It was an unspoken declaration that he was not afraid of us. Marcus met it squarely, throwing back his head and saying, in his most authoritative tone, ‘We come here seeking information. My servant was murdered in the forest yesterday, several army horses have been stolen and an imperial messenger has disappeared. In the name of his most divine majesty, the Emperor of Rome and all the provinces, I require you to assist us if you can.’
The elder’s expression did not change, but he inclined his head. ‘Of course. I know my duty and will do it, as far as age and frailty permit. Although I doubt if I can help you very much. I am an old man, and these days I confine my attention to the farm — and certainly there’s been no disturbance here.’ He was still not bowing to our authority and I saw Marcus bridle, but suddenly the old man seemed to change his attitude. He gave a bitter smile. ‘However, my nephew tells me that there were raiders in the forest yesterday. We ourselves have lost a pig, I hear — a boar that I was saving for a feast. We are poor farmers, Excellence, and I can ill afford the loss. I should be glad to help you if I could. Come, we will talk of this indoors.’
He clapped his hands and the woman reappeared at once. ‘Tell them in the common house that we have Roman visitors. Have them prepare appropriate refreshments for our guests. And tell my nephew Thullero — he is with the horses in the farther field.’
She looked at us with eyes as big as water-bowls, but nodded obediently and hurried off. I looked at Kiminiros. He reminded me of elders in my own tribe long ago. I said deliberately, in my own tongue, ‘Do not fear if some of your people don’t speak Latin. I’ll translate for you.’
He turned towards me then, and for the first time I looked into his eyes. They were disturbing: piercingly intelligent and blue, and regarding me with such overt suspicion and dislike that it made my blood run cold. ‘Ah,’ he said, after a little pause, ‘a Celtic speaker. How very convenient.’ Then there was that softening of his manner, as he added suddenly, ‘But you are not from this area, I think? Not even a Dobunni, from the look of you.’
‘Indeed,’ I said. ‘I live in Glevum now, but my home was in the far south of this province, many days from here. They call me Libertus. I am a Roman citizen and client of this exalted gentleman, but I was born a Celtic nobleman myself.’
He bowed. ‘Then, if you will lay your weapon on the step, I am honoured to welcome you beneath my roof. There can be no quarrel between your tribe and mine. But these men who come to my household bearing arms — that is another thing.’
I took this as a kind of compliment. ‘I do not carry weapons, and I have lost my dining knife,’ I said, throwing back my borrowed cloak to show my empty belt. ‘And this escort is for our protection, nothing else. We mean no threat to you. I am here entirely in the service of my patron, who — as you have heard — has lost a valued slave. The boy was found here in the forest hanging from a tree. Unfortunately he was on loan to me, so I have a double responsibility.’
The old man looked doubtfully at the serried troops, and all trace of a smile vanished from his eyes. ‘In what way, exactly, do you think that we can help?’ His voice was wary.
‘That tunic which Subulcus is wearing used to be my own. The murdered slave had charge of it before he died. I’d like to discover how your pigman came by it.’ I switched to Latin this time, so that Marcus (who was fidgeting again) could follow what was said.
Kiminiros said in the same language, ‘You think he stole it from your murdered slave? I doubt that, citizen. It is not in his nature to become a thief. And, as for killing anyone for such a trivial thing. .’
I interrupted him. ‘It was given as a gift — but not by me, and not to Subulcus. It was given to a different pigman yesterday. And that is another little mystery. That pigman has now completely disappeared.’
He looked incredulous. ‘There is no swineherd here but Subulcus — though the land-slaves sometimes help him out.’
I nodded. That accorded with what I’d heard before. ‘It seems that “young master” might be able to explain.’
‘Then you must come and ask him for yourself. I have already sent him word that you are here,’ the old man said, stepping forward to unlatch the gate. ‘Please, citizen, bid your patron and the officer be welcome to my home. And you, yourself, of course.’ He gestured towards the large roundhouse in the centre of the compound, where a group of women were now standing at the door. ‘The other soldiers, I regret, must stay outdoors — there is not room in the roundhouse for so many men, but I will see that there is bread for all of them, and they may refresh themselves by drinking at the well. My swineherd will show them where it is.’ He turned to Subulcus, who nodded eagerly to indicate he’d understood.
The optio gave his men the order to stand down, and the pigman led them confidently away to what was obviously a spring that served the farm. Marcus did not dismiss his private bodyguard, however, and when the old man at last unlatched the gate and we went through the triple palisade into the enclosure on the other side, they stayed to keep watch outside.
The women came forward to greet us now. They were formal, silent and unsmiling, and clearly either terrified or shy, but they gestured us to follow them and led us to the largest of the buildings on the site. It was a handsome roundhouse, with a low-lintelled door, so small that it was necessary to bend as one went in, but once we straightened up again and our eyes became accustomed to the gloom, we found ourselves inside a spacious room.
It was much larger than the roundhouses I am accustomed to, and clearly some kind of common meeting space. There was no sleeping area, but wooden benches draped with bearskins stood around the walls, which in turn were hung with furs and spears and woven cloths of elegant design. On a stone hearth in the centre was a glowing fire, with a large Roman-style pot of something savoury bubbling over it. From a clay oven broken open near the fire I caught the warm aroma of fresh oatcakes, too. If this tribe were ‘poor farmers’, they were successful ones, I thought.
I turned to Marcus with a smile, and saw to my dismay that his eyes were watering and he was choking in the swirling smoke. I am accustomed to central cooking-fires and to the fumes from sheep-fat tapers; he is not. I hurried to his side before he could say anything unfortunate — it is the worst kind of insult to a nobleman to criticise his house and so insult his hospitality.
‘This is a fine room, Excellence,’ I whispered. ‘No doubt the best they have. And they have prepared refreshments for us, too.’
Marcus was still coughing but he understood. As Pertinax’s representative he has often been obliged to handle ceremonial occasions with tact, and avoid offending tribal sensitivities. He nodded his assent with streaming eyes, and permitted himself to be seated on an embroidered stool which one of the women now produced for him, together with a fine-chased silver cup. Other females brought in lesser cups and stools for the optio and me. The chieftain was installed upon a wooden chair, with carving on the back, and given a splendid goblet which was obviously his own.
My patron looked rather dangerous at this. He was not used to taking second place. So when a girl came in with a jug of warm, spiced mead, and offered it to her master first, I felt it opportune to murmur an explanation into Marcus’s ear.
‘A courtesy to you, Excellence, and a gesture of good faith. To show there is no poison in the cup.’
‘Of course,’ he snapped at me impatiently. Like any wealthy Roman he kept a slave at home to serve as poison-taster every time he ate. I did not mention that he did not have one here, or tell him about the day, much famed in Celtic legend, when a chief had entertained an ancient enemy and, knowing there was hemlock in the jug, nonetheless drained his goblet first: quite prepared to die himself, provided that he killed his visitor as well. I watched the woman filling Marcus’s cup and hoped there was no such heroic deviousness today.