Dark Omens (17 page)

It was well into the afternoon by now, and very cold indeed, and many of the forum stalls were starting to close down, including some of the money-lenders ranged around the wall. I sent Minimus away to light the workshop fire while I sought out the man I had borrowed from. I managed to catch him, but only just in time, just as he was gathering up his goods and preparing to depart.

He was a swarthy fellow, with small greedy eyes and a suspicious frown, and it was clear he was not altogether pleased to find me there. ‘Back to pay your loan off before it’s even due?’ he grumbled. ‘Trying to deprive me of my proper interest, I suppose.’

Nonetheless he sat down again, took my proffered aureus and (after I’d called upon a passing citizen to witness that I’d paid) tried it in his teeth, put it in his coffers and counted out the change. After the deductions it did not seem very much, and I was very glad that I had not been forced, like Cantalarius, to borrow more that I could possibly afford.

The thought persuaded me to say – in some vague hope of preventing the man from packing up and thus costing my neighbour interest for another day – ‘I may not be your last customer, even now. The citizen Cantalarius is hoping to arrive tonight and pay back what he owes.’

As soon as I had spoken, it occurred to me that my words were more likely to have the opposite effect and make the money-lender leave at once, but in fact he made no move at all – just looked up at me with a suspicious air. ‘Cantalarius? What has that to do with me?’

‘Perhaps you weren’t the one who lent to him?’ I murmured, foolishly.

The fellow shook his head. ‘Not me, citizen. I would not have lent him anything at all. And after that business in the temple, I don’t know who would! That man is obviously cursed.’ He spat on his finger and rubbed it on his ear, as if he needed to ward away ill-luck for simply having mentioned Cantalarius by name. ‘I wouldn’t even let his shadow fall upon my feet, for fear of his ill-fortune rubbing off on me.’

‘Because of what happened at the Agonalia sacrifice?’ I said, privately thinking that this attitude explained my neighbour’s troubles in obtaining loans. ‘But surely the offering to Janus has been safely made by now – and I happen to know that Cantalarius has made a cleansing ritual of his own.’

The money-lender stared. ‘But the trouble at the festival is only half of it.’ He saw that I was puzzled. ‘Don’t tell me that you don’t know what has happened now!’

‘I’m aware his last remaining land slave died today,’ I answered. ‘It’s most unfortunate. But there’s been a propitiation to the gods – even a donation to the temple here – and things should be better now.’

‘Who cares about a land slave?’ The fellow clambered to his feet and pulled his coloured head-dress closer round his face. He was shorter than I am, and he smelled of spice, but he leaned close to me and murmured in the direction of my ear, ‘It’s those missing Romans that have started all the talk. First that Genialis fellow—’

I interrupted him. ‘You heard that he was missing?’

He looked at me as though I were an idiot. ‘Well, hasn’t everyone? It’s no secret, citizen. Alfredus Allius was in the forum earlier, making a formal announcement to his creditors.’

‘Alfredus Allius!’ I exclaimed. There was another man I’d have to interview.

‘That’s right, citizen. He was a close associate of Genialis, it seems. In fact he lent him money, but the fellow disappeared – and no one else gets paid till he turns up again, alive or otherwise.’ His pig-like eyes were watery with mirth. ‘Most likely otherwise. Allius claims he has been missing for a day or two at least and now there is a search for him. Though I’ll wager that if they find him, they’ll find him dead.’

‘What makes you sure of that?’

‘I told you, citizen, it is all around the town – he was connected with that Janus sacrifice and there’s a curse on everyone who was concerned with that. Mind you, there is another rumour that he laid that curse himself, because he wanted to donate the offering.’ He stopped and looked at me. ‘Why are you so interested in all this in any case? You mentioned that accursed Cantalarius, – you are not a friend of his, I hope, or you’ll be bringing ill-fortune on everyone, yourself!’

‘I’ve had business dealings with him, that is all,’ I said, feeling like a traitor as I spoke. ‘I’ve hired a mule from him.’

The money-lender wafted spice at me again. ‘Then I should get it back to him as soon as possible, if you don’t want to be the next to feel the anger of the Fates. They say it’s touching everyone that has to do with him. Even the temple priests are not exempt, it seems. And now they’ve found that body in the ice …’

‘Body!’ The word was startled out of me.

