Rome in Flames (9 page)

– chapter xvii –

No goodbye

 

‘Where does the master keep his money?' I asked Clemens, trying to sound casual.

‘In the strongbox in his study,' said Clemens. ‘Haven't you ever seen it?'

Rufus said, ‘Are you thinking of helping yourself to some cash? Because you needn't bother. There's only one key to the strongbox, and Pallas takes care of it.' Everyone knew that Pallas, the secretary, was fiercely loyal to the master – he probably slept with the key under his pillow.

‘Why do you want to know?' Clemens asked me.

‘I told you – Bryn's planning a robbery,' said Rufus.

I felt my face start to go red. The only thing to do was to make a joke of the whole thing. ‘That's right. I'm going to run off to Britain with the master's strongbox!'

‘Then you'll need the strength of Hercules,' said Clemens. ‘That box is made of metal and chained to the floor.'

Rufus said, ‘If I wanted to steal something, I'd forget the money. There's so much other stuff just sitting around asking to be taken. See that carved ivory figure?' He pointed to a little statue in a niche on the corridor wall. ‘That must be worth quite a bit. And the big Greek vases in the dining room . . .'

‘Don't be stupid,' said Clemens. ‘How would you get them past the doorman? Small things are better. I'd have that silver statuette of Mercury from the atrium.'

‘Would you? How very interesting,' said Theon. He had appeared round the corner of the passage and walked right in on our discussion. ‘I wonder if the master knows of your new interest in art collecting.'

‘I was only joking,' Clemens said hastily.

‘Joking? Of course you were,' Theon said, in that hateful, smooth voice of his. He smiled at us as he strolled past.

‘I hate Theon,' Rufus muttered. ‘Always hanging around, listening in on other people.'

‘Because he hasn't got any friends of his own. No one likes him,' Clemens said loudly. Theon must have heard this, but he didn't even turn his head.

I wondered how much of our conversation he'd overheard. He could have been listening around the corner for ages. Had I said anything that Theon could use against me?

Next day, when Conan met me outside the school, I told him what had happened.

‘Then it's time we made a move,' said Conan. ‘We'll leave tomorrow.'

‘Tomorrow!' I gasped. I felt it was too soon. I wasn't ready.

‘Or have you changed your mind? Maybe you want to stay here. Maybe you're a Roman now, not a Celt,' he said mockingly.

‘No! I do want to go. It's just that I haven't had a chance to say goodbye to anyone.'

Conan looked alarmed. ‘Forget saying goodbye. We don't want anyone to guess what's going to happen – not even Tiro. So just act normally. Take Manius to school tomorrow, and then slip away. I'll meet you at the corner there.'

This was a sensible idea. It meant I would be able to leave the house without anyone suspecting me. But I longed to see Tiro just one more time. And what about money?

‘I still haven't managed to steal anything,' I said.

‘Just take whatever you can find tomorrow,' said Conan. ‘But be careful. Don't get caught.'

I decided to steal the little ornament that Rufus had pointed out. It was carved out of white stuff called ivory, in the shape of a horse and rider. The carving, which was beautifully detailed, looked foreign somehow. Perhaps it had been made in a far-away land, then brought to Rome by traders and sold for a high price.

I wouldn't take it until the last possible moment. Eventually, someone would notice the empty shelf – but if the gods were with me, I would be well out of reach before that happened.

If the gods were with me . . . There was one god who definitely would not approve of my plan – Tiro's god. But I pushed that thought to the back of my mind. I
had
to steal something. How else could we get money for our journey?

Waking up early next morning, I slid out of the dormitory before anyone else had even stirred. No one saw me take the ivory figure from the shelf. It was small enough to slip easily into Manius's leather schoolbag.

Although I was far too nervous to feel hungry, I forced myself to eat a good breakfast. It might be a long time before my next proper meal. Looking around, I realized that if all went well, I would never see any of these people again. I would miss Rufus and Clemens. And Tiro – where was Tiro?

When I asked, Pallas said, ‘He drove the master to Laurentum yesterday. They'll be back tonight.'

