Dark Omens (16 page)

He looked at me intently. A cloud seemed to have lifted from his brow. ‘You think that little sacrifice alone might pacify the gods? Even without the involvement of a priest?’

I was about to offer more assurances but suddenly I realized what he’d said. ‘Without the priest?’ I echoed. ‘You mean that after all he would not agree to come?’

Cantalarius turned away and kicked a pebble with his toe. When he spoke his voice was curiously calm. ‘Oh, he agreed to come all right – I even went out with my mule to meet him on the way – but he did not arrive at the appointed place. I thought at first that he’d simply changed his mind, though I’d paid him everything we had.’

‘Including that ancestral god of yours?’ I said.

He nodded. ‘Including that, although he jeered at it. But evidently even that was not enough.’

I stared at the altar. ‘But what about the sacrifice?’ I murmured stupidly. ‘It’s obviously been made.’

‘I was so desperate and furious that I made the offerings myself – though my wife insists that I should not have done it on my own. She is convinced that I have only made things worse.’ He made a wry face. ‘She is beside herself with worry, as you may observe. So when young Sordinus came hurrying to the pyre –’ he gestured to the hill, where fitful smoke still curled into the air – ‘and made signs to us that there was someone here …’

‘Your wife thought I’d brought a message from the temple?’ I supplied.

He nodded. ‘Sordinus cannot talk, of course, so he could not explain. Perhaps Gitta was expecting an apology – or at the least for the goods to be returned …’

‘Or even that the priest had come at last,’ I finished. ‘But by that time, of course, it would have been too late. You had already made the sacrifice. And your poor land slave was already dead.’ I gestured to the pyre.

‘Gitta is inclined to blame me for that too,’ he muttered bitterly. ‘Thinks it is a judgement from the gods.’

‘Because you were making the sacrifice yourself? But surely you’ve performed such rituals before?’

‘Many times, citizen. And at this very altar. As paterfamilias I’ve made a lot of offerings at the household shrine. But I’d moved the statue, and what’s more I’d vowed upon that altar that there would be a priest today – promised the gods a proper sacrifice this time, and once again I failed. So the death of the land slave was the final straw. It happened just as I was lifting the sacrificial knife. That’s what upset my wife. She is sure that I have angered the ancestral deities and increased the curse instead of lifting it.’

I nodded. Suddenly her agitation did not seem so strange. ‘But you went ahead and finished the acts of sacrifice?’

He shrugged. ‘I had to do something, citizen. I couldn’t interrupt the rituals again, or Gitta would have left me there and then. I’m not sure that she won’t do so, even now. It’s all the fault of that confounded sacerdos. If he hadn’t ruined my attempt at sacrifice in town, all this would never have occurred.’ He spoke with such feeling that I was surprised.

‘You are not convinced that you have raised the curse yourself?’ I said. ‘Of course, he promised he would come and I can see that you are angry, but consider this – if he had turned up and made a mess of it again, wouldn’t that have been still more unfortunate?’

He looked thoughtfully at me. ‘You are right, of course. And I confess that I was furious with his failure to appear. Though now that I realize it was not his fault at all …’

I interrupted him, surprised. ‘Why not, if he had agreed a fee? You had a legal contract, didn’t you?’

It was his turn to look astonished. ‘Did you not just tell me he was missing in the snow, and although they’d searched for him it was feared that he was dead?’ He saw me staring in surprise, and added mournfully, ‘The man who was to make the Janus sacrifice, you said.’

And then – at last – I understood his shock. ‘You thought I meant the priest! What did you suppose? That your curse had struck again and all this had happened on his way to you?’ I shook my head. ‘Well, don’t worry. This is not about the priest. I was talking about the man who wanted to provide the ram. Genialis, the would-be councillor.’ Cantalarius still looked puzzled so I added helpfully, ‘The man that I was making that hurried pavement for.’

An expression of bemusement crossed my neighbour’s face. ‘So the priest …?’

I put my arm around his crooked back. ‘I’m very much afraid that he has simply let you down.’ I realized he was shaking with relief, and I said, to comfort him, ‘I’ll mention that to Marcus when I see him, too – if you had a spoken contract, you have a case in law. It’s not much consolation, I’m aware – especially where a member of the priesthood is concerned. He’ll only claim you simply made a donation to the shrine, but all the same, the intervention of our most senior magistrate might persuade him to attempt some compromise. And in the meantime, I’d still like to hire your mule.’ I tried a sympathetic smile. ‘Perhaps the fifth part of an aureus will help persuade your wife that the sacrifice you offered was not a bad thing after all?’

