He shook his head. ‘I’m afraid you’d need to thpeak to my mathter about that. Unfortunately he ithn’t here at prethent.’
That was a blow. Leave it too long, and Optimus might change his mind about his pavement, and I was relying doubly on this commission now. Not only would the money be welcome, but the house would give me a useful vantage-point over the high priest’s dwelling and the temple beyond it.
The Phrygian steward must have seen my frown. ‘I’m truly thorry that he wathn’t here,’ he went on. ‘I do not think he wath ecthpecting you.’
I gave him a forgiving smile. ‘I don’t expect he was. I had business this afternoon with Marcus Septimus, and since I was passing the door, it seemed an opportunity to see the floor. It would speed matters, you see, and Optimus was in a hurry for the work to be completed. With a little preparation tonight, I could no doubt start work first thing in the morning. No matter. No doubt your master is expected soon,’ I said. ‘I am content to wait here till he comes.’
I expected some conventional response. Instead, Lithputh glanced nervously towards the court. No more than the hastiest of looks, but Junio had seen it too. I felt him stiffen at my side, and under the cover of adjusting my cloak he bent forward and caught my eye. He raised his brows expressively.
I winked at him. ‘Something is troubling you, steward?’ I enquired of Lithputh, in a tone that was sweetly reasonable.
Lithputh flushed. ‘Not at all. A pity your journey thyoud have been in vain.’ His eyes strayed to the courtyard once again. He gestured towards the outer door. ‘Another time, perhapth?’
The man was hiding something. He could not have signalled it more clearly if he had hung a swinging shop sign on the wall, like the one outside the potter’s shop next door. I tried to recall that scuttling figure I’d seen. Who was it? I wished that I had caught a better glimpse. Optimus himself, perhaps – I had not had time to take a proper look, but I would have seen a toga, I was sure, and my impression was of a smaller figure than the old centurion. It wasn’t Lithputh, either – unless he’d taken the trouble to go and change his clothes. He was still wearing the bright ochre tunic which I remembered as the household uniform. Ochre is cheerful, Optimus had told me, and it is not an expensive dye.
Lithputh was still trying to usher me out. I made another attempt to resist. ‘I’m sure your master would not be pleased at losing the chance to have the work begun as soon as possible. I understand he was most emphatic about it.’
Lithputh licked his lips. His disdainful manner had vanished like a tallow candle on a brazier. He thought for a moment. ‘In that case,’ he said at last, so agitated that he almost forgot to lisp, ‘perhaps, if you would care to thee the pavement? I am empowered thometimeth to act on hith behalf. I am thure that thome arrangement could be reached.’
‘Perhaps a small payment in advance? And a written bond from you, to guarantee the rest?’ I said. That was impertinent. A written contract for work of this kind was almost unheard of in the Empire, and as for payment in advance! That was like buying a ‘pig’ of iron sight unseen, without having it assayed – a positive invitation to be cheated.
But if I had redoubled the asking price I firmly believe that Lithputh would have signed, he was in such a hurry to usher us away. By this time, naturally, I was more curious than ever.
I contrived to send Junio to do the measurements, while I remained in the ante-room to keep a stealthy eye on the courtyard, but there was nothing further to be seen. Lithputh left me in the care of the doorkeeper, and came back after a moment carrying a writing tablet, with the agreement for the commission scratched out in the wax – not the most permanent of records, but still a good deal more than I deserved. He pressed it with his seal-ring in my presence, and brought out some silver coins from his purse.
‘Twenty thethtertheeth, pavement-maker,’ he said, with a return to his old lofty manner. ‘I will tell my mathter—’
‘For the purchase of preliminary tiles only,’ I said swiftly, slipping the sesterces into my pouch. ‘Black, red and white ones, I presume? Like the ones he wants me to replace?’ It was a silly question really, but I was looking for any excuse to prolong my visit.
Lithputh was not deceived. ‘I imagine that will be what he had in mind. Tho now, if your thlave hath finithed meathuring?’ He motioned to the door – and to the doorkeeper to see us out. ‘We will thee you in the morning, thitithen.’
