‘Then you will be going out through the northern gate,’ I said. Bodies of adults cannot by law be laid to rest within the city walls and the northern road was the site of most cremations and even burials. It was lined with the graves and memorials of the great, and there was also a funeral columbarium, a so-called ‘dove-cote’ wall, comprising little niches in which the ashes of the dead could be immured. ‘That would be most convenient for me. Though I mustn’t keep you from the pyre.’
Hilarius was not so easily deterred. ‘Oh, that’s all right. We didn’t know the man. He happened to be a member of the guild. We’ve only recently arrived in town — we used to have a business near Corinium,’ he said, confirming my guess in all particulars. ‘But we heard that opportunities were better around here. More now, since this fellow fell off the scaffolding. They put him on the pyre at least an hour ago — we’re merely going to see them put the fire out and collect the ashes up into the urn. Only polite since we were invited to the feast.’
One of his companions interrupted him, giving a hiccough that was supposed to be a laugh. ‘Trouble is, we’re not exactly sure which way to go.’
Hilarius shrieked with mirth. ‘We lost track of the procession, I’m afraid. Stayed behind to help the servers finish up the wine. But if you say the north gate, that’s good enough for me, though we can always ask. Someone must have seen the funeral — the guild provided musicians and all sorts.’
It occurred to me that I might have seen it pass myself — in which case it was going the other way, towards the south. But I didn’t say so. For one thing, I did not want them talking to the watch, and for another I wanted their company till we left the town. ‘Then the north gate it is?’
There was a murmur of agreement from his friends. ‘Well, we’d better hurry,’ one of them remarked. ‘Or it will be all over before we reach the pyre. Hilarius, if you insist you’re going to bring your pal, you’d better see he’s quick. Here, I’ll support him on the other side.’ He thrust his shoulder under mine and went as if to lift me off my feet.
‘But I’ve lost my sandals,’ I managed to protest. It sounded like a bleat.
‘Fell off when you were swinging on that sign? Silly person!’ Hilarius chided me, but he took his torch and hunted for my shoes. It didn’t take him long. He picked them from the gutter and handed them to me. ‘Full of mud and muck and the gods-know-what. Still, it serves you right.’ He gestured to the shop sign which was lying at his feet. ‘Don’t know what the wine-shopkeeper’s going to say, when he comes back tomorrow and sees what you’ve done. Just as well he didn’t catch you in the act.’
He didn’t know how very true that was! And I wasn’t out of danger yet. I had just sat down to put my filthy sandals on, when there was a noise above our heads and a flustered page was shouting down at us.
‘Hey, you!’
My heart stopped in my chest.
‘What’s all this noise? You’re waking half the street — there are people here who need to get some rest! Go on, be off with you, before I call the watch.’
He was holding his lighted taper in one hand but since Hilarius had a torch and I was sitting very close to him without it actually illuminating me, I realized that I’d not been recognized. What is more it was clear that I had not yet been missed.
Hilarius almost gave the game away. ‘Sorry!’ he hollered cheerfully, waving an explanatory hand at me. ‘Our friend here had a little fall, that’s all.’
‘Then take him home before he falls again, and let respectable people get a little sleep!’ The taper disappeared and there was the sound of shutters being sharply closed.
There was a lot of wine-fuelled giggling from the carpenters, one of whom suggested going upstairs to ‘sort it out’ but eventually our little party lurched away. I was supported by an arm on either side but in fact I was the least fuddled person in the group, despite the several cups of wine I’d swallowed earlier. The fright the page had given me would have sobered me, if I’d drunk twice as much — and the night wind blowing through me kept me wide awake, since I did not have the benefit of a cloak, of course.
That was a double inconvenience, in fact, not only because my skin was coming up in pimples with the cold, but because a man out on the street without a cloak at night is noteworthy, especially if he is supposed to be attending at a pyre — and the last thing that I wanted was to be conspicuous. Perhaps the best defence was — after all — appearing to be drunk. People look away from inebriated groups, I told myself, so I permitted my companions to half-carry me along.
They themselves were nothing if not jovial. I was treated to a song with a dozen choruses — none of which the carpenters could totally recall, though they continually urged me to join in. I dared not offend them, so I made a droning noise and in this fashion we made it to the walls.
There was, of course, a soldier on duty at the gates and I was worried lest he’d seen me at the guard-house earlier, but he scarcely glanced in my direction. His attention was entirely on Hilarius, who asked directions to the cremation pyre.
‘Guild of carpenters? There has been a funeral come this way tonight, but I’m not sure it was that one, from what you’re telling me. All the same you’re welcome if you want to go and look.’ He pointed to a faint glow in the distant dark, far beyond the suburb where my workshop was: a pyre had been set up among the monuments.
I had an inspiration. I hauled myself upright, and turned so that the soldier couldn’t see my face. ‘I’ll go and ask some questions if you like. Save the rest of you traipsing all that way, if it turns out that it is not your guild at all. I did see a funeral, come to think of it, going out of the southern gate a little earlier. Might be the one that you were looking for. Shall I go and see?’
And without waiting for an answer, I slipped out of their arms and was through the open gate before Hilarius could object.
It was not enough, however, to have got outside the walls. I had to give an answer before I disappeared back to the workshop, or the carpenters might have all come out after me. I was ready to invent one, on the strength of what I knew, but there was a beggar lurking in the shadows by the wall and he sidled over to beg an as from me.
‘A quadrans if you tell me who that funeral was for,’ I told him, whispering.
He shook his head. ‘I don’t know. It’s no concern of mine. I keep away from funerals: the mourners never give you anything and they’re likely to report you to the authorities — not that I’m actually breaking any laws, I’m not within the walls.’
‘A quadrans,’ I reminded him, jangling my purse.
‘Wife of some merchant, that is all I know. Probably died in childbirth from the wailing that’s going on.’
‘That is worth a quadrans,’ I told him, fishing out some coins. ‘And here’s another for forgetting that you ever saw me here.’
‘A bargain, sir!’ He snatched the money from my hand and vanished into the dark.
I went back to the gatehouse, taking care to stand in the shadows so that the sentry could not see my face. ‘It’s not the one you want, Hilarius,’ I called. ‘Try the southern gate.’ Then, I added, to the soldier who had opened up to let me in again, ‘I don’t think I’ll bother now, thank you very much. It’s too far to go. My home’s in this direction.’ And I trotted quickly off, before anyone decided to prevent me doing so.
TWENTY-TWO
It isn’t easy, walking through the unlit northern suburb in the dark. The lesser roads are horribly uneven here — not the paved surfaces that you find inside the walls — and even when there hasn’t been a lot of rain, the gutters run with mire. The area is full of shops like mine and little factories — many of them hot and smelly businesses, candle-makers, brewers, tanners and the like — all of whom get up at dawn and lie down with the sun, since (having no armies of servants to command, nor banquets to attend) they are careful to save money on unnecessary heat and light. These streets are unlit and treacherous at night: there was scarcely even the glimmer of a taper to be seen.