I looked in the direction where he was gesturing. There was indeed a man — a burly man in Celtic trousers, tunic and plaid cloak. Borrowing from Roman ways clearly did not extend to personal appearance. His hair was pulled back into a long tail at his neck, which emphasised his jutting chin and long traditional moustache. He was leaning on the enclosure fence and staring hard at us. There was a none-too-friendly expression on his face, and I was alarmed to see a huge staff in his hand, while the dog — which was now squatting at his heels — bared his teeth in a ferocious snarl. Hardly the welcoming reception I had hoped.
I was contemplating whether I should go over and speak to him myself, or whether I should send either of the slaves, when the fellow solved the problem by shouting out to us.
‘You again, goat-face? What do you want this time? And who is your fancy toga-wearing friend?’ He was bellowing in Celtic, probably in the belief that I would not understand.
Caper looked uncomfortable. ‘This is the Citizen Libertus,’ he called back in the same tongue. ‘The favoured client of my master, Marcus Septimus — you know, the magistrate. Libertus is here on his particular account, to ask the same questions that I asked you yesterday and probably some others of his own as well.’ Then, seeing that the farmer was about to speak again, he added hastily, ‘He’s a Roman citizen, but he speaks Celtic too.’
I could see that it was time for me to intervene. ‘Indeed I do. And I have a roundhouse, though not as grand as yours. Nor is my family quite as sizeable,’ I added, realising that there were several female heads watching us from the shelter of the roundhouse doors. The same heads heard me and instantly withdrew. ‘But it’s your eldest daughter that I want to talk about.’
The farmer threw me a furious glance. ‘And what is she to you? Come to tell me that she is found, have you, and want me to take her back? Well, I shall have to disappoint you, citizen. She ran away, and she can stay away, as far as I’m concerned. She has made a mockery of me and of my family’s good name!’
I took a pace towards him but was dissuaded by the dog, which snarled and barked and rushed fiercely at the fence. I stopped and shouted from the safety of the path. ‘A mockery?’ I echoed, trying to sound as sympathetic as I could.
He spat into the furze pile with ferocity. ‘How dare she run away when I have promised her, especially when I found her a decent widower like that. Cost me a pair of cows in dowry, and a lot of money too — and naturally he won’t agree to give them back.’ Another spit. ‘Course he was old and ugly, and inclined to smell of pigs, but a girl like that should be grateful to get any man at all. You tell her, citizen, if I lay hands on her, I’ll give her a leathering that she won’t forget.’
I was beginning to feel some sympathy for the young runaway. ‘You’d promised her in marriage?’ I took another step. The dog contented itself this time with an unpleasant growl.
The farmer hawked, and ran a hand and arm across his mouth. ‘Aren’t I just telling you I did?’ he said. He paused, then went on in an altered tone of voice. ‘But surely you must know that, if you’ve caught up with her. Morella is a bit simple, I grant you, but she wouldn’t tell a lie. Hasn’t got the wit to make things up at all. Too trusting, in a lot of ways, that’s been the trouble all her life.’ He cocked an eye at me. ‘I expect that’s what happened with this travelling act of hers. She found out what the fellow wanted, and didn’t care for it? Well, tell him I won’t take her — and that’s an end of that. I’m not obliged to, when she left here of her own accord. You tell her that as well.’
‘I can’t tell her anything,’ I said. ‘I don’t know where she is. I’ve come to ask you what she looked like, so I can search for her.’
‘Don’t bother. I don’t want her, and she sends word she’s happy where she is.’ Something seemed to strike him, and he glared at me. ‘Don’t tell me she’s already got herself in debt, and her creditors are searching for her? No doubt they’ll hold me liable, if they don’t find her soon, since she is my daughter, and a simple one at that. Oh, now it all makes sense! That’s why the magistrate has sent you, I suppose.’
I tried to deny it, but he paid no heed to me. He was still spitting at the ground and grumbling to himself. ‘Oh, dear gods of stone and tree, is there no end to this? I’ve done my best for her for years, and what’s the thanks I get? I’ve got other children to think about as well. Four more girls to make provision for. How am I to manage?’
I was still wondering what to say to that when he seized a piece of rope which was tied up to the fence, and used the looped end to secure the dog. ‘Well, I suppose in that case I’d better let you in.’ He came out to the gate and pushed it open, still grumbling. ‘What has she done this time? Taken things without permission from a shop?’
Caper was looking doubtful and so was Minimus, but I led the way into the enclosure and they had no option but to follow me — taking care to keep well out of range of the snarling canine which was straining at its leash. The farmer turned without another word and led the way into the largest building on the site — a communal roundhouse, complete with central fire, and tools and bedding ranged around the walls on the far side. The nearer section, however, was expensively furnished in the Roman style with a proper couch and tables, a handsome woven mat, and an ornate brass oil lamp burning on a stand. Morella’s father was clearly a successful man, as peasant farmers go.
He gestured to the couch, and I sat down on it while he took up a position on a wooden stool nearby. ‘Well?’ he demanded. ‘What is that she’s done?’
‘I am not sure that she’s done anything,’ I said. ‘And if Morella is the girl I am looking for, it seems unlikely that she was in debt. She had some money with her, quite a lot of it.’
He did not react to this with anger, as I’d expected he would do. He looked a little puzzled, if anything. ‘Well, I don’t know where it came from, then. I didn’t give it to her.’ He folded his arms aggressively across his chest. ‘So if isn’t money, what is it that you want?’
I glanced at Caper for support — after all he had interviewed the man before — but he evaded my eyes and stood staring at the floor. I took a deep breath. ‘We know of a peasant girl who may have come to harm. I hope it’s not Morella, but it is possible.’
I expected some response from him at this — even some expression of concern — but all that happened was a lengthy pause during which we could hear the dog still barking noisily outside.
Eventually I said, ‘I need to trace her movements for the last few days, to be completely sure. In order to do that there are obviously some questions I must ask.’
Another pause. The farmer still said nothing, so I pressed on anyway. ‘Did your Morella have long lime-bleached hair? And what was she wearing when she left the house?’
Chapter Fourteen
I was still expecting the farmer to exhibit some concern, or at least to ask some pretty pointed questions of his own — after all I had told him bluntly that I feared his eldest daughter might have come to harm — but he did nothing of the kind. Instead, he pursed his lips and scowled as though I had insulted him.
‘I blame her mother for all that,’ he burst out angrily. ‘Showed her the way her grandfather mixed lime to bleach his hair, like all the other elders of the tribe.’ He ran a proud hand down each end of his magnificent moustache, which had itself been lightly bleached. ‘You do hear of women who have limed hair these days — no respect for masculine tradition and the way things should be done. Of course, she wanted to try it for herself. Someone had told her that blonde girls are prettier and how they sometimes shave their heads and sell their hair for wigs, and after that there was no stopping her. As if she could ever be a beauty! Girl looked like a pig.’ He spat again, this time into the fire.