there. It would be typical. I’m beginning to believe that I am genuinely cursed. Otherwise I’ll see you at the Festival – supposing that I manage to get back here with the mules.’
I nodded. As donor of the sacrifice he would be invited to the rostrum with the priests. ‘Then I’ll look out for you at the Agonalia,’ I said. ‘Let’s just trust that the soothsayer was right and that your blood-offering brings you better luck.’
‘Great Mars, I hope so!’ he replied. ‘Things cannot well get worse. Enjoy your cabbage!’ And he turned away to sell his other wares.
I went back to where Junio and Maximus were waiting with the cart: blowing on their fingers and stamping their feet to drive away the chill. I explained what I’d been doing for so long. ‘At least I’ve managed to arrange to get a message home,’ I said. ‘And we have got some cabbage for the pot. So now all that remains for us to do is to go back to the workshop and keep warm – until it’s time to go to the temple and find our witnesses.’
The day of the Janus Agonalia dawned damp and wet – always a bad omen for an outdoor festival – but it least it brought the promise of reopened roads as the rain began to turn the frozen snow to slush. I was beginning to wonder if Genialis would manage to return and witness the completion of the pavement after all, but when I reached the sanctuary there was no sign of him.
In Rome there is a famous temple to the dual-faced deity, but in Glevum Janus has no building of his own and the annual Festival was held at the Capitoline shrine, where there was a little altar set up near the
cella
of the goddess Juno. Of course there were niches in the gateways to the town where travellers could make small personal offerings and prayers, but for the big occasion the large temple was required – and this year it was packed to near-capacity. Perhaps it was because the weather had been so severe since New Year’s Day, and the citizens were anxious to propitiate the god and obtain a better outlook for the remainder of the year.
Whatever the reason, it was hard to get a place and after we had left the slaves to wait outside, Juno and I found ourselves standing almost at the rear. This made it rather difficult to hear, but potentially easier to scan the crowd for our two witnesses. Everyone was huddled up in woollen cloaks against the cold, of course, but only the sacrificing priest would wear a hood, so our men’s faces would be clearly visible.
However, I could not see them for the press of citizens and after a few moments Junio – with the advantages of youth – climbed up on a column-base to get a better view. He earned himself some disapproving stares but he ignored them and looked steadily around.
After a moment he climbed down again and came to stand demurely at my side. ‘There they are,’ he murmuring, gesturing. ‘Right down at the front, with all the other councillors, close to the altar where the sacrifice will be. Your neighbour Cantalarius is there as well.’
I stood on tiptoe to see the area that he was pointing at and made out the pair, resplendent in their togas and their coloured cloaks, standing in the area which had the closest view, along with a lot of other local dignitaries. Even the commander of the garrison was there.
I grinned at Junio. ‘We’ll catch them afterwards. We’ll never fight our way down there before the ritual. But we’re going to need them, by the look of it. There’s no sign of Genialis anywhere. Or of my patron either, which is rather strange. If Cantalarius can get here on a mule, you’d think that Marcus would manage on a horse – he is a splendid horseman and he does not lack for mounts.’
‘Unless he is in the cella
of Juno with the priests?’ Junio nodded towards the inner sanctum of the temple, where the public could not go. ‘I can hear the flutes, so the ritual must be almost ready to begin – and they would not start without him, would
Learning to Kill: Stories