The Silver Branch Page 11

  ‘So?—What is his name? Maybe I can help you.’

  ‘Crispinius. He’s in the wine trade,’ said Flavius, keeping the question of his kinsman’s hair in case it should be needed.

  But the other shook his head regretfully. ‘Nay, I fear I cannot call to mind anyone of that name.’ His gaze seemed caught and held a moment by Flavius’s left hand as it curved about his wine-cup on the table; and Justin, glancing the same way, saw that it was the signet ring with the intaglio dolphin that had caught his interest. Flavius became aware of it at the same instant, and drew his hand back on to his knee under the table. But already the little tax-gatherer’s gaze had drifted away to the knot of Marines round the brazier, who had wearied of dice and betaken themselves to loud-voiced argument.

  ‘What’s the odds?’ a long, lean man with the white seam of an old sword-cut on his forehead was demanding. ‘Any man who gives me free wine to drink his health in and a fistful of sesterces can be Emperor for all I care.’ He spat juicily into the brazier. ‘Ah, but it had better be a big fistful this time, and it had better come quick.’

  ‘Trouble is there’s a sight too many Emperors all at the same time,’ said a sad-looking individual in the sea-green tunic of the scouting galleys. ‘And maybe the other two aren’t going to like the Divine Allectus in the Purple. How if we have the Caesar Constantius a-top of us one of these fine days?’

  The first man took another drink, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘The Caesar Constantius has got plenty to keep him happy where he is. Every fool knows the tribes are heaving like a maggoty cheese along the Rhenus defences.’

  ‘Maybe you’re right at that, and maybe you’re wrong,’ said the pessimist darkly. ‘I’ve served under that lad, and despite his wey face he’s the best soldier in this tired old Empire, and I’d not put it past him to settle the Germans yet, and then come and settle us.’

  ‘Let him come then!’ roared the man with the sword-cut in sudden defiance. ‘Let him come; that’s all I say! We settled the Emperor Maximian when he tried that game, and I reckon we can settle his pup if need be!’ He teetered backwards, recovered himself with a slight stagger, and crooked a finger for the shopkeeper. ‘Hi! Ulpius, more wine.’

  ‘When we settled the Emperor Maximian we had a whole heart and a whole belly in the business.’ It was a third man who spoke, with a savagery that somehow jarred like the clash of weapons in that crowded place. ‘We haven’t, now.’

  ‘Speak for your own belly,’ somebody said, and there was a general laugh.

  ‘So I will then—I’m sick of all these brave doings, to the pit of my own belly!’

  The man with the scarred forehead, his wine-cup refilled, swung round on him. ‘You shouted loud enough with the rest of us when we swore allegiance to the new Emperor a while back.’

  ‘Aye, I shouted loud enough with the rest of you curs. I swore my allegiance; by Jupiter I did, by Thundering Jove I did! And how much do you suppose my oath is worth if it comes to that? How much is yours worth, my friend?’ He wagged a finger in the other’s face, his eyes brilliant in the light of the swinging lantern. One of the other men tried to silence him, but he only raised his voice a little higher. ‘If I were Allectus I wouldn’t trust us a pilum’s length, I wouldn’t. Legion or Fleet, lest we shout for another Emperor tomorrow.—And what sort of use is an army and a fleet that you can’t trust a pilum’s length when it comes to fighting? Just about as much use as an Emperor you can’t trust a pilum’s length either!’

  ‘Be quiet, you fool!’ The wine shopkeeper had joined the group. ‘You’re too drunk to know what you’re saying. Go back to barracks and sleep it off.’

  ‘Yes, you want to get rid of me—you’re afraid I’ll get your wretched little dog-hole of a wine-shop into trouble.’ The man’s voice rose in reckless mockery. ‘Phuh! What a country! Anybody give me a nice dark corner below decks in a ship making the crossing, and I’ll go farther than back to barracks—I’ll be off to Gaul tonight, and never once look back. Meanwhile I’ll have another cup of wine.’

  ‘You will not,’ said the shopkeeper. ‘You’ll go back to barracks, and you’ll go now.’

  By this time the silence that had laid hold of the rest of the company was breaking up into an ugly splurge of voices, and men were on their feet, moving in on the group. A wine-cup fell with a clatter and rolled across the floor; and Justin, who had been listening with an almost painful attention to what went forward, for it was the first time that he had heard the Legions themselves on the change of Emperors, suddenly realized that the little tax-gatherer was leaning toward them with a murmured ‘Best, I think, to get out of here.’

