‘But doesn’t Myrna live here?’
‘Not any more. She did at first, just for a week or two, but once the boy was sleeping through the night Julia preferred her to go home at night and just come in by day to feed and care for him. It suited Myrna too.’
I tried to imagine Julia rising in the night to soothe a fretful infant, but I failed. Presumably there was always a handmaiden close by to lend a hand if Myrna wasn’t there.
Junio saw my look. ‘I think there was a touch of jealousy again. Myrna was getting too fond of Marcellinus, it appears, and Julia insisted on looking after him herself as much as possible. She did much more than many wealthy Roman mothers do – stayed while he was being fed, and supervised while he was being washed and changed. She even played with him. As long as Marcus wasn’t here, of course – in that case her duty was naturally to her husband first.’
‘So Myrna was not wholly a success?’
‘Strangely it seems that in some ways she was. Julia did rely on her advice and took her everywhere she went. She is an anxious mother in a lot of ways, and was always asking questions, so they say – about fresh air and teeth and exercise and when to let him cry. And she acted on the answers, too.’
I frowned. ‘So where is Myrna now? Gone home for the night?’
He shook his head. ‘She’s not been here at all for several days. Marcus couldn’t bear to have her in the house after Marcellinus had been snatched away – and there wasn’t any job for her to do. He sent her home. She has got her little daughter to care for, anyway. That’s why it suited her to live at home again.’
‘Of course!’ I said. I had forgotten that the wet nurse must have had a child herself – otherwise she would not have had the milk. However, another thought had just occurred to me. Children of that age are dying all the time, and I have heard that sometimes such a loss can drive a woman mad and even make her try to steal a substitute. I wondered if something of the kind had happened here. I was about to ask ‘And is the daughter well?’, but Junio’s next words disposed of that idea.
‘Not a strapping child like Marcellinus by all accounts, but the villa servants say she is a lovely little girl – just a moon or so older than the boy. Her aunt or grandmother used to bring her here each day – especially when the lad was small – and Myrna used to suckle her as well. Apparently there was sufficient milk for two. But now the older sister mostly nurses her – though they still bring her here from time to time.’
I raised my eyebrows. ‘Abundance runs in the family, it seems.’
‘One of the recommendations for a wet nurse, so I hear. And Myrna seems to be a splendid nurse. She could not have been more loving to the boy if he had been her own, they say – as far as Julia would let her be. The day he disappeared Myrna was terribly upset. Blamed herself for the abduction, everybody says – because she was not in the courtyard at the time.’
‘The child was officially in her care, I suppose.’
‘That’s just what Marcus said when he came home. He was half crazed with it, of course – threatened to have her flogged and dragged before the courts for negligence and endangering the safety of a Roman citizen. Jove alone knows what would have happened to her then. The poor girl was trembling so that she could hardly speak. They had to burn feathers underneath her nose to stop her fainting dead away. But of course he didn’t do it in the end. As several of the household pointed out, it would have been unjust. Julia was with the child herself – and she was the one who sent the girl away.’
‘Fetching something for the child to eat? Isn’t that what I was told?’
He nodded. ‘A little stewed and sweetened fruit. Myrna was in the kitchens at the time, watching as they put the honey in and stirred it up. There are plenty of witnesses to that.’
‘And Julia’s other slaves?’
‘All busy doing chores elsewhere. That was not uncommon after lunch, I understand. Julia liked to spend time with the child on her own – apart from Myrna, obviously. Sitting in the courtyard, or in the orchard looking at the geese. Even the garden and kitchen slaves knew better than to intrude.’
I looked at him. That was interesting, if it was the case. ‘I would like to speak to Myrna.’
‘That can be arranged. Marcus has sent for her again, now that the child is back. She should be here tomorrow. The page took a message to her house today, as soon as Marcellinus was returned, but Myrna had gone into Glevum for the day with a basket of her mother’s croup remedy to sell, and there was only the sister in the house.’
I raised a brow at him. ‘You seem to know a lot about it. From the page again?’
