The Vestal Vanishes (16 page)

I frowned. Collecting watercress to sell? This sounded less and less like Audelia’s maidservant. If Puella had been fleeing to escape a punishment – as the raedarius supposed – she would never have deliberately drawn attention to herself by coming to the basket-woman to complain. She would have known the risks she ran by calling here again – being recognized and handed to the authorities. There would be more than a mere flogging to be fearful of – the penalty for a slave who ran away was very often death. As to my own theory, which I’d briefly held, that the girl had run away because she knew what was hidden in the box – it was clearly false as well. Unless Puella had done the deed herself (in which case she was doubly certain to avoid the chance of being recognized) seeing the body would certainly have frightened her too much – knowing that the murderers were somewhere still at large and might do the same to her, if only to ensure she held her tongue. I could discount the whole idea. No female who had seen that mutilated corpse would idly stop in a deserted spot to gather watercress.

I shook my head. ‘There must be some mistake. It was the same basket, you could swear to that?’

She snorted. ‘Of course I could. I’d know it anywhere. It had a piece of blue-dyed thread around the joint. I put it there to cover up the . . .’ She broke off. ‘To make it stronger,’ she corrected hastily. ‘It was the one I sold to Ephibbius, all right. I should know my own handiwork, I hope. Anyway, I recognized the girl.’

That would have been my next enquiry. ‘You’re certain of that too?’

She sat back on her stool and grinned gleefully at us. ‘So you didn’t send her here? Well, by all the gods! Steal it from him, did she? Lure it from him and then run away? Well, I am not surprised. Used to getting her own way in everything, that one, you could see that at once – the way she was looking up at him, I knew what sort she was. Pretty face and pretty figure – knew how to use them, too.’

‘You noticed her when she was here with Ephibbius before?’

‘Well, you could hardly miss her, sitting where she was. Made you wonder what she was doing, riding up the front with him – especially in the rain – instead of travelling with her mistress in the coach. But when I got a look at her, I knew what sort she was.’ She nodded knowingly. ‘He’ll know better, another time perhaps – letting a pretty girl wheedle a present out of him – and him telling me that he had bought it for his wife.’

‘But I didn’t . . .’ Ephibbius began again.

I shook my head at him. Her view of his character was not important now. ‘But you’ve seen this servant since. How long ago was this?’

She screwed up her face. ‘An hour or two, I suppose. The sun was over that elm tree over there.’ She gestured to the place.

I was disappointed. ‘It couldn’t have been her. She was in Glevum close to the end of the birthday sacrifice. She could not possibly have walked here in the time.’

The sneering look came back. ‘Who said anything about her walking here? She was riding on a cart. Ogling the owner, as you would expect. Seemed to be a farmer carrying some hay. Bribed him to carry her – or that is what she said, though she called it “paying him”, of course.’

‘But she had no money. She was a serving girl!’ I exclaimed.

‘Well, you may say so, citizen, but she had cash all right. Plenty of it, too. I saw the purse myself. Offered me a quadrans to put the handle right, but when I said that it would take an hour she wouldn’t wait, because the farmer came over to tell her to get back on the cart.’ She had picked up her work and started weaving the osiers again. ‘His place is on the far side of Corinium, he said, and if she wanted to get there before dark they’d have to go. He’d promised her a dry bed in his stable overnight.’

I looked at Ephibbius with a puzzled frown. This was more and more perplexing. If this really was Puella, as the woman seemed to think, why had she been so eager to impart the details of her future whereabouts, which would make it easier to hunt her down? It made no sense at all.

The woman saw the frown, and misinterpreted it. ‘With the horses, so she told me,’ she said gleefully. ‘And she was proud that she’d agreed a price – though I have my doubts that money was what that farmer had in mind. I saw how he was looking at her while she talked to me – worse than Ephibbius, if that is possible. I wonder what the wife will have to say when he gets home.’ She broke off, with a leer. ‘In any case, citizen, what is that to you? It wasn’t your purse, was it? She told me that her mistress had given it to her.’