  Flavius said uncompromisingly, ‘Why?’

  ‘Because,’ said the tax-gatherer, ‘the man nearest to the door has slipped out. At almost any moment now there is going to be trouble—and trouble spreads.’ He smiled apologetically behind a plump hand. ‘It is never wise to get mixed up in such things if one has oneself—ahem—anything that one does not wish the Watch to know.’

  X

  THE BERENICE SAILS FOR GAUL

  JUSTIN’S eyes flew to the man’s face, then to his cousin’s. Flavius had turned a little and was looking at their new acquaintance with a startled frown; then he got up without a word, felt in his belt, and laid some money on the table.

  Justin rose also, his hand going instinctively to his instrument-case in the shoulder-sling that he had made for it. Their eyes met, questioningly, then Flavius gave a suspicion of a shrug, and turned toward the door on to the foreshore. But the little tax-gatherer shook his head. ‘No, no, no, this way—much better,’ and opened another door close beside them but so lost in shadows that they had not noticed it before. They followed him through, hearing behind them a sudden bellow of rage and the crash of a table going over. Then Justin let the ramshackle door close softly, and the swelling uproar fell away behind it.

  They were in a passage-way of some sort, and a few moments later, another door closing behind them, they emerged into a narrow street with the harbour glimmering at one end of it; a street dark and empty, quiet save for the wind that fretted the garbage to and fro.

  ‘And now,’ Flavius demanded in a swift undertone, standing stock still in the deserted roadway, ‘What makes you think that we have anything we would not wish the Watch to know?’

  ‘My dear young man,’ said their companion reasonably, ‘do you think that the open street is quite the place to discuss that?’

  ‘Where shall we discuss it, then?’

  ‘I was about—ahem—to ask you to come home with me.’

  There was a moment’s surprised silence, and then Flavius asked, ‘Can you give us any good reason why, supposing that we had something to hide, we should trust you?’

  ‘No, I fear I cannot. It is most awkward—most awkward; but I assure you that you may.’ The little man sounded so genuinely bothered that somehow they found themselves believing him.

  Flavius said with a sudden breath of laughter, ‘Well, of course, if you say so—’

  They moved off up the street, the plump little tax-gatherer trotting in front, muffled so close in his cloak that Justin thought he looked like an enormous pale cocoon. Were they being complete fools? he wondered. No, somehow he was sure that they were not: this odd little man was to be trusted. Then, as they passed a narrow lane leading down to the foreshore, the wind swooping up it brought the quick tramp of mailed sandals as a patrol of the Watch hurried by in the direction of the wine-shop they had so lately left; and he said urgently, ‘There they go. Isn’t there anything we can do about that poor fool? It’s d-dreadful to just abandon him.’

  The cocoon looked over its plump shoulder as it scurried. ‘Abandon him? Oh dear me, we haven’t abandoned him. No need to worry. No, no; no need at all,’ and dived into another dark alleyway.

  Justin had lost all sense of direction by the time they came up a gash of a blind alley, and found at the end of it a door in a high wall. ‘I ask yo
ur forgiveness for bringing you in the back way,’ said the tax-gatherer, opening it. ‘I generally come in this way myself because it isn’t overlooked. My neighbours are, I fear, rather prone to—ahem—overlooking.’ And so saying he led them through into a narrow courtyard.

  It was not a dark night, and there was enough light in the courtyard, with its lime-washed walls, to show them the raised well-head in the centre, and the small tree growing beside it. The cocoon said bashfully, ‘I call this my garden. It is just the one apple-tree, but it is the best little apple-tree in the Empire. There’s something about an apple-tree that—ahem—to my mind no other tree possesses; “The apple-tree, the singing, and the gold”—you know your Euripides?’

