A Roman Ransom (37 page)

He gaped at me. ‘You didn’t come only to apologise?’

‘More to satisfy my curiosity.’ I didn’t mention Marcus. There was no question of Thersis’ agreeing to go back. ‘I thought that I’d worked it out at last, but I wanted to be sure that I was right.’

There was sudden amusement in his tired eyes. ‘I can imagine I might feel the same myself. We are alike in some ways, you and I.’

There was a moment’s silence, broken by the captain’s voice bellowing above. ‘Hey, citizen! Are you finished yet? The wind and tide are turning and we’re wanting to set off.’

I turned to Thersis – or Philades, as he would always be to me. ‘You saved my life once – as you pointed out. Now I’m going to do the same for you. I shall tell Marcus that you have gone to Gaul – but only after the boat has safely left.’ My patron had done the same thing earlier – I told myself – allowed the culprits a day to get away. I was only following his example. I hoped that if he ever learned what I had done, he would see it the same way.

The medicus could not disguise his disbelief. He grasped my hand – letting the scrolls go scattering again. ‘Thank you, citizen. I shall not forget.’

And I would not forget him either, easily, I thought, as I made my slippery passage back and clambered to the deck. The captain had spoken of the wind, but there were men with heavy sweeps already standing by, ready to propel the vessel down the river with the tide. The heavy sail was looped up on the mast, and the master was pacing the deck impatiently.

He looked surprised when I emerged alone. ‘You did not take the man?’ he muttered, handing me ashore.

‘He gave me the information I required,’ I said, and turned away. Behind me I could hear the dock slaves struggling with ropes and the creak and swish as the sweeps got under way. I thought of the doctor, already sweltering in that stinking hold.

In another life, I thought, he might have been a friend.

I turned quickly and walked back to the city gates where Gwellia and the carriage were awaiting me.

We were back in the roundhouse once again. I was happy to be home. The central fire was giving off a glow and tomorrow’s oatbread was baking on the hearth. I was seated on a little stool, with a cup of hot mead in my hand. The bed of reeds and straw awaiting me was not imperial comfort, but it smelt sweet and fresh, and the woman at my side was Gwellia, contentedly working at her loom. My slaves were chattering peacefully in their new sleeping room next door, and the chickens and the cattle murmured softly from their coops.

No Roman villa had ever offered half such happiness, I thought.

I turned to Gwellia, and saw that she had let her wool-stick drop, and was staring at the wall. She saw me looking and she smiled at once. But I had learned to know my wife.

‘What is it, Gwellia?’

She shook her head. ‘It’s nothing, husband. Everything has worked out splendidly. Julia is fully back to health, and so are you – or almost – even without the medicus to help. And Secunda and her family got away – I was a little worried about that. Especially the little girls.’

I grinned. ‘Even Cassius found an advocate to plead his cause and persuade the court that he was not to blame – he escaped with just a heavy fine, I understand, for unwitting
injuria
to Julia’s dignity, and bringing a false claim into the court. Of course, Lallius’s confession helped with that.’

Gwellia said nothing. She knew as well as I did how that confession had been obtained.

‘At least he saw sense and bribed the guards to bring him hemlock before he came to trial,’ I said. Marcus was a just man in many ways, but he would have found it difficult to be impartial in this case.

Gwellia nodded. ‘I’m sure that it was best.’

‘So?’

She gave me a deprecating smile. ‘It’s that poor woman with the children. I do feel bad for her – she had done nothing except mind Myrna’s daughter for her when Lallius was there, and Marcus kept her locked away for hours.’

‘She didn’t tell us that she had the girl. I might have guessed, I suppose. She talked about five children, and then said that she had another four at home.’

‘She was terrified, poor woman, when she found you at the gate,’ Gwellia said. ‘She was sure that you’d charge her with robbing Myrna’s house.’

‘But her hands were empty,’ I protested. ‘How could she be a thief?’

Gwellia laughed, a low delighted sound. ‘Oh, husband, you are such an innocent. The girl was pregnant, wasn’t she? I think she may have taken something from the house – a blanket probably – and hidden it underneath her dress. And I don’t think Myrna would begrudge it to her – she was finding it hard to manage with five children as it was. And now she had Myrna’s child as well.’

‘Well, there was no problem in the end,’ I said. ‘When we came back from Glevum, Marcus let her go. He didn’t even ask her anything.’

Gwellia looked at me. ‘Not even what was to happen to the child?’

And then I understood. It has been a source of grief to both of us that we were reunited too late to hope for a family of our own. Gwellia felt it very much. I remembered how she had stood there in the doorway of the inn, protecting the two children, and I felt a surge of love.

‘We had thought about adopting Junio,’ I said, ‘when he was old enough to manumit.’ Freeing slaves before a certain age is very difficult, requiring an expensive case at law.

‘So you know what I was thinking,’ she said sheepishly.

I reached out and gave her hand a loving squeeze.

She could not let go of the idea. ‘But Myrna was free-born,’ she murmured. ‘The child is not a citizen, of course, but if we applied to Marcus, don’t you think . . .?’ She pressed my fingers. ‘Julia would speak up for us, I’m sure.’

I said, gently, so as not to cause her hurt, ‘But that would not be fair. I can’t have anyone take precedence over Junio.’

She grinned at me. ‘Then ask Marcus about both of them,’ she said. ‘He’d make a dispensation for you, I am sure. Julia would make very sure he did. The boy for you, a little girl for me. We have got other slaves. We’d manage perfectly.’

I looked at her. Still my beloved Gwellia, though the dark hair was streaked with grey these days and the lovely face was strained and tired. We were too old, I thought, for tiny children now. And yet . . .

‘I’ll speak to him tomorrow,’ I agreed. ‘In the meantime, come and sit by me. We make a splendid duo, you and I.’