Junio laughed. ‘Maximus is right. That Pulcrus is so full of vanity, he’ll tell you anything – especially if you flatter him a bit. He thinks he’s Dionysius where females are concerned – and Myrna is a pretty girl by all accounts. It would make you laugh to hear him sum her up – as though she was a cow he hoped to buy. “A bit on the plumpish side, perhaps, but well enough. She’ll be a catch for somebody one day. She has an occupation and her mother has a house so probably she’ll never have to beg.” That’s what he said. Perhaps he hopes that he’ll be lucky there, and Myrna will contrive to buy him free.’
I ignored this fantasy on Junio’s part. I had more pressing matters on my mind. ‘There were no other nurslings at the house that day? I thought the family had a string of them.’
‘Marcus insisted on exclusive rights. That was Julia’s doing, so I hear – afraid of Marcellinus’s catching some childhood disease. It was a condition that, while Myrna suckled him, the family had no other fostered nurslings in the house, in case of bringing illness in. Marcus paid her handsomely, of course, and the household weren’t sorry to agree. But for the last few days the boy has not been here, so Myrna’s not been earning anything. That’s why they were selling the mother’s remedy, I suppose. Had to do something to bring some money in.’
‘Well, it would earn a few brass coins, I suppose.’
He shrugged. ‘You’d be surprised. It might do more than that. It’s famous – everybody says so. Even Julia used to buy it now and then.’
‘Everybody? So you’ve talked to several people, not only to the page.’
Junio flashed me an embarrassed grin. ‘Oh, I’ve had a little chat. To some of Julia’s personal handmaidens at least, while you were fast asleep. In fact . . .’ He raised his fingers to his mouth and gave a long, low whistle. Almost at once there was a gentle tapping at the door.
‘Come in!’ I called, and at once a plump young face peered round the entrance door, followed an instant later by the owner of the face – a little freckled dumpling of a girl. She might have been perhaps thirteen, and even without the pink uniform tunic I would have known that it was one of Julia’s maids, simply because her face was rather plain. It was one of Julia’s more unappealing little vanities – surrounding herself with handmaidens who were less than beautiful, so that she looked more handsome by comparison. (It was not a necessary strategy: Julia was lovely in any company.)
This dumpling gave a sketchy little bob.
‘You wanted something?’ I enquired from my bed, in what I hoped was my most paternal tone.
The girl, though, had no eyes for me at all. She looked at Junio and her cheeks turned even more pink and mottled than before. ‘I heard your signal, Junio. At least I thought I did. Did you want me now?’
I found that I was grinning inwardly. I find it hard to picture Junio as a heart-breaker, though no doubt the cheerful smile and tumbled curls do have a boyish charm. But the dumpling was clearly quite enamoured of him. And, of course, the boy is growing up; almost sixteen, we think, although – since he was born in slavery and no record of his birth was ever made – that is an estimate. He does not know how old he was when I acquired him, and he was so undernourished at the time that I can only guess. But somehow the frightened scrap that I took pity on and bought, all those years ago, had become the strapping fellow who was before me now, blushing to the roots of his unruly hair.
I gave him a knowing wink, which made him pinker still. I had no qualms about teasing him a bit, because of course there was no chance of any serious romance. The law forbade slaves to form personal attachments of that kind, and these two belonged to different households anyway. Besides, I was aware that, even if he had the chance, Junio would bestow his affections nearer home – on plump, dark-haired little Cilla, my Gwellia’s serving maid.
Nonetheless, he’d clearly made another conquest here – and probably without intending to. So I could not resist a touch of banter in my tone. ‘And who is this young person?’ I enquired
‘She is called . . . um . . .’ He hesitated. I was right. Though he had fluttered her a little, he didn’t know her name.
‘I am Porphyllia, citizen,’ she supplied. ‘One of the handmaids to the mistress here. Not an important one, you understand. Mostly I work where I am out of sight, though I sometimes do assist the mistress with her wigs.’
I nodded. Another of Julia’s little vanities. Like many Roman matrons she has several wigs, and has been known to buy a fair-headed slave especially for her hair, shave her and then sell her on again. ‘So what are your duties?’ I enquired.
‘Fetching and carrying for the mistress when she’s here, and cleaning her apartment when she’s out. Mixing up her perfumes and her beauty creams. My special responsibility is for her clothes, mending them, or sponging muddy hems – if it is a garment that she wants to wear again – or sorting things out for the fuller’s man. I bring the washing water from the well, and stand by while they help her wash and dress. I’m not one of those who accompanies her about.’ She dipped another little curtsey in my direction, for politeness’s sake, and went on staring straight at Junio. ‘At least until I’m older, anyway. Anyway, she always takes the wet nurse with her now.’
