me. ‘I’m sorry, citizen. The girl has no business to interrupt your meal.’
She had caught me in the middle of a mouthful of ripe pear. ‘On the contrary,’ I murmured, when I’d swallowed it. ‘She was answering my questions — and being quite a help.’
Priscilla snorted. ‘Well, I’m glad she’s good for something. But I’ve come to say, if you wish to find the donkey-boy, we should leave fairly soon. Otherwise he’ll have found a different job to do — a message or a parcel to deliver out of town — and he won’t be able to lead you to the farm where he took the letter. And weren’t you hoping to see the slave trader as well?’
I nodded, finishing the remnants of my pear.
‘Then when you’ve finished here, I will accompany you to town. Do you wish to take the horseman too — or the raeda-driver, perhaps — since you have no other servant to attend on you?’
I shook my head. ‘I think that the raeda should take the nursemaid back to her owners,’ I said, dipping a little of the bread-crust in the oil. ‘Ephibbius will have to purify the coach, in any case, before another paying customer will dare to ride in it. Another body will not make much difference at this stage. Shroud it in something for the trip and treat it decently.’
She nodded. ‘If you think that Lavinius will meet the cost of it, I’ll get the undertaker’s women to lay out the corpse. I think I’ve got some funeral herbs around the house — we had a slave-boy recently who died. That will purify the room as well so we can let it out again — supposing we ever get another guest when news of this gets out! And what about the clothes Lavinia left behind? Should I box them up and send them back as well?’
I nodded. ‘Keep back the adult clothes and drawstring purse. I would like to look at them again. Ascus had better ride back to Lavinia’s family and break the news to them — not just about the nurse’s death but the fact we haven’t found the girl. He can also tell Publius where I’m going and why, and say that I’ll report in person in a day or two.’ I risked a smile. ‘I take it I can stay here for another night? It will be too late for me to walk back home today, whatever I discover at the farm.’ Poor Gwellia! I was already planning that, whatever news he took to Publius, Ascus could carry a reassuring message to her on the way.
Priscilla nodded. ‘Then, there’s a lot to organize. I’ll go and make a start. Meanwhile here’s that useless slave-girl with a drink for you. I hope you’ve brought the citizen a proper metal cup and not one of those beakers that we use ourselves?’ And she stalked out of the room.
The slave-girl hadn’t brought a metal cup, of course, but I indicated that she should pour me some water nonetheless. As she raised the jug she looked timidly at me. ‘Permission to ask you something, citizen?’
I nodded. The water was clear and cool, but not as good as that we get from Glevum’s public well.
‘Then…’ She hesitated for a moment, then said in a rush, ‘There is a rumour in the slave-quarters, that you don’t think that the woman who came here yesterday was really the Vestal Virgin Audelia at all. Is that true, citizen?’
‘Who told you that?’ I spluttered, taken by surprise.
She shook her head. ‘Something that the mistress mentioned, that is all. She came into the kitchen, saying that you’d proved Audelia was dead before she reached Corinium, and that was a blessing because it means the household could not be to blame. But — do you really think that, citizen?’
Something in her manner made me put down the cup. ‘You don’t believe that theory?’
She shook a doubtful head. ‘I might be wrong, of course — I’d never seen Audelia before. The woman who came here might have been anyone at all. But there is one thing you should know. Whoever she was, she certainly knew a lot about the Vestal shrine: what they did with all the newcomers, how they shaved their heads and what the rituals were, and everything that her young cousin could expect. She talked of little else all through the meal last night — saying how revered Vestal Virgins are, with the right to pardon prisoners who crossed their paths — and you could see that young Lavinia was thrilled. And she also made the offering at the household shrine, like someone who had done it all her life, when the master suggested that she should.’ She paused and looked at me. ‘If that was not a Vestal Virgin, citizen, how could she know all that?’ She glanced around. ‘But here’s the mistress, don’t say I questioned it.’ She seized the jug and beaker and scuttled off with them.
Priscilla was already speaking as she came into the room. ‘I’ve left my orders with the household now. So, when you are ready, citizen? You will need to dress, I suppose?’
I could take a hint. I left my breakfast, went upstairs and wrestled with my toga as I tried to put it on — not an easy business with no attendant slave — but finally I managed and came downstairs again.
Priscilla was already waiting by the door. ‘Ah, citizen! If you’d like to follow me,’ she said, and led the way out into the street.
TWENTY
Corinium is primarily a market town, of course, not a colonia like Glevum — no streets of retired legionaries or heavy garrison — and at this time of the morning it was abuzz with trade and noise. Even the small street outside the house, which had seemed so quiet and secluded last night in the dark, was now full of street-sellers and people plying wares outside their homes. A man and his four children sat outside their door, weaving osiers into eel-traps, and an enterprising cobbler who had set up a small last, paused in his hammering to hail me as we passed.
He spat out the hobnails he was holding in his teeth. ‘New sandals, citizen? A special price for you. I’ll take an outline now and have them finished by tonight?’ He indicated the leather where I should put my foot so he could scratch a pattern from my sole. ‘Guaranteed best quality.’ He clutched at my toga but I eluded him. ‘Make it two pairs, citizen, and I’ll add spare laces, free.’
I was about to refuse and say I had no purse with me, but Priscilla took my elbow and steered me straight ahead. ‘Pay no attention, citizen. You stop and talk to one of them, they’ll all be after you. You come along with me!’ And she strode purposefully on.
She was quite right, of course. I was dressed in a toga and a stranger to the place, and every dealer tried to wheedle me to buy. There was much to tempt a purchaser: the stalls and shops sold almost everything from fine imported silver to mended copper pans; in every doorway there were trays of leather belts, used clothes, brass ornaments, and pots of eye-ointment, heaped up on trestle tables and spilling out into the street while the hawkers invited me to ‘come and look inside’.
Even the pedestrians had dubious offerings: boys with handcarts hawked firewood, turnips, reed mats and cabbages; pie-sellers and bakers’ slaves came jostling by, balancing trays of steaming food upon their heads, and a man with a pair of yoked pails around his neck accosted me, offering a drink of milk or fermented whey from a battered metal cup he carried on a chain. Priscilla waved them all imperiously aside.
As we neared the forum, though, I paused and tugged her arm. I could see an amanuensis sitting by the wall, among the moneylenders who were busy at their trade. ‘Is that…?’ I shouted, doubting she would hear over the general hubbub of the town.
She shook her head. ‘That’s not the one we used the other day. It was a young man we hadn’t seen before. Now — you go down there, and find the slave-market, and I’ll go and see if I can locate the donkey-boy for you.’ She gestured in the direction I should take and turned away.
I followed her instructions and was soon in the square behind the forum, where the butchers had their stalls. It was also the area where the livestock market was, where all kinds of domestic animals, including slaves, were sold. The noise and smell was indescribable. I declined an offer to purchase fresh fish from a pool or make a choice from buckets full of squirming eels and, edging round a ragged urchin with a pail (who was scavenging manure from the road to sell), I spotted the slave trader at the far end of the square.
He was a swarthy fellow — probably a Greek — and clearly prosperous. His coloured tunic was of many hues, his cloak was of expensive scarlet wool and the clasp on his heavy leather belt appeared to be of gold. When I approached he was already offering the last lot of the day, a pair of dusky females chained together by the feet; either he’d had a busy morning or he’d not had much to sell. He saw me coming over and he called to me at once.
‘What do you bid me for this pair of slaves? Guaranteed disease-free and no rotting teeth. Direct from the Province in North Africa. Not virgins, but they have years of service left. Come on, citizen, you know you can’t resist.’