But I had shown too much interest. ‘You want more information, citizen? You can attract ill-luck, you know, by too much talk of it. I’m not sure I should take the risk of saying any more. Unless, of course, you wanted to make it worth my while …’ He rubbed two fingers up against his thumb in the universal sign that money was required.

I found a sestertius and held it out of reach. ‘This if you earn it. Now tell me what you know. They have found a body – but it wasn’t Genialis, is that right?’

‘I haven’t seen it, citizen, so I couldn’t swear to it!’ He eyed the money greedily. ‘All know is that they say it was the priest.’

‘The priest?’ I was turning into Echo, in the legend of the Greeks.

‘The one who let the ram go at the Janus festival,’ he said. ‘Or half of him, at least. First they were looking for him shortly after dawn – he hadn’t gone to the morning sacrifice – and then some peasant came rushing into the forum with the news. He and his brother were looking for firewood on the forest path and they saw this pair of feet and legs sticking from a pile of snow out on a pond. Though Jove only knows what the old man was doing in the woods in this inclement weather anyway.’

On his way to visit Cantalarius, I thought, when some unpleasant accident had befallen him. So that is why he hadn’t turned up at the farm! I wondered how Cantalarius would feel when he found out. Perhaps there really was a curse!

My informant was still telling me his tale. ‘Anyway, when this peasant went to take a closer look, he found that legs and feet was almost all there was left of him – there wasn’t any head, or any chest and shoulders come to that.’

That caught my interest, of course. ‘If there’s no head, then how can they be sure it is the priest?’ I said, wondering if it might be Genialis after all.

‘There are lots of theories about that, but I believe it was the sandals that they recognized. A very fancy pair. That’s what brought the peasant rushing into town. He thought he’d seen the old priest wearing them – and the temple sent slaves out to verify the fact. They must have done so, because they brought the body back this very afternoon. There won’t be a big state funeral, I understand – that would take some time to organize and they want to cleanse the temple as fast as possible. It’s an evil augury to have only half a corpse. Looks as if he found his way into a frozen ditch and drowned: he was lying head downwards in the ice. Everyone is saying it is the curse, of course.’

‘So what happened to the rest of him?’ I said, half to myself.

The money-lender shrugged. ‘The gods alone know, citizen. Looked as it if had been hacked away or gnawed – though his clothes were still there with him, mostly floating underneath the ice. Apparently they’ve brought those back as well. Perhaps a wolf or something got the rest of him. And that is all I know.’ He made a lunge towards the coin.

I pulled it back and held it high above his reach. ‘An underwater wolf?’ I shook my head. ‘I don’t believe that, townsman, any more than you! Though I suppose it might be Druids. Have they thought of that?’ The old religion had been banned of course, but there had been Druid rebels active hereabouts – often targeting the Roman soldiery and hewing off their heads to hang in sacred groves, as an offering to the woodland gods. ‘A priest might be a target for them, I suppose.’

The money-lender stared at me as though I were insane. ‘When did Druids ever hack off more than just the head? Or leave a body where it would not instantly be found? I told you, citizen, it is the curse at work. Mind you, it’s my belief he brought it on himself. The man was old and sick, by all accounts, and should have been retired from the priesthood long ago. Couldn’t be relied upon to perform the rituals. I wasn’t at the sacrifice, of course – I’m not a citizen – but I’ve heard it was his fault that it had to be postponed.’

I nodded. ‘He let the ram get free and spoil the sacrifice.’

He spat on his finger and rubbed his ear with it then fingered a good-luck amulet that he wore round his wrist. ‘Well, if he did offend the gods, he’s paid the price for it. And so will we, if we keep on like this. I said before, one can attract a curse by dwelling on its power.’

I was no longer listening. I was trying to make sense of all that I’d just heard. ‘It can’t have been the same body that Cantalarius saw,’ I said, scarcely aware that I had said the words aloud. ‘That was days ago, before the feast. So there must have been two separate corpses at the pond. I wonder if that earlier one was Gen …?’ I shook my head. ‘That can’t be so; the body was being rescued then by passers-by, so if it had been a wealthy Roman in a toga we would have heard of it. Someone would have wanted a reward – just like that peasant who came running in today.’