It was Ephibbius who spoke then. ‘Her mistress gave her nothing – and I can vouch for that. The servant was in trouble for having lost some shoes, and was expecting to be punished. When we arrived in Glevum . . .’ He exchanged a glance with me and obviously thought better of what he’d planned to say. ‘When we arrived in Glevum the servant disappeared. Obviously she took the money from her owner when she fled. So now the family want her. We’re here to look for her.’

The woman seemed singularly unmoved by this account. The warty chin wobbled in a mirthless laugh. ‘And what about the letter? Did she steal that too?’

The raeda-driver and I exchanged a look, and said in unison, ‘What letter?’

That changed her attitude. She put down her weaving and got slowly to her feet, wafting the scent of burned grease round us as she moved. Her fingers closed around her trimming-knife. She was a tiny woman, no higher than my chest, but her hard life had clearly toughened her. With her knife clutched menacingly against her skinny breasts she was more intimidating than many a full-grown man.

‘Now see here, gentlemen. I’m a self-respecting trader and I want no trouble here. I thought that you were honest and had simply come to complain about that basket, but it seems I’m wrong. I don’t know what your game is, but this I’m certain of, if you had been sent here by her owner’s family, as you said you were, you would know that she had a letter from her owner round her neck, to the person she had served before.’

I shook my head. ‘Her owner’s dead,’ I said.

The knife-blade faltered slightly. ‘Well, that slave-girl doesn’t know that – and it will break her heart. She was promised manumission as soon as she got home.’

‘Home? But her home was to be Glevum.’

A shrug. ‘Well, that is where you’re wrong. Somewhere near Calleva, as I understand. That Vestal she was travelling with – to whom she had been loaned – had sent her back again, and given her the letter to prove she was entitled to be travelling alone and to have her slave-price money with her in a purse. I know there was only a woman signatory, but she was a Vestal Virgin apparently, so the document had force.’

I stared at the woman. ‘How do you know all this?’

The basket-maker looked aggrieved. ‘She showed me the letter – a proper little vellum scroll, no bigger than my hand. In a wooden cover, like a locket, specially made, I’d say.’

‘And you read this yourself, though the text was in Latin?’ It was clear I doubted it. It would be astonishing if she could read at all.

Her eyes avoided mine. ‘I looked at it.’ A brief affronted sniff. ‘So, perhaps I couldn’t read the words, but I know a proper seal when I see one, and this had one all right – though it was already broken when I looked at it. I understand she’d shown it to the farmer earlier, though I doubt that he could read it either – if it came to it.’

‘So why are you so confident of what the letter said?’

She looked at me with something very near contempt. ‘Citizen, what kind of idiot do you take me for? I had it read, of course. Do you think I would have let her drive off in that cart, if I had thought she was a runaway? There was a mounted soldier passing and I called him over here – he looked at it and read the words out loud to us. I was slightly disappointed, to tell you the truth; if she had being lying I’d have had him lock her up and tell the authorities in Glevum where she was – in case the owners were offering a reward. But the letter asked the public to assist her on her way – so, of course, I had to let her go.’ She gave Ephibbius a crafty sideways glance. ‘I’d even have swapped the basket, if she’d asked me to. You can’t cross a Vestal’s wishes – it would be appalling luck.’ She sat down at the table and picked up her work again.

‘But she didn’t ask you to exchange the broken one?’

She shook her grizzled head. ‘Just got onto the cart and they set off again.’

‘I suppose the farmer was reassured by what he’d heard?’

‘In fact, I don’t think he was altogether pleased. I wonder if he might have had the same idea as me, and had planned to hand her in when he got home – or demand all her money to keep her secrets safe. However, once he learned that she was truly free to travel on her own, and had the protection of a Vestal Virgin too, he could hardly argue. He treated her with more respect, I noticed, afterwards.’ She glanced up at us again. ‘But you should have known that, if you really represent her owner’s family. Though the woman’s dead, you say?’

I shook my head. ‘I was right the first time. This has all been a mistake. Thank you for your help.’ I gestured to Ephibbius. ‘Let’s be on our way. Unless you want to buy another basket for your wife?’

