be glad of a bit of regular income of that kind. Perhaps you’d better come into the house. Though give me a moment to prepare my wife. She’s busy cooking dinner and plucking a dead goose – since we lost the slaves she has to do that sort of work herself – so she’ll be all covered in feathers, and not prepared for visitors.’

I nodded. My own wife, Gwellia, would have felt the same. ‘I’ll follow at a distance,’ I told him, and I did. It was only yesterday that I’d been here last, but already the farm was looking less forlorn. The milder weather had allowed the stock to come outside and I could see half a dozen hungry-looking sheep cropping the thin grass in the nearer field, and there was a thin goat tied up in the corner of the yard, while a few bedraggled geese and chickens pecked among the flags. The barn door was half-open as I passed, and when I looked inside I could see the slave mute inside, forking straw about, and there was feed stuff in the manger baskets on the wall. Cantalarius had clearly put my aureus to use.

The slave looked up and saw me and waved a clumsy hand, making a sort of formless roar I took to mean, ‘Hello.’

I shouted ‘Greetings!’ and went on to the house, though the mean-faced mongrel bared its ugly teeth at me and growled. It was tied up to a post beside the empty shrine and it could not reach me, so I did not greatly care.

Cantalarius came bustling out as I approached, bearing two stools and a pitcher full of wine. ‘Sit down for a moment. My wife will soon be here. She says she has some flatbread baking on the fire and we have some soft-curd cheese that we can offer you.’

‘You are very kind,’ I muttered, though I was not keen. I have eaten that kind of home-made cheese before – thin and sour, like scarcely curdled whey. I’d come to prefer the firmer kind the Romans liked – Gwellia had learned to make it when she was a slave. It involved a lot of arcane processes – straining, rinsing, pressing, drying and the gods know what – but it was well worth the effort and she was proud of it. I couldn’t imagine that Gitta would make a cheese like that.

I was right. When a moment later she came hurrying out, in a clean green tunic which she’d clearly just put on, she was carrying a pan with runny curds in it, and a bowl containing a steaming hunk of bread. She too was looking better than she had done yesterday: her face was more composed, the wild hair drawn back in a tidy plait, and the simple cut and colour of her robe showed off her tall form and her shapely legs. I could see why Cantalarius was so attached to her.

She set the foodstuffs down beside us on the ground. ‘I’ll fetch a knife and bowls for you,’ she said. ‘And a pair of goblets so you can drink the wine.’ She gave me a doubtful smile. ‘Cantalarius tells me that you have a proposition to discuss and that you want to hire the mule again? I gather it was useful to you yesterday.’

‘Indispensable,’ I told her heartily. ‘You knew that I was searching for a missing councillor? Well he was found this morning, or half of him was at least.’

I had said it in the hope of provoking some response, but I could have not guessed how effective it would be. She dropped the spoon that she was holding and made a dash at me, pummelling my chest and arms with both her fists. ‘How dare you, citizen! You can’t come blaming Cantalarius for that one, too! He hasn’t left the farm since you came here yesterday – except to buy some hay and foodstuffs from a trader at the gate. He’s been here with me and Sordinus all the time.’ Every syllable was punctuated by a blow, each strong enough to bruise.

I caught her hands and held them, though she tried to struggle free. She was quite athletic and I had to hold her hard, putting one arm around her waist to pinion her, while she attempted to continue her attack. I was quite breathless with the effort, but I contrived to say over my shoulder, to Cantalarius, ‘So after all you did not pay the money-lender back?’

Gitta stopped struggling suddenly, and whirled her head around to glower at her spouse. ‘What money-lender, husband? You didn’t mention that! Dear gods, don’t tell me that we are still in debt!’

He shook his head. ‘Gitta, be silent. It is not what it sounds. I will explain it later.’

I had a sudden surge of confidence. ‘You will explain it now! I don’t believe you got that money from a lender after all. I think you may have got it from the body of the priest. What did Gitta mean by what she said just now – that I couldn’t come here blaming you for the other death “as well”? You know more about that sacerdos than you are telling me. What happened? Did you go back to the temple after dusk? I hear they found a ladder by the sacred grove – was that because you’d used it to climb across the wall?’

Gitta had started struggling again. ‘You can’t prove anything!’ she spat through gritted teeth. ‘There was nobody about. They were all at the evening sacrifice by then – he told me that no one could possibly have seen him climbing in.’

