A Coin for the Ferryman (36 page)

It was not what she was trained in, but she did her best, and with the arrival of another
crater
of finest mulsum wine and – a little later – of my wife and Julia, there was a general mood, if not of cheerfulness, at least of shared relief. Julia was even prevailed upon to sing – she did not have a strong voice, but it was very sweet – and the evening was as successful as it could possibly have been, given the extraordinary happenings of the night.

Marcus said so, when the last carriages were gone, and my little party was preparing to leave too. I had lingered to tell my patron everything I knew about Morella and the tunic.

‘I wonder what happened to Morella’s hair?’ Junio said, as Minimus helped him with his cloak. ‘Pulchrus’s was short enough to scatter in the woods, but they could hardly have taken those plaits to Londinium with them.’

I shrugged. ‘Perhaps we’ll never know. Sold in Corinium, perhaps – there was enough to make a wig, and the actor would be familiar with several wigmakers. Or perhaps it was simply buried somewhere by the road. Or dropped in the Sabrina – Hirsius must have taken a river ferry when he took Morella west – they would have been spotted by the Glevum watchmen otherwise. No doubt we will be able to determine that.’

‘And the coins? I still have them in my casket. What should we do with them? Return them to her father?’ Julia enquired.

I smiled. ‘To her mother. I will take them there myself.’ I would leave it to the tribe to deal with Farathetos, I thought. ‘And I’ll return the dress. I’m glad we didn’t burn it at poor Pulchrus’s funeral.’

‘Ironic that we should put him in his own tunic on the bier! I shall have you build a little shrine for him, and see that his grave is tended every year with food and water for the afterlife. In his way, he died in my defence.’ Marcus placed a heavy ringed hand upon my arm. ‘And I shall have you build that memorial pavement to my father too – with no expense spared. We can never thank you properly, Libertus, my old friend. I never liked Lucius, but I did not think that of him.’

I asked the question which had been on my mind. ‘And now what will become of him? Will you have him buried with Morella in the common pit? At midnight tomorrow it will be Lemuria.’

His face darkened, but it was Julia who spoke. ‘I think we should put him on the servants’ pyre and burn him after Aulus has been laid to rest,’ she said. ‘He does not deserve such dignity, but he was a family member, after all.’

Marcus looked rebellious. ‘It is more than he merited. But the pyre is ready, and it would not take long. And he is my mother’s agnate – so I consent. Perhaps I shall provide some burial herbs for him – and even a coin for the ferryman.’

Late the next evening we were all awake. There was still the problem of the roundhouse site to be resolved. Gwellia and I had talked into the night, and decided that – for Juno and Cilla’s sake – we should honour the rituals of the Lemuria ourselves.

It was difficult to estimate when midnight had arrived, but in the event we need not have been concerned, because when it was approaching the appropriate hour Caper and Stygius came knocking at the gate. They had been selected because they found the corpse. Minimus and Maximus went out to let them in, and we could hear them chattering as they came up the path.

‘The family are ready. They’ve counted the black beans . . .’

‘And I’ve fetched clean water specially from the spring . . .’

‘And now they are waiting in the roundhouse with the ashes and the bronze . . .’

‘All dressed in their best Roman outfits,’ Maximus finished, ‘as you can see yourselves.’ He ushered the two land slaves into the roundhouse as he spoke.

We looked like a typical Roman household, in all sorts of ways. Two men in togas and two women citizens, with Kurso and the red-haired boys attending us as slaves – so it must have been surprising to find a Celtic central fire, and all the trappings of normal roundhouse life. Caper was delighted. ‘It’s just like home,’ he said.

Stygius stumped over, and said in his slow way, ‘I was to tell you, citizen, you were right about that note – the one that Lucius had sent to the fleet commander’s house. It was brought to the master just an hour or so ago. It said snakes in Britannia were not venomous enough, and they’d have to get a foreign one or wait till overseas. It’s enough to have the fleet commander brought in for questioning, and Hirsius and the entertainers – the mimic and the snake-charmer – will be arrested too. Marcus says that he’ll preside over their trial himself – he has decided to delay his travel for a little while, and he’ll have them all brought back to Glevum to appear before the court.’

I thought about Hirsius – his olive tunic, his large hands and his sandy hair. His lofty manner would be chastened now, the basalt eyes turned dull with fear and pain. As a mere slave his fate would be neither quick nor merciful – though doubtless the fleet commander and his wife would find an advocate, appeal to the Emperor, with sufficient bribes, and suffer nothing more than exile or a fine. It was hard to pity Hirsius, but I almost did.

‘So, if you are ready?’ Stygius prompted me.

I picked up a taper. ‘It’s time to go,’ I said, and one by one we filed out into the dark. It was cold and frosty, and the night was still, and it was eerie walking through the trees without a light. We came to the cleared site where the new roundhouse was to be, and formed into a circle round the fatal ditch.

Kurso brought the ash bowl and I placed my thumb in it and made a sign on my forehead, as I’d been told to do. Junio did the same, followed by all the women and the slaves – if there was any doubt about the efficacy of this ritual, I thought, I wanted it performed by all of us.

Maximus brought water, and I washed my hands – and this time it was only for the men. I felt a little foolish as I turned round three times, taking care I didn’t stumble: it was uneven underfoot, and to miss my footing would have been the worst of omens now. Minimus brought the beans – in the blackness they looked blacker still – and I took a handful and, with averted face, threw them behind me, saying nine times over the all-important words: ‘These beans I cast away, with these I redeem myself and mine.’

The words and actions were duly repeated by my son, and without a backward glance we began to walk away. Caper had been carrying a covered bowl of coals till now, and as I touched water, and clashed the bronzes I had brought, he whipped the lid off and there was suddenly a glow of cheerful light.

We fairly strode now, back the way we had come, Junio clashing the bronzes all the while and all of us demanding that the ghosts should take the beans, accept our offering and leave the place in peace. As I reached our own enclosure I heard a distant clang, and knew at the villa the same ceremony was taking place.

It must have been effective. Junio’s roundhouse has been built in almost record time and he and Cilla are moving into it. Marcus and Julia are so pleased with me they have gifted us the boys and given me the commission for the memorial pavement, too, for which they are promising to pay me handsomely. Little Niveus has been sold on again – slightly more confident than he was before – to a kindly master who is good to him. Even Morella’s mother has found a kind of peace: her husband was so frightened of reprisals that he has run away, and she and her daughters are farming in his place.

The trials were duly held. Hirsius was sentenced to death – as he well deserved – but found a way of taking poison in his cell. Perhaps the fleet commander had provided it, although – as I had predicted – he and his wife appealed to the Emperor and (no doubt at the cost of some exotic gift) managed to escape the justice of the courts. The snake-charmer and the mimic were not so fortunate.

Marcus’s mother, when she had recovered from the shock, declared that the whole thing was exactly what she had always feared, and might have been predicted if he’d listened to her dreams. She foresaw more evil auguries – and wrote to say so almost every day, right up to the time that Marcus and his family left for Rome. However, the honours that were piled upon him there must have made her wonder if the auguries were right.

My little household is as happy as it has ever been – without the slightest visitation of phantoms or bad luck. We must have pacified the Lemures that night.