Rosemary Rowe - The Ghosts of Glevum

I negotiated the patch of marshy ground. ‘So how did you know where to find me?’

‘I didn’t. I knew you were coming from the garrison — you clearly hadn’t been arrested there — but I had no idea which route you’d take. I just prayed to all the gods that the soldiers didn’t meet you on the way. I came back towards the workshop and lingered in the lanes nearby, hoping to catch you before you reached the house — I daren’t keep watch for you openly. When I saw you turn the corner, I thought all was lost, but then I saw you double back, so I nipped round to meet you by coming through the alley the other way. Ah, here’s the path I’m looking for. You see, it cuts straight down right to the waterside.’ He gestured to an even narrower path that crossed our own.

‘Where they sell fish-heads?’

He gave another grin. ‘Indeed. And if you carried water from the river as often as I do, master, you would know all the short cuts too.’ He led the way on to the smaller path, hardly wide enough to let us pass. It squelched with ooze. I could see the gleam of water at the further end and the ripe smell of river was reaching my nostrils already.

Yet at the water’s edge there was clearly commerce. There were noises in the tumbled shacks on either side — somewhere I could hear the creaking of a pulley-wheel and the dull thud of a hammer striking wood — and ahead there was a pile of rubbish heaped beside the path. From the water came a distant hum of voices and the splash of oars.

I was a little reassured by this evidence of industry, despite the reputation of the place. If Junio had passed this way unmolested, perhaps I could do the same. ‘Then what are we waiting for?’ I said. ‘Lead on.’

But Junio put out a restraining hand. He said, in a low voice, ‘We should be safe enough for a minute here, it’s true. It’s daylight, and there’s nobody about. But then, master, what are you going to do? You can’t stay here. Thieves and beggars use these pathways after dark. And you can’t go back to the roundhouse, either, if the search is serious. Everyone knows where to find you there.’

That was true, I realised. Even my drunken tablemate the night before had known where I lived, and it would not take long for a group of Roman guards to track me down. Equally, as Junio pointed out, I could not stay here. The afternoon was drawing on. No doubt by this time Bullface had been offering bribes for news of me. Someone was sure to spot me soon, and in my toga I was more conspicuous on these fetid paths than a Vestal virgin in a troupe of dancing bears. And I was still carrying that purse.

What had been a pittance at the garrison was more than enough to get my throat cut here. The drawstring pouch was still suspended from my belt, and though it was hidden underneath my toga-folds a determined thief would find it instantly. I knew that could easily spell death. (There is a capital penalty for theft on thoroughfares, intended to protect the course of trade, but sometimes it has the opposite effect. It is often safer to kill the man you rob — a dead victim can’t tell tales to the authorities.)

As if to give substance to my darkest thoughts a fat, bearded man in a filthy slave-tunic staggered round the bottom corner of the path with an amphora full of something in his arms. He made directly for the rubbish pile and was in the act of tipping something over it — rancid fish-oil by the smell of it — when he looked up and saw us lurking there. His jaw dropped, and his jar almost did the same. His face took on a calculating look, and he stared at us for a long moment before he scurried off, taking his evil-smelling cargo with him.

That settled it. I turned to Junio. ‘I don’t like the look of this. That man would sell his mother for a quadrans , and cut her throat for two. He’ll be back, with friends, if I am any judge, and they’ll either rob me or they’ll hand me in. If Bullface has been asking questions here, I’m lost. We’d better separate.’

Junio shook his head reluctantly, but I walked away from him towards the stinking pile. I saw that this one was made up of wood and rags — washed up from the river by the look of it. ‘That way at least if they catch up with me, you can take word back to Gwellia,’ I said, trying to sound masterful and firm. ‘Go on — you go back the way we’ve come. I’m attracting more attention here than an arena full of beasts. Even if Bullface hasn’t been this way, I might as well have put a label round my neck saying, “I am on the run, but I have money. Come and rob me now.” Go and take the message while you can.’

I’d given Junio an order, but he did not obey. Instead he came up and whispered urgently, ‘Then, master, why don’t you take your toga off? You’ve got a tunic underneath.’

It was such an obvious idea that I don’t know why it had not occurred to me. A man in a smart tunic in these parts might raise an eyebrow here and there but that was nothing compared to the stir my formal badge of citizenship would cause. Besides, Bullface and his men were looking for a man in Roman dress.

I nodded ungraciously, and raised my arms while Junio unwound the woollen length, and bundled it into his arms. ‘But what about the purse?’ I said, catching sight of myself as I looked down. The pouch, which had been hidden in the folds, now dangled invitingly from my belt.

‘Why don’t you hang that underneath your tunic, round your neck?’

My powers of reason, which had been paralysed by fear, came slowly to my aid. ‘Better still, why don’t you?’ I said, undoing it. ‘There’s enough money here for a few nights’ lodging, more or less. Take it to Gwellia, and tell her that if I don’t come home tonight, she is to take a cart and get you all to Corinium as quickly as she can. Explain that Marcus has another villa there that used to be his wife’s and that I’m sure the servants there will let you in. You’ve been before. You go with her and show her the way. I’ll try to join you there as soon as possible.’ As I spoke I hung the purse round his neck.

His tunic-top appeared to bulge a bit, but he hitched the toga-bundle up to cover it.

‘This toga’s very damp, master, and your tunic too. Are you all right?’

‘I stopped to talk to someone in the rain. But that hardly matters now. The question is, what are we going to do with it?’ I said. ‘We can hardly just carry it around.’

Junio gave me his engaging grin. ‘Of course we can,’ he said. ‘You are not thinking like a slave. Your toga’s wet and muddy and it needs a clean — obviously I’m taking it to the fuller’s shop, if anybody asks.’

‘There isn’t one here, surely? Any fuller who used the river water hereabouts would have the clothes come out of his treading vats dirtier than they went in.’

‘There’s a fuller’s shop inside the walls, beside the docks — that gives us every reason to be here. We go back up the way we’ve come, slip inside the city walls from there, and try to get back through the southern gate at dusk. But we should move — that fellow with the oil will be back.’

It was such a simple plan it made me laugh, but all the same I had to shake my head. ‘A good scheme, Junio, but you’ll have to go alone. It doesn’t take two slaves to take the laundry in. Anyway, I am too well known at those gates, in a toga or out of it, and no doubt if there is a warrant out for my arrest the town guards will be looking for me now. They will know that I have come into the town. I’ll have to skirt the walls and go the long way round. Don’t argue, Junio. .’ (he was showing signs of it) ‘. . I am your master, after all. Better that one of us is safe, at least. Just keep out of the way of Bullface and his men, and as long as you’re not seen with me you should be all right.’