Too far, I decided. We were on the first floor up, and there was a solid granite pavement underneath. If I got through the window-space and hung on by my hands, it would still leave me six feet or more to drop — with every likelihood that I would break a leg. And once I’d left here, I could expect no help from anyone. I would be in breach of every law there was and the whole machinery of state would be my enemy. I would also be abusing the commandant’s faith in me, to say nothing of my patron’s hospitality. Marcus, in fact, was legally responsible for me, and would be liable to a substantial fine and public humiliation if he could not produce me to the court. It was clearly nonsensical to even think of it.
I went back slowly into the other room and sat down on the bed. In the gloaming my eye fell on the rug. It was not a very big one, but it would have to do.
I picked it up and rolled it into a sort of tube, so that it was approximately the same length as me, then put it carefully into the bed and covered it with rugs. It did not look much like a sleeping person when you were close to it, but at a distance it was good enough, especially in the dark. Then, remembering to take my sandals in my hand, I crept back into the master’s room and eased myself — with some difficulty — through the window-space so that I was sitting on the sill, my bare feet dangling above the street below.
TWENTY-ONE
If I had been a hero in a story of some sort, no doubt I would have leapt lightly from the ledge and scampered off, but I am an old man and no longer as fit as I once was. For a moment I did not move at all. The drop seemed even greater now than it had looked before and I was tightly wedged into the narrow window-space. I could not see how I could turn around and dangle from my hands as I had so hopefully supposed.
I was beginning to think that I would have to spend all night sitting on this uncomfortable ledge until I died of chill, when I heard something moving in the wind and I suddenly remembered the existence of the sign. It must be here somewhere, because it was hanging near the wine-shop door, and I was sitting almost over that. It had been strong enough to support the young drunkard earlier. If I could locate it, would it take my weight? If I could manage to balance with my feet on that, perhaps I could manoeuvre myself round the other way and do my dangling after all.
I leaned forward — very gingerly — and caught a glimpse of it: a foot or so below the level of my feet and slightly to one side. I eased one buttock forward and found that I could touch the bracket with my still-bare toes. Another inch and I could get my instep on to it — having no sandals on would make it easier — so that I could swivel round and grab the window-ledge.
The result was not as I’d intended it. My instep reached it, fairly easily, but in leaning forward I dislodged myself. The iron stanchion was slippery with wet, and as I lurched forward my bare foot slipped on it, so that — far from standing on the bracket with my weight upon my hands, as I’d hopefully supposed — I found myself astride it, like a rider on a horse, with my tunic riding up disgracefully around my thighs. My descent to this position had been so abrupt, and the iron post had caught me in such a painful place, that I gave a shriek, let go of my shoes and clung with both hands to the sign instead.
My own shriek alarmed me. I was afraid that I’d disturbed the house, but my eyes were watering and I could not move. no light flared in the window-space above and no angry voices shouted down at me. The only sound was that of loud laughter further down the street, and I realized that a group of people were approaching fast. I held my breath, praying that they would not look up at the sign, or stumble on my sandals, which had fallen to the street, though it was far too dark to see where they had gone.
But the gods had something else in store for me. There was a creaking, cracking sound from somewhere near my ear and — very slowly — the bar began to bend, tipping me forward as the bracket parted from the wall. I slid down it like a snowball running down a hill and landed with it, on the pavement, in a heap. I was so winded that I could neither speak nor move, so when the revellers reached me I was lying there, together with the shop sign and little bits of pebble from the wall.
One of the passers-by had stopped to look at me, holding his torch high to get a better view. ‘Swinging from the shop sign by the look of it. You’d think that he’d know better at his age, wouldn’t you?’ He reached out and turned me over with his foot, just as I had seen the centurion do to the drunk youth earlier.
I could do no more than lie there, looking up at him. This was the end of my little escapade! I thought. Any minute now I would be dragged off to the watch for causing damage to the wine-shop property. I would be questioned, the story would come out, and this time I would be locked up in the jail. At least, I told myself, I still had Junio’s money in my purse. It might buy me the opportunity to talk to Calvinus.
The man with the torch was bending over me and I could detect the smell of cheap wine on his breath. He wore a tunic not a toga, I was glad to see, and so did his companions, by the look of it, so these were not people of great authority. A group of freemen, possibly, united by a trade, coming from some bibulous meeting of their guild? In that case, they were probably not natives of the town — freemen born within these walls are citizens by birth and entitled to wear togas when they go out to dine.
‘Leave him, Hilarius.’ One of the others was impatient to be off. ‘You don’t know who he is or where he’s been.’
Hilarius giggled — it was not difficult to see how he had earned the name — but he had the stubbornness which comes with too much wine. ‘You can’t be sure he isn’t one of us.’ He leaned right down and stared into my face. ‘Not a carpenter, are you, by any chance? Though I didn’t see you at the banquet, come to think of it.’
I relaxed a little. ‘Different trade,’ I muttered, with what breath was left to me. ‘Though I work with buildings, too.’
Hilarius looked triumphant. ‘There you are, you see!’ he cried exultantly. ‘He may not be a carpenter but he’s the next best thing! Come on, old fellow — you can’t stay here all night.’ He grasped me by the arm and hauled me to my feet, though he was by no means steady on his own. ‘Can’t have a fellow drinker picked up by the watch. No doubt you’ve got a family who’ll reward us for returning you — say a cup or two of Rhenish, or something of the kind, or better still the means to buy it with? Or are they pleased to see the back of an old reprobate like you?’
I shook my head. ‘My son will pay you, but I live outside the walls.’ My mind was racing now. Clearly I could not let them take me to the shop, any more than I’d identified my trade — that would make it easy to work out who I was — but with their protection I could walk the streets of town and not draw further attention to myself. Even if the bear and page-boy woke and noticed that I’d gone and sent the household out to hunt for me, no one would be looking for a man in company. ‘Perhaps if you could just escort me to the gates. .? I’ll see you get the money for your Rhenish wine. Just tell me where you live.’ I had enough wit left not to mention that I had money in my purse, which might have been an invitation to be robbed.
My rescuer was rocking — with laughter or with wine, it was difficult to tell. ‘Outside the walls, eh? You should have thought of that a little earlier, my friend. All the gates are guarded at this time of night, and only official business gets you through — though of course easier getting out than in. But as it happens, it’s your lucky day. We’re on our way to see a funeral — one of our members died and the guild’s providing him a pyre. We’ve just been to the pre-cremation feast.’