If I could afford a bribe, or persuade Marcus to provide one on my behalf, I could have a well-bred lawyer, skilled in argument, to plead in my defence. I could wear sack-cloth and ashes — as many people did — to show how distraught I was, and to try to influence the court to pity me. If necessary, as a very last resort — which meant, if I were condemned to death, instead of merely to lifelong exile — I could even appeal to the Emperor himself, although from what I’d heard of Commodus that might not help me much.
Even another diversion on the road — this time a travelling magician, in a red and orange robe, with a parrot on his shoulder and a gibbering monkey on the cart — failed to divert my attention very long. I was rather like the monkey — about to be produced as a public spectacle — and like the parrot I would be obliged to talk.
It was not a happy prospect, taken all in all. Two important councillors were accusing me, circumstances seemed to point towards my guilt, and as the commander said, ‘the court will decide on what is probable’. So if I were exiled, what would happen to my wife? I could not expect her to share the harshness of the flight. Perhaps I could find some way to start again so I could send for her — though that was fraught with danger, too. I wished I’d spent a little longer bidding her farewell — it was possible that we would never meet again.
I tried to remind myself that I was fortunate. I would enjoy a meal tonight, and have somewhere half-comfortable to sleep. Poor Calvinus would have neither of those things. I would be taken to a proper court, before a magistrate; Calvinus had no such luxury. A slave — even the chief steward of a very wealthy man — could not only be tortured to ensure he talked, but could expect only a brief hearing by some harassed clerk, often conducted in the open air in front of jeering mobs, whose opinions were sometimes allowed to sway the case: and punishment, if called for, would be immediate.
And I had probably, unwittingly, contributed to his fate. All the same, I would like to talk to him again.
I glanced at the commander, but he refused to look at me. He was staring at the wagons drawn up beside the road. Emelius, on my right-hand side, was doing just the same. We jogged in silence for what seemed like hours — still slowed by traffic making for the gates — and the light was almost fading by the time that Glevum came in sight.
My every bone was juddering from the vibration of the vehicle and my arms were aching with the effort of clinging to the seat — though mercifully the slower speed had made things easier. As we pulled up at the public arch that led into the town, I felt a wave of something like relief. Whatever awaited me at the garrison, I was going to be happy to get down from the carriage.
FIFTEEN
What was awaiting us was a flustered orderly. He was clearly bursting with a message of some kind, and could scarcely wait for the commander to dismount. As soon as he had done so the man sketched a salute and drew him aside to murmur urgently to him.
It must have been important. The commandant looked immediately grave and made a gesture to Emelius and me, indicating that we two should get down and go into the fort ahead of him. Scowler, meanwhile, had drawn up in his cart, and was arranging a detail to take the murdered driver’s corpse inside.
‘Get a move on, you lazy lumps of meat. This man was an ex-auxiliary officer and a citizen to boot. The army’s going to give him a proper funeral, so treat him with respect. You, there on the end, take up the lament. The rest of you go and find a shutter so we can carry him.’ The men got down grumbling and he added with a sneer, ‘And look sharp about it — when we’ve finished here, we’ve got the others to dispose of before you can stand down.’
They would drive the other bodies to the common pit, of course, where with the rest of the day’s haul of the unwanted dead — vagrants, paupers and common criminals — the butchered escort would be unceremoniously thrown in and covered up with lime.
The sentry standing on duty at the gate still had his eyes on us, and I was aware again of the sight I must present as I climbed down — very stiffly — from our own vehicle, with Emelius close behind. The centurion seemed conscious of the scrutiny as well, because he immediately snapped back into officious mode and marched me at dagger-point through the city arch and back into the courtyard of the garrison.
This time there was nobody in the yard as we approached, though a moment later the requisition man came running out, cramming his helmet back upon his head. He did not speak, but simply nodded and rushed on towards the gate.
‘Obviously in a hurry to sign the transport off,’ Emelius said. ‘He must have seen us come. I expect the owners of the vehicle have been enquiring for it.’
I nodded. This was the busiest time of day for hiring firms, and although the carriers could not actually demand to have the carriage back, they were no doubt pointedly requesting its return as soon as possible.
The soldiers in the guard-room raised their eyes as we went by and watched us curiously through the window-space. I expected to be led back in there, but Emelius’s dagger prodded me straight on, past the barracks and down the road towards the centre of the fort. He didn’t pause until we reached the open area in the very heart of it, opposite the combat training field and the regimental shrine.
‘That is where you are heading, citizen!’ he gestured with his non-dagger-bearing hand.
Opposite the entrance to the drill-field was the praetorium itself, where the commander had his personal rooms and private offices. It was a well-proportioned building, long and low, more like a villa than an army residence, and arranged around three sides of a pleasant shaded court — in contrast to the rows of grimly rectangular stone-built barrack blocks elsewhere, which were the living quarters of the other ranks.
‘Nice place,’ I murmured to Emelius.
I meant the house, but he took me to be talking about the fort itself. He dropped his knife and said, as though he owned the establishment himself, ‘Nothing to what it used to be. At one time it was twice as big as this — took up most of the area which is now the town, right across to where the forum is. Of course, in those days there was an entire legion stationed here. Long before my time — or yours, I would expect.’
‘I have lived near Glevum for almost thirty years,’ I agreed, ‘and I don’t remember it.’
‘Nor do I. Our unit’s only been here for a year or two. Of course, now that the countryside has settled down in peace — or something like it — they only keep a few hundred of us here to keep it going.’ He looked around and added, with that same element of pride, ‘But it’s still impressive — what is left of it.’ He seemed to remember suddenly that he was guarding me and he pointed with his blade to the commander’s house. ‘But I’m supposed to be taking you inside. I don’t want to get mixed up with all of that!’
‘That’ was Scowler’s detail struggling through the gates carrying the segments of the body from the cart. They had contrived a makeshift litter from a plank of wood and, though their burden was still shrouded in the soldier’s cloak, one disembodied leg had become partially unwrapped, revealing all too clearly what was underneath. One of the bearers was keeping up a reluctant, tuneless drone that could — with imagination — be taken for lament.
‘What are they going to do with him?’ I said, fearing for a moment that they would let it lie in state, on view to the soldiers in some public place.
Emelius made a face. ‘Put him in the infirmary, perhaps? That would be suitable, since he was — apparently — an officer.’
‘From that unit that was stationed here from Gaul, I understand?’ I was recalling what the commandant had said about that military belt. ‘Or was that before your time as well?’