Authors: Chelsea Quinn Yarbro
Tags: #Fantasy, #Fantasy Fiction, #Fiction, #General, #Historical, #Horror, #Occult & Supernatural, #Historical Fiction, #Vampires, #Rome, #Saint-Germain
Roman Dusk (31 page)
Stung by these implications, Sanct-Franciscus responded sharply. “But I cannot ascertain who claims this, or why, can I?”
“No; since you are not a Roman,” said Lucillius.
“But it is known that you didn’t pursue the slave in the courts. You allowed him to live, when you might have demanded his life.” Fabricius raised his eyes again, his expression hardening.
“Is that the extent of my perfidy?” Sanct-Franciscus said, once again lightening his tone. “That I did not try to have the slave killed?”
“That is a portion of the reason,” said Lucillius, suddenly cautious.
Sanct-Franciscus allowed himself a short chuckle. “And how could I—an exile in Roma—demand that the Romans in Alexandria condemn a slave for theft? I would have no authority to require such a response—if I did, it might have been assumed I wanted to silence the slave, for I no longer owned him, and that would make for harsher accusations than the present inquiry implies.” He went to the window and tapped on the translucent panes of thin, polished alabaster. “I have done what would be least intrusive under Roman law, and now it seems that my very scrupulousness has brought me under suspicion.”
Lucillius gestured his helplessness. “It is often so.”
“At least you have been willing to abide by the laws of Roma, and respected our gods,” said Fabricius, trying to put a good face on Sanct-Franciscus’ predicament. “That is to your credit.”
“As we must hope,” Lucillius amended. “If it is determined that your compliance is actually an attempt to cover nefarious dealings, as you have proposed, well—” He shrugged.
“In any case, I can see that I am at a disadvantage,” said Sanct-Franciscus, unwelcome recollections of his last sojourn in Roma reminding him of how easily and how far a foreigner could fall. “It appears that the only thing I can do for now is to wait—wait until the Curia decides.”
“It will take time for all the reports on your trading enterprises to be prepared and presented to the Curia for their evaluation of your probity.” Lucillius had more crab, then regarded Fabricius. “How long do you think this should take?”
“Perhaps six months,” said Fabricius, “if there are no delays in securing the reports requested.”
“Six months,” Sanct-Franciscus repeated.
“If they get to it promptly, and all the reports provided are complete.” Fabricius wiped his hands on the moist cloth provided for that purpose. “It could be twice as long.”
“That is not a very pleasant prospect,” said Sanct-Franciscus. “I wonder if I will be allowed to continue to trade while the Curia examines my accounts: do either of you know?”
“It may come to that,” said Lucillius. “Or they may require a bond from you while their assessment is ongoing.”
“In other words, the Curia and their decuriae will do their utmost to tie my hands and limit my access to them while they decide if I have been too honest or not honest enough,” said Sanct-Franciscus sardonically.
“Something of the sort, I fear,” said Lucillius, adding more wine to his partially empty cup; color was rising in his cheeks, and his face softened.
“And I am not to have direct contact with Desiderius Vulpius, or any of the others: Senator Italicus Romulus Primus Puero, or the illustriatus Cosimus Isidorus Crispus Horens, or Demetrius Numa Tarquinius Augustulus, or Ireaus Antonius Propinus, or Sovertius Gratians, or any other honoratus or illustriatus with whom I have had a business association, no matter how remote?” He nodded, certain of the answer. “If I am tainted, so they could be equally besmirched—is that the gist of it?”
“I understand why you are dismayed,” said Lucillius, wary of the sharpness of Sanct-Franciscus’ tone.
“I should hope so,” Sanct-Franciscus said. “You would be outraged if the Curia should impose such restrictions upon you.”
“Yes,” said Fabricius. “But we are Romans, after all.”
“And I am a foreigner in exile.” Sanct-Franciscus paced the length of the study, then stopped still. “Very well: so long as I am kept informed—regularly informed—of the progress of the investigation, I will abide by the restrictions placed upon me, at least for the period of a year. If the inquiry lasts longer, I will seek to find other avenues by which to resolve my predicament.” He could see that his indignation was having the desired impact on his visitors, and he decided to use that response to his advantage. “If you will swear to me that you will see to it that I am given accurate reports every month, you have my assurance that I will do my utmost to assist the Curia in its inquiries.”