  Still burbling gently, he led the way across to a door on the far side, and opening it, ushered them through into a darkness that smelled pleasantly warm and lived in, with a suggestion of the last meal about it. ‘Home again. I always like to get home at the day’s end. This is the kitchen, if you will just come through here into my living-room.—Ah, Myron has left a nice bit of fire in the brazier; very nice, very nice indeed.’ He was bustling about like a house-proud hen as he spoke, kindling a twig at the low red glow of the charcoal, lighting the lamp, putting fresh logs on the brazier. And as the light strengthened, Justin saw that they were in a small, cheerful room, with bands of colour on the walls, piles of gay native rugs on the two low couches by the fire, and a set of household gods in brightly painted plaster standing in niches round the walls. It was all so ordinary, so far away from the wild journey South and the scene in the wine-shop, that suddenly he wanted to laugh, and wasn’t sure why. ‘We shall not be disturbed,’ said their host, testing the shutter over a high window to make sure that there was no chink. ‘I don’t keep slaves, I like to be quite free; and Myron goes out in the evenings.’

  Flavius, standing in the middle of the floor, his feet a little apart and his hands behind his back, said: ‘And now that we are no longer in the open street, will you tell us what lies behind all this?’

  ‘Ah yes, you asked what made me think that you had anything to hide.’ The little man held his fingers to the warmth. ‘It is—ahem—difficult to explain. A good friend of mine, whom you spoke to on the foreshore this evening, was not quite sure that you were what you seemed. You—if I may say so—should try to slouch rather more. The Legionary carriage does not—ahem—altogether go with the rest of your appearance. He saw you into the Dolphin, and then came and reported to me. So I went down to the Dolphin to see for myself, feeling that you might be in trouble. And then of course I could scarcely help noticing that ring, which is also—ahem—somewhat out of keeping.’

  ‘And then you made up your mind, with no more than that to go on?’

  ‘Oh, no, no; I was not sure until I suggested to you that it would be as well to come away if one had anything to hide—and you came.’

  Flavius looked at him blankly. ‘Oh. Yes, it sounds quite simple when you put it like that.’

  ‘Quite,’ said their host. ‘Now tell me what I can do for you.’

  Justin’s desire to laugh returned to him. Because he was so tired, his laughter did not seem under very good control, and nor did his legs. ‘May I—may I sit down?’ he asked.

  The plump face of his host was instantly distressful. ‘Of course; why, of course! What am I thinking of, that I leave my guests standing? See now, sit here, close to the brazier.’ With the little man fussing round him like a hen, Justin smiled gratefully, and folded up on to the foot of the couch, holding out his hands to the warmth.

  Flavius shook his head impatiently, and remained standing. He was frowning into the fire where the little new flames were beginning to lick up round the logs. Suddenly his brows quirked up to their most fly-away, and he laughed. ‘Well, we have got to put our lives into somebody’s hands, or we shall get no farther until the Greek Calends.—We want to get across to Gaul.’

  ‘Ah, I thought it might be that.’

  ‘Can you do anything about it, beyond thinking?’

  ‘I—ahem—have arranged something of the kind before now.’ The little tax-gatherer sat himself down, and fixed his wide, serene gaze on Flavius’s face. ‘But first I should require to know something more of your reasons. You must forgive me, but I dislike handling unknown cargoes.’

  ‘Could you be sure of knowing more, however much we told you? We could tell you a string of lies.’

  ‘You could try,’ said their host limpidly.

  Flavius looked at him very hard for a moment. Then he told him the whole story, much as he had told it yesterday to Great-Aunt Honoria.

  When he had finished, the little man nodded. ‘Under the circumstances your desire for foreign travel seems most reasonable. Most reasonable. Yes, I think we can help you, but it may not be for a few days yet. There are certain arrangements to be made, you see, arrangements and—ahem—and so on.’

  ‘As to payment—’ Flavius began.

  ‘Oh, it isn’t a matter of payment—no, no, no,’ said their host cosily. ‘In this kind of business, men who need buying are too dear at any price.’

  There was a little silence, and then Flavius said, ‘I ask your pardon.’

  ‘No need, not the least need in the world, my dear young man. Now, as to present plans—you will of course accept my hospitality for the next few days. Though indeed I fear that the only quarters I can offer you are somewhat close and primitive. You will understand that I cannot safely keep you in the house.’ He smiled apologetically, and rose to his feet. ‘In fact, if you will not mind, I will take you to your quarters now. There may be work for me later in connection with—ahem—our rash friend of the Dolphin; and I should like to see you safely bestowed before I go forth again.’

  ‘We are under your orders,’ Flavius said, with a smile.

