‘Oh, would you, Junio,’ she breathed, and Cilla coughed.
I heard him poke the fire savagely again. ‘My master’s right,’ he muttered. ‘The risk was not so great. Once the gate-keeper’s attention is engaged elsewhere, Myrna escorts the so-called Julia to her room – that was the most dangerous moment, I suppose. After that, who sees her close again? Two maidservants report a little afterwards, you tell us, but they are sent away because their mistress has a headache and wants to lie down.’
Cilla’s voice – still sharp with jealousy. ‘I imagine that if we enquire, we shall discover that it was Myrna who came to Julia’s door and delivered that message to the slaves.’
‘Well, of course she did,’ Porphyllia replied. ‘There was nothing new in that. No one would expect the mistress to get up herself.’
‘Exactly!’ Junio must have forgotten his embarrassment in the joy of pursuing an idea. He was speaking with real enthusiasm now. ‘No one would think of questioning her word. And she made a point of being with the child when it was fed and was jealous of others being with him. That is the point, of course: once she and the wet nurse were safely in the room, there was no risk from anyone outside.’
Porphyllia looked grudging. ‘So why go into the court?’
‘Because it was part of the routine – and it was important to the plan that they were seen, so that the alarm was raised in the wrong time and place. And who brings that about? Who attends the child and woman in the court, fetches soup, and sees that all the other slaves have orders to be somewhere else? Who conveniently comes to get the cooked fruit just at the moment when the other two disappear? And, in fact, who raises the alarm? Myrna, Myrna, Myrna every time!’
He was so animated and triumphant that he grinned at dumpling-face, who flushed beneath her freckles and gave him an adoring smile for his pains.
He turned bright red himself, and turned to speak to me. ‘So we must have been mistaken, master, when we thought that she had come to you for help. She was conspiring with the kidnappers all along. She must have been – if our theory is true. And it is the only explanation which makes any sense. Julia and Marcellinus didn’t disappear – they weren’t there in the first place.’
Cilla frowned. ‘But it does not solve the mystery, all the same. Suppose that somebody did take their place. What happened to them then? It would be just as impossible for them to disappear as it would be for Julia and the child. More so, perhaps, because they would have to pass the gate-keepers, who would certainly notice if there were strangers in the house. And above all, if Myrna was conspiring with the kidnappers, who killed her, and why?’
I hung my head. ‘I know,’ I said. ‘I thought of that myself. But all the same, I am convinced that in principle we’re right. The child would pose no problem, if there was someone in the lane. If you went into the orchard you could pass it over the wall. And as for the woman, if she took off the cloak and
stola
, and was wearing a servant’s uniform underneath, she could probably walk straight out of the gate, especially if she used the orchard path and seemed to have a proper errand to fulfil. Don’t I remember hearing that there was a slave taking laundry to the fuller that afternoon? I wouldn’t be surprised it that was it. That
stola
got out of the villa somehow – they tore a strip off it – and in a household of this size there must always be a few tunics wanting laundering, even if the fuller’s boy has collected a load the day before, as Porphyllia says. Who would ever give a slave carrying such a bundle a second glance – especially if the whole household is busily engaged on a very active search for someone else?’
Porphyllia picked up her tray again. ‘Well, I still can’t believe it. Someone coming into the house and passing herself off as Julia? Who could it possibly have been, in any case?’
Junio met my eye and we replied as one. ‘Myrna had a sister, didn’t she?’
‘It would fit,’ I said, finding the strength to struggle up again, now that progress seemed to be in view. ‘Marcus told us that she was the taller of the two. Taller than Julia, I think he said. That would explain why the
stola
was too short.’
‘And she did come to the villa often, so she’d know her way about,’ Junio said.
‘And wasn’t Myrna’s little girl brought up to the villa just later on?’ I said. ‘She would be the obvious candidate to be the subsitute Marcellinus. She’s only a little older than he is, and not a strapping child, apparently, so presumably they’re much the same in size. Suppose her grandmother was waiting, outside in the lane. The child is stripped of Marcellinus’s clothes – down to an undertunic, anyway – and handed out over the wall. It would be a simple matter then to wrap it up in something else, and come straight to the gates. Clever too, since it would divert attention from the family.’
