Rosemary Rowe - A Roman Ransom

And Marcus was providing him for me! I felt my eyes mist up with gratitude.

‘Well, is he well enough to talk?’ My patron’s question cut across my thoughts. He took another step towards the bed, shaking off the physician’s warning hand.

‘But Excellence. .’ that hapless man began.

‘Oh, don’t fuss so, Philades! I’ve taken the precautions you asked me to. Breathed in and spat out as I came into the room, to send back the infection, and washed my hands with ashes from the altar of the household gods. I even put on that stupid amulet you told me I should wear. If all that won’t protect me, I don’t know what will. Besides, I’ve been here twice before, and I haven’t caught it yet.’

‘That may be the protection of the amulet, of course. Real ivory, worked into a pattern of the sun and containing a fresh piece of dragon-herb. It’s a signal charm against attack by snakes, but it can save you from the pestilence as well. All the same, Excellence, I must advise you to move back. An evil pneuma rises from a man when he is ill.’

‘Philades, it is important that I talk to him as soon as possible. Every hour that passes makes things worse. Why do you suppose I brought you here?’

‘But, Excellence, I have explained all this to you. This man is very ill. It is doubtful that he would hear you, even if you spoke, and certainly he couldn’t answer you, though he is clearly better than he was. Even if he comes back to total consciousness he may never be the man that once he was. It is possible his wits will be disordered, or he’ll remain very weak. It will be a moon, at least, before we can be sure. I know you feel that you must speak to him, but surely there are other advisers to whom you can turn?’

‘Don’t you suppose that I’ve done everything I can?’ Marcus sounded grim. ‘I’ve told everyone I can think of who might be of use. The army, the town watch, the council — everyone! I’ve even had the passers-by brought in and questioned them for hours, in case they’d seen anything that might help us. But none of it has done the slightest good. It has been almost three days now, and there is still no news. I’m getting desperate. If anyone can help me, it is Libertus here. He sees things that other people don’t. He has a pattern-maker’s mind.’

So, this visit was not purely out of sympathy for me. Marcus had a problem, and that was why he’d come. I might have guessed as much, if I had not been thinking stupidly. It must be something serious, as well, for him to call in this expensive medicus.

They were still talking as if I wasn’t there. ‘But Excellence, even if he does come to himself, after this he will almost certainly need to rest in bed. A half a moon or more, at his age, probably. How can he do anything to help?’

‘I don’t expect him to do anything — I just want to hear his thoughts. I’ve exhausted every other possibility. So get him back to consciousness as soon as possible. That’s what I undertook to pay you for.’

My brain was working slowly, but I could think of nothing in the whole Roman world which was important enough to make him act like this. Curiosity did more for me than any potion could. I forced my eyelids open and half raised my head. ‘I am awake,’ I murmured, though it came out as a croak. ‘What is it, Excellence?’

He pushed past the medicus at once and came up to the bed. If I was carrying the seeds of plague he didn’t seem to care. He bent towards me, and I saw his face. It was as drawn and anxious as I’d ever known it. ‘Old friend, can you hear me? I am desperate. Talk to me, Libertus. You have got to help. It’s my wife, Julia, and my little son. They were with the wet nurse in the courtyard of the house the other day, while I was at an ordo meeting in the town. The nurse was sent into the kitchen for some cooked fruit for the boy, and when she came back with it she found they’d disappeared. Julia’s cloak and the child’s toy were lying on the ground, as if they’d been abandoned there in haste, but there was no message and none of the other slaves had seen them go. You must help me, Libertus. This was three days ago and no one’s seen them since.’

If it had been possible for me to sit bolt upright, I’m sure I would have done — if only out of sheer astonishment. ‘Disappeared? But that’s impossible!’ It came out as a cross between a croak and groan but at least it showed that I had understood and my patron was clearly gratified by this.

‘I know it is impossible, old friend,’ he said, moving closer to my side and speaking with careful emphasis, as though to a small child. Obviously he felt that in my current state of health I might have difficulty following what he said to me. ‘My house is full of slaves and door-keepers — who could get in unobserved, and how could they get out? And even if they managed that, wherever could they go? The house is in the open countryside and there were no unexpected visitors or passers-by all afternoon. Yet it seems that the impossible occurred. One minute Julia and the boy were sitting there, and the next they weren’t. I don’t know if it is sorcery or what — but there is no solution I can find. I’ve even been to see the augurers.’

Marcus had dealings with the omen-readers from the temple court as part of his public duties in the town, and this remark was rather a surprise. My patron was not in general a superstitious man: he made the proper sacrifices to the gods, of course, but he was no more likely than I am to base his hopes upon the shape of clouds or the flight of a flock of winter birds. It was an indication of how desperate he was.

‘And?’ I said.

He shrugged. ‘They were no help at all. Except that the chief priest did suggest that Jupiter might possibly have turned himself into a swan again and carried her away.’

‘You don’t believe that?’ I said cautiously. I was born a Celt and I have no special reverence for Roman gods, preferring the older deities of stone and hill, but it is not wise to be dismissive of their powers. One can never be too careful with divinities.

Marcus was clearly thinking something similar. ‘It seems so inexplicable in normal terms that I’m almost ready to suspect the gods. I’ve made propitiation, just in case. But on the whole, Libertus, I think there is a human hand at work.’

‘You’ve questioned everyone?’

He nodded. ‘I brought in everyone who visited the house that day, even people who were passing on the road, and of course I’ve questioned all the slaves. I even offered a reward for any information that would help. But — though I threatened my servants with a visit to the torturers if they lied — the story that I got from all of them was the same. No one had seen or noticed anything.’ He paused and cleared his throat. ‘It’s my wife and son, Libertus. You must help.’

To my alarm I realised that his voice was trembling, and for a moment I feared that he might forget himself and weep. That would have cost us both embarrassment. Roman patricians pride themselves on perfect self-control. If Marcus had broken down in front of me, he would later have been furious with us both.

‘I know you’ve got your villa slaves arranged in matching pairs,’ I said, as briskly as I could, hoping to divert his thoughts to practical matters. ‘I suppose you split them up to talk to them?’

‘Of course I did. It took me two full days.’ My patron had mastered his emotion now, and he used his ordinary tone. There was even a touch of his usual impatience, I was glad to note.

‘Two days?’ I echoed, more to give myself space to think than because I was surprised. In fact it was a wonder it was done so soon. Every Roman villa has a household full of slaves, and Marcus has got even more than most because of his system of arranging servants in neatly matching ‘pairs’ — similar in height, age and colouring.