Rosemary Rowe - The Fateful Day

So I smiled at the councillor and was saying, ‘I’m quite sure she …’ when there was another tapping at the outside door.

‘There you are,’ Alfredus said, triumphantly. ‘She said there’d be another visitor, and so there is.’

I desisted from reminding him that he himself had told her that the priest was on the way. Instead I ordered Minimus to go and let him in.

It was indeed the priest. He seemed to be an acolyte of Mars or Mercury, an aging man with skin as white as marble and as dry as bark-paper, framed by a fringe of thin white hair and eyebrows of a terrifying size. One of those supported by the temple, I presumed — too old and frail to officiate at public rites again for fear of making errors in the proper rituals, but still available for hire for private rites. He was accompanied by the little slave I’d seen with Alfredus Allius on the street.

The boy seemed ready to come into the room, but Alfredus ordered him to wait outside. ‘There are too many people in here as it is,’ he said, ‘And until the rite is over, this is a house of death.’

The boy turned pale and hurried out again.

The priest inclined his head. ‘I hope you will be good enough to spare him later on to guide me to the villa that I’m to deal with next.’ His voice was high and piping like a child’s, but he exuded a certain dignity.

‘Of course!’

‘I’ll need his help to carry extra items for that ritual, as well. It will require more than the simple consecrated elements that I’m using here — salt and spelt and water — to pacify the cultus geniali after what happened at that unhappy house. The spirits of the family won’t be pacified with less than the full ritual with oil, scent and smoke and the sacrifice of several doves, at least.’ He pulled up his toga folds to form a hood. ‘So there is much to do, and not much time to do it in. I believe you have the herbs that we require?’

‘People are dealing with the body as we speak,’ I said, fetching down the casket from its safe place on the shelf. I was in the act of handing it to him when the woman surprised us all by coming in again — alone — her bucket of equipment in her hand.

She saw the priest and gave an awkward bob, setting her rolls of flesh aquiver as she moved. ‘I’ve finished with the body. You can get on with the room,’ she boomed, without ado. ‘I’ve left a slave and a young citizen in there — if you’ve got roast spelt and salt to purify the place, the citizen can help you scatter it, and the slave will help to sweep the floor clean afterwards. There’s a broom of tied twigs hanging up behind the fire.’ She turned to me. ‘Your son has moved your chippings into neater piles, and put the ladder back where it belongs, so the ceremony should not disturb your working place too much.’

The priest looked quite shocked at the effrontery of this. Women were not expected to know how rituals were performed. But Alfredus Allius gave me a glance that said, ‘What did I tell you? She thinks of everything!’ as clearly as if he’d spoken the sentiment aloud.

I nodded. I was secretly impressed by her thoroughness, myself.

She turned to me. ‘Your slave was not registered with the Slave Guild, I assume. Otherwise you would not have called on me. Which means that you are arranging the funeral yourself. If you wish to move the body, you may safely do so now. Where do you hope to take it?’

‘To my roundhouse,’ I told her. ‘It is some miles away, but we have a mule outside. We’ll carry him on that.’ Maximus had ridden on Arlina many times — it seemed fitting that she should carry him on his last journey home.

She nodded. ‘I see that you have wooden racks — to carry your pattern pieces on, your son declares. One of them would make a fitting bier — the body isn’t large, and it would fit on your donkey easily enough.’

It was a good suggestion, though I hadn’t thought of it — much better than having the poor boy dangling, as he would otherwise have done. ‘Thank you,’ I acknowledged.

She met my eyes again. ‘And don’t forget that you require a cleansing ritual too. Put out your hands and I’ll pour water over them.’ She lifted out the jug and suited the action to the words, murmuring some incantation which I could not hear. ‘And then you can have a spring of rue to eat — that will cleanse you from the inside out. Open!’ she said, as a mother feeds her child, and put the bitter-smelling herb into my mouth.

I chewed on it obediently, though it tasted sour and sharp.

‘And don’t forget your talisman. I’ve chosen this for you.’ She reached into the inner recesses of her Grecian robe and pulled from somewhere between her massive breasts a thin plaited leather cord on which was suspended a crude miniature marble carving of an arm.

I could see no evidence of there being any ‘choice’ but since Alfredus Allius was providing this for me, it would have been bad-mannered to refuse. I took it from her with my still-dripping hands.

‘Put it round your neck,’ she boomed, imperious as a centurion rallying his men. ‘And do not take it off until the slave is laid to rest.’

I did as she instructed, though I felt ridiculous. As I tucked it in my tunic, though, I glanced at the clenched fingers of the modelled hand — and realised why it counted as a talisman. ‘Ah, that’s clever,’ I said, with admiring surprise. ‘The edge of the fingers make the profile of a face.’ It was crude, but quite effective. ‘Is it Jove or Mars — or does it represent some local Celtic god?’

‘It is whoever you expect to see,’ she said unhelpfully. ‘And may it guide you safely through the next few hours.’

This conversation was interrupted by the priest, who was clearly impatient of these rival rituals. ‘Well, if you are going to move the body, citizen, I suggest you do it now — as soon as possible. I can’t pretend that it won’t make my job a great deal easier.’

‘And if you’re going into the town I’ll come with you, citizen,’ the councillor chimed in. ‘I’ll pay the celebrants and after that I won’t be needed here. It’s time that I got back to my warehouse, anyway. I’ll take Vesperion to accompany me, and leave my young attendant here to guide the priest. But won’t you need to wait until the shop’s been purified, so that you can lock it after you?’

I had thought of that. ‘I’ll leave my son,’ I said. ‘He has an errand to the east gate that he’s going to run for me. He’ll wait until rites are finished here and then he’ll follow me. My living slave can help me, and I’ll take my dead one home.’

It was no simple matter to arrange the bier, in the event, but with the aid of Minimus and Vesperion (who was released from his vigil to assist) I managed it. Minimus was almost overcome again at dealing with the body of his friend, but he put a brave expression on his little face and did his best to help, while the old steward’s knowledge of transporting packages made him a very useful assistant in the task. So a little later we had Maximus arranged, decently swaddled in my toga winding-cloth and securely lying on the frame along Arlina’s back.

I sent in for Alfredus Allius (who had by this time paid the celebrants their promised fees) and together we four set off towards the town, leaving the priest and Junio to complete the cleansing rites. As we were leaving, the herb woman waddled out, still carrying her pail.

I half expected her to want to walk with us — the Egidius house lay in our direction anyway and she would have had an escort for the best part of the way — but she’d obviously decided to accept the pageboy as a guide this time. She waved her bucket at us in farewell, lowered her enormous bulk onto my stockpiled stones, and began to ply him with stories of successful prophesies and ghosts she’d laid to rest. When I looked back from the corner of the road, she’d drawn a little audience of passers-by, including Festus and the tanner’s wife, both of whom were listening open-mouthed.