A curt nod answered me.
‘Well, there has been a terrible incident at his country house. Somebody who clearly knew he was away.’ I outlined the grisly details of today’s discoveries.
The commander stood with his hands behind his back, and heard me out, his face expressionless. I had hardly expected exclamations of dismay but this complete impassiveness was not what I’d anticipated, either.
‘So most of my patron’s valuables are gone and all his household slaves are dead,’ I finished, to re-emphasise the facts. ‘It’s fortunate his land-slaves have escaped. This loss will be a dreadful blow to him — not just financially. You can see that this is a meticulously plotted fraud, by someone who knows him fairly well.’
‘Lot’s of people knew that he was going away.’ The voice continued to be emotionless.
‘But not the details of what he had in every room,’ I pointed out. ‘It had to be someone familiar with the house. And Marcus should be told as soon as possible. That’s why I’ve come to you, in the hope that you could send a message with the imperial couriers — and one to his wife Julia in Corinium as well.’ He remained impassive, and I said urgently, ‘I understand it’s probably too late for that today. But there’s just a chance that we could intercept that ship …’ I paused, expectantly
For a long moment the commander made no reply at all. Then he made a helpless gesture with his hands. ‘“We”, Libertus? What do you expect that I can do to help?’
I stared at him in honest disbelief. ‘But, surely, commander, even if you can’t spare the men yourself, a single word from you and the dock authorities would search the hold for us. Even a sealed letter that I could take down there myself would be enough — your seal alone would ensure that it was done. Marcus is likely to lose a fortune otherwise.’
He sat down heavily on the small three-legged stool. It was much too low for him, and it occurred to me to wonder — belatedly — why he had chosen to come here and read the scrolls instead of having them sent to him in his usual upstairs office in the guard tower. Not that the room there was luxurious at all. It was so masculine and soldierly it bordered on the austere (this one, if anything, had more amenities), but it suited his nature. He’d chosen that unconventional location for himself, and its contents were designed for him, including a handsome desk-table, efficient oil lamps and a stool of better height. So why was he sitting in discomfort here?
And why was he looking through the scrolls himself? Usually there’d be a dozen octios to search out what he required. Surely there could be no lack of personnel — the whole of the garrison was at his command.
I would have liked to ask him, but I did not dare. In any case, before I could say anything at all, he got to his feet and began to pace restlessly around the shelves. When he spoke it was still in that strangely neutral tone.
‘I’m afraid he is in danger of losing more than you suppose. And as for sending messages, I have no communication to relay to Rome today. It’s probably too late to reach him anyway. When is he scheduled to reach the capital?’
It was such an unexpected question that I shook my head. Surely the commander knew that sort of thing. ‘I couldn’t tell you, Worthiness. I only know he set off before the Nones of Mars — and we are well into Aprilis now. How long it takes him will depend on roads and weather, I suppose — and whether the rivers are in spate or not. If the mountain tracks or bridges are impassable it could take the best part of another moon, but with favourable conditions he could be there by now.’
The commander had paused by the table and was staring into the candle flame like someone in a trance. I heard him mutter, almost to himself, ‘That would make things very difficult.’
‘Forgive me, Worthiness. I don’t mean to contradict, but you’ll remember that he still has property in Rome. I believe a distant cousin is occupying it, but there is always accommodation there awaiting him, so whenever he arrives that’s where he plans to stay,’ I explained, although I was fairly sure that the commander was well aware of this. ‘So it shouldn’t be hard to locate him once he’s there.’
I glanced at the officer for some acknowledgement, but he made no reply, just went on frowning at the candle flame.
Something was clearly troubling him, but what? Perhaps Marcus had really not discussed his plans and I was foolish to have come at all. I have never travelled outside of Britannia myself — the slavers who captured me had put me in ship, but only to bring me to Glevum from my homeland in the south — but I understand that Gaul is very big indeed. There must be a score of roads that lead to Rome, so if he really didn’t know which one Marcus planned to use, how could a courier hope to intercept him on the way?
‘I understood he had your letter of authority to use the military inns for accommodation and fresh horses when he needed them,’ I supplied, to fill the silence.
The commander still said nothing.
Perhaps an open letter was all that was required and Marcus had not identified the towns where he hoped to stay. ‘It’s the same route that he took when he went to Rome before.’
I knew that I was burbling, but my companion made no remark at all.
‘He’s travelling fairly lightly. He’s arranged with an old friend in Gaul to hire a travelling gig, and a couple of slaves to ride aboard the luggage cart, plus he’s taken a four-man mounted escort of his own in case of any bandits or brigands on the way,’ I blundered on. ‘He’ll travel by river where that’s possible, I suppose, but otherwise he’ll have to stick to major military roads, and even a little retinue like that will attract a certain amount of attention as it passes by. Any mansio he used would know where he was heading next, so a messenger could easily track him through the inns. It should not be hard to trace him, if he’s still travelling.’
‘I wonder if we can catch up with him in time?’ the commander murmured, as if talking to himself.
I stared at him. I did not dare point out the obvious — that even a light gig and single baggage cart would obviously take much longer than one man on a horse — let alone a skilled imper-ial courier with a change of horses every hour or two and automatic priority over everyone on the roads, including the Roman army, where it was on the march. The commander knew that better than I did myself.
‘I think it’s likely that he’s still somewhere on the road,’ I said. ‘If he’d got to Rome already, he would have sent a message back.’ That sounded foolish, as I saw at once, and I added hastily, ‘Though of course it would take a little time for that letter to arrive.’ Then I fell silent. Really, there was nothing more that I could add.
There was a pause so long it seemed to fill the room. The commandant had moved to the far side of the table now, and was standing with his back to me, examining the painted frieze of wild beasts on the wall. At last I heard a murmur. ‘I wish I could be sure exactly where he was.’ One thin hand clasped the other by the wrist. ‘I have had no letter from him since he left.’
‘Last time we had word from him, he was just leaving Gaul,’ I proffered, helpfully, but was obliged to add, ‘though admittedly that was written days and days ago. Before the Kalends of Aprilis, I believe.’
The commander turned round sharply and fixed his gaze on me. ‘But he did send at least one message back from the Gallic provinces? So, there might have been some substance to that letter to the steward, after all?’ He had obviously been listening carefully, despite appearances. ‘It did come under his personal seal, I think you said. And you mentioned that he had acquaintances in Gaul. So he may indeed be planning to set up a villa there.’ He sounded almost hopeful.
I shook my head. ‘I don’t believe so, Worthiness. In fact it has just occurred to me, that the message saying so was suspect from the start. Marcus has been writing mostly to his wife, sending messages with anyone he can — and she sends them on to the villa where appropriate. I was shown one by the steward a day or two ago. It was the most recent, but there was no mention of any change of plan.’ It was mostly about vines, although I didn’t mention that. ‘I did not see the fake — I’ve only heard of it — but I am doubly certain now that it was a forgery. If it had come through Corinium, as it should have done, Julia would have sent some communication with it, I am sure — the contents were so unexpected and so startling. But the steward didn’t question it, because it bore my patron’s seal.’