Chapter 12
They could hear the shouting before they turned the corner into the street, a woman's voice, shrill with fear, and a man's, loud and hectoring.
"My mistress will pay," the woman cried. "She always does. She just doesn't have the money right now."
"Promises, promises," the man scoffed. "That's all I get! Well, I'm sick of them. I'm getting payment today, right now, and if your mistress has nothing else to pay me with, I'll take you. Hah! That's an idea. Come along, let's see what price you'll fetch in the market - or maybe you can walk the streets for me. There's plenty of pilgrims who won't mind the fact that you're skinny and ugly."
They turned the corner in time to see a fat Syrian with a purple fringe to his robe lunge into the doorway of a run-down looking house and seize the wrist of a shabbily dressed slave girl. The girl screamed, clinging to the doorpost with her other hand as the man attempted to drag her into the street. There were half a dozen bystanders watching the altercation, but none of them made any move to interfere.
"That is the house, lord," the slaveboy said, pointing to where the Syrian had jerked the girl free of her hold.
"Is it, by Jove?" Publius exclaimed. "Here, catch."
He tossed the two mites to the boy and then squared his shoulders and strode smartly down the street.
"What's going on?" he demanded in his most authorative voice, the one he usually kept for soldiers brought to him for serious misbehaviour.
The Syrian turned and his eyes widened at the sight of Publius' red cloak and his gleaming breastplate. His bullying manner changed in an instant into oily obsequiousness.
"My lord!" He smiled and bowed, but didn't loose his hold on the slave girl's arm. "I am owed money and merely seek to collect my dues. The noble centurion will not wish to become involved in a dispute over money."
"Is this where the Lady Secunda lives?" Publius demanded, looking straight at the slave girl.
"Yes, lord." The girl's eyes were large in a pale face. "Help me, lord. My mistress needs me."
"Let go of her," Publius ordered. He was pretty certain that the man was acting illegally in seizing the slave girl, for if he had a court order there should be lictors - or whatever they had in this part of the world - to accompany him.
The man made no move to comply and Publius put his hand on the hilt of his sword and took a step towards him.
"I said, let go of her," he growled and at that the Syrian released his hold. The girl snatched her hand away and stood, panting and rubbing her wrist. "How much are you owed?" Publius demanded.
"Twelve denarii, lord," the Syrian said in a wheedling tone. "I'm not a wealthy man, lord. I can't afford to ..."
"Twelve denarii?" Publius interrupted. He put his hand in his wallet and pulled out a handful of coins. He counted out twelve and handed them to the fat Syrian who grabbed them greedily.
"The noble centurion is most generous," the Syrian bowed again and turned to leave.
Struck with a sudden thought Publius grabbed the man by the shoulder and shoved him against the wall. "Listen, my friend. I doubt the Lady Secunda will wish to have any further dealings with you, but if she does - if she does," he jabbed the man hard in the chest with his forefinger to emphasise his words, "you will supply her needs immediately, politely and with your best quality stuff. Understand?"
The man glared at Publius, the ingratiating smile gone at last.
"And if I hear of any more harrassment, I will deal with you myself - and I'm not a man to bother with courts and lawyers. Understand? And don't think that your heirs will get anywhere with me either. I'm a Roman citizen with the right of appeal to Caesar and I can tell you that in Rome they don't worry unduly about a a mere Syrian getting his throat cut. Now, get out of my sight."
As soon as Publius stepped back the man scuttled down the street and Publius watched him contemptuously. When he disappeared round the corner Publius turned to the slave girl, who was staring at him with a look of undisguised admiration. Her face was thin and pinched, as if she didn't get enough to eat, but she was young enough that at any other time Publius might have thought of pressing his advantage.
"Is the Lady Secunda within?"
"Yes, my lord. I'll ..."
The slave girl turned towards the doorway and stopped as the figure of a woman appeared in the dimness of the house. Publius stepped forward eagerly.
"My lady." His voice faltered as the woman pulled herself slowly out of the shadow and into the harsh light of the sun. She leaned against the side of the door and regarded Publius with lacklustre eyes. "By all the gods, Secunda, what has happened to you?"
Publius stared at the wasted figure in front of him. Her headscarf had slipped onto her shoulders, revealing a face that was grey with exhaustion. The woman gazed at him dully and then the ghost of a smile flitted across her face.
"Publius," she said in a weak voice. "Come in."
She turned and, still leaning heavily against the wall, retreated into the shadows again. Publius darted forward and scooped her up in his brawny arms and the woman gasped.
"Publius, no!"
"Secunda, my love, what's happened to you?" Publius murmured as he carried her through a room that was bare of furniture and into the open courtyard beyond.
"Put me down!" the woman protested. "Put me down. There's - there's blood ..."
Publius laughed. "I'm a soldier, my love. I'm not afraid of a bit of blood. Where's your room?"
The woman raised her arm and pointed and Publius carried her across the courtyard and into a room that held a bed and a stool. He put her down gently on the bed and then stood back and looked at her.
"I'll fetch water, lord?"
Publius turned to find that Geta and the slave girl had followed them into the room.
"Yes, do that," Publius said.
"My lord will drink also?" the girl asked.
"Yes, yes."
Publius waved his arm in dismissal and sat down on the stool beside the bed. He reached out and ran his hand lightly over Secunda's forehead, relieved to find that it was cool. "Geta," he said. "Run out and see if you can find a doctor in this blighted place."
Secunda opened her eyes. "Don't bother. I've tried them all."
"What do you mean?" Publius demanded. "You can't have tried them all! Come on, who's the best doctor in town? You don't have to worry about the cost. I'll pay his fee."
"Kefer Hotep," Secunda closed her eyes again. "He's Egyptian. I've had him. He can't do anything."
"Can't do anything?" Publius sounded incredulous. "Well then, what about at the Aesculapium? I'll pay for the most expensive sacrifice ..."
"I already have," Secunda spoke wearily. "I've done it all. I've spent every penny I've got." Her voice broke and tears started to stream down her cheeks, "I've spent it all and no one can help me."
On an impulse Publius scooped her up in his arms, then sat down on the bed, cradling her and rocking her gently as she wept.
"I've tried everything," she sobbed. "I've fasted for whole days and nights, I've drunk things that were disgusting and anointed myself with things that were even more disgusting. Kefer Hotep imported some crocodile dung from Egypt and made it into pessaries and even that didn't do any good. I've made offerings to every god in this place and, when I was well enough, made pilgrimages to other temples and shrines, but nothing works."
She choked on the last words and buried her face in Publius' shoulder.
"And your wretched breastplate is cutting into me," she snapped with a brief flash of spirit which showed that the old Secunda was still there.
"Sorry," Publius slid her onto the bed and stood up. "Here, Geta, help me get this off. It's all very well for the parade ground but I should have realised that the accoutrements of Mars would be no help on the field of Venus."
"Venus?" Secunda raised her head and looked at Publius. "Venus?" She burst into renewed sobbing which shook her skinny frame.
"Yes, Venus," Publius said as Geta unbuckled the straps that held the breastplate in position and lifted it off over his head. "Secunda, you remember how it was when we were young. I've never stopped loving you, my dearest, and whatever it is that you've got, we can deal with it. I've got plenty of money; marry me, my darling, and I'll take you off to Rome or Alexandria or somewhere and get you looked at by the experts."
"Marry you?" Secunda wailed. "But Publius, I can't!"
