I paused in the act of putting on my cloak and realized he was right. I could hear a female laughing, rather mirthlessly and her ringing voice exclaiming, in a martyred tone, ‘Well, councillor Florens, thank Juno we’ve arrived. What a frightful journey. Thank Mars we had your gig. I did not realize this place was so far from town.’
‘Florens!’ I was so startled that I said the word aloud. ‘These are no rebels. That’s the man who wants me brought to court. He’s found out that I’m here and he’s come to drag me back. Well, I’d better go and face him. You two stay here. It’s better if you do — there’s no need for you to be involved in this.’ And before Brianus could voice the protest that was clearly on his lips, I pushed the barn door open and stepped into the courtyard and the first cold light of day.
I was expecting to find the place awash with slaves and guards and carriages, but there was only a solitary gig with a rather sullen Servilis in the driving-seat. He was engaged in driving it away — evidently intending to unhitch the horse — and he did not look my way. Standing in the gloom were his erstwhile passengers, a man and woman both in mourning clothes, dark against the semi-dark of dawn: the man in full toga pulla, with a black cloak to match, and the woman in a cape and stola of Ligurian grey.
If I’d not known that it was Florens, I might have been deceived — the light was dim and he looked quite different in his funereal dress — and the woman was not anyone I’d ever seen before. She was young and lively, despite the sombre cloth, and her hair — which should have been hidden by a veil — was escaping from its jet-encrusted pins and plaits and cascading in delightful light-coloured ringlets round her face (which should also have been covered, if the Roman rules of strict decorum had been met).
Her jewelled hand was resting on her companion’s arm and she was looking boldly up at him. (He was small and portly but she was smaller still.) ‘It’s very lonely here.’ She shivered. ‘Are you quite sure it’s safe? There are no real rebel bandits in the vicinity?’
He looked into her face and gave a pudgy smile. ‘The fact that it is lonely is exactly why I chose it as a hiding place. And as for being safe, my private guards will be here in a little while. Their wagon is already on the road — though of course it does not travel as quickly as a gig. They’ll stay here when I go back to town, and see off any unwanted visitors. But who is going to come out here, in any case? The man who used to own the farm is unfortunately dead, as you’re aware, and all these buildings now belong to me.’
I felt a tingle running down my back. My assumptions had been wrong. Florens was not here in search of me at all. This was some secret assignation of his own. I tried to melt back into the barn again, moving as slowly and noiselessly as possible. I wished devoutly I had stayed there all along. At any moment one of them would look up and notice me.
It was Junio who attracted their attention first. He must have crept out of the other barn without me noticing and seen me standing there, in danger as he thought. He dropped the sack that he was carrying, which fell with a startling clatter to the ground. The woman shrieked in terror and fled towards the house, but Florens whirled around.
‘Father, there’s danger. Make a run for it!’ Junio shouted, as all eyes turned to him — and I realized that he’d made the noise on purpose to let me get away.
I might have tried to calm him — an illicit assignation is embarrassing, no more — but the barn door behind me was opened suddenly and Biccus and Brianus were standing at my back — armed with the iron ladle and a burned-out torch, which they were fiercely brandishing. Brianus had a bucket in his other hand, and he tossed that to me, saying, ‘It’s empty but it’s heavy. If it hits them, it will hurt. I’m sorry, master, this is all the weaponry we’ve got. Unless Junio’s found something better in. .’ He broke with a gasp as Florens flung himself upon my son and threw him to the floor.
The councillor was plump and ageing and Junio was young, but the attacker had the advantage of surprise. As Junio lay there winded on his face, Florens grabbed his hands and knelt on him, then — to my horror — he seized the heavy sack and brought it crashing down on Junio’s skull. The victim gave a little moan and then lay ominously still, a small red trickle oozing from his head.
We three lunged forward as one man to accost the councillor, who was standing up and coolly dusting off his hands, but before we reached him Florens gave a whistle through his teeth. Instantly Servilis came running from the field, like a sheepdog summoned by his master’s signal-call — except that this sheepdog had a dagger in his hand.
‘Arrest these people, Servilis.’ Florens was the picture of authority again, dignified and solemn in his mourning black. It was hard to believe what we had just seen him do. ‘Put them in the shed. And take this body somewhere and take care of it — by this time I imagine you know what to do.’
I stared at him, astounded. Pieces of pattern snapped suddenly in place. ‘You!’ I said. ‘You are the owner of this place. You knew there were bloodstains in there, didn’t you? So you set out to silence Junio. Well, you haven’t silenced me. You killed those people with the treasure-cart — or you had them killed — and now you’ve murdered Junio as well. Don’t think I’ll let you. .’ I was prevented from saying any more. Servilis had seized me by one arm and was twisting it savagely up into my back, while his other hand held the dagger to my neck.
I thought of swiping at him with the pail, but a sudden pressure of the blade dissuaded me.
‘Put that bucket down.’
I dropped it instantly.
He turned to the others. ‘And drop those stupid weapons. Get into the barn. One false move from you two and your master’s dead as well.’
Brianus and Biccus sheepishly obeyed, but I hadn’t finished yet. After what had been done to Junio, I hardly cared what happened to myself. I shouted to Florens as we were marched inside, ‘You lured the treasure-cart in here and murdered all of them. How did you do it? Laced their wine with poppy-juice and stabbed them while they slept? Or even poisoned it? That would account for the stab-wounds after death. . Ahhh!’ This as Servilis increased the pressure on my arm.
‘You want me to despatch him, master?’ my tormentor asked. Florens had followed us into the barn.
‘Leave him, Servilis, the man is just a fool. The courts will deal with him when we take him back. We’ve caught him outright now. Look at all the extra charges we can bring to bear: escaping from the fortress — as I assume he did — breaking into buildings, trying to attack a Roman citizen and impugning the honour of a councillor. The wretch I caught stealing isn’t even dead. I can see him breathing. So there’s another thing. Accusing me of murder, in front of witnesses! I wonder what my friend the magistrate will make of that.’
‘You attacked a Roman citizen yourself,’ I said, braving the threat of further damage to my arm. Now it was relief that made me bold. ‘The man you set on was my adopted son. If you didn’t kill him, it was merely chance. And don’t think that you’ll avoid the charge by just arraigning me. If I’m consigned to exile, my patron will bring the matter of the assault to court.’
Florens was entirely unmoved. ‘You mean that wretch I brought down in the court? But, my dear Libertus, he was just a thief. I caught him escaping from my private barn with a bag of my possessions in his hand. The lictor’s widow is a witness to the fact. The law permits me to defend my property. No court is going to punish me for that.’
His air of outraged reason made me furious, but with the dagger at my throat there was little I could do. Junio was obviously seriously hurt — I thanked the gods that it was nothing more than that — and I was certain to be exiled for life. Everything I’d worked for was slipping from my grasp.