I was about to accept this offer with gratitude – it would give me a chance to question the young page, I thought – when Niveus himself came scuttling in again, carrying a jug of wine and two goblets on a tray. ‘I couldn’t find Minimus for you, citiz—’ he began. Then he saw Marcus. He stopped in the doorway, speechless with dismay.
‘It is all right, Niveus, you may bring in the tray,’ Marcus said, impatience obvious in his tone. ‘And then I have a little task for you. The citizen Libertus—’
‘Excellence!’ Niveus was so anxious that he actually interrupted the remark. That could have earned him a whipping, but he was too flustered to care. ‘You’re here! And I have only brought two cups! Give me just a moment and I’ll fetch another one!’ He hurried over to the table and put down the tray, so eager that he knocked a metal goblet to the floor, and in trying to retrieve it nearly spilt the wine.
‘You see, Libertus?’ Marcus raised his brows at me, as though seeking recognition that this was an idiot.
Niveus looked very close to tears. He gulped, turned pink and then burst out again, ‘I’m sorry, master. And you too, citizen. I know you asked me—’
I intervened before he managed to make matters any worse. ‘Niveus, thank you, but I do not think I shall require a drink just now.’ It was a lie – my tongue was almost cleaving to my palate as I spoke – but it was obvious that something must be done. ‘And Minimus is found, as you can see. Your master needs him for a special task, and has said that Junio and I can borrow you to escort us home. So, if you are ready?’
He glanced at me with gratitude, but said uncertainly, ‘Should I go and get a cape, then? And who’ll man the anteroom? I’m supposed to greet the visitors and hand out towels . . .’
‘I’m sure my steward can find someone to do that onerous task.’ Marcus gave me another of his looks. ‘Even Colaphus could do it, if only Aulus had returned.’
‘The gatekeeper’s still missing, then?’ I frowned. ‘Lucius had a theory that the Silurians might have—’
My patron gave a short impatient laugh. ‘Aulus? I see little chance of that. He’s stronger than an ox. Though I can’t imagine where he’s got to – leaving his post at such a time! I’ll have him soundly whipped when he returns and reduced to bread and water for a week. None of his precious onions. And you too, Niveus, if you make a mess of this. Now, Libertus, Junio, I’ll leave you to make your own arrangements with my page – and have a little wine, if you should change your mind. The sooner I get Minimus safely on his way the better. I want the letter in the hands of a courier today.’ He nodded curtly. ‘Till this evening, then.’
He left the room. Minimus gave me one last, apologetic look, and followed at his heels.
Junio had been standing quietly all this while, as befits a junior citizen in the presence of a senior magistrate, but as soon as my patron had safely left the room he became his usual lively self again.
‘Father,’ he said, with an excited air. ‘You were telling me about that slave girl – Morella, was she called? – and the tunic she was wearing when Minimus saw her here, which it seems she didn’t have when she left home. So she must have bought it somewhere, mustn’t she? It occurs to me, if Minimus is going to Glevum anyway . . .? That is surely the most likely place? Or are you really not going to enquire into the matter any more?’
I gave him a sideways glance. ‘Well . . .’ I was forced into the admission with a sheepish grin. ‘Exactly the same thought had occurred to me!’ I beckoned to the page. ‘Niveus, come here. I want you to take a message to Minimus for me. Listen carefully. “There is a woman in the forum who sells old clothes. When you have delivered the letter to the garrison, go and see if she sold that tunic to the girl you saw.” Can you repeat those words exactly?’
Niveus did so, looking mystified.
‘Very good,’ I told him. ‘Now go and say the same thing, word for word, to Minimus. Tell him that the message is from me. You should find him at the stables, being provided with a horse. Hurry, before you miss him. And when you have done that, fetch your cloak, and come back here to us.’
‘On my way, citizen.’ Niveus was almost pink with pride. I heard him muttering as he hurried off, ‘There is a woman in the forum . . .’
Junio gave me an approving glance. ‘If more people gave him clear instructions of that kind, perhaps he would be more successful as a page.’ He gestured to the table. ‘Speaking of which, would it be in order for me to pour you out some wine? I know that strictly it is not my place – I am not a slave of Marcus’s and never was – but I know that you are thirsty and he did suggest that we could have some if we liked. The trouble is, he didn’t actually tell Niveus to pour it out.’ He did not wait for my agreement, but began to serve the wine.
