Vegetus, assistant slave of Montanus, the slave of the August Emperor and sometime slave of Iucundus, has bought and received by mancipium the girl Fortunata, or by whatever name she is known, by nationality a Diablintian, from Albicanus, for six hundred denarii. And that the girl in question is transferred in good health, that she is warranted not to be liable to wander or run away, but that if anyone lays claim to the girl in question or to any share in her…
He did not bother to read on. He had seen hundreds of similar documents, recording the sale and purchase of slaves. Somewhere there was surely another document announcing her manumission. Until now he had not thought of Vegetus, who had also made the jump from slave to free man.
‘Do you think that she is dead?’ The question was direct and he knew that the lady was not asking about the corpse in the bed.
‘I cannot say. We may find her.’
‘You can forget trust if you lie to me as plainly as that,’ she said.
‘There is not much hope,’ he admitted. ‘We might be able to catch them.’
‘And I might one day forget that you are a pig as well as a good man.’ She waved him down when he tried to speak. ‘I did not like the woman. How could I? Husbands stray and that is the way of the world. I do not take it personally. How could I after last night?’ There was a thin smile. ‘Nor did she commend herself to me in any other way. Just a foolish little whore who flung herself at men – even you if I remember that dinner last month.’
That was a surprise, for he had not thought anyone had noticed.
‘It does not matter.’ Lepidina’s voice was sad. ‘She was a guest in my house and that does matter. Murderers came over my threshold and they killed this child and abducted her owner. Perhaps they have killed her too.’
She began to sob, shoulders quivering. Ferox glanced quickly at the door, was relieved to see that Privatus had closed it behind him and he went and clasped her to him. Her head was on his shoulder and he felt her body shaking. One hand clasped her and the other smoothed her hair.
‘It was not your fault,’ he said. ‘Never your fault.’
Sulpicia Lepidina lifted her head and he kissed her on the cheek and soothed her. ‘It’s all right, it was not your fault,’ he repeated over and over again. Ferox still could not tell just what this clever aristocrat wanted, or what she really thought of him, but she was in his arms and at that moment all he wanted was to comfort her and make her smile again. ‘It was not your fault. I am to blame.’
She stared at him, puzzled and unconvinced.
‘I should have thought more clearly. They were looking for you, and all I wished to do was save you. Your husband as well, for that is my duty, but I could not bear the thought of them taking you, of them…’
‘My husband told me why you think they attacked me in my carriage,’ she said. ‘I assumed they just wanted my jewels – and perhaps my aged body.’ The tears had stopped, and she tried to laugh at her poor joke.
‘Then you know the horror of it all,’ Ferox said. ‘I thought only of stopping them, and when we arrived last night and found the praetorium raided all that mattered was to see you safe. It was my only thought.’
Her smile was a little warmer this time. ‘You had other thoughts once you found me.’
‘Yes, and while we…’ He trailed off for the guilt engulfed him. ‘I should have gone back to the fort. Checked that all was well. Instead I did not and they got away.’
‘How could you have known?’ She reached up and stroked his cheek.
‘It’s my job to know, and my job to think. I am tasked with keeping the peace in this region and I have failed. Do you not understand?’ He was surprised at how much this wounded him, striking at a pride he thought long gone.
She gave a slight shake of her head.
‘They thought they had you. It is the only explanation. Here is a big room, with a rich woman in it. They were sent to snatch the prefect’s wife and they found a lady in a big bed in his house. “Blood of king, blood of queen.” Just because you were safe did not mean that there was no more danger.’
She pulled free, as if to think more clearly. ‘There was no attack on my husband.’
‘There was on Longinus.’ It all seemed so simple. ‘If they knew who he really is then that is their king’s blood – though in truth he was too dangerous for them.’ One thought followed another. ‘The mongrel!’ he said angrily. ‘It was him.’
‘I do not follow.’
‘Longinus, or Civilis, or whoever the rogue is. He knew what was happening, got you to safety, protected the children and your husband, but sacrificed the others.’
‘He is a fine man and we owe him much.’
Perhaps the lady had known what he was doing? The idea certainly did not appear to disturb her. Ferox stared into her eyes, but could not read what was behind them.
‘That fine man also staked out Fortunata as a decoy,’ he said. ‘Made sure Privatus forgot to take her to safety, knew your husband would be too careless and then too drunk to bother. He used her to save you.’
‘It is all because of me.’ The tears came again.
‘No, for you. Perhaps I would have done the same if I had to make the choice,’ he said in grudging admiration. ‘It was not your fault or his fault, but mine, to be so besotted that I failed everyone last night.’
A knock on the door ended the conversation. They spoke to the slaves, but learned little more and Ferox remained convinced that he was right. Prolonged searching discovered the remaining maid fast asleep and snoring in an empty box in one of the stables. There was no trace of Fortunata.
‘How could they have got her out past the guards?’ Cerialis asked of no one in particular.
‘Easier last night than almost any other in the year,’ Ferox said. ‘No one saw a cart or anyone carrying something bulky in a sack, so my guess is that she was inside one of the straw figures.’
The prefect went even paler and sent men to look at the remains – before dawn all the effigies were burned as part of the ritual. He was relieved when the men returned to say that there was no sign of anyone hidden within the burned figures, but then another party arrived and said that they had found a big figure of a cow tipped on its side near the edge of the canabae. Ferox remembered it, which made him think that they had got away even earlier than he had guessed.
‘I need to see if they left a trail,’ he told them, but there were more delays before he set out with Vindex and half a dozen Batavian troopers who looked almost sober. They had to wait to leave the main gate as an officer and his escort clattered through into the fort. It was Flaccus and he gave a friendly wave as he passed.
The trail was easy to follow and it took them westwards.
Vindex was not happy. ‘Ten of my lads were at the fort waiting for us to come back, just as you ordered,’ he explained. ‘Now they are told that they cannot leave Vindolanda until the details of the attack are established. What’s up? Are they prisoners?’
Ferox had been afraid of this. He had not yet mentioned to anyone else the potion of mistletoe and nightshade or the double death inflicted on the slave girl. He wondered why they had not added the third death of strangulation to make this a proper sacrifice, but then these people were druids and many other things as well, who invoked Isis and used magic from the east and not everything they did followed the old rules.
‘We really are humped, aren’t we?’ Vindex said when he told him.
Half an hour before they got there Ferox knew where the trail was heading. At last they saw the two standing stones, and between the Mother and Daughter there was a woman.