Free The Ghosts of Glevum by Rosemary Rowe Page B

lever, I had never known it fail.
    It failed now.
    ‘You heard him, citizen.’ The guard from outside had come in by this time, and to my alarm had drawn his sword. ‘Out. Now. With me. And no argument, or you’ll find you’re locked up in here yourself. Then you can talk to your precious patron all you like.’
    ‘I’m sorry, citizen,’ the secretary bleated. His cheek was twitching really badly now.
    ‘Now, are you going to move?’ the soldier said. ‘Or am I going to have to make you move? And don’t think for a moment that I won’t. You haven’t got a fancy patron to protect you now.’
    It was then that I realised just what deep trouble we were in. Marcus’s name, which up to now had always opened every official door and afforded me protection in all kinds of ways, had lost its power overnight. Even his friend the commander was refusing help, though he was obviously attempting to look after Marcus as best he dared.
    I was marched at sword-point out into the street.

VII
    Not only marched at sword-point but thrust into the road with such a heavy hand against my back that I almost stumbled to the ground. If I was not so obviously a citizen, I believe I would have had a kick to help me on my way. Even a passing turnip-seller stopped to stare.
    I recovered myself, straightened my toga, and walked off into the drizzle with as much dignity as I could muster, trying to decide what to do. I had been so sure of meeting Marcus, and discussing things with him, that I really had no other plan. I am accustomed to working on his authority, but from here on I was clearly on my own.
    As if to illustrate my gloomy thoughts the drizzling rain turned suddenly to a determined shower. There was a little temple to the local river god nearby: not a large place, but it had a portico, and I hurried – together with the turnip-seller and a half a dozen other passers-by – under the shelter of its columns. I huddled up against a plinth and tried to think.
    There was one obvious strategy to try, except that I sadly lacked the wherewithal. The purse that I carried at my belt, although containing all the money I possessed, was woefully light. My few miserable silver coins might have been enough to purchase information from a tavern-keeper, or buy a few extra moments with Marcus from a willing guard (which was why I had taken the precaution of bringing them) but I would need a good deal more than that for any serious attempt at bribery. Official doors were closed behind me now, and it would take a very wealthy man to prise them open even a crack.
    But I had to do something for my patron if I could. The charge of murdering Praxus had been bad enough, but this new twist was more serious again. Suspected of a plot against the state! I could not, for the moment, see how Praxus’s death could be conceived of in this way, but I am not an expert in the law. Perhaps because his new appointment was an Imperial one, or simply because he was commander of the local force? Balbus would presumably know: not only was he schooled in civil law, but he must be familiar with military law as well – after all he had a brother who was a senior officer in Gaul and a candidate for senatorial rank in Rome. So there must be some legal foundation for the charge, or Balbus would never have permitted it. The cost of failure was too terrible – Marcus was an influential man.
    If the case held, on the other hand, there were great rewards. A plot against the state was effectively three crimes at once, and any informant bringing a successful case was entitled to a share of the guilty party’s estate. I could see why Balbus would resort to it – or Mellitus, or anybody else.
    As well as straightforward treachery, there was
maiestas
– offence against the Emperor’s majesty – one of the most effective tools for bringing any senior figure down. Also, since Commodus had officially declared himself a god, there was sacrilege as well. Any one of those crimes might