He managed to summon a rueful smile at this and summoned Gitta from inside the house. She still seemed ready to hector and complain, but once her husband had explained affairs to her, she brightened up remarkably, and when she heard about my offer for the mule, she was positively anxious for him to seal the contract, there and then.

‘It is surer profit than attempting to sell leeks and cabbages,’ she said, suddenly business-like and adopting a judicious air. ‘Let him hire both of them, husband, if he likes, and look for this unlucky councillor.’

I was about to protest – I didn’t want to do anything of the sort – but Cantalarius was already waving this aside.

‘I shall require one animal to go to town myself – with the money that Libertus has agreed to pay, we shall have enough to buy some more feed for the stock. With luck we may keep the rest of them alive until the weather breaks.’

I beamed at her. ‘You see? That sacrifice your husband made has obviously worked – the gods are seeing fit to change your luck at last.’

She seemed about to speak but he prevented her, raising a hand and looking indulgently at her. ‘Perhaps the citizen is right. Things are looking hopeful, for a change. Nonetheless, wife, one of us should go back and attend the funeral pyre – otherwise we shall offend the netherworld again. We are already in danger of not showing the dead enough respect. You go back and take over the lament. Sordinus cannot do it, and it must be done. I will take the citizen to select his mule then I’ll come to you and conclude the rituals.’

Gitta nodded. ‘Perhaps I was wrong about that offering after all,’ she said.

Then she turned and went hurrying off, while her husband led me and Minimus back to where the mules were kept.

W
hen we reached the wickerwork stockade pen, Cantalarius raised the rope loop which secured the woven gate and escorted myself and Minimus inside. The field was small and muddy and the two animals were at the other end, snuffling at the wisp or two of hay still lying in the trough.

‘You have contrived to keep these fed throughout, I see?’ I said.

‘I had to, neighbour,’ he said glumly, ‘or we would have starved, ourselves. I needed them to take my wares to town to sell. Or to offer to the temple, come to that. Though it has not been easy, once or twice. Between these mules and trying to keep that unblemished ram alive we’ve had empty bellies more than once this moon – animals that starve to death have little meat on them. Though Gitta did manage to make some soup from two poor scraggy ewes, with some of the blighted cabbage which was not fit to sell.’ He gave a mirthless laugh. ‘At least with all the servants dead there are fewer mouths to feed.’

I nodded. ‘There must have been some hard decisions, I can see.’

A strange expression spread across the ugly face. ‘The truth is, neighbour, I’ve done a stupid thing – though I did not wish to tell you when my wife could hear. But things were desperate. I had to feed the mules …’ He trailed off, uncomfortably.

‘Go on!’ I prompted. ‘If you have been begging, I shan’t inform on you.’ Beggars are officially forbidden in the town but people who are driven to it have my sympathy.

‘I wish it were that simple,’ he said soberly, making me wonder for a moment if he’d been stealing feed – for which of course the penalty was severe.

‘Fortunately, since you are a Roman citizen, even theft is not a capital offence,’ I hazarded, though the alternative – four-fold reparation and a swinging fine – was not much comfort, I could see. They’d seize the farm to pay it, and he’d lose everything.

But that was not the trouble either, it appeared.

He shook his head. ‘It’s like this, citizen Libertus. When I went into Glevum to the temple yesterday, I had to cross the marketplace, of course. I found there was a little hay and oats for sale – someone had succeeded in bringing in a cartful from their store, though naturally they wanted an enormous price for it and by that time I had given everything I had to bribe the priest. But I was desperate. I was right beside the forum and … I don’t know how it happened, but temptation was too great …’ He stopped and looked at me.

‘You borrowed from the money-lenders!’ I exclaimed. I saw his expression of surprised relief and gave him a wry smile. ‘Don’t worry, friend – you’re not the only one.’

He was silent for a moment, as if he couldn’t quite work out the force of that. Then he said, slowly, ‘You went to them, yourself?’