The doorkeeper was a stout fellow with a stick, as doorkeepers in this city tend to be, so I was not disposed to argue with him. I collected myself and my slave with as much dignity as I could muster and we made our way back onto the street.
It was raining hard by now, and the street was deserted. We would be glad of our cloaks, I thought, as I wound mine around me, and began walking briskly back in the direction of the workshop. ‘Well,’ I said to Junio, who was trotting obediently beside me, ‘what did you make of that? The fellow was positively anxious to get rid of us. What do you suppose? That Optimus was somewhere in the house all the time?’
Junio peered up at me, his hood raised against the rain. ‘I hardly think so, master. Lithputh looked more guilty than anything, to me. But he would have lied for Optimus without a second thought, I’m sure. I think something else was troubling him. There was someone there, I’m certain of it. I thought I saw someone in the garden earlier . . .’
I nodded. ‘I thought I caught a glimpse of someone too. Someone who was very anxious not to be seen. Was it a man or woman, did you see?’
Junio shook his head. ‘I am very sorry, master. Wearing some sort of long bluish cloak, I think. Or it might have been a woman’s robe. I can’t be certain, it was all too quick. Tomorrow, when we go back to the house, I’ll see if I can discover anything from the servants.’
‘Mmm!’ I demurred. ‘You can try, by all means. But you know what Optimus is like – he doesn’t keep half as many slaves as any normal man, and the ones he does have are kept so busy you never see them. I found that out last time I was working there.’ It was true. Optimus had promised me some water for the mortar, but he’d left no pitcher and I couldn’t find anyone to ask. In the end I had to go out to the public fountain and fetch some myself in my mortar bucket.
The thought of that bucket reminded me of home, and Gwellia who was doubtless waiting for us there. ‘Come on, Junio,’ I said, stepping over a slippery patch on the glistening pavement. Some citizen had brought his dogs this way. We had reached the main road now, and were about to cross. ‘Gwellia is preparing food for us.’ I glanced at Junio.
He tried to disguise it, but even under the hood I saw the look of disappointment in his face. Up until now, Junio had always prepared my humble supper, or fetched me something from one of the cooked food stalls nearby. I was about to say something comforting, but suddenly he interrupted.
‘Look, master, look!’ He jerked his head in the direction we had come.
I looked back. Sure enough, from the doorway we had lately left a tall muffled figure had slipped out and was already hurrying across the road away from us. The person – it was impossible to say at this distance whether it was male or female – was cloaked from head to foot against the rain, and the hood was pulled right down to shield the face. But as the figure turned away, the cowl billowed in the wind, and I thought I caught a glimpse of auburn hair.
It was, of course, impossible to be certain who it was, but – now I came to think of it – there was something familiar in the manner of the walk as well.
‘Dear Mercury, I do believe that’s Hirsus! Whatever was he doing in that house?’
‘Who is he, master?’ Junio turned to me.
‘One of the Imperial priests,’ I said. ‘I saw him earlier at the Emperor’s shrine. What is he doing here?’
But when we looked again, the hurrying form had disappeared. I sent Junio chasing after him, if only to try to find out where he’d gone – we could hardly go and knock on people’s doors and start demanding explanations. Besi
des, I had no wish to alienate the priest. He was doing nothing wrong in visiting a neighbour in broad daylight and Optimus, of course, could entertain anyone he liked. But if it was Hirsus why had he gone to such lengths to avoid my seeing him? And if it wasn’t Hirsus, who was it? It could have been anyone, even a woman, under the disguise of that long, hooded cloak.
Whoever it was, he had disappeared like smoke. Junio could find no trace of him, and nor could I, although we looked down every street around the forum.
In fact, we were very wet indeed by the time we finally got home.
Chapter Ten
Gwellia came out to meet us as we arrived. She had clearly taken my instructions seriously, perhaps as a way of redeeming herself for destroying my tunic earlier, and from her air of half-suppressed excitement it was obvious that she was bursting to tell me what she had discovered.
