Rosemary Rowe - The Chariots of Calyx

‘And then?’

‘That was the last we saw of her alive. She was gone so long that Lady Fulvia sent us after her — and there she was in the passageway, stretched out, obviously dead. Parvus here let out a screech, and then of course everyone in the household came running to have a look, except Lydia, who was doing her part in the lament. Even Filius and Annia Augusta came.’

‘And the lady Fulvia?’

‘She didn’t come. She was too horrified to move, I think.’

‘So you went back to tell her what you’d found?’

‘We did. I had to break the news — Parvus was still babbling with shock. Poor lady, she was terribly upset. And, of course, more worried for herself than ever. She made us stand beside her bed all night, with lighted lamps. And she has not eaten since. In the morning even Annia Augusta agreed to send for you.’

I nodded, and was about to dismiss the boys when a sudden thought struck me. ‘There was no one else in that part of the building at the time?’

The two pages looked at each other and then at me. This time it was Parvus who spoke. ‘No one that we noticed, citizen. Of course the servants’ stairs go up from there, and anyone could have slipped up there for a moment. Or gone out into the garden and the shrine — but certainly we did not see anyone.’

‘And what happened to the body afterwards?’

‘It was taken to the servants’ hall to wait. Fulvia went in this morning to the undertakers and insisted on a proper cleansing. Lydia made quite an uproar about it, but the lady Fulvia got her way. She paid them handsomely to do it, I think — with oils and everything. Quite an honour for a poor old nursemaid, with not a sestertius in the world.’

There were a few more questions, but they could help no further, and this time I did let them go. For form’s sake, I spoke to the undertaker’s man who had prepared the body. He was a big, rough fellow, with hands like corn scoops and a wind-scarred face, but he confirmed the pages’ story.

‘First time I’ve ever been called on to do it for a slave-woman, and an old, ugly one at that. Waste of time of course — the household isn’t paying for a funeral, and the slave guild simply picks the bodies up, throws them all together on one pyre, and sets fire to them. What’s the point of elaborate preparations for a funeral like that, when there’s no public exhibition of the body — not even any mourners to speak of?’

I thought for a moment that he was about to spit for emphasis, but he seemed to recollect himself.

‘Going to put it out the back first, when they found it, out of the way. But the widow-lady, the pretty one, insisted that we took it upstairs. She’d got it into her head that it was her fault or something — and then this morning she came in, offering silver for us to prepare it for burial. Mad as a satyr, of course, but you don’t argue with a bag of coins! So when the mask-makers were here I went upstairs and dealt with the thing — gave it a quick wash and oil, and got it tidied up a bit. Hadn’t been dead long, either, when we took it up there — the body was still warm. You notice that sort of thing in this job.’

I remembered that I had failed to notice something similar myself.

He seemed to take the colour in my cheeks as a sign of personal enthusiasm, and he went on with professional relish. ‘It’s still up there, if you want to see it. Not that there’s very much to see. There were no marks on the body, citizen, if that is what you are thinking. Some pink patches on the skin — I’ve seen them before with people who’ve been poisoned — but no bruises or any sign of force. Ate, or more likely drank, something that was poisoned, and a few minutes later she fell to the floor foaming.’ He shook his head. ‘A nasty way to die, citizen. But we did a nice job on her, if I do say so myself.’

He bent towards me confidentially. He smelled of death — herbs, oils and corruption. I almost found myself leaning backwards to avoid it. I put on my most official manner and briskly asked another question. ‘And the body had not been tampered with overnight?’

He straightened up and shook his head. ‘Just as we left it, citizen. Covered with a cloth and all that, and I’d stake ten denarii that no one had been anywhere near it. The servants were frightened out of their wits, as it was, with having a corpse up there — we put it in an alcove, but I noticed this morning there were prayer plaques nailed to the door, and herbs and salt on the floor as if someone had been doing a purification rite. And they all keep away from us undertaker-slaves as if we are plague-carriers.’

I nodded. I rather sympathised with their position.

‘Believe me, citizen,’ he went on heartily, ‘they wouldn’t tamper with that body willingly. There aren’t even any of the right herbs up there to burn, and the corpse’ll be beginning to stink by this time. Besides, what would be the point of touching her? The poor old soul had nothing to steal.’ He flashed his remaining teeth in a crooked grin, as though we were comrades in complicity. ‘You just say the word, citizen, and I’ll take you up there and explain the whole process, step by step.’

I hastened to tell him that would not be necessary, and his face fell a little.

‘All the same, citizen — anything you want to know about the business, you come to me. Now if you are sure. .?’

I was sure, and at last Junio was able to hustle him out of the door, taking the odour of mortality with him. The pageboy, Parvus, hurried in.

‘A messenger has come for you, citizen, from the governor himself. One of his own bodyguards, I think.’ The boy’s eyes were round as a discus. ‘He says he has important news for you.’

‘Show him in,’ I said, and a moment later one of the giant Nubians was kneeling before me. He was making an obeisance, but at the sight of my palace tunic his black eyes twinkled in his dark face and the lips that murmured courteous greetings were visibly trying not to smile. The hand that pressed mine to his lips was so enormous that it could have crushed me like a walnut in a press, and his strength seemed twice as great in contrast to my current weakness. I felt foolish, and we were both aware of it.

I signalled to the man to rise — a mistake in itself since he now towered over my chair like a basilica. ‘You have news?’ I enquired, with such remnants of dignity as I could muster.

‘His Excellence the Governor, Publius Helvius Pertinax, instructs me to inform you that two people whom you were seeking have been taken under arrest.’ The Latin was perfect, cultured, and spoken with a clarity and accent which would have made many students of oratory seem only half civilised.

I gawped. Could that be Glaucus and his corrupt team manager Calyx, I wondered. ‘Two people?’

The Nubian giant inclined his head in assent — to say that he nodded would be to understate the gravity of the gesture. ‘One of them is unknown to me, although I understand it is someone well known in the city. The other is one Lividius Fortunatus, a gifted pilot of the chariots. I have myself been known to venture a denarius or two on his abilities. You wish to speak to him, I believe? His Excellence, as supreme governor of the province under His Imperial Mightiness the Divine Emperor Commodus, enquires what you wish him to do with these two persons.’

‘Do with them?’ I said foolishly.

‘Would you prefer him to imprison them — neither, I think, is a Roman citizen, so they could be interrogated by the state, if you wish — or would you rather he should send them here, so that you can question them yourself? Under guard, naturally.’

I found myself smiling childishly. I confess to a sudden and unworthy desire to see Glaucus — if this was indeed Glaucus — brought in under arrest and finding himself answering to me. An opportunity to speak to Fortunatus — and in Fulvia’s company — would be interesting too. Perhaps even Filius would emerge from his annexe to see his hero and I would have the chance to learn something there. And — some inner demon asked me — what would Annia Augusta say if she saw the charioteer?