'Only for this interview. I've done nothing to deserve that cell!'
'You were imprisoned because you aided an enemy.'
'I was imprisoned because I saved my mistress.'
I ignore that comment for now. 'Still, you'll answer when I ask,' I warn grumpily. l can, of course, have her flogged.
She refuses to be frightened, having sensed my lamentable sympathy for her gender and kind. 'And I'll remember the past when I have a future.'
'You will speak now or be beaten until you do speak!'
'And speak what?' she cries indignantly, as if it is I instead of she in the wrong. 'The truth, or the cries of a whipped slave?'
I grimace. But I'm also amused, and struggle not to show it. She's watching me like a sly dog, knowing she is valuable property and a waste to feed in prison. Moreover, I need her story. So I employ silence. Nothing so prompts a companion to speak.
'I'm sorry,' she amends. 'It's horrid and dirty in my cell.'
So I visibly soften, to soften her. 'Then help me learn the fate of your mistress.'
She leans forward. 'I can help most if you take me with you!'
'I have no use for an old maid.'
'Then take me and sell me! But it's better to keep me! Look at yourself. You 're as old as I am. You should be retiring to a farm. You could use me there.'
The last thing I need in the quiet of my life is this piece of spoiled baggage. Still, at the end of the day the horse will ride harder to the hay than to the whip. I pretend to consider this proposal. 'I cannot afford another slave.'
'The garrison would almost give me away! I complain too much!'
I laugh. 'As if that is a recommendation!'
'I eat too much, too! But I can cook. Better than your servant does now, judging from your scrawny frame.'
I shake my head, suspecting she's right. 'Listen, impress me with the usefulness of your memory, and I will consider what you suggest. Agreed?'
She sits back. 'I'm very useful.'
'And you will answer my questions?'
'I'll try, inspector.'
I sigh for effect, knowing full well why she'd like me to buy her. A slave enjoys the status of her master. 'All right, then. Back to it. Was the marriage a love match?'
She takes a moment to think this time. 'It was a marriage of the upper class. Love is irrelevant, don't you think?'
'Yet not the usual dowry.'
'It was the man who provided the coin this time, not the woman.'
'Marcus needed a good posting?'
'He needed a new start.'
'And Valeria's father needed money?'
'Being a senator is expensive. To entertain, to facilitate agreements-'
'You understand these things?'
She smiles. 'I lived with Senator Valens longer than his wife.'
'And became maidservant to Valeria.'
'I instructed that child, as I said.'
It is disconcerting, the pride of this slave. No doubt she'd once bedded Valens and was smug with the memory of coupling with a patrician. And Christians! It's their god that gives them their impudence. Their serenity can be infuriating.
'You lived with this woman daily, 'I try again. 'Was she in love or not?'
'She barely knew Marcus. They'd only met once.'
'Her reaction?'
'He was handsome. But old, to her eyes. Thirty-five to her nineteen.'
'Yet she did not object?'
'She encouraged the union. She dressed for Marcus, charmed him, and promised obedience to her father's plan. The marriage rescued the senator and was a way for Valeria to get away from Rome. Marriage would please her father, let her escape her mother, and complete herself. Like all young women, she assumed either her husband would match her dreams or she'd teach him to do so.'
Of course. Women think weddings the end of problems, instead of their beginning. 'Why didn't the marriage take place in Rome?'
'The post was vacant, occupied temporarily by the senior tribune Galba Brassidias. The army wanted the command settled, and Senator Valens was anxious for the money his daughter would bring. The promise was paid, promotion granted, and rather than wait for wedding preparations, Marcus was advised to take the risk of traveling in winter to assume office and clarify command. Talks were concluded in his absence. Valeria followed in March, as soon as the first ships could leave Ostia. Even at that, it was a rough voyage. We anchored three times on the coast of Italy before reaching port in Gaul. All of us were sick.'
I nod. I hate the sea. 'Then north through Gaul-'
'Tiresome. Bad inns, bad food, and bad company. The river barges were fine, but the mule carts wearying and tedious. It was odd to have the days grow longer and yet colder. And at the Oceanus Britannicus the sea sucked in and out.'
'The tide.'
'I'd never seen its like.'
'It took Caesar by surprise when he first invaded Britannia.' Why I offer historical trivia to this woman I can't say.
'I shouldn't wonder.'
I plunge ahead, embarrassed by my own digression. 'So you crossed the Channel-'
'We'd missed the naval galley and bought passage on a merchant ship. We were sick again, and afraid of pirates. The captain kept waving toward the white cliffs of Dubris, trying to impress a senator's daughter, but none of us cared.'
'And came up the Tamesis to Londinium.'
'It was all perfectly proper, as you can see. Except for her riding.'
'Her what?'
'When crossing Gaul, Valeria became bored. She'd borrow a horse and go trotting ahead in a lady's manner, sidesaddle, accompanied by her bodyguard Cassius.'
'A retired soldier?'
'Better. A surviving gladiator.'
'And you did not approve.'
'She wasn't so bold as to go out of sight, but a Roman lady doesn't ride a horse like some Celtic wench. As I told her! But Valeria was always a willful child. I warned that she'd ride herself barren and be sent home in disgrace, but she just laughed at me. I told her she'd hurt herself and she scoffed. She said her husband-to-be was a cavalry officer and would appreciate a wife who could gallop. I almost fainted.'
I try to picture this bold and impudent young woman. Was she vulgar? Immature? Or simply impish? 'She had learned how?'
'On her father's estate. He was as hopelessly indulgent when she was a child as he was strict after her menarche. Only I kept any control. She'd have played with wooden swords if her brothers hadn't refused.'
'So she was in the habit of not doing what she was told.'
'She was in the habit of listening to her heart.'
Interesting. Rome's foundation is reason, of course. 'I am trying to understand what happened here,' I explain. 'What kind of treachery.'
She laughs. 'Treachery?'