So there was no chance of seeing Tiro again. Well, perhaps it was better that way.

Manius and I left the house as usual. By now, there was no need for a candle to light our way, for the days were getting longer. Conan was right – we shouldn't delay. Summer would be the best time of year for our journey.

‘Why are you walking so fast?' Manius complained. ‘There's no hurry. You know I don't like school.'

I slowed my pace a little, wondering just how much time I had before someone noticed the missing statue. When they did notice, who would get the blame for it? Theon might report what Rufus had said. Rufus would deny everything, and probably put the blame on me.

At last we reached the school. I gave Manius his writing things, keeping hold of the bag – it might come in useful on the journey. I sat down in my usual place on the steps outside. As soon as the lessons were under way, I got up again. ‘Just going to the toilet,' I muttered to one of the other attendants.

Conan was waiting at the corner of the street. He looked relieved to see me. I showed him the ivory carving.

‘I know someone who'll pay good money for it,' I said.

‘Do we have time?' Conan asked. ‘Maybe we should take it with us and sell it later. I've got a bit of money already – Crispus gave me some.'

‘If we sell it in Rome, we'll get a better price,' I said.

Conan didn't argue, even though I could see he just wanted to get out of Rome at once. He let me lead him to the street of goldsmiths, and the shop where I'd sold the bracelet.

The two brothers remembered me. They came forward, all smiles, but when I took out the ivory horseman, the smiles turned to frowns.

‘Sorry. We do not buy ivory,' the older one said.

‘Only silver and gold,' said his brother. ‘Ivory is no use to us. We can't melt it down and make new, you see.'

‘But it must be very valuable,' I said. ‘Look how fine the carving is. I bet there isn't another like this in the whole of Rome.'

The brothers raised their eyebrows. ‘So we buy it and try to sell it. Then the real owner sees it. Then what?'

‘Sorry,' said the other. ‘We can't buy it. Bring us some gold instead.'

I tried to hide my dismay. ‘Oh well, if you don't want it I'll find someone who does.'

We went up and down the street, asking at every shop, but no one wanted to buy the statue.

‘Come on,' said Conan, ‘forget it. We can sell it somewhere else, where they're not so fussy. It's time we got out of this city.'

But already it was too late.

‘There he is!' someone shouted. ‘Stop, thief! Catch him!'

I darted out of the shadowed alley into the bright, sunlit square. My eyes were slow to adjust to the light. I saw Theon and dodged him, only to run right into Pallas and Maximus, the gardener. Maximus, a great big bear of a man, grabbed me and held me tightly.

Theon opened the schoolbag and took out the ivory figure. ‘Aha! Here it is! I told you, didn't I?'

Pallas looked shocked. ‘Wait till the master hears about this,' he said, grimly.

By now, a small crowd had gathered round us. I could see Conan on the edge of it, wondering what to do. I called out to him in our own language. ‘Conan! Don't try anything. Just get away!'

He looked as if he wanted to help me. But it would be useless – he couldn't possibly take on Maximus, Pallas and Theon. And if they caught him, he would be punished along with me.

‘Go on – get out of here!' I shouted. ‘I'll follow you as soon as I can. See you in Britain!'

Theon had heard my words, but he didn't care about Conan – it was me he wanted to hurt.

‘I wonder what the master will do,' he said, with a gloating smile. ‘I expect he'll sell you. I hope you go to a cruel master who'll beat some sense into you. That's what you need, you thieving barbarian!'

– chapter xviii –

No hope

 

I was locked up in a storeroom until the master came home. Then he sent for me. Pallas and Theon marched me into his study.

The master looked angry. ‘Is this true?' he demanded. ‘You stole my property and tried to run away?'

‘Yes,' I muttered, staring at the floor. What would he do? I was sure to get a beating for this.

‘Never trust a barbarian,' the master said to Pallas. ‘The only reason I bought him was because Lucia felt sorry for him. I felt at the time that it might be an expensive mistake.'

