The Legatus Mystery (30 page)

A great weight rolled off my spirit. I had not permitted myself to think about the future, how I would live without my craft, but suddenly I had a vision of how it might have been. I got to my feet shakily. ‘I must see Marcus.’

‘He is in high good humour, master, presiding in the court. He sent word to find you earlier, but when he heard that you were still asleep he ordered that you should not be disturbed. But we had to rouse you in the end. He has agreed to hear Kurso’s case himself, and if you do not hurry you will miss the court. It is almost midday already.’

‘Midday!’ I could hardly believe my ears. And Junio was right. A trumpet is sounded on the steps of the
curia
each day at noon, as an official sign that the business of the court is closed. If a man misses it, his chance has gone – and if I did not present Kurso before a magistrate today, I would be liable to a fine. I looked about desperately for my sandals, but Kurso was already holding them, and I was obliged to sit down again while he laced them on. ‘I must explain to Hirsus,’ I exclaimed.

‘Hirsus is already at the court.’ Gwellia took up the tale as she came behind me and rubbed a scented oil into my hair. A gift from Hirsus, obviously, I thought – such luxuries are not usual with me. ‘Lucianus was a witness at the trial.’ She caught my glance. ‘Oh, of course you won’t have heard. The whole town is buzzing with the news. Meritus was brought to trial at dawn. He has confessed to everything, and more, and this afternoon will be a public holiday. Marcus had thought of calling you to be accuser for the court, but the pontifex wanted to do it, and that was certainly effective. The crowds were ecstatic – they stretched right out of the forum, apparently – and the whole thing was over in a hour. Marcus commuted the sentence from the hook, since Meritus admitted everything, so he is to be given to the beasts instead.’

Kurso had finished with my footwear now, and I stood up again. ‘Did he,’ I said, choosing my words carefully, ‘say anything about that
noise
? It is the one thing that has defeated me. I simply can’t think of any explanation, although I’m sure that Meritus was contriving it.’

Junio grinned until I thought his face would split. ‘He did! Marcus told me to tell you about that. That statue that Meritus commissioned had been specially designed. That’s what those holes in it were for. If you blew into it, you could make it sound, it seems – if you could play a trumpet and had lungs like his, that is. He was going to use it, on the Emperor’s feast, as a way of inspiring public awe and so attracting offerings to the shrine. He confessed all this, under torture, and they sent the slaves to try to make it work, but they didn’t have the breath to do it properly. Just a faint muffled sort of groan, apparently.’ He winked. ‘But none of this was mentioned at the trial, at the high priest’s request. He wants to keep it secret so that the gods aren’t mocked, he says, but privately I think he hopes that someone can be found with enough technique to play it, in case he wants to use the thing again. But Marcus thought that you would like to know.’

I smiled. ‘I should have thought of it, perhaps. But something so devious never occurred to me.’

Junio laughed. ‘That’s exactly what your patron said you’d say! But here’s Kurso with your breakfast for you, master. We have already eaten. Choose quickly; there is not a lot of time.’

I gaped. Kurso was struggling with a basket heaped high with fruits of all descriptions, including some I’d never seen before. Hirsus might be anxious about money, but he certainly appeared to live in style. I selected a modest apple, and, when I had eaten it, prepared to go.

‘What shall we do with your possessions, master?’ Kurso said, backing nervously against the wall.

‘Possessions?’ I said bitterly. ‘I have no possessions now. Oh, except my tools, I think. Thank you for that, Gwellia, at least.’

‘Master,’ Gwellia said patiently, ‘the passageway outside is full of offerings. That oil, those fruits – all kinds of things. You have become a hero in the town.’

I stared at her. ‘All this because I solved the mystery?’

She shook her head, and smiled. ‘Not exactly, master. I gather Marcus took the praise for that. But the mob set fire to your house, and now they know it was a horrible mistake. A crime, of course, if we could find the perpetrators, but that would be very difficult to prove. And people have been bringing gifts in sympathy – and to assuage their consciences, no doubt. And it is not just the common populace. There have been messages from wealthy citizens offering you commissions at their homes – although that may be because the legate’s coming. Optimus was very pleased with what you did.’

‘He’ll be even more pleased if you don’t turn up at court,’ Junio urged. ‘You would be fined, and he’d get Kurso back. It’s just as well he doesn’t know how much you helped in this; you’ve cost him a steward as it is. Marcus is trying the case against Lithputh now, for theft. The pontifex is accusing there, as well – though Optimus may join him, Marcus says, since both might have had a claim against the find. And then it will be Hirsus, I suppose. After the evidence from Meritus, none of it will take very long since none of them are Roman citizens.’

I allowed myself to be hustled out of the house. Hirsus’s apartment was a fair walk from the forum, but we had not gone very far before we met the crowds, and it was quite difficult to force a path through them. I was worried that I would be delayed, but Junio murmured to the nearest man, and soon there were whispers running through the crowd – ‘That’s him! That’s the pavement-maker that the lying priest accused!’ – and people began standing back to let me pass. There was even a ripple of applause.

It was embarrassing, but it was just as well. I made it to the court with only minutes to spare, and just in time to hear the judgement passed. Lithputh had been found guilty, I discovered, but the court had ruled that the temple, not Optimus, was entitled to the goods and that, in offering them to the shrine, sufficient reparation had been made. Lithputh was to be flogged and banished, since Optimus refused to have him back.

I was rather surprised at this, knowing what price had been agreed for him, but the judgement on Hirsus soon explained it all. Optimus was claiming ‘usurpation’ of his slave which meant that, instead of a fine, the ‘usurper’ could be required to pay the full purchase price and keep the goods – since they were now considered to be spoiled. The price for Lucianus had been agreed, he claimed.

