I extricated myself from the egg-seller for a second time, and was in the act of smoothing my toga down when I heard a shrill voice calling my name.
‘Citizen! Libertus! Master!’ I spun round to see where the words were coming from. The little pageboy was standing at the arch, waving wildly and shouting after me with all his might, though his voice was almost lost in the murmur of the crowd.
‘What is it, Niveus?’ I bellowed in my turn.
But he was already dashing off, shouting and gesticulating, following the horse. The crowd surged forward and I lost sight of him.
Chapter Twenty-three
It was a good deal quieter once inside the gates, so I walked a little way, then stood to one side of the thoroughfare and waited for Niveus to come back.
He didn’t appear. I waited longer, wishing — again — I had a purse with me. I had enjoyed my little meal of bread and cheese, but the smells from the hot-pie sellers passing in the street — and even from the hot-soup stall nearby — were reminding me that I hadn’t eaten much.
Still Niveus didn’t come. I would give him a proper scolding when he did, I thought. Trust him to be caught up in the excitement of a passing chase, and just abandon me! Junio would never have left me on my own like this.
People were beginning to turn and stare at me — the man with the handcart in particular, since he’d been forced to let me through, and here I was standing stock-still in his way. I craned, trying to pick the page out in the crowd beneath the arch. Pity he wasn’t wearing his crimson uniform, I thought — and realised suddenly why Marcus always chose that striking colour for his private messengers.
I stepped up on to the pavement to get a better view — good Roman pavements are always a little raised, so that pedestrians can walk dry-shod above the level of rainwater and mud and the inevitable traces of passing animals — though Glevum was not too bad in that regard. An urchin came round the colonia every day, collecting up the sweepings to sell to farmers round about. I could see him busy in the distance now, armed with a home-made handcart and a battered spade. It was a sign that business was nearly over for the day.
There was still no sign of Niveus. I cursed myself for having let him slip away from me like that — though, in truth, I could hardly have prevented him. I was just wondering how I should proceed — whether to go and find the slaves’ guild now, or whether to stop and hunt for Niveus — when the question was answered for me in a surprising way.
The fat guard from the gateway came shouldering through the crowd, standing on tiptoe to look up and down the street. When he caught sight of me, his face relaxed and he came over to me self-importantly.
‘I am sent to find you, citizen, and take you to the gatehouse as soon as possible. You are Libertus the pavement-maker, I believe?’
I indicated — rather nervously — that this was the case. ‘My patron is Marcus Aurelius Septimus,’ I added, making it clear that I could call on powerful protection and support. I learned long ago that it was always wise to mention this, especially where the military was concerned. ‘In fact, I brought a letter from him to the commander of the guard.’ I was sincerely wishing that I’d taken charge of it myself, and not left it in the page’s custody.
The guard’s next words made me wish it even more. ‘I don’t see any letter in your possession, citizen.’
‘My attendant had it — he’s delivering it now. I thought that he had given it to you.’ It sounded feeble, and I knew it did.
He grinned, a little grimly. ‘That’s interesting, citizen. I’m glad you told me that. We’ve got someone in custody who’s known to be His Excellence’s slave — and did deliver a letter with his seal on it — but is now claiming your protection and saying you’ll pay the costs.’
I groaned. What expense had Niveus got me into now? Broken eggs or something, probably, and no means to pay. Well, I hadn’t either. I had come without a purse — I was not expecting to be in the town today. Perhaps I could borrow something from the councillor who was asked to take me back — if I could get that request delivered before it was too late.
‘Niveus was bringing you that note on my behalf,’ I said. ‘Perhaps you could make sure. .’ I tailed off in surprise. The fat guard was shaking his grizzled head at me.
‘Not as I understand it, citizen,’ he said, ‘and Niveus is not the name he gave, as I recall. You wouldn’t call him snowy anyway, from what I’ve seen of him — though there was another boy who answered that description, I suppose. He was the one who told us that we could find you here.’ He was tapping his baton on his palm now, in a gesture which reminded me of Marcus very much. ‘I don’t know who our prisoner is, but you come along with me and you will soon find out.’
I was still pondering. It wasn’t Pulchrus — he’d gone overseas. Could it be the messenger who’d come from Rome that day? He’d brought a letter to Glevum under seal, and it was just possible he hadn’t left the town. But I’d never met him — why should he ask for me? I didn’t like the sound of this at all. ‘I’m waiting for my attendant,’ I began. ‘And I have pressing business in the town. .’
He tucked his baton in his belt and drew his dagger out instead. ‘I don’t want to have to threaten, citizen, but the commander wants you now.’ He puffed out his cheeks like a self-important frog. ‘He doesn’t like to be kept waiting, and nor do I, with all respect. I’m supposed to be off duty — they’ve relieved me at the gate — but they sent me because I recognised the description the boy gave, and was daft enough to say I’d seen you when they asked. So, if you would be so good as to come along with me at once? I think that would be best — for both of us, don’t you?’ He ran his finger down the edge of the blade, as if to let me know that it was very sharp.
I know a veiled threat when I see one, and this wasn’t very veiled. I swallowed and then nodded. ‘Lead the way then, guard.’
He did not permit me to follow him, of course — he took up his place behind me and walked me towards the gate, keeping his drawn dagger in the region of my back. He didn’t touch me, but I knew that it was there. I was effectively a prisoner, and people knew it too. I was aware of pointing fingers and furtive whispering. ‘Under arrest! I wonder what he’s done.’ I heard a burst of laughter. ‘And him a citizen!’
It was humiliating, but it did have one effect: people melted back at once to let us pass. Fortunate perhaps — if we’d been jostled, I’d have run into the blade — but it is a phenomenon that I have seen before. When someone is being marched to the garrison under Roman guard, everyone gives him as much space as possible — as though his fate might be contagious, like the plague, or leprosy. It wasn’t long before we got back to the gate.
It was dark and cool inside the guardhouse, as it always is, though there were candles burning in sconces on the walls. We did not pause in the guardroom as I’d expected to; instead my escort gestured with his dagger up the stairs to where the garrison commander had his room. I was to see the most important officer in town.
He rose to meet me as I came in: a tall, rangy, athletic-looking man with a lined and weathered face, and the general appearance of a shrewd intelligence. His armour shone so you could see your face in it.
I glanced around. A bare room, furnished with a table and a stool, with the shadowy statue of a deity on the far wall. A pile of scrolls and scraps of folded bark showed that he had been working on letters when we arrived. No comforts except an oil lamp and a flask of wine. The commander of the garrison had always been austere.
The fat guard snapped to a salute. ‘In the name of His Imperial Divinity. .’ he began, but his superior brushed all that aside.
‘Citizen Libertus? I think we’ve met before.’ His voice was cool but courteous and his eyes were sharp.