I nodded. ‘I think that half the town has been reduced to it.’ In a burst of fellow-feeling I reached out and patted him on his crooked arm. ‘And don’t fear I’ll tell your wife. I haven’t told mine, either. Your secret’s safe with me. Besides, when I have paid you for the mule you will have the wherewithal to clear the debt. Or some of it, at least.’

After that it did not take us long to shake upon the contract for the hire. I was to have the stronger of the mules for as long as I required, with permission to use it in any way I wished, on condition that I provided food and stabling for it and returned it ‘before the Ides in as good condition as I found it’ – a proviso I agreed to easily enough, as it was hard to see how the poor beast’s condition could well be worse.

Then it came to payment. I’d agreed a fifth of an aureus, of course, and there was also the two sesterces that I already owed – but I had no coin smaller than an aureus itself, and I had fully expected to have to leave one here as a kind of surety for the animal. However Cantalarius reached down his tunic-neck and produced a leather purse that dangled on string, and to my amazement he unloosed the cord and solemnly counted out my change: a gold quinarius-aureus (or ‘half-aureus’ as he called it) and seven silver denarii, saying as he did so, ‘Seventy-eight sesterces, I believe that’s right?’

‘You borrowed all that from the money-lenders?’ I exclaimed. Suddenly my humble debt seemed insignificant.

He sighed. ‘An aureus – they would not lend me less, though I only needed a fraction of that sum.’

I nodded. ‘And it must be due by now.’ There’d been a rush, of course, and – unlike me – Cantalarius had no powerful patron to protect him, so the money-lenders could dictate their terms. ‘But if you get back today,’ I told him earnestly, ‘you can repay it all before the interest starts to mount too much. And maybe even have enough to buy a bit more feed – supposing that it’s still available. Though I suppose you’ll have to finish at the pyre before you go.’

‘Exactly what I hope that I’ll have time to do!’ He was already hurrying over to a stone store hut near the gate, and producing a pannier saddle which he and Minimus threw across the mule. ‘So you understand that I need to hurry back?’

I understood him better than he thought. I was in haste to reach the town myself, so I was glad to give a hand to tie the saddle on, and a few moments later I was on the creature’s back. ‘Do you think that she could take my slave as well?’ I murmured, as Minimus took the rope and prepared to lead us out on to the road.

‘I’d give her a minute to get used to you – but she’s the stronger one and she is used to taking loads.’ Cantalarius held the gate open to let us through.

‘Till the Ides, then – or sooner if the weather breaks!’ I called out cheerfully, as Minimus tugged the tether and we bounced out on to the road. The poor mule was so bony that I feared to break its back but it was walking willingly enough.

‘She’s called Arlina!’ Cantalarius shouted back. He closed the gate of the enclosure after us then turned and hurried off towards his pyre.

‘What makes you smile, Master?’ Minimus enquired, turning his head to look at me. Up to then he had been staring at the path, picking his way with care among the icy stones.

I grinned at him. ‘I was laughing at the name he gives the mule. The word means “oath” in Celtic, so it doesn’t promise well! Though she seems tractable enough while you are leading her. I wonder if she’d walk without the rope? Let it go a moment.’ I pressed my knees into the mule to urge it on.

In fact, I need not have been concerned. Arlina proved amenable enough in either mode – indeed she even seemed to know the way and, when we reached the junction where my roundhouse was, turned without the slightest prompting on our part towards the ancient track towards the town. It felt quite strange to ride straight past my home like that, but Gwellia glimpsed me and came running to the gate.

‘I’m glad to see you’ve got the mule!’ she called. ‘But don’t go taking any risks with it.’ She saw that Minimus had slowed the animal, and she shook her head at him. ‘Don’t stop now – you’ll only have to hurry later if you do, and it’s such a skinny creature it might not have the strength!’ She stood at the gatepost and waved us out of sight.

I was starting to have confidence in the animal by now and a little further on, where the road got steep and difficult and Minimus was beginning to slide and stumble on the ice, I paused and pulled him up to sit in front of me. To my delight the mule seemed wholly unconcerned, so we rode in this fashion until the town wall came into sight.

Of course I had nowhere to accommodate an animal at my shop (as I had said to Gwellia earlier) but one of the hiring stable owners just outside the southern gates was a man with whom I’d had dealings once or twice before. In this dreadful weather he was short of trade and he took Arlina willingly enough – though at a fee of course. So we left the creature, hungrily munching silage in a stall, while Minimus and I went hurrying into town.