Rosemary Rowe - The Chariots of Calyx

‘That’s him,’ I said. A tall, thin, greying man with a crooked nose and thin cruel slit of a smile. The last time I had seen him he was talking to the trainer of the Blues — yesterday morning in Verulamium.

I am not a young man, and I was stiff from my battering journey of the day before, but as soon as the barge touched the quay I was on my feet, and I was down the plank almost before the bargemaster had time to lay it for me.

The warehouse official was still standing there, pressing his fingers together and looking bewildered. I did not waste time on civilities.

‘That man,’ I demanded. ‘Who is he? What was he doing here?’

The official blinked. ‘Glaucus, citizen? He came to buy some grain, naturally.’ The pinched face was suddenly flushed with concern. ‘There is nothing unusual about it. He comes here very often. He buys the corn stores for the Blue factio — for both the men and the horses. Their quarters are very close to here. Is there some kind of trouble, citizen? I do hope not. The factio are good customers of ours.’

So crook-nose was nicknamed Glaucus, I thought. The grey. It was a name more usually given to horses, but with his long face and close-set eyes it suited him perfectly.

The controller of the warehouse was still bobbing along beside me, firing questions like an archer loosing arrows. I ignored them, and asked one of my own. ‘The Blue quarters are close by, I think you said?’

‘Indeed, citizen.’ He was bending his fingers almost backwards in his desire to help. ‘Go out of the back gate. .’ He gave me the directions: it did not seem to be far.

‘Right,’ I said to Junio, who was at my heels as usual. ‘Let the bargemaster know where I am going. If I am lucky I may catch two sparrows with a single slingshot and find Fortunatus at the same time. You can catch me up at the Blue quarters.’

Junio grinned his understanding and scampered off on his errand.

I did not wait for him. Looking back, perhaps that was a foolish decision — wandering around the back streets of a city I did not know, without even the protection of a slave — but I had become careless under Pertinax’s protection, and besides I was anxious to catch up with Glaucus.

As soon as I left the warehouse, I looked up and down the road for him, but he had disappeared like a bubble, so I set off for the Blue headquarters, following the directions which had been given me.

It was not far, and I found it easily. It occupied most of a block in a little alley close to the main street, hemmed in by the blank outer walls of a run-down house on one side and a carpet-maker’s on the other. It might have been an ordinary inn, from its general appearance: a wide gate led to a large stable yard surrounded on three sides by a colonnaded building, with — judging by the window-spaces visible — large rooms on the lower floor and a cluster of tiny attics under the rooftiles. Another gateway at the side led to further stabling beyond. I took a few steps through the entrance arch, but instead of a welcoming innkeeper anxious to take my money, I found a burly slave blocking my way.

‘Your business, citizen?’ He was dressed in a uniform-style tunic of a delicate cerulean blue — presumably in honour of the factio — but it accorded very oddly with the solid leather breastplate, helmet and groin-protector which he also were.

‘Is Glaucus here yet?’ I enquired briskly. ‘I saw him at the granary earlier.’ I did not actually say that I had spoken to him, but I thought the implication might get me through the gate.

The burly slave did not move an eyelash. ‘Glaucus is not expected back today, citizen.’

I tried another gambit. ‘Then perhaps I could have a word with Fortunatus? I heard that he was hurt in Verulamium. I was speaking to the lady Fulvia. .’

At the mention of her name the guard relaxed. ‘I am sorry, citizen,’ he said, in an altered tone. He was friendly now, almost conspiratorial. ‘Fortunatus is not well enough for visitors. He is in his quarters, resting.’ He glanced over his shoulder as he spoke, in the direction of one of the rooms on the upper floor.

I made a desperate calculation. The doorkeeper could scarcely leave his post, and once I was beyond him there was nobody about to challenge me. I doubted there were many people in the building. There would be a few servants and stable-boys about, of course, but most of the factio was in Verulamium.

I wagered everything, like Junio at the races. ‘Fortunatus will see me, I’m certain,’ I said airily, pressing a coin into the man’s hand, and walking confidently past him before he could prevent me.

‘Citizen, wait. .’ He was calling after me, but I gave him a breezy wave and strolled away in the general direction of that backward glance. I reasoned that he must have been looking at Fortunatus’ chamber, and in any case an air of assurance was my best defence. I had no idea where the staircase was, but I went through the largest door I could find, and sure enough there was a narrow flagstoned entrance hall with rickety wooden steps leading up to the rooms beyond.

A bored slave-boy was dozing on the topmost step, but he struggled to his feet as I came up, a look of incredulity spreading over his face. He was a small, wiry creature, perhaps twelve years old, and he wore a tunic of that same cerulean blue.

‘Citizen?’ His voice had not yet broken.

‘I have come to see Fortunatus,’ I said again.

Now it was panic which raced across the boy’s features. He was half my size, but he stationed himself firmly outside the nearest door, his arms and legs spread out as though physically to prevent my reaching it. ‘My master is resting,’ he said breathlessly. ‘I have orders not to admit anyone.’

‘What is going on up there?’ To my surprise, the gatekeeper had abandoned his post and lumbered over to the stairwell.

‘He is demanding to see Fortunatus,’ the boy said. ‘I’ve told him…’

‘I told him, too,’ the burly slave replied, starting menacingly up the stairs. All affability had disappeared from his manner now.

I was more than a match for the slave-boy, but this guard was a different matter. I was beginning to fear for my safety when I remembered something that I should have thought of before. I was still carrying the governor’s warrant in my belt. I produced it now, with a flourish.

‘I am on official business,’ I said, brandishing the seal. ‘In the name of His Excellence, the Governor Pertinax, I demand to speak to Fortunatus.’

The two men looked at one another. Then the guard shrugged. ‘Well,’ he said to the slave-boy, ‘it is over to you. This is none of my business.’ He trudged away down the stairs and back to his gate.

The boy looked at me helplessly, but a warrant was a warrant. In any case, I was bigger than he was. With obvious reluctance he pushed open the door and stood back to let me pass. I went into Fortunatus’ chamber.

It was not a grand room, for such a wealthy man. Of course, Fortunatus, like others of his profession, had purchased himself private quarters elsewhere. When his contract expired — or he could buy himself out of it — he would doubtless retire there in luxury. In the meantime, it seemed that these simple quarters provided by the team sufficed. The window-space was still half shuttered, but there was enough light to make out the main features of the room. There was a wooden chest for his possessions, a chipped pottery bowl and jug, a battered stool beside the window and a cot, of sorts, on which I could dimly make out a huddled form, completely hidden under a pile of woven blankets.

‘He is resting, citizen, as you see,’ the slave muttered, indicating the bed.