‘Gitta!’ Cantalarius’s voice was hollow with despair. ‘When will you ever learn to hold your tongue? Don’t you realize what your foolish words have done? You might as well have told him outright that I went back to see the priest!’

I forced her hands a little further up her back and she let out a squeal. ‘To kill him?’ I enquired. ‘Tell me, or you can see what I will do!’ In fact I think he guessed that I would never injure her – and if anybody was in danger, it was very likely me. I said quickly, ‘And I shouldn’t plan to murder me as well, if I were you. My patron knows I came here, to return the mule, so if I go missing he’ll know who to blame – and you know what kind of penalty you’d be facing then. Bad enough that you have killed a priest. That is what you went back for, that evening, I presume?’

The farmer let out a helpless little moan. ‘Of course I didn’t, citizen. What help would that have been? I didn’t want a dead priest, but a living one. I went back to confront him for a final time, that’s all – one last attempt at persuading him to come.’

‘But I thought he had agreed …’ I began, then shook my head. ‘But of course he hadn’t really. Go on with your tale. Your wife – as you say – has implicated you, and you have acknowledged the truth of what she said. That is quite enough for me to call the guard and have you formally arraigned before the courts, but I’m prepared to hear your version of events.’ It was mere bravado. From where I was at present, I’d be lucky to escape if I made the least attempt to go and summon the authorities.

But Cantalarius seemed quite willing to go on. ‘When I went to talk to him that afternoon – took him that image of the god and everything – I thought that he was ready to agree to come. But at the last moment he seemed to change his mind. He said that I would need to bring him twice as much in gold, and then perhaps he would consider it. He was actually laughing when he said the words. I was so furious that I tried to take my offerings back – but he prevented me. Said they were donations to the gods and if I tried to take them, he would call the guard. I don’t know if you’ve seen the temple-slaves at all, but some of them are huge.’

I nodded. ‘And immensely strong, as I have cause to know.’

He shrugged. ‘In that case you can see how hopeless it would be for a hunchback like myself to try to tackle one, if they came to throw me out. I tried to reason with him, but he only laughed at me and in the end I had to give it up. I went back to the market where I had left the mules – and found there was a little hay and straw for sale, enough to save my livestock, if I only had the money with which to purchase it. But of course I hadn’t; I had given it away to that confounded priest. Well, I was determined that I would get it back. I told the vendor to await me at the southern gate and keep some hay for me. He promised that he would. That left me with the problem of getting to the priest. I knew that the temple would be closed by then – they would all be busy with the evening sacrifice, except the slaves on duty at the portico – so I tried to find some other way of getting in.’

‘The sacred grove, of course! Outside the temple proper, but still inside the grounds. And there was a building site not far away,’ I said. ‘With a convenient ladder as I said before? And you used that to go across the wall?’

‘Don’t tell him, husband!’ Gitta twisted round and tried to dig her teeth into my arm, and I had to restrain more vigorously again.

Cantalarius heaved a heavy sigh. ‘He seems to know about it anyway! And he is right, of course. One of those simple ladders – just a single piece of wood with steps lashed across it, but it was perfect for the task, because it had a weighted rope attached. I could throw it up and make it safe against the wall, then pull the ladder over after me and climb down safely on the other side. My first intention was to try and find his private room – where I had gone to see him earlier in the day – and wait for him to come back from the sacrifice. But then I saw him standing at the window of his cell, or at least I thought I did – praying to Fortuna and the moon.’

I nodded. ‘One of the temple-slaves observed him too.’

This caused a bitter laugh from Cantalarius. ‘Only, of course, it wasn’t him at all. That was the thing that made me angriest. I recognized the right room when I got inside, and managed to reach it without being seen. In fact, I was surprised that there was nobody about. No one expects intruders in a temple complex, I suppose – especially not in the dormitory area. In any case, I found the door with ease. I even tiptoed in – I did not want to disturb him at his prayers. And what did I discover? He was sitting on the bed, counting money into little piles. He had put that image in the window space, put his cloak and hood on it and stood it where only the outline would be seen – so that people would think that he was worshipping the moon. He was worshipping the money! That’s what angered me. He’d cheated me of everything, and he was a fraud!’