The Vestal Vanishes (12 page)

‘The person I would like to talk to is her maidservant,’ I hedged. ‘She was with the raeda when it got to the gates, and only disappeared when it had stopped. Yet it’s by no means certain that Audelia got that far. I’m quite convinced the missing slippers were taken from the box, either by the maidservant or by someone else. She could lead us to the truth, I am convinced of that.’

Publius nodded. ‘If they knew about the slippers, they knew she was to wed.’ He frowned. ‘Although it was never publicly announced. It was to be a sensational surprise when I announced our betrothal at the games. Your idea, I think, Lavinius.’

I’d already wondered whose suggestion it had been. But all I said was, ‘And it seems that someone also knew her route and when she would be passing. Which suggests it must be somebody she knows?’

Lavinius snorted in his cup, derisively. ‘Well, it wasn’t one of us, if that is what you are trying to suggest. Publius and I were at the birthday feast, and Cyra and the house-slaves have been here all the time – and there are dozens of witnesses to that.’

Publius paused in the act of sampling the wine. He was looking troubled. ‘Besides, if it were a member of the family, Audelia would recognize her captors, wouldn’t she? That would be no use.’

I shook my head. ‘I am not sure that is true. Cyra told me, when I first arrived, that she had not seen Audelia since she was a child – and I expect the same is true of most of her other relatives unless for some reason they visited the shrine. She has been in seclusion at the hearth since she was young and Vestal Virgins have no portraits made.’ I turned to Lavinius. ‘But if she was kidnapped – and we can’t be sure she was – we must find somebody who knew her face. You were her agent as I understand. Have you, for instance, seen her recently?’

‘How dare you, citizen?’ Lavinius’s face was black with rage. ‘I have been as tolerant as possible. But this whole suggestion is preposterous. Am I to be questioned by a mere mosaicist?’

I stood my ground. ‘Respected citizen, I was not accusing you. I simply need a description of Audelia.’ I said it meekly, but I enjoyed the chance to add, ‘How else am I going to look for her?’

‘He is right again you know, Lavinius.’ Publius motioned to the slave to pass the grapes and cheese. He took a handful. ‘And I can’t help him. I’ve never seen the bride.’

Lavinius looked from Publius to me and back again. ‘Oh, very well,’ he grumbled. ‘I’ll tell you what I know, but it’s not very much. I’ve only met her once. She is of slightly more than middling height and fairly slim – as to more than that, I really cannot say. Her face was half-covered with a Vestal veil, of course, since she was not acting as a priestess at the time and was in public in the presence of a male, though I have the impression that her hair was fair.’

‘But you have met her? Was that recently?’

‘I have been in constant touch with her, of course, but in fact we only met a moon or so ago. I went to Londinium on private business and saw her – with a chaperone – to discuss affairs, mostly with regard to her retirement from the hearth. Of course, men aren’t permitted right inside the shrine, we had to make arrangements to meet outside in the court. But I’d recognize her voice, and I’m sure that she’d know me.’ He downed his wine as if he wished to swallow me, as well. ‘I can’t accept your theory, that this was deliberate. There were rebels in the woods a moon or two ago, and they take random hostages to build their coffers up. There is your solution, if I am any judge. Besides, Audelia stayed only with relatives and friends throughout her journey from the shrine. You surely don’t suggest that one of us – her family – has kidnapped her for gain?’ He took another cube of cheese and bit it thoughtfully. ‘We would be the ones to pay the ransom fee! Not even you would think that we extort things from ourselves?’

It was clear that the cheeseboard was not going to come to me, though I was hungry now. I’d had nothing but a sour grape or two and a tiny portion of sacrificial beef since I left home at dawn. I began to wish I’d gone with Ascus to the slave-quarters. I got stiffly to my feet.

‘Lavinius, I am trying to assist. Not all members of your family are as rich as you. I understand that there are poor relations elsewhere in Britannia who were not invited to the wedding feast. They might be happy to extort a price. Not personally, of course. A man may plot a crime and arrange for someone else to carry out the deed. And as to demanding money from yourselves – did I not hear Publius say that he was prepared to offer a reward or pay a ransom for Audelia’s safe return? That’s not family money.’