Lucillius pressed his lips together, considering how to answer. “So you will not seek to block or oppose them? You’re willing to let the probe go forth?”
“I am not in a position to stop it,” Sanct-Franciscus admitted. “If it is to be brought to a swift conclusion, I will have to aid the Curia, not try to hinder its tasks.”
“A most … reasonable position,” said Fabricius, doing his best to conceal his surprise.
“Would a more belligerent one make this any easier?” Sanct-Franciscus inquired with an air of worn geniality.
“Probably not,” said Lucillius.
Sanct-Franciscus regarded his two visitors narrowly. “Will you swear?”
“Of course,” said Lucillius. “I have done enough business through you that I know you are forthright in your dealings. I will say as much to the Curia, and I will see that you are provided monthly reports from the decuriae assigned to your case.”
“Among the decuriae, I don’t suppose there is one called Telemachus Batsho, is there?” Sanct-Franciscus asked, a slight, saturnine smile tweaking the corners of his mouth.
“I don’t recognize the name,” said Fabricius, just a little too quickly.
“He may be one,” said Lucillius, with feigned indifference. “If you want to know, I will—” He drank the last of his wine in a single, large gulp.
“No; I was only curious,” said Sanct-Franciscus, convinced now that Batsho was the instigator of this punitive investigation. He indicated the tray of viands. “Enjoy yourselves as long as you like, honestiora; my slaves will bring you more wine and food if you want them.”
“But you … you should be with us,” said Fabricius, hastily drinking wine to help swallow his mouthful of pillow-bread. “Your hospitality is exemplary, but we have no wish to impose upon you.”
“You do not impose. I will return shortly; if I am not to call upon Vulpius, I must alert my stables and my staff.” He nodded once and strode out of the study, making his way to his private apartments without unseemly haste. Here he found Rugeri setting out a dark-red laena in anticipation of his leaving. “Do not bother,” he said in Greek.
Rugeri looked up, startled. “My master?” he said in the same tongue.
“I will not be calling upon Vulpius today.” He quickly summed up what his two unexpected guests had told him, adding only, “We must be very cautious now, my friend.”
“Cautious? Perhaps it would be better to visit Alexandria, or Gallia,” Rugeri suggested.
“That would only confirm the Curia’s worst misgivings. No. This must be handled carefully, and in full view of Roma, or I will lose my businesses and jeopardize Olivia in the process.” He paused. “My various associates will have to be warned, inconspicuously, if possible.”
“Then what do you propose to do?” asked Rugeri.
Sanct-Franciscus put the tips of his fingers together, saying, “I am going to write a note to my scribe at the villa; I will need Natalis to carry it for me.”
“Natalis?” Rugeri was somewhat alarmed. “Do you want to trust him with such a delicate mission?”
“He can leave the city—and return—without being seen, and just now, that will be important, I believe; I dare not carry it myself, or write the letters of warning, for my handwriting would reveal that the notification came from me, and that would mean trouble if the notes are revealed to the Curia, as I must assume will happen if the Curia is determined to do a thorough inquiry. So the warnings must be anonymous, and from outside the city. For the rest, I will have to rely on Natalis’ discretion.” Sanct-Franciscus went to the small writing table under the window. “While I prepare the note, will you find Natalis and bring him here?”
“Without the household being made aware of it?” Rugeri ventured, and saw Sanct-Franciscus nod. “I will.”
Sanct-Franciscus took an ink-cake from the drawer in the desk, and a rolled sheet of vellum from the pigeon-holes above the desktop, then drew up a stool and prepared to write. By the time Rugeri returned with Natalis, the note was finished and sealed, and the seal impressed with Sanct-Franciscus’ eclipse sigil.
“My master,” the two men said almost in unison.
“Thank you for being so prompt,” Sanct-Franciscus said, turning to them. “I have something for you to do, Natalis.” He indicated the folded note. “It is essential that this reach Villa Ragoczy before sunset. Do you think you can do it?”