‘I learned to give instructions to scared slave boys long ago,’ I teased, ‘and it seems I was successful, because he learned to read my thoughts!’ I took the goblet he’d filled for me and sipped it gratefully. Marcus would not have approved of it at all, I thought – Niveus had watered it too much for Roman tastes – but it suited me far better than if it had been strong. I sat down on the stool that the page had brought, and grinned at Junio. ‘And not just about the wine.’
My son returned my smile. He had poured another cupful for himself, and was drinking with a certain relish, I observed.
‘Reading your thoughts? You mean about your interest in that slave girl, after all?’ He laughed. ‘That did not require any special skill. It would have been obvious to anyone who knew you, I should think.’
I was quite affronted. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’
His grin was broader now. ‘You do not like to leave a question unresolved, so naturally you would want to make a few enquiries about her if you could. Even Stygius could see as much, and that was before you told us the story of her life. When the chief steward came out with the tunic for the pyre and announced that Marcus now wanted the matter to be dropped, Stygius said—’ He stopped. ‘Great Minerva! That is something that had not occurred to me!’
‘What is?’ I enquired.
‘The tunic that Morella had! It could not have come from this household, I suppose? You know that Marcus had new ones made for all his slaves, so there must have been a number of discarded ones – including the one that we put on the corpse. They can’t all have been intended for use as cleaning cloths. Marcus is far too careful with his cash for that.’
That was perceptive and it made me laugh. ‘You are quite right, of course. Most of them were dyed for mourning and are being used again.’
‘Yet Pulchrus’s uniform was among the most expensive of all. Why consign that for rags?’
I frowned. ‘Because the colour was already bright and it would be more difficult to put the new dye over it? Gwellia would tell us – she understands these things. And the elaborate trimmings had all been taken off, so sparing it for the corpse was not wholly profligate. But Morella’s tunic . . .?’ I thought about it for a moment and then shook my head. ‘I don’t think it is likely that it came from here. Most of the tunics of the household slaves are blue – though there are a few exceptions here and there. Minimus worked here, after all, and knows the colours of all the uniforms. I’m sure that he would have told me if it looked like one of theirs. However, I might speak to the steward, just in case. Niveus can fetch him . . . ah, here he comes.’
But it was not Niveus who came bursting in, nor the steward either. It was Colaphus, his bull-face flushed with outrage and affronted dignity. ‘I am no longer wanted at the gates.’
‘Aulus has come back?’ I made the obvious deduction, and was surprised to discover that I was quite relieved.
Colaphus shook his head. ‘I would not have minded that so much,’ he muttered bitterly. ‘After all, it is his job, not mine. But there’s still no sign of him. Yet they have relieved me at the gate – put some fellow in my place who’s only half my size – and sent me in to do the work of that accursed page instead, greeting visitors and handing namby-pamby towels! I don’t know what my master Lucius will say when he finds out. But the steward is insisting. I was put at his disposal in the interim so he maintains he can use me in any way he likes. Oh, and I’m to give you a message too. There’s a man and two women asking for you at the gate.’
‘A man and two women?’ I put down my cup and I looked at Junio, but he clearly was as mystified as I was. ‘Who are they?’
‘I didn’t ask them and I didn’t let them in. They don’t look the sort of people who should be calling here.’ Colaphus looked as prim and self-righteous as a battering ram can be. ‘I told them the household was in mourning, which they claimed they knew – though I don’t see how they could possibly have heard – but they would not take the hint and go away. They are clearly not people summoned to the feast, and the man, in particular, was not appropriately dressed to come into a household that was honouring its dead. They would’ve had to go through all that cleansing ritual. Besides, I understood that you were leaving very soon. I told them that they would have to wait for you out there . . .’
I could not let this pass without rebuke. Even in a house of mourning it is not polite to keep a guest’s callers waiting outside in the lane. ‘One fewer lot of towels and ashes for you to deal with, too?’ I said. ‘You should thank Jove for these small mercies, I suppose.’
He shrugged his massive shoulders, but had the grace to flush.