‘There’s four of them like her,’ Junio said. ‘I thought you’d like to speak to them yourself. Porphyllia has no other duties to perform just now, so I asked her to wait out in the court till she was called. I assured her that it was quite permissible to come and talk to you, now that her master’s back. He only said that no one was to come while he was gone. I found her in the servants’ waiting room.’
I nodded. Every Roman house of any size has an ante-room where waiting slaves can sit until their services are next required.
The girl, however, was alarmed by Junio’s words and anxious to assure me that she was no idler. ‘There isn’t a great deal of work for any of us, now that the mistress isn’t here,’ she blurted. ‘I wanted to help with looking after Marcellinus – feeding him goat’s milk in a cup like the other girls – but they wouldn’t hear of it. Said I was too little and I didn’t know enough. Well, possibly they’re right, but I would like to learn. He’s . . .’ She was obviously a girl who liked to talk a lot.
Junio cut across all this to say to me, ‘Porphyllia was attending Julia on the day she disappeared.’
The freckled face turned still more scarlet underneath the telltale dots. ‘Well, not attending her exactly. I was to sponge the dress that she’d been wearing earlier, and grind some chalk and arsenic for her face. I took them to our room – the sleeping quarters for the female slaves. And not just me. She sent us all away.’
That was just what Junio had said. ‘Was that unusual?’ I urged.
Porphyllia refused to look me in the face. ‘Not really. She often did that in the afternoon. She liked to have Marcellinus to herself – she even found other errands for Myrna when she could. But it’s nonsense what they say. I don’t think the mistress was jealous of the wet nurse in the least – it was just that she preferred to tend the child herself.’
There it was again: the suggestion that Julia had become possessive of the child, because the nurse had become too fond of him. ‘Myrna was too affectionate to the boy, perhaps?’ I said gently.
She avoided my eyes again. ‘I’m not claiming that. Julia is my mistress, and it isn’t up to me to say anything at all. But if she was as jealous of the wet nurse as the others say, she wouldn’t have kept her on – she got rid of the other poor girl, after all. But she took Myrna with her as an attendant almost everywhere – anywhere that she could take the boy, at least. Even that morning, before she disappeared, she had Myrna to attend her when she went out visiting. And she always turned to Myrna for advice – even if some people think she shouldn’t have and that if she’d kept him swaddled up properly and indoors in his crib, instead of letting him crawl round the courtyard with his wooden dog, none of this would have happened.’
‘You don’t agree with air and exercise?’
She avoided that one. ‘It wasn’t his mother’s fault if he was taken away – and don’t you listen if they tell you otherwise. She never took her eyes off him, that day, from the moment they came home. Even when he was being fed, she wouldn’t go and eat – she had her own lunch sent in to her room and stayed with him right through, till was time for him to have his daily airing in the court.’
‘She was more watchful than usual? Almost as if she was concerned for him? Fearful that something might happen to the boy?’
She looked thoughtful suddenly. ‘Well, I suppose so.’
‘You noticed she was anxious at the time?’
Her face turned pink. ‘Well, not exactly that. I wasn’t really there. I didn’t see her when she came back from her drive – not properly, I mean. I had my duties, and I got on with them. But since you mention it, perhaps there was a wariness about her, as if she wanted to keep watch on Marcellinus by herself. Mind, she often did send everyone away. There was a lot to do. She liked her things kept nice. If it was not to sponge her hems and clean her perfume box, it was to air the clothes or find the jewels she wanted for that night.’
I interrupted before she gave me a full account of every job she’d ever been called upon to do. ‘So she shooed everyone away that afternoon?’
‘Everyone except the wet nurse, certainly. I know what you are thinking, citizen. Of course, some people say it is bad luck for a lady of quality to have no maids at hand, and therefore she brought her troubles on herself, but it was by her own command. We were just doing what we’d been told to do, and whoever kidnapped the mistress and the child, it obviously wasn’t one of us. I hope you’ll point out to the master, citizen, that none of the handmaidens can possibly be blamed.’