‘Do something, master,’ Junio urged.
But what?
In the end I got away in the handcart. It was not the most comfortable journey of my life, huddled on a pile of broken tiles and cowering under a piece of filthy sacking, and it was all Junio could do to push my weight, but it was the only solution I could think of.
It was a near thing, even then. Junio had the cart at the front door, where he had been loading it in full view of passers-by, and we had to choose a moment when the front street was clear for me to slip out and clamber on. As I did so, someone came out of the potter’s shop next door and Junio threw the cloth over me just in time. I must have made a grotesque-looking heap, but fortunately no one paid any attention to the slave — whom they had previously seen innocently loading tiles — pushing his laden cart away.
He pushed me halfway across the town. I swear I felt every carriage rut and cobble, and by the time he paused in a little lane behind the market to let me climb painfully down, I was so shaken and bruised that I was beginning to wish I’d taken my chance and tried to talk my way out of the mob.
I said so to Junio, as I stood in a disused doorway picking pieces of tile out of myself and trying to shake the stone dust from my hair. ‘I suppose I brought this on myself by talking to that crowd at the temple gates. Some of them followed me to Optimus’s house. I might have known they wouldn’t go away. They’d heard rumours from somewhere of strange things at the temple, it had all got hugely exaggerated, and I suppose they think I know more than I admitted to. Perhaps if I’d just tried to talk to them. .’
Junio shook his head. ‘I don’t think so, master. From what the doorkeeper said to me I don’t think this was an opportunity to chat! The mood was pretty ugly in the street. And if these were the men who followed you at first, they must have gone away and come back with their friends! This lot did not start to collect until about an hour ago — then apparently they all turned up at once. And not because you hadn’t told them things! They wanted you, they said, because you were causing these events — by going in there and angering the gods! The gods demanded blood, they claimed.’
It was stupid of me, I suppose, but I had not seen the danger. It had occurred to me that Scribonius, for example, might suddenly decide that all the misfortunes at the temple had been brought about by my presence, but I simply had not considered the possibility that the people of the town would think the same. And if they were eager to appease the gods they wouldn’t be content with merely beating me and offering expiatory sacrifice. They seriously intended to kill me.
It was a sobering thought.
Of course, killing a citizen was a serious offence, unless they could show ‘just cause’ before the law. But perhaps they thought they could. Everything I’d said to them outside the temple could be turned against me and used in their defence. My assurance that there was an explanation for events could be construed as blasphemy against the Imperial gods. And if Scribonius and his fellow priests joined in — explaining how I’d desecrated the shrine and generally occasioned all these auguries — then murdering me to protect the city could almost be seen as a civic duty!
I felt my old heart lurch a beat or two.
Things were not looking good. It was only a matter of time before the rabble worked out who I was, and came to try to find me where I lived. In fact, I would not have put it past Lithputh to have put them on my tail already, once he discovered I’d escaped. I cursed myself for an idiot. Why had I antagonised him like that?
I looked up and down the lane, but there was no sign of pursuit: no distant cries except the normal ones of commerce, and nobody in sight except a lethargic peasant with a donkey, passing the corner with his panniers full of turnips, together with a bored lad — probably his son — leading a thin and most reluctant pig. It was the picture of tranquillity. But I knew better than to trust appearances. I’d won myself a little time, that’s all.
I did the only thing that I could do. ‘Go quickly,’ I said to Junio. ‘Find Marcus and tell him what has happened. Insist on seeing him yourself — don’t be content with messages. Say those were my explicit instructions. Go now. Run.’
Junio hesitated. ‘But master, what happens if they find you here? Who will protect you if I leave you?’
It was rather endearing, this willingness to face the mob for me, though what defence he would have been — one small lad against a crowd with staves and stones — it’s hard to see. I swallowed down a lump of gratitude.
‘I don’t intend to face them,’ I declared. ‘I’ll take a litter and go home, to warn Gwellia of what has happened here.’ I was working out my strategy as I spoke. ‘I’ll change into my toga — they won’t be looking for a citizen, not yet — and make my way back to the high priest’s house. He’ll have a proper view of this, and won’t be led by superstitious fears.’
Junio was nodding. I devoutly hoped that what I was saying was true.
‘If necessary I can shelter there — and at the very least, it will calm the crowd. If they want some sort of expiation from me, who better than the pontifex to handle it? Tell Marcus he can reach me there. Quickly, before they come and catch us here.’
This time he did go, only pausing to say plaintively, ‘But master, how will you manage your toga without me?’
It was a reasonable question, in fact. I am notoriously inexpert at draping that cumbersome garment — but I’d have to manage somehow when the moment came. For now I had more pressing problems.
The first was the cart, which I disposed of by the expedient of calling after the sullen boy with the pig, and bribing him to walk it home to my lodgings. It was not an ideal solution, the boy looked as if he would sell the cart, the pig and his father to the highest bidder, and I knew that if the mob caught up with him he would betray me without a qualm. But I had no time to worry about that.
Instead I turned my attention to trying to find a litter for hire, but — as usual when you really want one — there was none to be had. If I went back towards the forum there were no doubt litters waiting two or three abreast, but that would have taken me back in the direction of my pursuers.
I wasted several minutes searching. I had been hoping for a covered litter, which would hide me from the street, with a couple of fleet-footed boys to carry it, but not a single litter of any description came my way. I was becoming increasingly alarmed, imagining that I could hear the cries and noises of pursuit, and in the end I abandoned the attempt and simply scurried home on foot, keeping to the back streets and alleyways and hurrying as quickly as I could.
I knew that I was making myself conspicuous. The sight of an elderly man half running through the lanes was enough to make the beggars stare, but I hurried on, not stopping even when my sandal lace came undone. By the time I reached my workshop I was panting with exertion.
‘Why, citizen master, whatever is the matter?’ Gwellia put down her broom of bundled twigs as I came in, and hurried over carrying a stool.
She set it down invitingly, but I shook my head. I took her hands and — between gasps — told her the story.
‘Sit down,’ she said. ‘I’ll fetch your toga for you. You wait here.’
I was in no state to argue, and I did so, glad of a moment to recover.
She disappeared upstairs and was back in an instant. ‘Stand up!’ she instructed, and I obeyed. ‘Lift your arms, so!’ She wound the toga round me, almost as deftly as Junio.
‘You’ve done this before!’ I said, and she smiled grimly.
‘Many times. It was a part of-’ She broke off. ‘Listen! What was that?’
I had already heard it and my heart sank. A sound from the corner of the street. The savage, heart-stopping sound of an approaching crowd, baying like a pack of hunting dogs. I looked around wildly, with some confused idea of concealing myself underneath the table, or trying to climb out of the window-space and hide.