I dabbed my face, and Junio did the same — doubtless as pleased as I was to have rinsed at least some of the pyre-smoke from his skin. There is a lingering smell in charring human flesh which is inclined to stay with one for days.
My son grinned, and took my towel from me — some slave-like habits are hard to break, it seems — while I smeared the altar ashes on my face again.
‘You would have no objection to refreshment?’ I enquired. ‘I know that we are invited to a feast tonight, and really I had hoped to get away, but I have not eaten since I left the roundhouse shortly after dawn — and had only a small beaker of spring water to drink. It might not be polite to eat things in the atrium just now, so soon after the familial sacrifice and with the memorial statue there, but we could always retire to the triclinium, I suppose.’
Junio folded the towels and dropped them on the stool. ‘I snatched some bread and water at the garrison, and was given refreshment when we got back to the house. But I too would be happy to have something now — burying and burning corpses is very thirsty work.’ He patted some ashes on to his own boyish brow, and stood back to escort me to the atrium again.
Atalanta was still expertly plucking music from her lyre when we returned, but to my regret the tune was coming to a close. She concluded with a long, high, throbbing final note.
‘That was beautiful,’ I told her, to her evident delight. ‘Where did you learn to play the lyre like that?’
She gave a rueful smile. ‘The slavemaster who reared me up for sale saw that I was taught. “When a girl’s as plain as you are,” he used to say to me, “she needs some kind of talent, if she’s to fetch a decent price. I’ve spent too much on raising you to have you sold for fifty asses as a mere kitchen slave.” At first I did not like it — the hag who taught me used to try to beat it into me — but in the end I found I had a certain gift for it. So whenever I was exhibited for sale my master made me take the lyre. But it’s impossible to play it when your arms are chained, and he sometimes beat me round the hands because I didn’t sell.’ She said it without bitterness, as though this were no more than commonplace.
‘And that tune?’ I said softly. ‘Did you devise that yourself?’
She shook her head. ‘I learned a lot of dirges — the woman who taught me was an undertaker’s slave and my master hoped to sell me to someone similar. But then Julia came along and picked me anyway, though she has never required me to play a single note. It is quite a delight to have the chance again. Besides, you know, citizen, it enables me to sit — which is a pleasure in itself. But, excuse me, I must begin again. There is one final tune of homage I should play.’ She closed her eyes and began to strum and croon, a cadence so plaintive that, I felt, it might have brought tears to the statue’s eyes.
We were still listening with pleasure when Niveus returned, not with the bread and cheese which I’d been promised earlier, but with a tray of honeyed dates, a folding table and a pair of stools. He must have seen the disappointment on my face, because he turned bright red again, and immediately began to apologise.
‘I’m very sorry, citizen — it is all my fault. I forgot to tell the kitchens that the platter was for you, and I am afraid they gave it to your slave. Of course they are very busy now with the memorial feast, but it was suggested that I should bring you these.’ He was setting up the little seating arrangements as he spoke. ‘I’m to offer the same to any visitor who comes to pay respects. Though I don’t know who would, except for the people invited to the feast. There’s hardly been time to spread the news. It was only this morning that we heard of it ourselves, though it wasn’t unexpected. The master had our tunics ready several days ago, and Lucius had guessed before he even cut the seal. Though there’s been so much happening since the messenger arrived that it seems like days ago. Here you are, citizen, this is ready now.’ He set the tray down with a flourish and invited me to sit.
Dates are by no means a favourite food of mine — they are too sweet for me, especially in the honeyed form that Marcus seems to like — but I was so hungry that I could have eaten the serving dish by now, and I could see that Junio was grinning in delight. Such delicacies as honeyed dates were still rare treats to him, so I said, ‘Thank you, Niveus. You may go and fetch my slave. He should be waiting in the servants’ room.’
The slave looked startled. ‘But, citizen, the wine! I wasn’t able to carry everything at once.’
‘Then you may fetch it after you’ve brought Minimus to me,’ I said, and with that I popped a date into my mouth. It was as sweet as I’d remembered, but it was welcome all the same. I took another and another and swallowed those as well, though my son was still relishing his first, letting the sweetness linger on his tongue.
I was just beginning to wish that I had ordered the wine at once — half a dozen honeyed dates do not improve a thirst — when the outer door was opened and Marcus strode in. He was accompanied by Minimus, much to my surprise.
I rose to my feet in some embarrassment. The remnants of my last date were proving hard to swallow. ‘Patron,’ I murmured, through sticky teeth. Junio, meanwhile, had scrambled to his feet and was bowing respectfully, while Atalanta quickly brought her homage to a close, rose and stood in silence, dangling her lyre.
‘Thank you, Atalanta, that will do for now. You can come back and play some more a little later on.’ Marcus waved his hand benignly, and she tiptoed from the room. Even funerary music had to wait its turn, it seemed. My patron smiled at us. ‘I am glad to see that you have been offered hospitality,’ he said, ‘though Niveus has failed to bring a drink, I see. I have given him the simplest duties, but it seems he never learns. That is what I want to talk to you about, in fact, Libertus, my old friend.’
‘Of course, if I can be of any service, Excellence,’ I said cautiously. ‘Old friend’? It always made me wary when he called me that. What did he want of me this time? Not another wasted walk into the hills, I hoped.
But I need not have worried. It was not my services he was after, it appeared. ‘I want to borrow Minimus back from you for a little while. I need someone to go to Glevum to take a letter to the garrison and link up with a messenger from the imperial post. I have been writing home. A difficult message, in the circumstances, but an important one — since I am the heir, there are arrangements I shall need to make. I don’t want to entrust the note to Niveus this time. He is too young and vulnerable to ride the roads alone, and anyway there is a good chance that he would contrive to get it wrong. Not insist on seeing the commander personally or something of the kind.’
‘Use Minimus, by all means.’ I was quite relieved that it was nothing more.
Marcus rewarded me with a grateful smile. ‘I won’t deprive you of him longer than I need. I’ll send him back to you as soon as he gets home.’
‘Which will be tomorrow, I suppose?’ I said. I have known Marcus make arrangements several times for a servant to be accommodated at the garrison overnight, since it takes some little time to get to town and back on foot.
He laughed. ‘He should be back this evening, though perhaps not till after dark. Minimus can ride, you realise? He was trained as a page, and it’s one of the reasons why I bought him when I did. I shall put him on a horse. That way the letter will get there as soon as possible, and you are not inconvenienced for so long.’ A thought seemed to strike him, and he added with a smile, ‘In the meantime you can borrow Niveus, if you like. At the very least, he can escort you home.’
I was about to accept this offer with gratitude — it would give me a chance to question the young page, I thought — when Niveus himself came scuttling in again, carrying a jug of wine and two goblets on a tray. ‘I couldn’t find Minimus for you, citiz-’ he began. Then he saw Marcus. He stopped in the doorway, speechless with dismay.