I led the way back into my unnaturally tidy workroom. ‘So?’ I said to her, as Junio helped me to remove my sodden cloak. ‘Did you learn anything at the market stall?’
‘Indeed I did, master,’ she replied, bringing me a towel to dry my dripping hair. ‘And I bought the cloth. At the stall you recommended. Good cloth they have in Glevum, too – but at such a price! Of course, I brought them down a little by threatening to walk away – they could not resist a sale – but it was a dreadful price, dear master. If you could construct a loom for me, in future I could buy a fleece and spin and weave my own. No doubt I could arrange something with the dyers . . .’
‘And Fabius Marcellus?’ I said gently, as Junio disengaged me from my damp toga.
‘I did not learn as much about the legate as I hoped,’ she said, rubbing my hair briskly with her clean dry cloth. ‘But I learned a lot about the Priest of Jupiter and that Honorius Optimus of yours. Once the cloth-seller’s wife learned that I was taken prisoner from the southwestern tribes, she couldn’t do enough for me. Apparently she came from there herself.’ She took my toga from Junio and began to fold it. ‘Besides, I told her that I was new to the city, and that I’d come to her stall because I’d heard it rumoured that the wives of really important men came there to buy their cloth. She was only too anxious to impress me, by telling me what illustrious clients she had and how much she was in their confidence.’
I nodded encouragingly, but at that moment Gwellia’s attention was diverted by the pot on the fire, which had begun bubbling urgently. She darted towards it, and rescued it with an iron hook. ‘But see,’ she said, gesturing towards where she had stood it on the stone hearth, ‘I have prepared a stew for you – the kind you used to like when you were young – and it will spoil if you don’t eat it soon. Besides, you should have something warm to eat. If you will be pleased to sit down at the table, Citizen Libertus, I will tell you as you dine.’
She lifted the lid of the pot as she spoke. Something was smelling delicious. I had forgotten that enticing aroma, and I was sharply reminded by a rumbling in my stomach that I had hardly eaten anything all day. How wonderful to have a wife again. I took her hand in mine and was about to say something complimentary when I noticed Junio, standing in the background and looking rather put out. Of course, he must be feeling superseded. I mustn’t let my own joy blind me to his needs.
‘Get yourself clean and dry too, Junio,’ I said. ‘And then perhaps some water? My feet are rather muddy from that wet walk through the town.’
It seemed to work. Junio brightened. He stripped off his cloak, and then went to get a bowl and some of the water he had brought in earlier. Of course I then had to submit to the tedious rigmarole of squatting on my own work stool and having my feet and hands washed like a Roman emperor (and carefully dried in what looked suspiciously like a piece of my old tunic). Meanwhile Gwellia placed a bowl in front of me and ladled out more stew than even I could comfortably eat.
I picked up my spoon and both of them instantly took up station at my side, ready to watch my every mouthful, and outdo each other in their efforts to refill my drinking cup.
I smiled wryly. With these two competing to look after me, life was becoming distressingly formal. Up until now, I would have eaten my supper with Junio squatting companionably at my feet, enjoying his own meal and ready to eat the leftovers from mine – though, of course, he would be ready at any time to leap up and fetch anything I wanted.
I wished that Gwellia could be equally relaxed. But she had been a slave for so long that she had firm views about a servant’s place, and she was not comfortable sitting down to dine with me. When we were first reunited I’d insisted once, and she had sat obediently beside me, but the situation made her too embarrassed to swallow anything. I almost felt that I’d deprived her of her food. The experiment had not been a success and I had not repeated it. However, she was my one-time wife, and if she would not eat with me I could hardly allow Junio to take his customary liberties.
So here I was, sitting like a lonely emperor eating my stew alone, with both of them staring at me. I felt like one of the beasts outside the arena, when the urchins gather round their enclosures to watch them being fed.
I sighed. As soon as this temple enquiry was over, I promised myself, I would legalise the situation and marry my wife again. Then we would be equals, master and mistress in our own house once more – and I could indulge Junio if I wanted to.