Pallas said, ‘It was kind of you to give him a chance, sir.'

The master turned to me. He said coldly, ‘We gave you the chance to better yourself. You could have learned our ways and become civilized. And now you've thrown that chance away.'

He paused, as if he was waiting for me to say something. But I was too proud to beg for mercy, or to make promises never to run away again. How could I promise that?

‘Sell him,' the master ordered Pallas. ‘I never keep slaves who can't be trusted.'

They led me away. Theon was smiling triumphantly.

As we walked down the corridor, I saw Lucia coming towards us. She must have heard what I'd done, for she gave me a reproachful look. She probably wished she'd never asked her father to buy me.

‘I'm sorry,' I mumbled as she passed me. But I don't think she heard.

The following day, I found myself back at the slave market. But this time I had a notice round my neck, warning that I was a thief and a runaway. People looked me over, read the notice, and turned away.

‘A thief?' said the slave standing next to me. ‘Bad luck. No one will want you as a household slave. You'll probably end up on a farm.'

‘Is that so terrible?' I asked.

‘Well, it depends on the farm. The good ones are all right, if you don't mind hard work.'

‘What about the bad ones?' I asked.

He didn't answer me. But I soon found out.

* * *

The farm was in the hills outside Rome. It was owned by a rich man, living in the city. We never saw him. Our real master was the overseer, Publius, who ruled the place with a rod of iron.

To guard against escapes, we were chained together in groups of four. The chains were never removed. After a few days, my ankle was red and raw where the metal rubbed against it. Every step was painful.

My hands, too, were blistered and sore from the long days in the fields. We had to hoe the weeds that grew between the endless rows of vines. We worked from sunrise to sunset, with a break at noon when the heat was at its worst. The task was so boring and monotonous that every day felt like a year.

‘What happens when we reach the end of the vineyard?' I asked one day.

‘We go back to the beginning,' said Sergius. He laughed harshly. ‘What's the matter, son? Not getting bored with the job, are you?'

Sergius was in my chain gang, along with Afer and Kaeso. Sergius was all right – at least he would talk to me. But Afer, the leader, hated me because I couldn't work as fast as the others, making more work for them. Then there was Kaeso, who looked as old as my grandfather. He never spoke, except in grunts. He had been on the chain gang for so long that he was more like an animal than a man.

Once, I asked the others what they had done before being sold here. Afer gave me a look that meant, ‘Mind your own business.' Sergius said, ‘I was a cook, and my master thought I was trying to poison him.'

‘Were you really?'

He laughed that bitter laugh of his. ‘Maybe I should have. Then I would either be dead by now or else working somewhere decent. I used to be a good cook – one of the best.'

‘Why did he think you were poisoning him?' I asked.

‘He was old and ill, with a bad stomach. I hope he died a painful death! As for Afer, he's here because he kept running away. Isn't that right, Afer? But this place has cured him of that.'

‘What about
him
?' I said, looking at Kaeso.

Sergius lowered his voice – rather pointlessly, since he was chained right next to Kaeso. ‘They say he killed another slave in a fight. But no one knows for sure.'

Old Kaeso didn't seem to hear him. He sat staring into the distance, chewing on a hunk of bread. He looked as placid as a cow chewing the cud.

At night, or on days when the weather was bad, all the slaves were locked in a cellar. It had four narrow windows, so high up that only the sky could be seen. There was no bedding, just a stone floor, but at least it was cool after the baking heat of the fields.

Often, I lay awake among the rows of snoring men. I was exhausted, but sleep would not come. I gazed up at the few stars I could glimpse through the window, wondering if Conan could see them too. How far had he gone on his journey?

At first, I clung to the faint hope that Conan might come to my rescue. After all, I had managed to rescue him. But, as time went on, that hope slowly died. Conan wouldn't even know where I was. If he had any sense, he would be heading steadily north and westwards, each day a little closer to home. Was his leg all right? Would he ever find our village – if the Romans hadn't destroyed it?

Probably, I would never find out. I would wear away the rest of my life in this horrible place.

