I was out into the forum now, though there was less room than ever. Beside the bonfire a more general skirmish had begun, fuelled by the wine perhaps. A few people were still cheering as the statue glowed, but more and more were joining the melee — and I was being firmly propelled towards it from behind. I looked around for Adonisius but he was far behind, still pressed against the pillar with his torch aloft. He saw me and signalled, but there was nothing he could do.
I peered around for some way to escape the pressing throng, but there seemed to be nowhere safe to stand. The public buildings were all locked and barred — as one would expect at night — and the market area was one heaving, shouting, surging mass. Even the steps to the basilica were thronged with cheering men. There was only one place where the crowd had not encroached and that was the temple, slightly to my left — though even the lower steps of that were crammed with spectators. However, at the top the sacred flame could still be seen, flickering in tranquil darkness at the entrance to the shrine, and there was no evidence of disturbance there — obviously no one wanted to offend the gods.
I tried to work my way towards it, weaving and shuffling sideways when I could — though I received a bruising on my back and ribs as a result. But I persisted and after what seemed like half an hour (but was probably much less) I did succeed in reaching the bottom of the temple steps. Getting up them was another matter, as I soon found out. The mass above me — though they were not actually joining in the now-general brawl themselves (perhaps out of some sense of deference to the shrine) — were still intent on what was happening and not at all disposed to move and let me through. One man — in a tradesman’s cloak and tunic — even hissed at me ‘Commodus-lover!’ when I tried to pass, and people turned and jeered.
Someone spat and I was roughly jostled from behind. ‘Must be a sympathizer, probably a spy. Otherwise he wouldn’t be trying to go the other way.’ I began to wonder if I was going to be attacked.
‘I have business at the temple!’ I called out, as loudly as I could. I meant to sound masterful, but my voice came out as a squeak, and it was doubtful anyway that anyone would hear — there was so much uproar from the crowd that I could barely hear myself. And it made no difference — people around me were still clearly hostile and the same hissing tradesman, encouraged by the mood, began suggesting loudly what might be done with me — ‘Put him with his favourite Emperor and let him roast awhile’ — and the cry was taken up by several of the crowd, who blocked my way.
I braced myself for people laying violent hands on me — and sure enough a pair of strong arms came from somewhere at my back, pinioned my own arms and seized firm hold of me. I tried to wriggle round to see who my assailant was, wondering what an appeal to Marcus’s name would do, but there was no chance of either of those things. The grasp that held me was stronger than a vice, and when it picked me up so that my feet were flailing air, I could offer no resistance; I just dangled like a doll.
I tried to speak — to reason or to beg — but there was so much pressure on my ribs that I found that it was all I could do to breathe. Indeed I was close to losing consciousness. I closed my eyes, as if to shut the terror out, and was only half aware of being dragged along — part-carried almost — my toes making occasional contact with the steps, and although I could hear and smell the crowd on either side, it was clear the mob was parting to allow us through, no doubt to allow me to be thrown on to the fire. I think I actually fainted in the end.
When I came to myself I was sitting on a step, propped up against a pillar in the semi-dark. There was a small lamp glimmering just above my head and a strong smell of incense and spices in the air. For a moment I wondered if I’d been killed and had made the journey to the other world, but once my brain had cleared and my eyes had adjusted to the light, I could see that I was in the temple porch and the giant slave was bending over me.
EIGHTEEN
‘Ah, good!’ he said. ‘I see you are awake. I feared I might have squeezed the life from you. I do apologize. But I had to get you safe. They would have harmed you otherwise, I think.’ He gestured down the steps towards the crowd, who were still roaring like a thousand gales.
‘You were my saviour.’ I ran a rueful hand around my ribs. ‘I’m still in one piece, too, though I’ll be black and blue tomorrow. But thank you, from my heart.’ I looked into his face, which looked even darker in the half-light here. ‘What made you rescue me? You might have risked your own life doing that.’
‘It was no more than my duty. You have business with the temple, I believe you said?’ The high pitch of his voice was oddly carrying. ‘I was standing right behind you and — since you’d been here earlier — I reasoned it was true. What is it, citizen? Something you failed to do when you were here before? Some little offering to the shrine, perhaps?’
I cast around for something plausible. I did not want to be sent off to face the mob again. ‘There is a would-be councillor from Dorn,’ I said, raising my voice above the shouting and jeering from below. ‘He has been missing since before the Agonalia. A man called Genialis …’
He nodded so that his giant earrings rang. ‘The one who hoped to offer the Janus sacrifice? I remember him. He was very angry with me when I had to tell him that a donor had already been agreed. Missing, is he? I noticed that he wasn’t at either sacrifice that day — but I supposed that he’d gone home to Dorn and the snow had simply prevented him from coming back in time.’
I shook my head and tried to rise, but found that I could not, so I had to go on shouting. ‘He never got to Dorn. He stopped at a friend’s villa and set off from there, apparently to return to Glevum. But he did not arrive. There is a ward — a certain Silvia — whom he had planned to wed and whom my patron, Marcus Septimus, has taken in his care, at any rate until Genialis can be accounted for.’
The mention of my patron had the usual effect. The slave became more deferential instantly and squatted down beside me so I did not have to raise my voice so much. ‘So you wished to sponsor an offering to the gods to entreat his safe return?’
I felt every inch the hypocrite that I was being over this. ‘Or at least that his body should be quickly found so that the lady’s future can be properly arranged,’ I said. That was safe enough. Since I was obviously going to be required to offer a small sacrifice — a pair of pigeons at the very least — I was content that it should be for such a cause. ‘But the shrine was closed today, and it is unlikely that tomorrow I shall be in town — I am due to join the search for him at dawn.’
He smiled. ‘Ah! So you have a personal interest in the case. I presume a lead prayer-plaque would meet the case for you?’
I nodded, relieved that he’d suggested such a minimum expense.
‘Then give me the money and I’ll see that it is done. One of the stalls outside here has a range of them, and will scratch any message on them that you wish. They’ll have a bumper day tomorrow with curse-tablets, I’m sure — all calling down vengeance on the soul of Commodus — so I’ll buy yours early. I’ll nail it on the lintel of a cella, if you like. Which god would you like to have it written to? Jove or Juno or Minerva — you can take your pick. Or all of them together if you would prefer.’
I’m not a follower of Roman deities, but I knew enough to say, ‘Juno, perhaps, since she’s the goddess of marriage.’