hardly become involved . . .’
‘My dear citizen pavement-maker, you are involved already. It was only because of you that Fabius Marcellus was coming here at all. If it had not been for your discovery of that plot against the Emperor, His Divinity Commodus would never had deigned to honour Glevum with an ambassadorial visit. You can hardly back out of the consequences now.’
This was a view of such sublime injustice that it took my breath away. However, Marcus was quite right in one respect. I could not escape. Marcus Aurelius Septimus had demanded my services, and he was my patron and benefactor. Also, he was not a man to cross. And when he said he wanted me, he meant it: this time he’d been seriously alarmed.
I sighed. ‘As you command, Excellence. But it will be difficult for me to interrogate the priests. I have not your social dignity.’
Even flattery did not soften him. ‘Then I must rely on you to think of something else.’ He was brisk.
I racked my brains, and inspiration dawned. Two pigeons with a single stone again. ‘I have received a possible commission in the town. A certain Gaius Honorius Optimus – perhaps you know the man? He wants me to repair a pavement for him. It seems that he knew Fabius Marcellus in the army. And his house is very near the temple. I have been to it before. Almost opposite the high priest’s house, in fact. With your permission, I could take the job . . .’
Marcus’s severe expression melted like a wax mask in the sun. He positively beamed. ‘Of course, my dear Libertus. That will be excellent. Accept his commission, and find out what you can. And see if you can discover what happened to that body.’ He stretched, suddenly indolent now that his previous panic was over. ‘Always supposing that it wasn’t just a vision, after all.’
It had become ‘just a vision’ now, I noticed. I said nothing.
Marcus darted a sidelong look at me. ‘I promised my wife I’d make special propitiatory sacrifices, just in case.’ Marcus had recently married a beautiful young widow, and she was now carrying his child. He was rumoured to spend a very un-Roman amount of time with her, and her word was becoming law in his household. I thought of Gwellia, and smiled.
Marcus took it for acquiescence. He stood up, and I scrambled to my feet too.
‘Very well, Libertus, report to me tomorrow.’ He clapped his hands, and his slave, who must have been just outside the door, came in at once. ‘Fetch this citizen his cloak and slave, and escort him to the door.’ His eye fell on the empty plate, and he frowned suddenly. ‘And when he comes again, make sure he has more figs another time. It seems the citizen has an appetite for them. They always seem a little sweet to me.’
He nodded in my direction and went out, accompanied by the slave.
As I waited for Junio, I could not resist a smile. Marcus, as usual, saw what he chose to see. But really it was no smiling matter.
There were so many unanswered questions, that was part of the problem. That dreadful wailing, for example. None of our deliberations had suggested any explanation for that. I did not like it. Who was this ‘legate’? Where had he come from? Who had sent him here and why? Who had killed him? And above all, what had happened to the body? Legate or no legate, he could not simply disappear. Somebody must know, but nobody was telling.
I sighed. This was not going to be easy. Since my patron insisted, I would have to investigate, but I ran the risk of angering some very important people – the priests, the imperial ambassador, and possibly the Emperor himself. To say nothing of the gods.
When Junio arrived, he helped me with my cloak, and we walked out into the street together. Outside the warmth of the apartment, the late afternoon had turned chill, misty and disagreeable, but I decided not to go the shortest way home. I wanted time to collect my thoughts, and also I could cast an eye over that pavement repair at the
‘My dear citizen pavement-maker, you are involved already. It was only because of you that Fabius Marcellus was coming here at all. If it had not been for your discovery of that plot against the Emperor, His Divinity Commodus would never had deigned to honour Glevum with an ambassadorial visit. You can hardly back out of the consequences now.’
This was a view of such sublime injustice that it took my breath away. However, Marcus was quite right in one respect. I could not escape. Marcus Aurelius Septimus had demanded my services, and he was my patron and benefactor. Also, he was not a man to cross. And when he said he wanted me, he meant it: this time he’d been seriously alarmed.
I sighed. ‘As you command, Excellence. But it will be difficult for me to interrogate the priests. I have not your social dignity.’
Even flattery did not soften him. ‘Then I must rely on you to think of something else.’ He was brisk.
I racked my brains, and inspiration dawned. Two pigeons with a single stone again. ‘I have received a possible commission in the town. A certain Gaius Honorius Optimus – perhaps you know the man? He wants me to repair a pavement for him. It seems that he knew Fabius Marcellus in the army. And his house is very near the temple. I have been to it before. Almost opposite the high priest’s house, in fact. With your permission, I could take the job . . .’
Marcus’s severe expression melted like a wax mask in the sun. He positively beamed. ‘Of course, my dear Libertus. That will be excellent. Accept his commission, and find out what you can. And see if you can discover what happened to that body.’ He stretched, suddenly indolent now that his previous panic was over. ‘Always supposing that it wasn’t just a vision, after all.’
It had become ‘just a vision’ now, I noticed. I said nothing.
Marcus darted a sidelong look at me. ‘I promised my wife I’d make special propitiatory sacrifices, just in case.’ Marcus had recently married a beautiful young widow, and she was now carrying his child. He was rumoured to spend a very un-Roman amount of time with her, and her word was becoming law in his household. I thought of Gwellia, and smiled.
Marcus took it for acquiescence. He stood up, and I scrambled to my feet too.
‘Very well, Libertus, report to me tomorrow.’ He clapped his hands, and his slave, who must have been just outside the door, came in at once. ‘Fetch this citizen his cloak and slave, and escort him to the door.’ His eye fell on the empty plate, and he frowned suddenly. ‘And when he comes again, make sure he has more figs another time. It seems the citizen has an appetite for them. They always seem a little sweet to me.’
He nodded in my direction and went out, accompanied by the slave.
As I waited for Junio, I could not resist a smile. Marcus, as usual, saw what he chose to see. But really it was no smiling matter.
There were so many unanswered questions, that was part of the problem. That dreadful wailing, for example. None of our deliberations had suggested any explanation for that. I did not like it. Who was this ‘legate’? Where had he come from? Who had sent him here and why? Who had killed him? And above all, what had happened to the body? Legate or no legate, he could not simply disappear. Somebody must know, but nobody was telling.
I sighed. This was not going to be easy. Since my patron insisted, I would have to investigate, but I ran the risk of angering some very important people – the priests, the imperial ambassador, and possibly the Emperor himself. To say nothing of the gods.
When Junio arrived, he helped me with my cloak, and we walked out into the street together. Outside the warmth of the apartment, the late afternoon had turned chill, misty and disagreeable, but I decided not to go the shortest way home. I wanted time to collect my thoughts, and also I could cast an eye over that pavement repair at the
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