The Gods Help Those Page 3
On the second toss the current worked with us instead of against us and I was able to catch the rope. Tacitus had tied a loop in one end. I managed to get it over the arm with which Aurora was clutching the baby and over her head.
“This next part will be tricky,” I told her. “You need to let go with your other arm so I can slip the rope all the way around you.”
“Gaius, I’m scared! The current’s so strong.”
I positioned myself beside the dead woman’s corpse, using her like a dam, so that Aurora would not be washed away if she let go for a moment. “Just trust me. I’m right here, but you have to let go with your other arm. I’ll count to three and you let go.”
As soon as I got the rope around her, it went taut and Tacitus and his helpers began to pull her up. The baby cried weakly; at least it was still alive and this was not all for naught. Now I just had to hold on until they could get the rope back down to me.
“Gaius! Look out!” Aurora cried from above me.
Because all of my attention was focused on Aurora’s ascent up the bank, I didn’t have time to react before a large chunk of debris hit me and jarred me and the dead woman loose from our mooring. I felt myself starting to float downstream, along with the corpse. I had to push her away from me. I’m a strong swimmer, but I couldn’t fight the raging current. I was looking for something on the bank to grab hold of when a roof beam plunged into the water in front of me. I wrapped my arms around it and looked up to see one of Regulus’ Nubians on the other end.
The black giant handled the beam as easily as a soldier handles his spear. He began pulling it up and was joined by one of his fellows. In just a moment I was hoisted back onto the ground. The Nubians helped me to my feet and we hurried away from the river, toward the door at the rear of a warehouse, where Regulus stood. At the sight of him my joy at being rescued lessened.
“Well,” he said smugly, “I see my men have done a little fishing. I guess their catch is large enough to keep.”
“Is this your warehouse?” I asked.
“Yes, it is. Or was. It’s joining your building on its way downriver, bit by bit. So we’d better get out of here.”
I turned to the Nubians and tried to express my thanks for their help. “Is there any way I can communicate with them?” I asked Regulus.
“They understand the whip,” he said.
I grimaced and faced the Nubians again, trying to convey my gratitude in signs and facial expressions, and patted them on their shoulders. Only then did I notice the welts left by a whip. The scars did not show against their dark skin.
We gathered on the street beside Regulus’ litter, exhausted. Even those who hadn’t been in the river were soaked, no matter what sort of cloak they were wearing. The Nubians’ black bodies glistened, the way stones gleam when wet. Their silver collars and manacles shone like stars against the cloudy sky. I asked Aurora if she was all right and put my arm around her, as a master might comfort a shivering slave who had just been rescued from danger, but I could not embrace her the way I longed to. It would have been awkward, at any rate, with her clinging to the baby.
“Thank you for saving me, my lord,” she said. “We need to go home now. We have to take care of this baby.”
“And we have two victims to carry with us,” I said. “It’s going to be a slow trip.”
“Let me make it easier for you,” Regulus said. He reached inside his litter and pulled his traveling companion, squealing and wriggling, out by her blond hair. Instead of a woman’s wool stola, she was wearing a flimsy dinner gown that began to reveal her body as soon as the rain hit it—not that it concealed much even when dry. With a magnanimous gesture Regulus pulled back the linen curtain on the litter. “Your servant, the baby, and the injured woman are welcome to use my litter.”
Not even waiting for me to thank Regulus or give my consent, Aurora climbed into the litter and drew one of the dry blankets over herself and the baby, but she continued to shiver, as much from fear as from cold, I suspected.
“Thank you, Marcus Regulus,” I said. It was the most sincere thing I’d ever said to the man.
“Not at all. I’m not the ogre you think I am, Gaius Pliny.” He pulled a blanket out of the litter and laid it over my shoulders. “And this should take care of your leg until you can get home.” He ripped a piece off the girl’s dinner gown and gave it to me to wrap around my bleeding leg.
