old to be carrying a red-faced whimpering infant under each arm. She was also exceedingly short, shorter than Figulus’ older boys, who were ostensibly poring over tesserae scattered across a work table but casting sidelong glances at the visitor.
John stated his business above the mewling of the squirming infants. The mosaic maker’s wife looked displeased. John couldn’t tell whether it was with him or the infants or both.
“I am afraid it is not possible to speak with Figulus right now,” the woman said. “He’s out on a job. Is it some…special…work you’re interested in?”
“Yes, I suppose you would call it that.”
The woman looked John up and down. Mostly up, given her stature. “I thought you might be one of…those customers.” She glanced over her shoulder and glared meaningfully at the boys, who complied with their mother’s unspoken order as slowly as they dared and slunk out of the workshop. “If you want to see some examples of the special work, it would be best to return during the evening, sir. We keep them locked up, because of the children.”
One of the infants swiped at John with a pudgy hand, fell far short, and reached out again. The other seemed more interested in trying to grab his mother’s hair.
“I’ve seen examples of the work,” John said. “In fact, they cover the walls of my bath. I’ve spoken to your husband about repairs. I merely need to make arrangements for it to be carried out.”
“I see…well…” Figulus’ wife slapped lightly at the fists of the reaching infant and then pushed the hands of the other away from her head. “You can find him right across the street from the law courts. He has an important commission there.”
***
“Yes, Lord Chamberlain, by the time I’ve finished this will be a lavatory fit for any magistrate or even the City Prefect himself.”
Figulus stepped down from the marble bench that ran the length of the long, narrow room. The openings in the bench had been covered with boards. Several workmen were busy in a far corner, making a blue sky, or perhaps a sea, out of tesserae. The smell of wet plaster almost masked the usual odors.
“I am to do the more detailed work,” Figulus explained. “The magistrate who hired me specified that in particular.”
“Will these pictures change their character with the light?” John asked.
“Oh, no. The magistrate simply wanted a more attractive place for lawyers to deliberate. You know how uninspiring these public lavatories can be.”
John did not mention he avoided such facilities whenever possible.
He saw that the work was half completed. The theme was classical. There was Hercules cleaning the stables. Next to him Sisyphus rolled his stone up the mountain.
The mosaics were an improvement on the graffiti scratched into the unfinished walls. No doubt many of the witticisms involved lawyers and magistrates or Theodora, or all three. Presumably the glass tesserae would be more difficult to deface.
“Most impressive,” John remarked politely.
Figulus beamed. “Thank you, excellency. I am hoping that citizens will feel an urgency as they pass by at the very thought of what awaits them in here.”
“Doubtless more than a few citizens on their way to the courts will feel the need to stop and admire your workmanship, Figulus. Now, I trust you will have time to for those repairs I asked about?”
“I can spare a few days and one or two workers right away and meantime I have some experienced men I can trust to carry on creating the clouds and mountains here.”
“Your business appears to be thriving.”
“The Lord has been generous to me,” the mosaic maker said with a smile.
“Your wife seemed to think I was a customer of another sort.”
Figulus stopped smiling. “What do you mean?”
“She thought I had come to look at some special work of yours. I suspect the sort akin to that on my walls. Do you have much call for that sort of work?”
“Only as is necessary,
John stated his business above the mewling of the squirming infants. The mosaic maker’s wife looked displeased. John couldn’t tell whether it was with him or the infants or both.
“I am afraid it is not possible to speak with Figulus right now,” the woman said. “He’s out on a job. Is it some…special…work you’re interested in?”
“Yes, I suppose you would call it that.”
The woman looked John up and down. Mostly up, given her stature. “I thought you might be one of…those customers.” She glanced over her shoulder and glared meaningfully at the boys, who complied with their mother’s unspoken order as slowly as they dared and slunk out of the workshop. “If you want to see some examples of the special work, it would be best to return during the evening, sir. We keep them locked up, because of the children.”
One of the infants swiped at John with a pudgy hand, fell far short, and reached out again. The other seemed more interested in trying to grab his mother’s hair.
“I’ve seen examples of the work,” John said. “In fact, they cover the walls of my bath. I’ve spoken to your husband about repairs. I merely need to make arrangements for it to be carried out.”
“I see…well…” Figulus’ wife slapped lightly at the fists of the reaching infant and then pushed the hands of the other away from her head. “You can find him right across the street from the law courts. He has an important commission there.”
***
“Yes, Lord Chamberlain, by the time I’ve finished this will be a lavatory fit for any magistrate or even the City Prefect himself.”
Figulus stepped down from the marble bench that ran the length of the long, narrow room. The openings in the bench had been covered with boards. Several workmen were busy in a far corner, making a blue sky, or perhaps a sea, out of tesserae. The smell of wet plaster almost masked the usual odors.
“I am to do the more detailed work,” Figulus explained. “The magistrate who hired me specified that in particular.”
“Will these pictures change their character with the light?” John asked.
“Oh, no. The magistrate simply wanted a more attractive place for lawyers to deliberate. You know how uninspiring these public lavatories can be.”
John did not mention he avoided such facilities whenever possible.
He saw that the work was half completed. The theme was classical. There was Hercules cleaning the stables. Next to him Sisyphus rolled his stone up the mountain.
The mosaics were an improvement on the graffiti scratched into the unfinished walls. No doubt many of the witticisms involved lawyers and magistrates or Theodora, or all three. Presumably the glass tesserae would be more difficult to deface.
“Most impressive,” John remarked politely.
Figulus beamed. “Thank you, excellency. I am hoping that citizens will feel an urgency as they pass by at the very thought of what awaits them in here.”
“Doubtless more than a few citizens on their way to the courts will feel the need to stop and admire your workmanship, Figulus. Now, I trust you will have time to for those repairs I asked about?”
“I can spare a few days and one or two workers right away and meantime I have some experienced men I can trust to carry on creating the clouds and mountains here.”
“Your business appears to be thriving.”
“The Lord has been generous to me,” the mosaic maker said with a smile.
“Your wife seemed to think I was a customer of another sort.”
Figulus stopped smiling. “What do you mean?”
“She thought I had come to look at some special work of yours. I suspect the sort akin to that on my walls. Do you have much call for that sort of work?”
“Only as is necessary,
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