Rosemary Rowe - The Chariots of Calyx

‘I have been looking for Fortunatus,’ I said, still looking at the floor. My voice was quavering, and not through any acting skills on my part. ‘I need to talk to him about a crime.’ I felt my listeners stiffen. ‘On the provincial governor’s orders. I am carrying his warrant. I have it here, at my belt.’ It was a faint hope, but the governor was the representative of Rome, and defiance of his warrant was tantamount to defying the Emperor.

Even Glaucus, it seemed, was not immune to the implication. He seemed to hesitate a little, although he did not signal to the guards to let me go. He placed a hand under my chin, lifted my head so I was forced to look at him, and moved his face to within an inch or two of mine. It was menacing.

‘A palace slave came here yesterday, spying around this house. We know he was from the palace by his uniform, and we know you sent him. He mentioned you by name. And the day before he was asking questions in the marketplace about our grain supply. Be good enough to explain this, citizen. Why did you send him here?’ The thin smile was colder than a winter pond.

The arrival of the tapers seemed to have cleared my brain. It suddenly occurred to me whose house this must be. Surely it was Fortunatus’ — the one that Fulvia and the team-slave had talked about. He was having it rebuilt, they’d said — that would explain the piles of rubble outside. And, of course, why the place was empty and disused. And it made sense of what Glaucus had implied — that Superbus had been here yesterday. If my guess about the house was right, I thought I knew what he’d been doing here.

‘I didn’t send him here,’ I said, with as much dignity as a man can summon when he’s being held painfully captive in a cellar. ‘In fact, I particularly told him to stay in the palace and wait, but he received a message from somewhere in my absence, and he went out in answer to that. If he came here to Fortunatus’ house, I believe I can tell you where that message came from. It came from Fulvia — Fortunatus’ lover.’

Glaucus sneered, but he drew back a little. ‘Nonsense. The charioteer’s woman is called Pulchrissima. He is with her now. She has, shall we say, peculiar skills, and since Fortunatus has found her he talks of nothing else. He plans to marry her when he retires.’ I noticed that he did not deny that Fortunatus owned the house.

‘All the same,’ I said, ‘I believe that slave was carrying a message from Fulvia. The woman whose husband was murdered.’

Glaucus sounded mystified. ‘You are telling me that you came here simply to investigate a murder? That is why the governor sent you here?’ He lifted up my face again, and stared at me. Then he spat contemptuously at my feet. ‘I don’t believe a word of it.’

‘This was no ordinary man. The chief corn official of the city was found strangled in his bed two days ago. The news must be all round Londinium by now. A man called Caius Monnius.’

I felt, rather than saw, the four men round me stiffen.

One of the guards said, ‘Mightiness. .?’ but Glaucus silenced him.

‘Go on!’

‘At first I thought that Fortunatus might have done it. The man’s wife was his lover, as I say. That gave him a motive. If he was in Londinium at the time, he might have had the opportunity, though increasingly I think it is unlikely. That is what I wanted to talk to him about.’

Glaucus stared at me. ‘Fortunatus and Caius Monnius’ wife? You think that I would not have known of that? These are more of your lies, citizen!’ For a moment I thought he was going to strike me.

The old slave piped up. ‘Most noble Glaucus — there may be truth in it. I’ve heard Fortunatus laughing with the other drivers about some rich woman who was courting him. She couldn’t get enough of him, he said. In fact she was becoming indiscreet and he was sure her husband was beginning to suspect. And yesterday when that palace minion came poking round here he did say he had a personal message for Fortunatus. Perhaps the citizen is telling us the truth.’

Glaucus turned away from me and looked at him a moment. ‘You told me that a slave from the governor’s palace had come here to spy. Did he ask anything about the gambling or the race?’

The old man shook his head.

‘So he might have been bringing a love message for Fortunatus? From Caius Monnius’ wife?’

The old man nodded excitedly. ‘Exactly so, most mighty one. He asked if Fortunatus had been badly hurt — he said there had been rumours of an accident and wanted urgent news. Demanded to know where Fortunatus was, in fact, which was extremely worrying. But if she was his lover, and had heard the gossip, perhaps she really wanted to know about Fortunatus’ health and where he was for her own purposes.’

I hurried to offer my support for this. My only hope lay in convincing Glaucus that he was making a terrible mistake. I tried to struggle free but the guards still held me tight, so I made my contribution bent forward like a frog. ‘That could certainly be true,’ I said. ‘Fulvia is a wealthy widow now, and no doubt she has hopes of Fortunatus. She doesn’t know about Pulchrissima. Once she’d heard rumours of the accident, of course she would enquire about his health.’

Glaucus ignored me. He seemed unnaturally patient now. He turned to the slave. ‘But you didn’t ask the messenger who’d sent him? You simply took him prisoner?’

‘According to your orders, noble one. Better to be safe than to regret, you said, and promised us a bounty if we found a spy. Besides, I didn’t have a chance to ask him anything, though I intended to. I brought him here and had the team guards tie him up, but as soon as I turned my back he tripped over his bonds in the darkness and fell down the steps.’

Oh, great gods of stone and stream! The corpse! It all made sense. I almost cried aloud. It was not Junio lying there, it was Superbus. Why had I not seen the likelihood of that? I regretted it instantly — it was unkind to poor Superbus — but I could have wept with the joy and the relief of it.

‘And you have a warrant, citizen?’ Glaucus was looking at me thoughtfully. For the first time since they had seized me, I felt a glimmer of hope. Junio was alive, and Glaucus seemed subdued. The news of Monnius’ murder had clearly startled him. Perhaps I would after all escape from here alive.

I wondered what my captors would do, in that case. They had defied the governor’s warrant, and killed one of his slaves. They would hardly wait around to be arrested. Perhaps they would leave the factio and melt away into Londinium, where one would never find them — since, of course, if one cannot produce the accused in person, there is no case in Roman law. At the very least, I thought, they would rob me before they went.

Glaucus seemed to read my thoughts. He nodded to the slave. ‘Very well. Take that knife from his belt. We cannot leave him armed.’

The old man bobbed forward and did as he was told. Glaucus took it from him and examined it. ‘A fine blade, citizen. I shall see it is not wasted, never fear.’ He gestured to the slave. ‘And you, come here. You took that palace slave prisoner. This knife shall be part of your reward.’ He handed his taper to one of the guards — who necessarily let go of me to take it — and put one long hand on the purse pouch at his waist.

The old man quavered into a smile and stepped forward hopefully. But his reward was not to be in coin. Glaucus reached out and seized the fellow’s hair, forcing back his head. Then with his other hand he plunged my knife savagely into the scrawny neck, almost before the fawning smile had died. The old slave fell with a gurgle. Glaucus withdrew the knife and wiped it carelessly on the tunic of the dying man. ‘Useless swine!’