My servants loaded the injured woman from the warehouse in beside Aurora and covered her as well. “Pay attention to her,” I told Aurora. “She might say something. She’s our only hope of learning what happened in there.”
Regulus called his Nubians and their overseer to the litter. They picked it up and we set off at a good pace. Regulus’ clients and slaves cleared the street in front of us with brutal efficiency. My men trailed behind us, burdened by the body of the man wearing the equestrian stripe. Regulus had ordered one of his people to drape a blanket over the man to cover his disfigured face. “You can burn it with him,” he said.
“It’s all right. You’re safe now.” I cradled the tiny infant to my breast, trying to warm and comfort him. He was in fact a boy, I noticed, although his tiny mentula looked odd. He settled in my arms and we both gradually stopped crying as the litter rocked. “Yes, sweetheart, you’re safe. I’ll never let you go.”
I laid my head back on one of Regulus’ scented pillows, too exhausted even to worry about what might have happened on it. Having a baby in my arms felt incredible enough to overwhelm any other emotion. As best I could estimate, the baby I lost would have been just about the age of this one by now, not more than a month old.
Was one of the women in the warehouse his mother? Could it be the injured woman sharing the litter with me? Would she want the child when she recovered? But some instinct told me that the dead woman in the water was his mother. By giving me something to grab onto, she might have been making a last-ditch effort to save her child. I touched the Tyche ring on its leather thong around my neck, a lucky charm Gaius and I had found when we were children. We traded it back and forth. I was wearing it now because we didn’t want Livia to notice it on Gaius and ask what it was.
“Am I being ridiculous?” I said to the baby. “I would never say anything like that to Gaius. He would tell me that when you’re dead, you’re dead.”
I stroked the baby’s head and he peed on me. I laughed. “That’s the thanks I get for saving you? Well, I hope it won’t be the last time it happens.”
Would Gaius be willing to keep this child? I didn’t know the legal ramifications of this situation. People abandon and expose unwanted children, who are often picked up and raised by others. Was this child unwanted? I turned him so I could see his beautiful little face. “How could anyone not want you?” I patted him on the back. “You need a name, don’t you? Let’s see. You came out of the Tiber, so I could call you Tiberius, but that’s not a very popular name in Rome these days.” I held him more tightly. “I’ll have to give it some thought.”
The injured woman groaned and I put a hand on her shoulder. “It’s going to be all right,” I said. “We’re going to take care of you.”
She opened her eyes, but I wasn’t sure she was seeing anything. I put my face close to her ear. “You’re in a litter,” I said. “We’re going to Gaius Pliny’s house. I know you don’t know him, but you’ll be safe there.”
I hadn’t paid much attention to her until that moment. Now I saw that she had a couple of bad wounds on her head, caused by collapsing roof beams, no doubt. Her skin, like mine, was browner than is considered beautiful in Rome. Gaius’ wife, Livia, and her sister are “blessed” with light skin, but aristocratic women who aren’t light enough will resort to all kinds of trickery—powders and bleaches—to make themselves appear fairer. I’m thankful that Gaius doesn’t care. I think he would love me if my skin were green.
The woman made another noise—not words that I could understand, just a noise. Then her eyes rolled up under her lids
and her head fell to one side. I placed my hand over her heart and felt it still beating. I also felt how thin and bony she was.
Tacitus, Regulus, and I pulled the hoods on our cloaks up as far as they would go, but the rain still pelted our faces. The black dye that Regulus uses on his hair was beginning to run down the sides of his head. I don’t think he had planned to expose himself to the rain. His burst of generosity served only to make me more suspicious of him. He must want something.
“So, Gaius Pliny,” he asked me, “how are you going to deal with this little addition to your familia? Do you have a wet nurse in your house?”
“No. None of my women has given birth recently.” I couldn’t help but realize that, if Aurora had not lost our child, she would be nursing a baby right now.
“One of my women’s baby died just recently,” Regulus said, a bit winded because of the pace his men were setting. “You could send the baby up to my house.”