‘The grandmother came up with a herb basket, we heard that too. She could have concealed some clothing for the child in that, until the moment came. And the boy’s finery would be carried out of the villa in the fuller’s pile.’ Junio was grinning with delight. ‘It must be the solution, mustn’t it? Will you explain to Marcus, master? He could send those guards out to arrest the girl, and then perhaps we’d learn the rest of it.’
I nodded. ‘Unless the soldiers have already gone away.’
Surprisingly, it was Porphyllia who spoke. ‘They are still here, citizen. They were given some refreshment in the servants’ room – and if they’d left we would have heard them go. So they could go and arrest this sister if you wish – if you can persuade the master that there’s any sense in it. Personally I don’t believe there is. Though there might have been a changeling, I can see.’
‘Thank you, Porphyllia,’ I said. ‘That will be all. You may take the tray back to the kitchens now. And Junio, get a message to my patron if you can. Tell him I have a theory about what happened but need his help to bring some suspects in. Ask if he will accord me a private interview.’
My slave-boy nodded and disappeared at once, whereupon Porphyllia, who up to now had been standing aimlessly with her tray, suddenly sprang into action and bustled out as well.
Cilla stood up from the stool and came to stand beside the bed. ‘I could be your poison-taster, master, if you would prefer,’ she murmured shyly. ‘Now that I am here in any case.’
I smiled. ‘Better to use the one I’ve got,’ I said gently. ‘Any would-be poisoner will be more deterred by the thought of harming one of Marcus’s slaves. Anyway, I am glad to have her here, because she knows about the household and its ways. Besides, I’m hoping your mistress is coming very soon, and you will be wanted to attend to her.’ I didn’t add that I was longing for that hour.
‘As you command, master, though I could do that too,’ Cilla said, and I could hear the disappointment in her voice. ‘Doubtless Junio wants that girl to be here, anyway.’
This time I laughed aloud. ‘I don’t think Junio would thank me in the least,’ I said. ‘But she did know Myrna, and she was here that day – and thanks to her we’ve made such progress as we have.’
‘So, you really feel you’ve found the answer, master? Or a part of it?’
‘I have the glimmering of an idea, at least.’ I looked at her. ‘You don’t seem much convinced.’
She shook her head. ‘It’s just that . . . with the greatest of respect . . . what has Myrna to do with Lallius? A young man from the city – a spendthrift gambling lout with scarcely any friends, from what the servants say of him – and a wet nurse from the country, who rarely goes to town except to help her mother selling herbs. It seems most unlikely they have even met.’
I had to concede that she was right, of course, but I was too pleased with my reasoning to admit that there were flaws. ‘Who knows?’ I murmured sleepily. ‘Myrna did work near Glevum for a time. Perhaps the two were lovers. There have been stranger things. Or perhaps she owed him money. I don’t know. I can’t be expected to work everything out at once.’ I gave my pillow a disgruntled thump. ‘Now,’ I murmured, settling myself back on it and closing my eyelids for the second time, ‘you take Junio’s place till he comes back. Sit there quietly and keep watch and let me have some sleep.’
The interview with Marcus did not seem quite such a wonderful idea when I awoke, but naturally by then it had been arranged. He had decreed a time, about mid-afternoon, and on this occasion he expected me to come to him. Junio explained this rather diffidently to me as he roused me and helped me with my shoes.
‘I’m sorry that I had to wake you, master, but you see how it is,’ he said, latching up my second sandal and assisting me to rise. ‘He isn’t coming to your room to visit you, the way he did before. I expect he feels that you are much improved – you managed very well this morning, after all.’ He rearranged my tunic, which I’d been sleeping in, into a semblance of acceptable attire.
But I understood the message. With a serious accusation still dangling over me I was firmly in disgrace – especially after the doctor had produced that damning piece of so-called ‘evidence’. Marcus had stretched his goodwill to the limits as it was, by allowing me two days to try to come up with some defence, and – what is more – to stay here in comfort while I did so, instead of languishing in misery inside Glevum jail. My patron had done everything he could, and I could look for no more friendly concessions from now on.