But I had dropped my guard. The money-lender made a lunge and seized the coin, and – even before I could protest – he had bent down and snatched up his cushion and his box and was scuttling away across the forum, his coloured head-scarf bobbing as he ran.

F
or a moment I stood there, staring after him.

Of it course it was possible that his shocking information was only partly true: some half-heard story that had spread around the town, getting more and more distorted as it went. Or it might be a confusion of different incidents – after all there had been a body at the pond some day before. Everybody knows how rumours alter as they spread.

And then it struck me. Why was I supposing the same pool was involved? The money-lender hadn’t mentioned where the corpse was found. I was beginning to conflate the two events myself. This was probably not even on the southern side of the town. Though, come to think of it, if the body was the priest’s, I thought I knew a reason why he might have gone that way.

I shook my head. I could not really credit that the corpse was his. A priest does not go missing from the temple unobserved – he would always have an acolyte or slave attending him. Besides, he’d been alive and active only yesterday, talking to Cantalarius in the afternoon – no doubt there would be witnesses to that – so even if he had died overnight, how he could be half-eaten in so short a time? Unless there really was a curse, of course.

But I didn’t honestly believe there was a curse at all. Call me cynical, but when there’s a violent death that’s unexplained, I usually suspect a human cause. This began to look like murder, and a nasty one at that. But who would want to murder a harmless, rather doddering, ancient priest – let alone divide his corpse up afterwards? And – more important – who would ever dare? The earthly penalties for such an act were terrible enough, but nothing compared to the almost certain retribution by the gods. Even rebel Druids would baulk at such a thought.

In fact if half a body had been found today, I thought, perhaps it was really Genialis after all. I could invent a plausible story to account for that. Suppose, for instance, that he’d fallen off his horse, been found by the wayside by a pack of starving wolves, dragged into a snow-drift while they were eating him and then abandoned when they were frightened off? That would make more sense of the timetable at least. And it was just possible. A pair of fancy sandals were no proof of anything, whatever the members of the temple said. Genialis, I remembered, had fancy sandals too.

There was one obvious flaw in this convenient theory, though. If this was Genialis, what had happened to the priest? Presumably he wasn’t at the temple now, or no one would ever have supposed that the legs and feet were his. But how could he have got out unobserved? Surely he would never have set off alone for Cantalarius’s farm, and in the dark – since he was missed before the morning sacrifice at dawn? Or had he, for some reason, done exactly that? In which case, was it possible the rumours were all true and was this really the corpse of the old sacerdos, foiling my poor neighbour’s hoped-for sacrifice again?

My mind was going in circles. I was back where I began. It was obvious I must discover more.

My first thought was to call into the temple and enquire. For one thing, I could ask about the movements of the priest and find out, for instance, who had seen him last; and for another I might even get a look at the remains – if they really had been brought there as the money-lender thought. That would settle the question of whose legs they were – Genialis was much stouter than the skinny priest. But wouldn’t the temple have noticed such a thing themselves, if the wrong body had been brought to them? Well, there was only one way to find out.

I hurried to the temple, but as I climbed the steps I found my way was courteously barred. An apologetic but determined temple slave had stepped out from between the pillars and was standing in my path – quite deliberately to stop me getting in. It was not difficult for him to do. He was a man of vast proportions: not quite the tallest person I had ever seen, nor quite the widest either, but approximating both. He was olive-skinned and looked as if he’d once been beautiful – though now his neck and arms were wreathed in folds of fat – and he was resplendent in his dark-red temple slave tunic.

So it was rather like encountering a hill in uniform, as he appeared in front of me, blocking my view and saying in a strangely high and piping voice, ‘I’m sorry, citizen. The shrine is closed today.’

I tried to see round him, but he moved to block my view. ‘But I have business …’ I protested.

He shook his head, jangling the golden hoops that dangled from his ears, and folded his huge arms across his chest. ‘No entrance is permitted this evening, I’m afraid. There’s been a tragic incident and the necessary rituals of cleansing are taking place. I don’t know when the temple will be functioning again. There’ll be a formal announcement on these steps tomorrow at midday. Other shrines are open if you wish to purchase votive offerings. If you have a prayer or curse tablet that you particularly want to present to one of our three Capitoline gods, and you are in a hurry, I can attend to that for you – or deal with any donation that you hope to make.’