“I don’t think Aurora will let me do that.”
Regulus raised an eyebrow. “Oh, I thought you were the master in your house, Gaius Pliny. Well, never mind. I’ll lend the woman to you.”
I had no desire to have one of Regulus’ servants—a potential spy—in my household for an indefinite period of time, but I saw no way to refuse the offer. “Thank you, Marcus Regulus. You’re most generous.”
“The little fellow has had a difficult start to his life. Perhaps we can make things better for him. Who knows? He might be a god in disguise. Isn’t that what the myths always tell us?” Laughing at his own joke, he pulled one of his servants closer to him, said something in the man’s ear, and sent him off in a hurry. “The nurse will be at your house when you arrive.”
That prompted me to send one of my servants to tell my steward to have a room ready for the injured woman, another for the baby and the nurse, and to prepare a place at the back of the house where we might deposit the man wearing the stripe. We would have to dispose of his body in another day, two at the most, but I wanted to have a secure place, and one away from my family, where I could examine him more thoroughly before we did.
I parted the curtain on the side of Regulus’ litter and smiled at Aurora. “How are you doing?”
“I’m fine, my lord, just fine. We’re fine.” She looked at me expectantly. Did she want me to touch the baby? Since she lost her baby she has been different in some way. She’s sad, aloof.
“Isn’t he beautiful, my lord?”
I didn’t know if Regulus could hear us over the rain—his Nubians couldn’t, of course—but I was glad she had addressed me properly. “Yes, he is.” I touched his head lightly. That seemed to satisfy her. “Has this woman said anything?”
“She has made a few sounds, my lord, but nothing I could understand. I believe she’s badly in need of something to eat. So is the baby.”
“Regulus is going to lend us one of his women as a wet nurse.”
Aurora’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Well, that’s…generous of him, my lord.”
“That’s what I thought.” I stood back. “You rest now. We’ll be home shortly.”
Everyone fell quiet as we negotiated the last corner before starting up the Esquiline. We were distracted by the woman whom Regulus had hauled out of his litter. She had given up trying to cover herself. With her flimsy dinner gown completely soaked, she might as well have been naked. Regulus’ clients and servants and any man we passed on the street ogled her with open appreciation.
Once we had our feet securely under us, Regulus said, “You’ve stumbled into quite an enigma, Gaius Pliny. Dead bodies, one of them an equestrian with his mouth sewn shut, a baby that someone was trying to hide. All of them in your warehouse.”
“That doesn’t mean I know anything about them or have any responsibility for them.”
“True, but you took on the responsibility as soon as you picked them up and carried them home. I would have tossed them all in the Tiber and been done with them.”
“Even the baby and the woman who wasn’t dead?”
Regulus put an arm around my shoulder. “Who would miss them, Gaius Pliny? Who would ever miss them?”
There was the Regulus we all know and hate.
“I daresay, though,” Regulus continued, “that questions are going to be raised. Not about the woman and the baby, of course, but a dead equestrian can’t be ignored, especially one with his mouth crammed full of something and sewn shut.”
“As to that point,” Tacitus said, “I have a couple of questions.”
I glared at him, even though it meant looking up and getting more rain in my face. “You’re not going to prosecute me in court, are you?”
“What? Oh, my word, no! I’m just curious about two things. First, this man is wearing the equestrian stripe—albeit one that has been cut to ribbons—but I don’t recognize him. Do either of you?”
Regulus and I shook our heads. “It does seem unlikely,” Regulus said, “that there could be an equestrian in Rome that not one of us knows.”
“Exactly,” Tacitus said. “That makes me think he’s not someone who lives in Rome. After all, there are members of the order who prefer to pass a humdrum life on their estates.”
Regulus and I nodded our agreement. Humdrum? I thought. Or pleasant, free from close association with noxious people like Regulus?
“There is another possibility, though,” Tacitus said. He paused for effect, the way a skilled orator—which he is—would do in court. “What if…what if he isn’t equestrian?”