  Back they went across the kitchen, and into what seemed to be a storeroom beyond. They heard the little tax-gatherer moving boxes and baskets in the darkness, and sensed rather than saw, that a hole had opened in the opposite wall. ‘Through here. There was a larger door once, filled in long ago. I—er—adapted it, oh quite a while since. Mind your heads.’

  The warning seemed scarcely necessary, as the hole was about half man high, and they followed him through on all fours. Beyond the hole there was a steep and much-worn flight of steps leading up into the darkness, and at the head of it a space of some kind smelling strongly of dust and mildew.

  ‘What is this place?’ Flavius said.

  ‘It is part of the old theatre. Alas, no one ever thinks of going to a play now, and there are no more actors left; and the place has become a veritable slum since it fell from its original use, and the populace moved in.’ Their host was panting slightly from the stairs. ‘I fear I cannot give you a light; there are too many chinks for it to shine through. But there are plenty of rugs here in the corner—clean and dry—yes, yes: and I suggest that you go to sleep. When there is nothing else to do, go to sleep; it passes the time.’

  They heard him pause at the stairhead. ‘I shall be back in the morning. Oh, there are some loose boards in the wall just to the right of the stairway here: I would suggest that you do not take them out and crawl through to see what is on the other side. The floor is quite rotten beyond them, and if you go through it, you will not only break your own necks, but—ahem—betray this very useful little hiding-place of mine.’

  They heard his footsteps on the steep stair, and then the baskets and boxes being stacked over the entrance hole again.

  They did not discuss the situation when they were alone; somehow there did not really seem anything to say; and they were too blind weary to say it, even if there had been. They simply took their host’s advice, and groping their way over to the pile of rugs in the corner, crawled in and fell asleep like a couple of tired dogs.

  Justin woke with a crash to find the first greyness of the morning filtering in through a chink of a window high above his head, and the sound of footsteps on the stair, and for a m
oment he could not remember where he was. Then he tumbled out after Flavius from among the rugs, shaking the sleep out of his eyes, as their host loomed into the doorway.

  ‘I do trust I did not disturb you,’ he said, ambling forward to set something he was carrying on the bench below the window. ‘I have brought you your morning meal—only bread and cheese and eggs, I am afraid.’ He gave that little apologetic cough that they were coming to know. ‘Also my library, to help you pass the time; just the first roll of my “Hippolytus”, you know.—I think I mentioned Euripides to you last night; and I fancied from your manner that neither of you had read him…. I always think one values a thing more if one has had to make—ahem—a certain amount of sacrifice for it. The “Hippolytus” cost me a great many meals and visits to the Games when I was one of Carausius’s Under-Secretaries, and—ahem—not over well paid. I know that I need not ask you to treat it gently.’

  ‘Thank you for trusting it to us,’ Justin said.

  And at the same instant Flavius said quickly, ‘You were one of Carausius’s Secretaries, then?’

  ‘Yes—oh, a long time ago, when he was first—ahem—raised to the Purple. Quite a temporary measure, but it suited both of us at the time.’

  Flavius nodded, and asked after a moment, ‘What happened to that fool at the Dolphin?’

  ‘Our rash friend? We—er—picked him up before the Watch Patrol could do so, the wine shopkeeper being somewhat of a friend of mine—which was as well for him; Allectus does not encourage wild talk of that kind.’ They heard him smile. ‘Our friend is a sober and a very scared man this morning, and more than ever eager to be away to Gaul.’

  ‘Where is he now?’ Flavius asked.

  ‘Quite safe. There are more hiding-places than one in Portus Adurni; so we did not put him in here. You have all you want? Until this evening, then.’

  They were very hungry, and they cleared the food to the last crumb, while slowly the daylight grew, and around and below them Portus Adurni woke to life. The cold light filtering in through the chink of window showed them that they were in a narrow slip of a room, whose sloping rafters, high on the side where the window was, came down on the other side almost to the level of the uneven floor. And when they investigated, they found that from the window, by standing on the bench to reach it, they could look down through the withering leaves of a creeper into the trim, lime-washed courtyard where grew the best little apple-tree in the Empire. And by lying on the floor opposite, and shutting one eye to squint down through a gap where some tiles had fallen, they could catch a glimpse of the old, elegant ruins of the theatre, and the squalid turf roofs of the slum bothies that had come crowding in among the fallen columns.