‘Well?’ I said, when I had given the first mouthfuls of stew the attention they deserved. ‘About the Priest of Jupiter? We called at Honorius Optimus’s house ourselves.’
Gwellia settled her hands in front of her, an endearing trick I remembered from our early life when she had something interesting to tell. ‘Well! You know the high priest has a younger wife – I remember you talking about her earlier this morning – how she is interested in dressing in the fashion, and getting round her husband’s restrictive rules?’
I nodded. ‘That’s right. Everyone in town has heard of her, I think, although Junio knows more about her than I do.’
Junio looked at me gratefully, eager to furnish what he knew. ‘She is chiefly famous for spending a fortune on her appearance. Some of the more serious citizens think it is unbecoming in the high priest’s wife – it isn’t dignified for her to be so frivolous. But most people make a joke of it. They say, for instance, that there is more black soot on Aurelia Lucilla’s eyes than on the temple lamps, and more myrrh in her perfume flasks than was ever burned in the ritual censers.’
Gwellia looked at him unsmilingly. ‘Well, and no wonder too, poor girl. Imagine – dragged away when she was no more than a child to marry an old man she’d never seen, in a country she’d hardly heard of.’
I looked at her in surprise. It was a long time since I’d heard Gwellia express herself with such vigour. This was more like the wife I used to know, ready to defend the rights of victims anywhere. ‘A foreign country?’ I asked.
She nodded. ‘Indeed, or so the cloth-woman told me. She had it from one of the maidservants, who calls at the cloth stall very often. The pontifex does not like it – if he were a flamen his wife would have to wear simple, homespun clothes, but Aurelia Lucilla will have none of it. Apparently she keeps a maid whose only job is to buy dyed cloth and to attend her robes. What a lucky life!’
I smiled. ‘To have a servant only for your clothes?’
She looked surprised. ‘I meant to spend your life with nothing more to do than to choose fine wool and sew a bit, and then sponge your mistress’s stains with lavender and brush her hems each time she wears the gowns!’ She broke off. ‘I don’t mean you, dear master – but when I think of what some of my owners demanded of me!’
I winced. Gwellia never spoke much about her life as a slave. It still pained me to think of all the indignities she must have endured. But giving her that assignment in the market had been a good idea. It seemed to have given her back her confidence to speak freely to me – though she still lapsed into silence if I looked at her too long.
‘Go on,’ I said, turning my attention to the stew again.
S
he needed no further encouragement. ‘And there is another maid whose only job is to prepare her unguents, and bring the sheep’s milk for her beauty wash. That’s because Aurelia’s husband won’t have goat’s milk in the house: it is forbidden to the Flamen Dialis and he won’t allow her to have it, either, so she insisted on ewe’s milk instead. Claims that she had these luxuries in her father’s house in Rome, and would not consent to be sent here to marry the old priest without them.’
The spoon stopped halfway to my lips. ‘She comes from Rome, too? Now that I didn’t know. I was aware that he did, originally.’
Gwellia nodded. ‘From one of the oldest patrician families in the city. And so was she – and both their sets of parents were married in the old religious style. That is why he married her, they say. There aren’t so many people who fulfil those requirements, but the old man needed a wife who did, apparently, if he hoped to be appointed to the flamen’s post. The Emperor himself suggested the arrangement – since there was no other candidate in view.’
I swallowed another mouthful of soup. ‘No wonder he was disappointed at being passed over as flamen. He must have thought it was a certainty, with the Emperor taking an interest in his chances.’ Everyone knew that the senior priestly posts were largely political appointments.
Gwellia looked thoughtful. ‘Of course, Marcus Aurelius was emperor in those days, and he may not have intended that at all. The girl’s family was under his protection and he may simply have wanted to repay a favour. The girl was just of marriageable age, but apparently she had been a bit wayward at home – too many smiles for cavalry officers with good looks and no money – and her father was delighted to see her wed. At least that is what the cloth-woman said. It seems Aurelia didn’t want it in the least.’
The Legatus Mystery Page 9