I raised a hand in protest. “But he’s wearing—”
“Yes, he’s wearing the stripe on his tunic. But what if it isn’t his tunic? Have either of you ever had a garment stolen while you were in the baths?” Before Regulus or I could even respond, Tacitus went on. “Well, I have. I was in a hurry one day—the young man was so beautiful—and I hired one of the attendants in the bath to watch my clothes. He went to sleep—or he may have been in on it—and I came out to find a filthy rag in the niche where I had left my tunic and a little bit of money.”
“But it would be very risky,” I said, “to wear a tunic with the stripe if he wasn’t entitled to it. There are penalties for that kind of fraud, you know.”
“Perhaps he took it with the intention of removing the stripe,” Regulus said. “Then he would have probably the nicest tunic he’d ever worn.”
I wished Tacitus had waited until we separated from Regulus to start this conversation. “So, if we’re going to identify him, we’ll have to rely on his signet ring.”
“What signet ring?” Tacitus said. “Haven’t you noticed?” He paused to let the surprise register on our faces. “He’s not wearing one.”
III
We had arrived at the door of my house, so we had to put Tacitus’ troubling observation aside for the moment. My mother, my mother-in-law, and my wife were waiting in the vestibule, along with Naomi and a woman I did not recognize. My steward, Demetrius, hovered behind them.
“Gaius,” my mother said before I could even get out of the rain, “this woman says Marcus Regulus sent her to us to be a wet nurse for the baby. What is she babbling about? What baby?”
I took Aurora’s hand to help her get out of the litter. “This baby. We found him in the warehouse. Aurora rescued him just before the place collapsed. He’s very hungry. Regulus has been kind enough to help us out by lending us a wet nurse.”
Regulus stepped to the door. The woman nodded and said in Greek, “My lord.”
Regulus acknowledged her by raising a bejeweled hand and addressed us in Greek. “This is Merione. She will make an excellent nurse for this child, I’ve no doubt. She does not speak Latin. I hope that won’t be too great an inconvenience.” Merione was short but comely, with reddish brown hair, suggesting a Thracian background. Her dark eyes latched on to the baby in Aurora’s arms.
I turned to Aurora. “Why don’t you and Merione take the child to your room and tend to him? You can get yourself a dry gown as well.”
“Now, let’s get this injured woman in the house,” I said, “so Marcus Regulus can have his litter back and get home as well.”
Tacitus picked up the woman, who groaned softly. Regulus peered into his litter where the two women had been lying. Wrinkling his nose, he closed the curtain and waved his entourage forward, walking with them up the hill. His less squeamish playmate climbed into the litter and wrapped a blanket around herself.
“Bring her in here, my lord,” Demetrius said, snaking his way through the crowd of women. They parted to let Tacitus pass with his burden.
“Who is she?” Pompeia demanded.
“I don’t know,” I said. “She was injured when the warehouse collapsed, so we need to take care of her.”
“What about the others? The messenger said there were others, didn’t he?”
“Sadly, they were all killed. The guards are…taking care of them.”
Just then my other servants arrived, carrying the body of the man with the stripe. “Oh, take him around to the back gate. Demetrius will show you where to put him.”
“Who is that?” Livia asked.
“We found him in the warehouse.”
She looked at the blanket draped over him and her jaw dropped. “Is he…dead?”
“Yes.”
The pitch and volume of her voice rose. “Why did you bring him here?”
“Because he wasn’t killed when the building collapsed. He had been stabbed in the back before that. I want to know what happened.” I decided not to mention the matter of his mouth.
“By the gods!” Livia cried. “Murder! Death! It follows you everywhere you go. And now you’re bringing it into your own house.” Her eyes widened. “Mother, I said I was leaving tomorrow morning. I’ve changed my mind. I will not spend a night under the same roof with a dead man. I’m going over to your house. I’ll leave from there. Gaius, tell your men to get the litter ready. Now!”