Rosemary Rowe - The Ghosts of Glevum

I took a deep breath. ‘Very well,’ I said. ‘You make sure I’m smuggled into town and I’ll come with you as you suggest. But no money till I see the evidence.’

I thought that he might argue, but he simply smiled. ‘Agreed.’

Sosso gave his owl-cry again and Tullio and his family, who had been hovering at the door, came in and huddled with us round the fire. The woman brought in the basketful of eels — all skinned and filleted by now — which she tipped into a pan. Soon she had fried enough to feed us all, before settling her children into bed and eating her own supper by the fire. She raked the embers around a sort of pot in which she set a round of dough to bake, and then — still silent — retired from the hearth.

Her husband grunted and got slowly to his feet, gesturing that she could go to bed. I lay down on my designated pile of reeds and tried to rest while Tullio went out into the dark and led Sosso and his gang back through the marsh.

I had so much to think about that sleep eluded me. Who were the two ‘important people’ who had planned the downfall of the proposed triumvirate? What was I missing that was self-evident? I gave it up at last, and must have fallen into fitful sleep, because I dreamt I was the high priest of Jupiter, dressed in a woman’s mantle and a sack, helping Gaius the old ex-councillor thread piglets on a string, while Gwellia threw scraps of bark-paper in the fire.

‘You’ve learned one useful thing from this,’ Gwellia told me in my dream. ‘If you can catch eels, at least we’ll never starve.’

I woke to a damp day and the smell of fresh-baked bread. The little house was full of steam and smoke, and when I raised myself on my arm to look out of the door, I saw that wisps of mist were rising from the river flats and joining a curtain of misty rain that hid the trees.

‘Ah, citizen! You are awake.’ Tullio’s wife was already astir, fanning the fire into life and dusting ashes from the baking pot. ‘Do you want food?’ She gestured to where her boys were squatting on the floor. They had the iron skillet in which the meal had been fried the night before, and were mopping up the grease with chunks of flat bread from the loaf, which they stuffed hungrily into their mouths.

My stomach rebelled at the suggestion of more eels, but I accepted a morsel of the bread, washed down with a beaker of brackish rainwater. Capria waited patiently until I’d finished my feast before she said, ‘My husband’s waiting for you,’ and gestured to the door.

I pulled on my sandals and my cloak, and stooped down through the door to go outside. Tullio was working in the rain, twisting wet osiers into a funnel shape which I recognised as another trap for fish. He straightened up as I approached, raindrops running down his face and dripping from his hair and nose. He put down his handiwork and signalled that I should follow him. This was not a family of many words.

The mist seemed thicker as we picked our way across the marsh, and by the time we reached the path it was getting difficult to see, so when a sudden figure loomed up through the murk I was glad when it resolved itself into Cornovacus’s lanky form.

I pressed a coin into Tullio’s hand and set off with Cornovacus through the drizzling gloom, this time in the direction of the town. I tried to question him again, but he would not be drawn. ‘Wait and see, for Pluto’s sake! You won’t believe me, anyway, unless you see it for yourself.’

He walked so quickly as he led the way that very soon I was too out of breath to talk, even when we reached the major road. There were few people on the move today, and even the handful that we passed were muffled up in cloaks and hoods and kept their heads down to avoid the rain. I had been apprehensive, thinking of the guard, but no one showed any interest in us.

I was concerned about how I was to pass the gate, but Cornovacus — or more likely Sosso — had a plan. As we approached, my companion drew me off the road, arranged my cloak to shield my face and stuck a length of rough branch in my hand. Then he instructed me to close my eyes, and led me by the hand. As we joined the little group of jostlers at the gate I heard him calling, ‘Alms! Alms! Alms for the blind.’ Once I even heard the chink of coins.

It was alarming to walk along like this without seeing where I was, and entirely in Cornovacus’s care. I expected any moment that he’d seize my money-belt and leave me to the mercies of the guard, but nothing happened. There was no attempt to stop us entering the town and soon I could hear the sounds of commerce all around and feel fine paving underneath my feet.

Presently Cornovacus released my hand and hissed at me that we were safe. I was glad to open my eyes and find myself in one of the familiar alleyways behind the market place.

‘Come on,’ Cornovacus said, and we were off again. I made to throw away my stick but he prevented me, saying that I’d need it later.

He led on, past wretched pedlars huddling in doorways with their wares, but avoided the main streets as much as possible. By this time I half suspected where he was taking me and I was not surprised when he instructed me to close my eyes again and led me through the northern gate, to the alley where my ruined workshop was.

When I opened my eyes, Cornovacus turned to face me with a grin. ‘Now do you believe me, citizen? You see the plan? Neat as a Vestal’s girdle, isn’t it? The guards have been withdrawn. Who’d look for dignitaries here? And even if they’re found, they’ve only to look innocent and say you asked them here, to talk about your patron’s case.’

In spite of myself, I was impressed. Marcus’s enemies could hardly have chosen a safer place to meet. It was secluded, empty, and had been searched — and looted — days ago. One could hide small objects with impunity — a seal-ring, for instance, or even a document — as long as I was on the run. Best of all, the place belonged to me — if by some accident the guard came back and anything was found, blame would fall on a foolish pavement-maker, with known links to Marcus and interfering ways.

‘Come on then, let’s go,’ I said, tightening my grip upon my staff.

He shook his head, and took it from me with a smile. ‘Gently, citizen. We don’t want to be seen. Fortunately there’s nobody about.’ It was true, I realised with surprise. The rain seemed to have cleared even the usual passers-by and donkeys from the street. ‘We’ll go and lie in wait for them, up on the sleeping floor. It isn’t easy, since the ladder’s burned, but there’s enough floor left up there to hide. If you like I’ll hoist you on my back.’

I led the way, with Cornovacus urging caution at my heels. I hurried past the stone heaps which were still outside the shop and was about to step inside when suddenly an urgent voice rang out. ‘Don’t go in there, master! It’s a trap.’

I whirled round. A curly-headed figure had burst out from the building opposite. I stepped towards him. ‘Junio? What are you doing here?’

‘Look out!’ he shouted, and I turned again.

Cornovacus was advancing on me with my staff. ‘Confounded slave,’ he muttered angrily, and aimed a blow me. But Junio’s warning had alerted me and I dodged aside in time. The stick hit the ground with so much force it broke. Cornovacus gave a frustrated roar and lunged at me again, and at the same moment Bullface came from my workshop in a clattering run, while his half-dozen men emerged from the neighbouring businesses, weapons drawn, cutting off all prospect of escape. I understood now why the lane was so deserted when we entered it.

Junio had reached me by this time, and we stood back to back, although I had no knife to defend myself, and Junio wasn’t armed.