Junio was still fussing over me. ‘I’ve borrowed this cloak for you from the servants’ hall. It’s Aulus’s. It’s rather on the large side, I’m afraid, but it’s a very heavy one and it will protect your legs from the cold. Of course we’ll be walking beneath the colonnade, but it looks like rain this afternoon and you mustn’t catch a chill. Here, let me help you put it on. It must be time to go.’ He draped the garment round me as he spoke. Junio was right: it was far too big for me – so much so that it almost brushed the ground – but it was welcome for all that. The courtyard felt extremely cold after the warm snugness of my sleeping room.
‘No time to linger, master. There isn’t any sun this afternoon, so it is hard to judge the hour, and we must not be late. Marcus was extremely crisp with me. He isn’t very pleased with our household as it is.’
I gave an inward groan. I had been hoping to come up with some extra element of proof which would persuade my patron that my theory had some weight. If I was to clear my name, I desperately needed him to be sufficiently convinced to round up Myrna’s family and bring them in – I had been forbidden to go out and look for them for myself. Nor did I expect that they’d be easy to find. If they had the ransom money, or any part of it, I reasoned that they would be miles away by now.
Still, I would face those problems when I came to them. My first task was to persuade my patron to accept my views at all. ‘Lead the way,’ I said to Junio.
Marcus was waiting for us in the winter dining room. He was stretched out on one of his dining couches with a goblet in one hand, languidly picking at a bowl of sugared figs. He had dressed for the occasion in an amber-coloured robe, with a matching over-drape, a sort of
synthesis
– rather like the fashionable combination toga-and-tunic which he wore to entertain. But he was no less intimidating for that.
I knew my patron well. There was no need for him to have changed his clothes, and the fact that he had done so was quite deliberate. He was clearly signalling to me, not merely that he was now a private citizen relaxing at his home and that this meeting was therefore an enormous privilege, but that he had deliberately set aside his civic and imperial offices. His patrician toga was a symbol of his rank, and his consequent position as senior magistrate to which Philades had formally appealed. Marcus was reminding me – as if I could forget – that he was condescending to this private interview because next time I met him in his official role he would be obliged to find that there was a case for me to answer and hand me over to the courts.
He scarcely raised his eyes when I limped in and made a deep obeisance at his feet. I didn’t even stop to give Junio my cloak – a slave’s garment made me look decently humble, I thought.
‘Very well,’ my patron said, and motioned me to rise. ‘Junio says you wish to speak to me?’ His tone was cool and quite impersonal and I realised that he had not extended his ring for me to kiss, as he would normally have done. More signals. That salute was the expected greeting between a patron and his loyal client – and Marcus was pointedly not affording me that status now.
‘Excellence!’ I murmured, almost in despair. ‘Please believe that I had no part in this affair – despite everything the doctor claims. By diverting your attention to arresting me you only give the real culprits more chances to escape. After all, they have your money now. And remember that they still have Julia.’
‘Do you imagine that I’d forgotten that? I have thought of nothing else for days and nights.’
I nodded. I knew exactly how he felt. Even now I was worried about where Gwellia was, and I wasn’t getting ransom notes from ruthless kidnappers.
He took another fig and held his goblet out for Minimus to fill. Roman custom would usually demand that he should get the slaves to offer me the plate and fetch a drinking cup to pour some wine for me, but of course he did nothing of the kind. He was avoiding even glancing at my face. ‘And Philades thinks you are responsible.’
I swallowed. ‘The reason that I asked to see you this afternoon is that I have a theory about how it was done.’
‘Let’s hear it, then,’ he said, biting the sugared fruit. ‘But don’t be long about it. I have a slave-trader coming here a little later on. He’s bringing a girl for me to look at.’
I was startled for a moment. This seemed a strange time to be buying slaves. But then I understood. ‘A new wet nurse for Marcellinus?’
He paused in mid-nibble to say, ‘Of course. I need one as soon as possible, and I heard from the pontifex that he’s got one for sale.’ He took another bite and went on reflectively, ‘I shall buy her, almost certainly, if she looks suitable and clean – she is supposed to have good teeth and no disease. I’m going to get the medicus to examine her for me, but she should be all right. This trader is a specialist – expensive, but he buys all his stock in Rome and only has the best. He deals with the wealthiest families in the capital. I’ve bought from him before. He sometimes has other commodities as well.’