‘I forgot that you were unlikely to have heard! Momentous news. The Emperor is dead.’
She gasped and sat down on the bench, her face an actor’s mask of disbelief. ‘Commodus? Dead? Great Minerva! When?’ Her shocked expression slowly softened to a wicked grin. ‘Some brave man plucked up courage and murdered him at last? Well, if that’s the case, I hope the man who did it wins a laurel wreath — though I suppose it’s more likely that he’s been marched off and executed horribly by the imperial guard. Either that, or been elected Emperor himself! What exactly happened?’
‘There are conflicting stories. I don’t know which is true.’ I outlined the various rumours which had reached me in the town. ‘But one thing seems quite certain. Guess who is nominated to the purple now? No other than our own ex-governor, Pertinax!’
‘The one you met once in Londinium? Did you not dine with him?’ Gwellia shook her head. ‘Think of that! My husband — dining with a future Emperor!’
I interrupted her rapture with the commonplace. ‘My patron’s patron,’ I reminded her. ‘That’s why Marcus wants to go to Rome.’
‘I suppose it is his duty,’ she agreed. ‘To congratulate his friend and witness his formal installation, I expect. Hoping for some preferment too, do you suppose?’
‘Marcus wants to go and give him some advice,’ I told her, with a grin. ‘Says Pertinax is far too honest to be an Emperor. He’s anxious to set off as soon as possible — though he’s afraid that Julia won’t want to go so soon.’
Gwellia gave me a most peculiar look. ‘You’re sure that Julia intends to go at all?’
‘Well, I assume so, if her husband wishes it!’ I was startled into this abrupt reply. ‘Though of course I haven’t seen her since I heard the news. She wasn’t at my meeting with Marcus, naturally, and in any case I hear she isn’t feeling well.’
My wife got up slowly and went back to the stew. ‘Not feeling well? You might say that, I suppose.’
She had such a strange expression on her face that I was quite alarmed. ‘You don’t think it is something serious?’ I urged — and when she did not answer, I took it for assent. I shook my head. ‘I’m sure that Marcus would have told me if it were.’
‘It’s possible that Marcus does not know the cause himself.’ Gwellia sprinkled a few herbs into the cooking pot, sniffed and — seeming satisfied — put the lid back on it as she said, ‘Especially since he’s been away these last few days — no doubt busy with his duties in the town.’
I stared at her. ‘You think she’s kept her sickness from him? It’s possible, I suppose — Marcus seemed to think she’d simply feasted far too well, or eaten things which disagreed with her. But there is a dreadful fever in the area which can strike you down quite suddenly, it seems. Cantalarius lost almost all his slaves to it. Let’s hope it isn’t that. When I last saw her she seemed in blooming health, but of course you’ve seen her since. Did you think then that something was amiss?’
Gwellia gave me a most peculiar smile. ‘I don’t think “amiss” is quite the word I’d choose. Some people would think it merited a thankful sacrifice.’
For a moment I could not work out what she meant. Then, belatedly, I realized. ‘You don’t mean …?’ But of course she did. Once you had thought of it, it was self-evident. That glow of health, the liking for strange foods, and then the sickness following. ‘You think she is with child?’
‘I’m sure she thinks she is. Of course she did not say so, in so many words, but she apologized for being late — said that she was suffering from sickness every day — and gave me a smile that told me everything. No doubt she wants to wait until she’s absolutely sure before she raises Marcus’s hopes.’ She grinned at me. ‘Husband, you are noted for your deductive cleverness! Surely the idea had occurred to you?’
‘I am no expert in such things,’ I muttered sulkily — and then wished I had not. Gwellia had been snatched with me and sold to slavery, so we’d spent twenty years in servitude, apart. What had happened to her in those years I never asked, except to know they scarred her terribly. But it was not hard to speculate. Any slave girl is her master’s toy, though any children that she bears are sold or killed at birth — and Gwellia in her youth was very beautiful.
She was still lovely now, though rather pained at my remark. I said quickly, ‘But you are a woman. I’ve no doubt you are right. So you think that she may not accompany him to Rome? Not even to pay homage to his friend the Emperor?’
Gwellia was sprinkling more fresh herbs into the pot. ‘I think she would be foolish to even think of it. Travelling such distances is hard and dangerous enough, what with the chance of meeting bears and brigands on the way, and any passenger is always shaken half to bits. For her to attempt it when she is with child, unless it is a real necessity, is simple foolishness. I only hope that Marcus will permit her to remain.’
‘I’m sure he will,’ I murmured. ‘Marcus is unfashionably devoted to his wife.’
She put the lid back on the stew again, stemming the fragrant steam that floated out of it. ‘He claims to be affectionate to you, as well — but he still demands that you come and go on these frozen roads to town. I shall be worried until you’re safely back, even if you do arrange to hire a mule. I suppose you’re sure our neighbour will agree to that?’
‘I think he’ll be delighted,’ I replied, grateful to have something positive to offer her. ‘I met him on the way to Marcus’s. He was on his way to try to bribe a priest to come out in the morning and make a sacrifice.’
‘To raise the curse he’s certain has been laid upon his land? He told me about that. He and his wife have had a dreadful year, it seems.’
I nodded. ‘And you won’t have heard what happened at the Janus feast.’ I outlined what had happened. ‘So now they’re desperate — ready to give everything they have to bribe the priest. So the chance to earn some honest money by hiring out a mule will seem like an answer from the Fates, I rather think.’
‘Don’t forget you owe him something, too, for bringing me the news.’
‘One aureus should more than cover everything,’ I said. ‘I opened up the drawstring of my purse, and — feeling treacherous — added the gold coin from the table to the one already there. The small change I’d been carrying, left over from what I’d borrowed in the town, I pushed towards my wife. ‘And this is for you — so next time you want to buy necessities you will have plenty in your purse.’
She smiled. ‘It will replace the money in the sandal fund. I used the last of it for Cantalarius. Which reminds me, do you want to go and call on him tonight? You have another hour before it’s really dark, and the fresh bedding is already cut and set to dry. The slaves are only gathering more reeds to make a new basket so I can store the eggs. One of the boys can easily be spared to walk with you.’
I shook my head. ‘There is no point in my calling over there today — Cantalarius did not leave for Glevum until it was past noon. If I go now, I should be lucky to find that he’d returned from town — and besides it will no doubt start to freeze again quite soon. I’ll call on him tomorrow.’
Gwellia looked doubtful. ‘But if this priest is coming, then you can’t well interrupt. You don’t want to spoil the ritual again.’
‘That will happen in the morning, if Cantalarius has his way. I’ll go and call there tomorrow afternoon. I should still have time to ride the mule to town — and get there soon enough to make a start on things.’ In time to reach the money-lenders before the close of trade, I meant.
‘So I suppose you’ll be away again a day or two at least?’ Gwellia gave a deep, exasperated sigh. ‘Well, at least this stew will make a warming lunch, and I’d better wrap up some bread and cheese for you to eat tomorrow night — you can buy things the next day from the street vendors.’