Publius surprised me. ‘But I’d pay it, willingly. I have experienced this sort of thing before. My second wife in Rome was captured on the road – I had sent her to my country villa to escape the plague – and, you may be interested to know, it was a full day before they got in touch. I think they wished me to be so desperate that I would instantly comply with their demands.’

‘And did you?’ I was still more thoughtful now. If Publius was known to have paid a ransom once before . . .

Publius laughed. ‘In a sense, I did. I used Egyptian gold to pay them – it can be exchanged in any marketplace of course – but I took care to mark the coins. I alerted the coin-inspectors for several miles around, and when the culprits tried to use the money, they were caught. I had them crucified. Scarcely an encouragement to a repeat attempt, if that is what you are thinking, citizen.’

That was, of course, exactly what I’d thought. I was about to answer when the page returned, with a flustered steward hurrying after him.

‘Master,’ the chief slave said, bowing low before his owner and ignoring us. ‘The gig is now prepared and the chains have been struck off the raeda-driver’s legs, though I have left his hands in bonds. If this citizen –’ he nodded in my direction – ‘is ready, they can leave at once.’

Publius was already on his feet. ‘Then if you can provide me with a wax tablet, Lavinius my friend, I will write the letter that I promised straight away. Fiscus will bring it out to you when you are in the gig.’

‘In the meantime,’ I said pointedly, ‘I will find Ascus and tell him that we’re ready to depart – perhaps Modesta could accompany me, since Fiscus has another job to do, and maybe she can find me a piece of bread as well.’

Lavinius seemed likely to protest at this but Publius seized me warmly by the arm. ‘Let it be as you suggest. Then go, Libertus, go – and may Jove go with you. Good luck in your quest. Send me a message if there’s anything further I can do to help.’

I nodded thankfully and bowed myself away, together with Modesta who looked thrilled to be my choice. Lavinius made no objection, but he had turned quite puce. He looked so angry at Publius taking charge, and so frustrated at being overruled, that I could almost have believed he was about to burst.

It did not augur well for the festivities tonight. I did not envy Marcus and the others in the least, and was actually glad to leave the room.

TEN

T
he slaves’ sleeping-quarters was one cheerless narrow room, with two lines of straw mattresses set on the floor: males on one side, females on the other, I assumed. There was a long trestle table just inside the door and Ascus was squatting at it, ridiculously large on a low three-legged stool, gnawing on some bread and gulping water from a cup. He scowled when I came in.

‘What now? This is the slaves’ room, citizen. You have no business here.’

‘On the contrary. I have come to tell you we are ready to depart.’ There was a corner of the loaf remaining on the board, and a large knife beside it. There was no one to prevent me and nowhere obvious to sit, so I cut myself a slice and ate it where I stood. Modesta saw what I was doing and found a drinking-cup, filling it for me from the water-jug. I raised it to the horseman in a mock-salute and said, between mouthfuls, ‘We are commanded to leave as soon as possible.’

Ascus made no attempt to hurry. He took another bite. ‘A fine task you have got me landed with. I am now obliged to escort you to Corinium. If Lavinius – or whatever his name is – was not a purple-striper and likely to have important magistrates as friends, I tell you, citizen, I would refuse to go. You don’t need my protection – who would set on you? You haven’t got anything a thief would want to steal.’

I swallowed the remainder of the bread. It was dry, but sustaining, and the water helped. ‘Have they not told you?’ I explained about the raeda-driver. ‘Your task is to make sure he does not escape. You claimed that riding guard was your profession, didn’t you?’

He thumped his cup down on the tabletop and glared at me again. ‘And that’s another thing. Who’s going to pay me for my services? No one has paid me for the slippers yet, though I was specially promised a reward.’

I put my own drinking-vessel down more gingerly. ‘The contract for the wedding-shoes was with Audelia. If we find her, you can hold her to her word. Otherwise I think Publius has agreed to foot the bill. So if you are ready, horseman?’

He flashed the teeth he did have in an unpleasant smile. ‘It seems I have no choice. So, citizen, what are we waiting for?’ He shambled to his feet, and almost before I’d had time to collect my wits he was out of the slaves’ quarters and striding through the yard.