I turned to Junio. ‘I’d better go and see them, whoever they might be. You stay here and wait for Niveus. And you can talk to the chief steward for me, if you like. About that matter we were speaking of a little while ago. There might be something useful he could tell us, I suppose – and if not we can at least eliminate the possibility you thought of.’
I was being deliberately elliptical, partly because Colaphus was clearly bursting to know what I was talking about and I was still annoyed by his discourtesy, but also because I suspected that anything he learned would get back to Lucius and my patron in a flash, and I did not wish to be forbidden to pursue enquiries. Marcus had told me to let matters rest about the corpse, but he had not mentioned the girl who owned the dress: a technicality I did not wish to have pointed out to him. So I simply gave the bodyguard my warmest smile and said, ‘Since you are standing in for Niveus for a while, perhaps you would be good enough to escort me to the gate.’
It did not please him but there was nothing he could do, and he led the way with ill-disguised bad grace. A little way short of the gatehouse cell he stopped and waved a vague finger in the direction of the road. ‘There you are, citizen. Exactly as I said. Not the sort of people I could lightly have let in, when the house is preparing for a memorial. Don’t even speak good Latin, most of them. Besides,’ he added, in half-apology, ‘the man has got a dog with him. I could not have let that in, in any case.’
A dog? A horrible suspicion was forming in my mind. But I could not imagine what Morella’s father could be doing at the villa gates, or why he wanted me – I was sure my comments about the murdered corpse had frightened him. Unless he’d found his daughter? I brightened. That was possible. Or, of course, this might not be Farathetos at all. Well, there was only one way to find out.
I dismissed my escort with a nod, and went on to the gates where one of Marcus’s larger garden slaves was standing with a spear. He was muscular enough but he looked sadly ill at ease, though he rushed eagerly to open up for me.
No sooner had I set foot out in the lane than I knew I’d been been correct. It was Morella’s father – I recognised the face, and even more certainly I recognised the dog. There was no mistaking it, in fact. It started barking and leaping up at me the instant I appeared and though its owner jerked it sharply back it went on snarling and growling in its throat. The creature seemed to have tolerated everybody else – I hadn’t heard it from inside the gate – but now it was straining at the rope leash round its neck and making snapping motions in the direction of my knees.
I glanced towards the hooded females who were standing by – just long enough to take in that they were older women, not the missing girl – but as soon as I diverted my full attention from the dog the creature made a sudden lunge at me. It took me by surprise. I am usually very fond of dogs – in my youth I had several hounds myself – but this one seemed to share its master’s malice towards the world.
‘Down!’ I said sharply, and it skulked and bared its teeth.
I kept my eyes fixed firmly on it as I addressed the man. ‘Farathetos! I hear you wanted me?’
He answered me in Latin. ‘That’s right, citizen. I want a word with you. Alone if possible!’ He jerked a scornful head towards the women as he spoke. ‘This is men’s business, not for women’s ears.’
Then, to my astonishment, a familiar voice broke in. ‘This gentleman came asking for you at the roundhouse, husband. He wouldn’t tell me what it was about, but says he is the father of the missing girl. I knew that you were anxious for any news of her, so naturally I brought him here at once.’
I whirled to face her, taking my eyes off the dog again. ‘Gwellia!’ It was indeed my wife. I almost went towards her, but a growl prevented me.
She gave me an understanding smile. ‘I am sorry if we have disturbed you at an awkward time. I told this fellow what Cilla had earlier told me – that the villa was in mourning and that you were required to stand in for Marcus at the cremation of a slave – but he was insistent that he’d discovered something that you’d want to know, and was not content to simply leave a message at the house.’
The farmer scowled. ‘Can’t even speak in Latin now and not be listened to! But she’s quite right, citizen. This is not for anyone else’s ears but yours.’
‘As he says, husband,’ Gwellia went on in her sweetest tone, ‘he wished to speak to you himself. I reasoned that a slave funeral would not take very long. So, seeing that I was known to all the servants here, and I was planning to come anyway, I suggested that I would accompany him and ask the gatekeeper to have you found and brought to us.’
Farathetos spat impatiently. ‘And what a waste of time! I would have done better to have come and asked myself.’