He shook his head grimly and we went back to the cart. Ascus listened gravely as we told him what we’d learned. He used his giant hand to scratch his head. ‘This gets more and more bewildering!’

Before we moved off, I told them about Lavinia’s disappearance too. Additional disturbing and perplexing news could hardly make much difference to us now, I thought.

FOURTEEN

I
t was growing late before the walls of Corinium came into sight, and almost dark by the time that we drew up at the gate. We stated our destination to the guard and he allowed us through – together with a dozen heavy-loaded carts, of the sort which are usually banned from moving in cities during daylight hours. Corinium, being a market town, is more relaxed than some – Glevum, for example, is extremely strict, because of the constant military traffic passing through – but none the less these clanking carts had been held back till dusk and our progress was exasperatingly slow as we followed them into the darkening streets, which were of course too narrow to let us pass or turn.

It had not occurred to me, although it should have done, that the address we were seeking might be hard to find. I have been accustomed, in unfamiliar towns, to staying in the official inns, or mansios, which are built to serve officials and the Imperial post and so are always conveniently placed at or within the gates. This house was simply a spacious private home, which occasionally supplemented the owner’s income by accepting paying guests, and though I’d heard it had a stable-block and court attached to it, I was surprised to learn that the entrance lay down a fairly narrow lane, at the town-wall end of a little line of shops. Fortunately, my companions had both been there before – though even then the raedarius passed the entrance to the alley once and had to drive all the way around the block again.

When we did arrive it was to find another problem awaiting us. The gate into the stable-court was bolted, the windows shuttered and the front doors firmly locked. There was not even the glimmer of a candle anywhere. This was something I hadn’t bargained for – although of course the owners were not expecting us. Granted, many thrifty tradesmen living in the town – not having social lives and banquets to attend – retire at sunset and rise again at dawn, thereby saving heat and lighting fuel, they claim, but it was barely dusk. One would have expected some evidence of life. Even in the thriftiest establishments there are always chores which cannot easily be done in working hours, and generally people require a little time to eat. Perhaps the owners had gone out, I thought – though surely in that case there would be slaves at least? I knew that there were at least two at the establishment, because they had carried the fateful box downstairs.

We knocked and shouted, but to no avail, and I was just beginning to wonder what to do, and whether I should go to the mansio after all, when a shutter opened at a window-space above and an indignant head poked out.

‘What do you mean by coming here and making such a din?’ The grizzled head and irritated tone suggested that this was the owner of the property. ‘This is a respectable household and we are all abed.’

‘Already gone to bed?’ I echoed, in astonishment.

My amazement must have been evident in my tone. ‘We have been busy. It has been a wearing day,’ the man said, snappishly. ‘Now that you know that, kindly go away. I don’t know who you are or what you want, but we are not receiving anyone tonight. If you have business with us of some sort – as I suppose you must – then come back in daylight like anybody else.’

‘But I’ve come to ask for lodgings,’ I began, ‘I understand you—’

The head shook forcefully. ‘Then you’ve come to the wrong place. We don’t take passing trade.’

‘I have an introduction . . .’ I brought out the writing-block and waved it hopefully towards the window-space – as though he could possibly have read it from up there, even in good light.

He was not impressed. ‘I’m sorry, citizen.’ He did not sound apologetic in the least. ‘I don’t know how you came to hear of us, but you’ve been misinformed. It’s true we do take people now and then, but that’s by prior arrangement only and even then we only deal with families we know. You’ll have to look elsewhere.’ He turned as someone with a lighted taper came into the room.

‘What is it, husband?’ said a female voice.

‘Don’t get excited, wife. It isn’t what you hoped – no news of the young lady you were concerned about. Just some stranger looking for lodgings for the night. Don’t worry, I’ve told him we aren’t able to oblige.’

There was a moment’s hissing conversation, and then a curly dark head joined the grizzled one – only a shadow now against the taper’s light. A plump face looked down self-importantly at me. ‘All our rooms are technically taken anyway.’ She reached for the shutter. ‘Try the mansio.’