I hurried after him. The gig and its driver were already at the gate, and as we approached I saw the raeda-driver squatting in the carriage on the floor, his hands still bound behind him. He looked up and saw me and gave me a weak smile. ‘Well, citizen, I did not believe that you could get me out of there – except to be bundled to the torturers. I am obliged to you.’

The gig-driver whirled around and flicked his whip across the bloodstained back, making the raeda-driver gasp in agony. ‘Silence, scum! I heard the steward tell you, you are not to speak – and as long as you are in my gig, I’ll see that you obey. If I hear another word from you, I’ll use my whip again.’ He turned to me, all bland politeness now. ‘So, if you are ready, citizen.’

I nodded and clambered up beside him in the gig. The raeda-driver took up so much floor that there was scarcely room for me to squeeze into the seat – a gig is not designed to carry extra passengers – but I contrived somehow. I looked up to find Fiscus grinning in at me, holding out a writing-tablet which was tied and sealed.

‘Don’t drop it, citizen, as you’re going along. That’s my ex-master’s private seal,’ he said, disguising insolence as legitimate concern and exchanging glances with the gig-driver.

A slave had appeared from the stable-block by now, leading a large, recalcitrant black horse. It was a sullen looking animal, shimmying sideways on the rein with wildly rolling eyes, but at least it looked big enough to carry Ascus as was obviously planned. It did not look a comfortable mount, the Roman saddle on its back appeared to worry it. Ascus, however, took one look at the beast and – to my astonishment – vaulted his huge form into the saddle like a child. He leaned forward and rubbed the creature’s glossy head. It quieted at once.

‘If you are comfortable, citizen . . .’ the gig-slave said to me, but he’d already jerked the horses and we were on the move. Comfort is not ever possible in a small, springless carriage along country roads and he was determined to see that there was none. Our speed was such that we constantly jolted up and down so I was obliged to hold on with my one remaining hand – the other was attempting to protect the precious seal. That was difficult enough, but the presence of the prisoner made it infinitely worse. At every bump and pothole he lurched into me and, unable to support himself, his whole weight fell against me and pinned my legs painfully against the seat. Ascus, riding alongside us, saw my predicament and grinned, showing his remaining and discoloured teeth.

No conversation was possible, of course, and – aside from the rattling and jolting of the gig, and my occasional inadvertent grunt of pain – it was a silent drive to town. Never had so short a distance seemed to take so long, and it was with enormous pleasure and relief that I saw the town walls appear.

However, the journey was not over even then. The games had obviously finished long ago, but the gate area was still crammed with carriages and carts of every kind, and citizens in togas were pouring from the town – most of them evidently on their way to dine, if not with Lavinius himself, then at one of the many other Imperial Birthday feasts. There were other, more humble, pedestrians as well, including the travelling stallholders by the look of it – I recognized the palm-seller among them – making for the carts and wagons they had left outside the gates. Some of the crowd were clearly a little worse for wine: the wine-stall was still open just outside the gates, and it was evident that it had done a roaring trade.

I thought it was going to take some time for us to force our way through this jostling and excited crowd and find the raeda, but I had reckoned without Ascus. He urged the horse forward, right into the throng, and people fell back instantly on both sides, lest they be trampled on. The gig-slave simply drove into the space, and in a few minutes we were right up at the gate.

We clattered to a stop. ‘Which is your raeda, scum?’ The gig-slave raised his whip and grinned unpleasantly.

The raeda-driver looked helplessly at me. Answer, and he would be whipped for speaking when he’d been forbidden to; fail to answer and he would still be whipped – this time for refusing to comply. It is the kind of cruel dilemma often used to taunt a slave but it is not often that a servant can employ the trick himself, especially against a freeborn man who would normally be his superior in rank. But the gig-slave had the excuse that he was obeying orders from above, and was enjoying this. I recalled what Cyra had told me earlier about how he had brought the prisoner home at Publius’s request, additionally bound around the legs and feet, ostensibly to prevent the chance of an escape but certainly ensuring a helpless, bruising ride. It occurred to me that the gig-slave would have relished the opportunity.