Natalis considered. “If you mean delivered there without being seen, as your manservant has told me, then I hope I can. If I can get past the Praetorian Camp, then there should be no trouble.”
Sanct-Franciscus considered this. “You may remain there at the villa for the night, provided you can do so unseen. This is for my scribe, Deomadus—for him and no other. Make sure he reads it immediately. You may return before sunrise if it suits your purpose, so long as no one is aware of your coming and going.” He offered the folded-and-sealed vellum to Natalis. “There will be aurea waiting for you for your efforts upon your return.”
“Most generous,” mumbled Natalis as he took it.
“I shall expect you before the sun has been up for two hours.”
“I will be here,” said Natalis. “Or I will be in prison.”
Sanct-Franciscus gave a crack of laughter. “Then I will send out slaves to pay your fines, if you are.”
Rugeri glanced around the room. “Do you want him to leave from here; from this room?”
“Certainly,” said Sanct-Franciscus, indicating a closet on the far side of the chamber. “Use those stairs. They will bring you out behind the stable, away from the Temple of Hercules and facing the alley to the Via Castrum.” He saw the surprise on Natalis’ face. “You did not know about this staircase?”
“No.” Natalis seemed a bit ashamed of this lapse.
Sanct-Franciscus used a key to open the closet door. “Rugeri will be here to unlock the door if I am not,” he said, stepping aside for Natalis. “The lower door will be left open until the third hour after sunrise, and then I will lock it.”
“I understand,” said Natalis, slipping the vellum into his wallet. “I will strive to do as you wish. The note is for your scribe, who is named Deomadus. I may remain at the villa so long as I am hidden, at least until the hour before dawn.”
“Precisely,” said Sanct-Franciscus. “Now you must be about your errand, and I must return to my … guests.” As he closed the door behind Natalis, Rugeri folded his arms. “What is it? You do not trust him?”
“Do you?” Rugeri countered.
“We shall see,” said Sanct-Franciscus, making for the door and the gallery beyond.
“That we will,” said Rugeri as he picked up the laena and returned it to its peg on the wall.
Text of a letter from Melidulci at Misenum to Ragoczy Germainus Sanct-Franciscus in Roma; carried by private courier.
To my most worthy and esteemed Patron, the honestiorus Ragoczy Germainus Sanct-Franciscus, the greetings of Melidulci from Misenum and the Villa Solea, on the north side of the town, a thousand paces from the Via Appia,
This is to tell you that I have found my home, and I should be content to remain here for the rest of my days. This estate is small—five hundred paces on a side—and producing grapes, fruits, olives, and greens, as well as grazing cattle and goats. I have five horses, a pair of mules, and a donkey, fourteen slaves, and three freemen to handle market-days for me. The setting is private, but not so remote that I might as well be in Germania Inferior. My house has ten rooms, a large kitchen-and-bake-house, a bath and a building-shed. There are two springs on the property, so water is not a problem, and the fields are drained by ditches that carry the water and offal to the sea. All in all, it is everything I could wish for, and I thank you for the loan of the money to buy it. As my fields bear fruit I will repay you on the terms you agreed to, for I cannot accept such an extravagant gift from you, not and hold my head up.
If ever you should want to visit me here, I would welcome you. I know you must have many invitations, and many must be more worthy than mine, but none, I assure you, is more sincere than this one, and for that reason alone, I hope you will one day permit me to offer you the same hospitality you extended to me in those hard days in Roma. We have had such pleasant moments together, we may still have one or two more, to enrich our memories.
Fortunately, I have found a scribe—a freedman, and therefore a citizen—a sensible fellow from Brundisium, who is called Lars, for the Etruscan from whom he claims descent. He has been educated in Greek as well as Latin, in keeping accounts and making records, so I will have nothing to fear from the decuriae when it is time to pay my taxes, or to deal with the officials of the region. This Lars is clean-faced and steady of gaze, of modest demeanor without being subservient, but he is somewhat short-sighted, which, in spite of spectacles, has inclined him to scholarly pursuits rather than a more active life. You may write to me in confidence, knowing that Lars will reveal nothing of my business to anyone.
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