But we were all shivering and weary to our very bones by the time we reached the intersection with the better road and the adjoining clearing where our enclosures were. It was growing dark by now, so only the silhouettes of palisades and buildings could be seen, but I turned to Junio. ‘Isn’t that the most welcome sight that you have ever seen?’
He grinned wearily at me. ‘Your roundhouse in particular! I can see the glimmering of candles at the door — and isn’t that the smell of cooking in the air?’
I sniffed and realized that he was right. Mingled with the wood-smoke from the central chimney hole, a delicious hint of stewing chicken came wafting out to us.
This promise of warm comfort would have given us new heart to hurry on in any case, but before we’d taken another pace towards the house my outer gate flew open and Kurso, my little kitchen slave, was rushing out to greet me with a lighted brand.
‘Master! We thought we heard the sound of voices on the road. We have been watching and listening for you half the day. Thank all the gods you’re safe! And you too, Master Junio — and my fellow slaves, of course. The mistress says to tell you all to come in here.’
My son shook his head with obvious regret. ‘My own family and slave will be expecting me …’
But Kurso went on, opening the gate: ‘Master Junio, they are here awaiting you and we’ve been keeping a pot of stew warm on a trivet by the fire.’
We followed him into the roundhouse where the smoky warmth enveloped us at once. Our wives rose to greet us from their stools beside the fire, though Junio’s wife, Cilla, held a finger to her lips to warn us against making too much noise, because the infant was asleep nearby. All the same she flung herself into her husband’s arms, while my Gwellia made her embraces with her eyes.
‘I am glad to see you, husband!’ That was all she said, but her expression told me how worried she had been. Then her dear face softened to a smile. ‘But don’t just stand there in those freezing clothes, or we shall have you dying of a chill.’ As she spoke she came forward with a towel.
There were clean woollen tunics and warm cloaks laid ready upon the bed, and Gwellia herself assisted me to dry and change my clothes while Junio’s slave boy did the same for him. (Normally this was a servant’s job, of course, but the unusual arrangement suited everyone tonight. It not only allowed my wife to show her care for me but also freed Kurso to help his fellow slaves.)
‘Now,’ Gwellia said, when we travellers were all fully dried and clad. She spoke in a hushed voice so as not to wake the child. ‘You can tell us what you have been doing since we met. I had a garbled message which put my mind at rest, saying you had some sort of contract in the town. I did not know that you had any work in hand.’
‘Neither did we,’ I whispered, with one eye on the babe. I squatted on the stool beside the cooking fire and warmed my hands and feet while Gwellia stirred the pot. Junio stretched out close by me on the sleeping bench, and together we explained how the unexpected commission came about. ‘He agreed a splendid price, provided that I finished it by the Agonalia,’ I finished. ‘I managed to do it, but he was not there to see that for himself, though fortunately I have witnesses to the fact.’
Gwellia nodded. ‘Well, that is a good omen for the new year,’ she murmured, as Cilla passed her a pile of wooden bowls and she began to ladle out the meal. ‘The money will be useful, certainly, after all this snow. Things in the garden plot are wilting with the frost.’
I shook my head. ‘It is to be hoped the fellow pays me, that is all. He was expected back in Glevum a day or two ago, but he has not arrived — though it is possible that he has gone to Dorn instead. Marcus knows about it. We are awaiting news.’
Gwellia shrugged. ‘This man is wealthy, from what you say of him, and a member of the curia — or he wants to be. People like him don’t perish in the snow, as poorer folks might do. He will have found some sort of shelter in an inn, or foisted himself upon some private house by boasting of his rank. Well, let’s hope he turns up with his payment soon. In the meantime, eat your food before it spoils.’
I didn’t persist in saying any more. I did not want to spoil either my dinner or the mood. For now it was time to pull more stools around the fire and enjoy the luxury of huge bowls of steaming stew. Maximus and Minimus, who had been given bowlfuls too, and were sitting on straw pillows a little further back, were almost tearful in their gratitude at not being required to wait until their master had consumed his own.
The Romans talk about ambrosia, but give me Gwellia’s chicken stew, with turnips, leeks and barley — and flour dumplings on the top! From the first tasty morsel I could feel the warmth suffusing my whole body like a magic charm, and with every mouthful strength came seeping back.
‘Wonderful!’ I murmured to my wife — and everyone agreed, with such enthusiasm that the infant stirred. After that we were content with smiles and nods, but they expressed our satisfaction as well as any words. In companionable silence we finished off the stew and followed it with cups of steaming mead.
Then Cilla said to Junio, ‘Husband, I think that we should leave. You and your father are in need of rest.’
I would have protested, on my wife’s account — Gwellia dotes on our adoptive grandson as if he were her own — but she caught my eye and shook her head, so I commanded Kurso to reignite the brand and light the young family and their slave boy up the short path to their home. ‘And when you have finished bring the torch back here!’
Delighted by his new importance — everyone agreed it was not his normal role — Kurso took the torch, held it to the fire and brandished it with such gusto that I feared briefly for the thatch.
The child half-woke when his father lifted him and wrapped him gently in a corner of his cloak, but an instant later he closed his eyes again and there was scarcely a whimper as he was carried out into the dark and cold. The little party set off up the rise and I gave my red-haired slaves permission to retire in turn, to their own little sleeping house beside the outer door. Then I reached out a lazy hand towards the pan and poured myself the remnants of the hot spiced mead.
‘I don’t know if you heard about the sacrifice today …’ I began, ready to share the scandal with my wife.
‘Not now, husband!’ she murmured at my side. ‘This is no time for telling tales and drinking mead. You are very tired and you forget that you are old. You should go to bed. Kurso and I will finish the last chores and then I’ll come myself.’
I would cheerfully have helped to rake out the fire and set tomorrow’s bread and cakes to bake, but Gwellia would brook no argument. I took off my outer tunic and lay down sleepily on the mattress of fresh reeds, under the woollen blanket and the furs.
‘I’m sorry you were worried,’ I murmured drowsily. ‘I hoped to spare you that. But at least you got the message, saying I was safe?’
She nodded, pausing in the act of kneading dough. ‘Several days ago. That farmer, Cantalarius, came here with his mules. He was full of grumbles, as he always is, boasting about some sacrifice he’d promised to the gods. I didn’t take it in. But I was glad to hear from him. I could not be sure you had not set off on the Kalends and been caught out in the cold — but once I knew that you were safe in town I was reassured.’
‘I’m not like Genialis,’ I said sleepily. ‘If I set off, I generally arrive.’
‘Husband, you know it’s not an idle fear,’ she said, not smiling at my teasing. ‘I’ve already heard of two people who have died. Poor old Lotta, who used to come round selling herbs, was found up at the spring — slipped in the ice and broke her leg and hip, and died of cold before they discovered her. Kurso saw the body when he went up with the pail. And you know that bit of marshy pond down in the woods?’