I was rather surprised at this, knowing what price had been agreed for him, but the judgement on Hirsus soon explained it all. Optimus was claiming ‘usurpation’ of his slave which meant that, instead of a fine, the ‘usurper’ could be required to pay the full purchase price and keep the goods — since they were now considered to be spoiled. The price for Lucianus had been agreed, he claimed.
That would cost Hirsus everything he had, but the ex-sevir looked almost as happy at the judgement as his accuser did. (Hirsus had become ex-sevir on the spot, because as a convicted criminal he was automatically disqualified from the office.)
He saw me and came over. ‘I shall sell up and go with Lucianus, just as soon as he’s recovered from the lash,’ he said, with more cheerfulness than I would have believed. ‘I have relatives outside the western borders, among the Silurians.’ I nodded. That explained the redness of the hair. ‘We shall be welcome there. And we have the money that Lucianus saved. We shall not be entirely penniless.’
He might have said more, but I was being called. The case concerning Kurso had begun.
It was odd, standing before Marcus, arguing a case as though we’d never met before, but that was what I did. Kurso told his story, and won the right to be sold on, as the law demanded, since his life was deemed to be threatened where he was, even with Lithputh banished from the house. So far, it had gone splendidly. It was, however, expected that I would purchase him — though it was not compulsory. Of course, after the events of yesterday, I had no money and — despite the generous gifts — no home to take a servant to. I explained the problem to the court, and proposed a compromise. I would purchase Kurso theoretically, as part of what Optimus owed to me, and find a buyer for him when I could.
Then Optimus sprang a surprising counter-claim. The bill I had was signed by Lucianus. (Of course it was, when I looked at it more closely — I could have solved that riddle long before!) But Lucianus was in disgrace, and convicted of dishonesty. Optimus disputed the account. It was a ploy, and I knew it, but there was nothing I could do. In the end, Kurso cost me the whole balance of the hundred sesterces I was owed, and Optimus left court looking as satisfied as the lion who got the slave. Kurso, too, was grinning like a cat, and even Junio looked pleased.
It seemed that Marcus had succeeded in satisfying everyone but me.
As he rose to leave the court, however, he signalled me to come, and I elbowed my way obediently to his side.
‘Well, my old friend,’ he said. ‘I trust you slept?’ I felt my face burn, but Marcus merely laughed. ‘A most satisfactory conclusion, thanks to you. In fact, I am not at all sure that I would have managed it without you.’
There was nothing I could say to that, beyond, ‘You flatter me, Excellence.’
‘Not at all,’ he said expansively. ‘Credit where credit’s due. Which brings me to what I want to say. I was sorry to hear the news about your shop. What will you do now?’
I stammered something about hoping to repair the place when I had found enough commissions. It sounded feeble and I knew it, too.
‘Of course,’ he said, ‘there’s that commission that we spoke of in the baths. That should be worth something. And I should reward you for your help in this. You know my country house?’
I thought for a wild moment that he was about to offer me the freedom of his palatial villa. I said carefully, ‘I do, Excellence, I have been there several times.’
Marcus nodded. ‘It occurs to me there is a roundhouse in the grounds. You may remember it.’
I nodded. It had been the scene of a particularly brutal murder, which I’d uncovered once.
‘Rather the sort of thing you Celts admire, though it’s in need of some restoration and repair.’
That was an understatement. The place was ruinous. But behind me, Gwellia gave me a gentle push, and I turned, to see hope and excitement shining in her eyes.
I knew what she was thinking. A roundhouse is not a Roman building, demanding architects and hypocausts. Our own roundhouse had been a grand affair, built almost entirely of stone, but many are constructed of wood and osiers around a central post, and — given the materials — a skilled family can weave a small shelter in an afternoon. I sighed. It would be inconvenient — a long walk to my workshop every day — but there were advantages. There was a little area of land in the enclosure. Room for some chickens and a pig or two. My own woodstack, and a patch of vegetables. And now that I owned an extra pair of hands. .
‘I remember, Excellence,’ I said.
Marcus nodded. ‘Then that’s agreed. It’s yours. In payment for the mosaic in the town. Oh, and take this too.’ He opened his purse and thrust a few denarii in my hand. ‘That should assist to buy some pots and pans. And I’ll send down a blanket and a stool or two: Meritus’s property is forfeit to the state. I’m sure that something can be found.’ He smiled, and closed his fingers over mine as they held the coins. ‘And get that toga to the fuller’s, my old friend. You’ll have to be presented to the legate when he comes.’
I was presented, too. I even attended an official banquet, given in his honour, and was complimented on the mosaic I had made. On that same occasion the high priest was named as flamen-designate, and I thought that he would die of rapture on the spot. (In fact he did die, later, on the journey back to Rome. The strain of travel proved too much for his frail body, and the pleasure too much for his aged heart, so he never became flamen after all. I never heard what happened to his wife.)
But I missed the public spectacles that were held, at great expense, to celebrate the ambassador’s presence in the town. I had a celebration of my own that day. Scribonius — who had risen to be sevir overnight — and Marcus acted as witnesses in a quiet ceremony where I freed my slave and legally took her for my wife. We did it properly, with vows and sacrifice.
‘Ubi tu Gaius, ego Gaia.’ Where you are Gaius, I am Gaia.
She even wore the orange-coloured veil, and after exchanging rings before the altar I took her in a borrowed waggon, and carried her — for the first time — over the threshold of our little new-built home. It was no more than a single room by then, but Junio and Kurso had the central fire lit and rugs and clean straw bedding waiting on the floor. And we already had our plans.
So I was spared the spectacle of Meritus being thrown to the beasts, although I have heard it said that — being such a big man — he took a long time to die. Fabius Marcellus was impressed. He said afterwards that Glevum had turned on the best welcoming entertainments he had ever seen.