Roman Dusk by Chelsea Quinn Yarbro

been expecting a protest, not an additional commoda.
    “Is there anything more you will need to see, good decuria?” Sanct-Franciscus asked politely.
    “Not now; I may have some other inquiries to make, at another time, and if I do, I will inform you of it. I must go to my sister’s husband, as I mentioned when I arrived.” He put the scrolls back in their sheaf and extended this to Sanct-Franciscus, who moved away from the table to accept them. “You have been most reasonable, honestiorus. I thank you for that.”
    “It is gracious of you to say so, decuria,” Sanct-Franciscus answered, his demeanor revealing little of his thoughts.
    “If you will permit me to take my leave?” He did his best to display official dignity, knowing it was expected of Romans.
    “I would not have thought you needed my permission, but if it pleases you, you have it. I will summon my old steward to escort you as soon as I count out your aurei.” He set the sheaf on the writing table and went to pull open a drawer underneath the pigeon-hole shelves, revealing a small wooden chest banded in iron. Using a key that hung on a thong around his neck, Sanct-Franciscus opened the lock, revealing a mass of gold coins. “Thirty-nine aurei is the sum, I recall?”
    “That it is,” said Batsho, belatedly wondering how he would carry such an amount back to his office.
    As if anticipating his problem, Sanct-Franciscus held up a leather pouch. “Shall I put the coins in this?”
    “I would … that would be …” Batsho floundered, torn between wanting the convenience and the fear that Sanct-Franciscus would not give him the full amount they had agreed upon.
    “You shall count them and sign for them, of course, so there is no question as to the amount paid for your service,” said Sanct-Franciscus, for the first time sounding a bit annoyed. “Is that satisfactory to you?”
    “I am more than willing to have a record of our dealings,” Batsho said promptly, taking the pouch and turning away to count the aurei. Thirty-nine aurei: whole buildings could be bought for less! “Thirty-nine, as agreed,” he said, although he had counted forty. He slipped the closing straps of the pouch twice around his left wrist, hefting it. “This will do.” Then he slipped the thongs off his wrist and secured them to his belt; patting the pouch, he said, “Safer this way.”
    Sanct-Franciscus offered a quilled stylus and an ink-cake, moist enough to use. “If you would, then?”
    Batsho read the statement: The decuria Telemachus Batsho has today received from the foreign merchant Ragoczy Germainus Sanct-Franciscus the sum of thirty-nine aurei in full and complete payment for his official inspection of documents of residence, title, occupation, and taxation status. This document stands as witness to these transactions. “My signature and sign?”
    “And the date, if you would,” said Sanct-Franciscus, almost apologetically. “So there can be no confusion.”
    “Naturally,” said Batsho, a bit huffily, for had he been able to leave off the date, he might have been able to claim a second commoda to rectify that lapse. He dipped the end of the quill into the edge of the softened ink, wrote his name and sign, and reluctantly added 19 th day of July, 971 st Year of the City . “There. That should satisfy anyone, up to the Emperor himself.”
    “I thank you,” said Sanct-Franciscus, and nodded toward the door. “Would you like one of my slaves to escort you back to your office?”
    Again, Batsho was torn: he saw the advantage of added protection, but that slave could possibly overcome him, steal the pouch, and return it to Sanct-Franciscus. With the receipt he had signed, Batsho would have no recourse to regain his money, so he said, “I believe I will attract less attention on my own, honestiorus.”
    “As you wish,” said Sanct-Franciscus, and clapped his hands. This time it was Aedius who answered the summons. “My guest is leaving. If you would