That would cost Hirsus everything he had, but the ex-sevir looked almost as happy at the judgement as his accuser did. (Hirsus had become ex-sevir on the spot, because as a convicted criminal he was automatically disqualified from the office.)

He saw me and came over. ‘I shall sell up and go with Lucianus, just as soon as he’s recovered from the lash,’ he said, with more cheerfulness than I would have believed. ‘I have relatives outside the western borders, among the Silurians.’ I nodded. That explained the redness of the hair. ‘We shall be welcome there. And we have the money that Lucianus saved. We shall not be entirely penniless.’

He might have said more, but I was being called. The case concerning Kurso had begun.

It was odd, standing before Marcus, arguing a case as though we’d never met before, but that was what I did. Kurso told his story, and won the right to be sold on, as the law demanded, since his life was deemed to be threatened where he was, even with Lithputh banished from the house. So far, it had gone splendidly. It was, however, expected that I would purchase him – though it was not compulsory. Of course, after the events of yesterday, I had no money and – despite the generous gifts – no home to take a servant to. I explained the problem to the court, and proposed a compromise. I would purchase Kurso theoretically, as part of what Optimus owed to me, and find a buyer for him when I could.

Then Optimus sprang a surprising counter-claim. The bill I had was signed by Lucianus. (Of course it was, when I looked at it more closely – I could have solved that riddle long before!) But Lucianus was in disgrace, and convicted of dishonesty. Optimus disputed the account. It was a ploy, and I knew it, but there was nothing I could do. In the end, Kurso cost me the whole balance of the hundred sesterces I was owed, and Optimus left court looking as satisfied as the lion who got the slave. Kurso, too, was grinning like a cat, and even Junio looked pleased.

It seemed that Marcus had succeeded in satisfying everyone but me.

As he rose to leave the court, however, he signalled me to come, and I elbowed my way obediently to his side.

‘Well, my old friend,’ he said. ‘I trust you slept?’ I felt my face burn, but Marcus merely laughed. ‘A most satisfactory conclusion, thanks to you. In fact, I am not at all sure that I would have managed it without you.’

There was nothing I could say to that, beyond, ‘You flatter me, Excellence.’

‘Not at all,’ he said expansively. ‘Credit where credit’s due. Which brings me to what I want to say. I was sorry to hear the news about your shop. What will you do now?’

I stammered something about hoping to repair the place when I had found enough commissions. It sounded feeble and I knew it, too.

‘Of course,’ he said, ‘there’s that commission that we spoke of in the baths. That should be worth something. And I should reward you for your help in this. You know my country house?’

I thought for a wild moment that he was about to offer me the freedom of his palatial villa. I said carefully, ‘I do, Excellence, I have been there several times.’

Marcus nodded. ‘It occurs to me there is a roundhouse in the grounds. You may remember it.’

I nodded. It had been the scene of a particularly brutal murder, which I’d uncovered once.

‘Rather the sort of thing you Celts admire, though it’s in need of some restoration and repair.’

That was an understatement. The place was ruinous. But behind me, Gwellia gave me a gentle push, and I turned, to see hope and excitement shining in her eyes.

I knew what she was thinking. A roundhouse is not a Roman building, demanding architects and hypocausts. Our own roundhouse had been a grand affair, built almost entirely of stone, but many are constructed of wood and osiers around a central post, and – given the materials – a skilled family can weave a small shelter in an afternoon. I sighed. It would be inconvenient – a long walk to my workshop every day – but there were advantages. There was a little area of land in the enclosure. Room for some chickens and a pig or two. My own woodstack, and a patch of vegetables. And now that I owned an extra pair of hands . . .

‘I remember, Excellence,’ I said.

Marcus nodded. ‘Then that’s agreed. It’s yours. In payment for the mosaic in the town. Oh, and take this too.’ He opened his purse and thrust a few
denarii
in my hand. ‘That should assist to buy some pots and pans. And I’ll send down a blanket and a stool or two: Meritus’s property is forfeit to the state. I’m sure that something can be found.’ He smiled, and closed his fingers over mine as they held the coins. ‘And get that toga to the fuller’s, my old friend. You’ll have to be presented to the legate when he comes.’

I was presented, too. I even attended an official banquet, given in his honour, and was complimented on the mosaic I had made. On that same occasion the high priest was named as flamen-designate, and I thought that he would die of rapture on the spot. (In fact he did die, later, on the journey back to Rome. The strain of travel proved too much for his frail body, and the pleasure too much for his aged heart, so he never became flamen after all. I never heard what happened to his wife.)

But I missed the public spectacles that were held, at great expense, to celebrate the ambassador’s presence in the town. I had a celebration of my own that day. Scribonius – who had risen to be sevir overnight – and Marcus acted as witnesses in a quiet ceremony where I freed my slave and legally took her for my wife. We did it properly, with vows and sacrifice.

‘Ubi tu Gaius, ego Gaia.’ Where you are Gaius, I am Gaia.

She even wore the orange-coloured veil, and after exchanging rings before the altar I took her in a borrowed waggon, and carried her – for the first time – over the threshold of our little new-built home. It was no more than a single room by then, but Junio and Kurso had the central fire lit and rugs and clean straw bedding waiting on the floor. And we already had our plans.

So I was spared the spectacle of Meritus being thrown to the beasts, although I have heard it said that – being such a big man – he took a long time to die. Fabius Marcellus was impressed. He said afterwards that Glevum had turned on the best welcoming entertainments he had ever seen.