‘Citizen?’ His voice had not yet broken.
‘I have come to see Fortunatus,’ I said again.
Now it was panic which raced across the boy’s features. He was half my size, but he stationed himself firmly outside the nearest door, his arms and legs spread out as though physically to prevent my reaching it. ‘My master is resting,’ he said breathlessly. ‘I have orders not to admit anyone.’
‘What is going on up there?’ To my surprise, the gatekeeper had abandoned his post and lumbered over to the stairwell.
‘He is demanding to see Fortunatus,’ the boy said. ‘I’ve told him…’
‘I told him, too,’ the burly slave replied, starting menacingly up the stairs. All affability had disappeared from his manner now.
I was more than a match for the slave-boy, but this guard was a different matter. I was beginning to fear for my safety when I remembered something that I should have thought of before. I was still carrying the governor’s warrant in my belt. I produced it now, with a flourish.
‘I am on official business,’ I said, brandishing the seal. ‘In the name of His Excellence, the Governor Pertinax, I demand to speak to Fortunatus.’
The two men looked at one another. Then the guard shrugged. ‘Well,’ he said to the slave-boy, ‘it is over to you. This is none of my business.’ He trudged away down the stairs and back to his gate.
The boy looked at me helplessly, but a warrant was a warrant. In any case, I was bigger than he was. With obvious reluctance he pushed open the door and stood back to let me pass. I went into Fortunatus’ chamber.
It was not a grand room, for such a wealthy man. Of course, Fortunatus, like others of his profession, had purchased himself private quarters elsewhere. When his contract expired — or he could buy himself out of it — he would doubtless retire there in luxury. In the meantime, it seemed that these simple quarters provided by the team sufficed. The window-space was still half shuttered, but there was enough light to make out the main features of the room. There was a wooden chest for his possessions, a chipped pottery bowl and jug, a battered stool beside the window and a cot, of sorts, on which I could dimly make out a huddled form, completely hidden under a pile of woven blankets.
‘He is resting, citizen, as you see,’ the slave muttered, indicating the bed.
I found myself nodding reluctantly. Perhaps my suspicions had been ill founded, and Fortunatus really had sustained a dreadful injury. Certainly the figure on the bed was horribly motionless — like a man in one of those deep swoons that lasts for days. I was about to mutter my apologies and make a rather embarrassed retreat when the attendant spoke again.
‘He shouldn’t be disturbed, citizen, so if you have quite finished here. .’
He was so agitated in his manner that a horrible misgiving dawned on me. Suppose Fortunatus was not merely sleeping, but dead? Was that why the slave was so anxious to get rid of me? The more I looked, the more suspicious I became. I moved a little closer, but I could detect no sound of breathing. The huddled blankets did not rise or fall.
With a sudden movement I seized the bed coverings and pulled them clear. It was a risk, I knew. I was prepared for almost anything — a bloodied corpse, a headless trunk, the horrible contortions of a poison victim. What I found was a bundle of loose straw, tied roughly in the proportions of a man.
Fortunatus was not there at all.
I rounded on the slave, but he was already bolting towards the door. I started after him, as fast as my ageing bones would permit, and managed to seize the shoulder of his blue tunic as he made off down the stairs.
‘Stay there!’ I panted — he was trying to tear himself free. ‘Or I’ll have the governor’s guard come for you and take you in charge.’
It was an empty threat, but it halted him, and he permitted himself to be hauled back to the landing, where he stood before me literally quivering with fear, his eyes fixed abjectly on his sandal straps.
‘Well?’ I demanded. ‘What have you to say for yourself?’
For a moment there was no sound but whimpering, and when he raised his eyes at last they were brimming with tears. He took one terrified and sobbing breath, and then to my consternation he flung himself full-length at my feet. ‘Have mercy, citizen,’ he begged, clutching at my toga hem. ‘You don’t know what they are like! They would have beaten me to death if I had simply let you in!’
I began to murmur that the law did not permit it, but that only made him sob the more.
‘Never mind the law! I’ve seen them do it before, with people who have crossed them. Terrible accidents happen around horses — something would have happened to me. They would have seen to that.’ He gave a despairing wail as the full horror dawned on him. ‘They’ll probably do it anyway, if the governor doesn’t have me executed first, for trying to deceive you! And you carrying his warrant, too! Oh, dear Mercury! What am I to do?’
I took him by the shoulder of his tunic and hoisted him upright. I had some sympathy, naturally — I have been a slave myself and I know what it is to be frightened — but if what he said was true, I was dealing with peculiarly ruthless and dangerous men. This was not a moment to show weakness.
I gave him a little shake — if he did not fear me just as much as he feared his masters I would get nothing out of him — and said brusquely, ‘Tell me the truth, and you may just save your miserable skin. Where is Fortunatus? I heard that he was injured in Verulamium.’
‘He f-f-fell from his ch-chariot, citizen. That is. . all I know.’ The boy’s voice was shaking, and I realised with horror that he was urinating with fear.
‘So, what has happened to him now? Is he dead? What have they done with him?’
He raised his head and looked at me, and for the first time I read surprise in his expression — and what looked strangely like relief.
‘They haven’t done anything with him, citizen. He’s only. .’ He trailed off again.
I seized the tunic roughly and shook him again. ‘Only what?’ I bellowed. ‘Tell me, or I’ll have you dragged in the arena for the dogs to eat.’ I sounded in my own ears like a villain in a fable. Of course I had no authority to do anything of the kind, even if I’d wanted to, but the slave-boy did not know that. You could almost see him imagining the horror of that death.
He looked at me helplessly a moment and then said, ‘He has gone to see a lady, citizen.’
‘A lady?’ I had not expected that. Suddenly a hundred new possibilities were racing through my head. ‘You mean the lady Fulvia?’
The boy shook his head, and for the first time a sort of smile hovered round his lips. ‘Not that sort of lady, citizen. This one is called Pulchrissima and she is a sort of acrobatic dancer in a tavern just outside the town. She is a friend of Fortunatus’.’
He did not need to say more. I didn’t know the local taverns, of course, but I knew enough about Roman bars in general to know what kind of acrobatic dancing Pulchrissima was likely to engage in. Her very name, ‘most beautiful’, would have been enough to tell me that, although of course if she was ‘a friend of Fortunatus’’ it was possible that he enjoyed sole rights over her performances. For a substantial fee, of course. That would hardly be a problem for a man of Fortunatus’ wealth.
I found that I was still gently shaking the slave-boy. ‘Where is this tavern then?’ I said, letting go of him, but speaking more severely than ever.
He swallowed hard. ‘It is just outside the east wall, citizen — by the gate.’
‘You’re sure that he is there? I don’t want another wasted journey.’
The boy looked wretched now. ‘I am almost certain of it, citizen.’
I remembered something Fulvia had said. ‘Hasn’t he bought himself a town house recently? Surely he would go there? It would be much more private than the inn. Fortunatus is well-known in the town.’
‘You are quite right, citizen. Fortunatus does not like going into the inn — too many carters and carriers use it, he says. But he is having the house rebuilt, and joined to the city water supply. The alterations are not half finished yet, so I am sure he will have gone to the tavern.’