No! There must be some way to get out. I asked Sergius if anyone had ever escaped from the farm.

‘I've been here for five years,' he said, ‘and it's only happened once. A slave managed to break loose from his chain – I don't know how – and he ran off into the hills. But Publius and his men hunted him down with dogs. When they found him, they let the dogs tear him to pieces.'

Afer said, ‘Face it, kid – you're here for life. Like the rest of us. Only you're younger, so it will be even longer for you.'

‘At least it's better than the salt mines,' said Sergius.

I now realized what an easy life I'd had in the household of Lucius. I would give anything to be back there, even if it meant working in the kitchen again. That would be more varied and less back-breaking than endless weeding. And the food was good; the beds were soft; the people were friendly; there were feast days now and then, and you could rest sometimes . . .

‘Get moving, boy!' I felt the bite of a whip across my back. ‘Don't stand there dreaming. You're here to work!'

Wearily, I took up my hoe and shuffled into line.

* * *

The long summer days dragged on, hot and dusty. Our gang was taken off weeding and ordered to dig trenches to water the vines. By now, my hands were growing tougher, with hard skin instead of blisters, but I had a painful abscess on my ankle, where the chain kept rubbing it. Like everyone else, I was filthy, and my skin itched with flea bites.

We were treated worse than animals. Even the oxen that pulled the cart were unchained at night and allowed to graze in a field. We wore our chains day and night. We would never be free until death released us.

At night, I lay restless, unable to sleep as my mind went over and over things. I shouldn't have taken the statue . . . I should have listened to Conan . . . we should have left Rome at once . . . by now, we would be halfway across Gaul . . . And I thought how much I hated Theon, and what I'd do to him if I ever got the chance.

Round and round – my thoughts went endlessly round and round, like a captured bear pacing in a narrow cage. I could not spend the rest of my life here. I must get out, but how? There was no way out.

One night, I felt desperate enough to kill myself. But I didn't have a weapon to do it with. I would have to starve myself to death, or pick a fight with Kaeso, the murderer. I couldn't bear to live this life. I was weary, so weary.

All at once, I remembered something Tiro had said. Tiro, like me, could not read but was good at memorizing things. He had learned by heart many of the sayings of Jesus. This was one of them: ‘Come to me, all you who are weary and have heavy loads to carry. I will give you rest.'

Rest . . . that was what I longed for. But then I remembered how I had turned away from God. I'd disobeyed him. When I stole the statue, I knew I was doing wrong, but I still did it.

‘Come to me, all you who are weary . . .'

Would he let me come to him, though? If only I had some gift to bring him, some kind of sacrifice to please him. Then he might be kind to me.

But I could still hear Tiro's voice in my memory. ‘Because Jesus died, we don't need to make sacrifices to please God. If we believe in Jesus, we can come near to God at any time. We can know his love, like children know the love of their father.'

Was it really true?

‘Please, God, hear me,' I prayed. ‘I'm sorry I stole those things. I want to come to you. I want you to be my father. I'm so weary . . . Please give me rest.'

A feeling of peace came over me, like my mother's hand stroking my forehead, smoothing away all my troubled thoughts. I lay back with a sigh. Very soon, I fell asleep.

* * *

Next day, things were back to normal, but not quite. As we ate our morning bread ration, I still felt strangely peaceful. I'd had a good night's sleep. Perhaps that was why I felt better than usual.

Publius shouted out the day's orders. ‘Afer's gang, carry on where you finished yesterday, down by the road.'

The others groaned, for it meant a long trudge to the far boundary of the farm. But I didn't mind working near the road. The few people who might pass by were more interesting to look at than vines, vines and more vines.

Today, though, the road was almost empty. A couple of ox carts went by. Then, in the distance, I saw a cloud of dust, which meant a faster-moving vehicle, probably a rich man's carriage. As it drew closer, I saw that it was pulled by four matching black horses, like Lucius's carriage horses. The coachman was black too. The coachman was—

‘Tiro!' I yelled, at the top of my voice.