it. Tomorrow there is the naming ceremony of my grandson at my house, so obviously I cannot absent myself from that, but I will be back to put the final touches on as quickly as I can.’ I had an inspiration and added, ‘I hear that Marcus Septimus is already on his way from Rome, and I’m sure that Pedronius would like this done before he comes. I understand he hopes to hold one of the welcome banquets here, and I know he places some value on the plaque.’
He looked down his long, thin, bony nose at me. ‘You are aware of how much store he sets by it? Then you have a most peculiar way of demonstrating that! It has been treated most disrespectfully.’
So that was the trouble! Perhaps I should have guessed, since I knew how superstitious Pedronius could be. I sent up a quick prayer to whatever gods there were that my apparent disregard for his favourite deity would not be enough to make the tax-collector change his mind.
‘Of course,’ I babbled, ‘I can see he might consider it inappropriate for an image of Apollo to be transported in this way.’ Wheeled through the streets on a street-vendor’s barrow by a ragged turnip-man , I meant, but I did not draw additional attention to the facts. ‘My own slave, I fear, was not available and it was the best expedient that I could devise.’ I tried the smile again. ‘Where is the fellow who delivered it? I promised him money when I got here myself.’
The disdainful eyebrows came down half an inch. ‘Citizen, that is unfortunate, but hardly my concern. You have a contract, and the price was fixed. If you were obliged to use the services of someone else and were thereby put to some expense, that is your own affair. But was it necessary to have him leave it outside the villa wall and not even send a message to say that it was there? If the gatekeeper had been a little less alert, it could have been stolen or damaged in some way – no doubt those forest bandits that we hear so much about would find a ready use for a sturdy handbarrow, if only to sell it in the marketplace.’
It was my turn to frown. ‘Left outside the wall?’ I was surprised at this, and slightly irritated with the turnip-man, but, on reflection, perhaps I was unjust. Manoeuvring that barrow with its fragile load over a mile or so of stony road would be no easy task but, as he promised, he had done that for me. If I was longer at the pie-oven than he had bargained for, perhaps he’d been obliged to leave and hurry home himself, since, like me, he would not wish to travel in the dark. He had assured me this villa was on his own route home, though he hadn’t mentioned how far out he lived. But, all the same . . . ‘He left no message? Not of any kind?’
‘The gatekeeper did think he heard a noise outside, which might have been a knock, but when he looked out through the grille he saw no one at all, only the barrow leaning up against the wall. Fortunately, he took a closer look and, knowing that a pavement was to be installed, he realized what it was. He had the wit to send and tell me it was there, so I ordered a pair of slaves to go and bring it in. They’ve put it in the stables, as I said before.’
‘This all happened in the back lane, then?’ I said, working out that this must certainly be true. ‘And no one saw a turnip-seller? Not at either gate?’
He looked at me impatiently. ‘Not that I am aware of. Were you expecting one?’ He said it with such obvious disdain that I did not press the point. It was enough that the mosaic had arrived and was safely at the house. Doubtless I’d hear the truth from Radixrapum very soon; he’d want his money, and he’d earned it too, though I was surprised that he had simply left the barrow here and gone. Had he – my mind was racing now – seen something unexpected to lure him down the lane? A band of rebels in that stand of wood? Or someone who might have been described as a green man?
I shook my head. More likely that a waggoner he
He looked down his long, thin, bony nose at me. ‘You are aware of how much store he sets by it? Then you have a most peculiar way of demonstrating that! It has been treated most disrespectfully.’
So that was the trouble! Perhaps I should have guessed, since I knew how superstitious Pedronius could be. I sent up a quick prayer to whatever gods there were that my apparent disregard for his favourite deity would not be enough to make the tax-collector change his mind.
‘Of course,’ I babbled, ‘I can see he might consider it inappropriate for an image of Apollo to be transported in this way.’ Wheeled through the streets on a street-vendor’s barrow by a ragged turnip-man , I meant, but I did not draw additional attention to the facts. ‘My own slave, I fear, was not available and it was the best expedient that I could devise.’ I tried the smile again. ‘Where is the fellow who delivered it? I promised him money when I got here myself.’
The disdainful eyebrows came down half an inch. ‘Citizen, that is unfortunate, but hardly my concern. You have a contract, and the price was fixed. If you were obliged to use the services of someone else and were thereby put to some expense, that is your own affair. But was it necessary to have him leave it outside the villa wall and not even send a message to say that it was there? If the gatekeeper had been a little less alert, it could have been stolen or damaged in some way – no doubt those forest bandits that we hear so much about would find a ready use for a sturdy handbarrow, if only to sell it in the marketplace.’
It was my turn to frown. ‘Left outside the wall?’ I was surprised at this, and slightly irritated with the turnip-man, but, on reflection, perhaps I was unjust. Manoeuvring that barrow with its fragile load over a mile or so of stony road would be no easy task but, as he promised, he had done that for me. If I was longer at the pie-oven than he had bargained for, perhaps he’d been obliged to leave and hurry home himself, since, like me, he would not wish to travel in the dark. He had assured me this villa was on his own route home, though he hadn’t mentioned how far out he lived. But, all the same . . . ‘He left no message? Not of any kind?’
‘The gatekeeper did think he heard a noise outside, which might have been a knock, but when he looked out through the grille he saw no one at all, only the barrow leaning up against the wall. Fortunately, he took a closer look and, knowing that a pavement was to be installed, he realized what it was. He had the wit to send and tell me it was there, so I ordered a pair of slaves to go and bring it in. They’ve put it in the stables, as I said before.’
‘This all happened in the back lane, then?’ I said, working out that this must certainly be true. ‘And no one saw a turnip-seller? Not at either gate?’
He looked at me impatiently. ‘Not that I am aware of. Were you expecting one?’ He said it with such obvious disdain that I did not press the point. It was enough that the mosaic had arrived and was safely at the house. Doubtless I’d hear the truth from Radixrapum very soon; he’d want his money, and he’d earned it too, though I was surprised that he had simply left the barrow here and gone. Had he – my mind was racing now – seen something unexpected to lure him down the lane? A band of rebels in that stand of wood? Or someone who might have been described as a green man?
I shook my head. More likely that a waggoner he
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