A Roman Ransom by Rosemary Rowe Page A

obviously not!’ broke in a familiar voice. All eyes turned to the doorway and there was the man himself. He was in full regalia, dressed for his attendance at the court: his snowy linen toga was banded with wide stripes of purple and a wreath of laurel, signifying justice, was set upon his curls, giving him a solemn dignity. His handsome cloak was fastened by a gem-encrusted brooch; he had a heavy gold torc round his neck – a tribute present from some Celtic chief – and he had his favourite baton in his hand. He looked the personification of a magistrate, a walking symbol of Roman legal power. He was attended by his favourite page, a slim, good-looking youth with sleek black hair and darting eyes, in the ostentatious uniform of all Marcus’s messengers – a short-cut crimson tunic edged with gold, and a striking cape to match. And lurking behind them was the medicus.
    If I was Lallius, I thought, I would be awed.
    However, there was a smile on my patron’s face, and the haunted look of yesterday had gone. He bounded over to my bed at once, ignoring my servants and their rather less-than-graceful bows.
    ‘Good morning, my old friend – almost good afternoon, in fact. I am sorry to disturb your meal but glad to find that you’re awake and in good health.’ He extended a hand for me to kiss, and I raised myself and touched my lips to the heavy seal ring on the finger.
    ‘Good morning, Excellence. I see from your manner that the news is good. I hear you found a way to meet the kidnappers’ demands.’
    He laughed ‘Am I so transparent? Well, it’s true. And I’ve received a promise of my family’s release.’ He spoke with confidence, but he was anxious all the same: I could tell from the way he moved around the room, fiddling with the weaving loom hanging on the wall and tapping his baton on his hand – a sure sign that he was inwardly disturbed.
    I said carefully, ‘Well, I am very pleased to hear it. I was afraid that you would not. So Julia and the child are safe. I can understand why you’re relieved.’
    The page, who was standing close to me, put on a pious face and flashed me a warning glance. ‘Citizen, this matter is surely a confidential one. Your slaves . . .?’
    It was impudent. I stared at him. My patron always chose his personal messengers for their striking looks, and this boy was no exception. I had encountered him before. He was called Pulcrus, ‘the good-looking one’, and he deserved the name. The trouble was, he was aware of it, which made him – as now – depressingly self-confident and self-satisfied.
    ‘We may speak quite freely in front of both my slaves,’ I said. With Marcus there I did not dare deliver a more overt rebuke. ‘They have my confidence, and His Excellence himself was here last night, talking quite openly about the affair.’
    The page turned pinker than his tunic, but it was impossible to deflate his self-conceit for long. ‘One cannot be too cautious, citizen,’ he said.
    I looked at Marcus, but he was ignoring us and fingering the weaving on the loom ‘I presume, Excellence, that you’ve had instructions of some kind,’ I said.
    His forced, cheerful air was back again. ‘I have only to go back to the villa, and when it gets dark, leave the outer gate ajar with no one guarding it. “Then what you have lost will be returned to you.” That’s what the message said.’
    ‘What sort of message?’
    ‘Another scribbled note on a strip of bark. Much like the first. I found it waiting for me in the council room, a moment after the announcement had been made. I had my page make the proclamation in the forum, publicly, from the steps of the basilica so that all the crowd could hear. Did Junio tell you what we had decided we were going to say?’
    I nodded. ‘More or less.’
    ‘I did not altogether know what to expect, or how the kidnappers would contact me, but I went back into the council room, and there it was – a guard had found it on the floor and