Marcus laughed. ‘I assume that Julia asked him. I would have done the same myself. I always call on him, if there’s a mystery to solve. He has a mosaic-maker’s brain and sees the patterns that other men might miss.’
Lucius looked more disapproving than ever. ‘Of course! I’d forgotten that you were a tradesman, citizen.’
‘An artist,’ Julia said, and would have earned my gratitude and love on the spot if she had not already had them both. ‘And very clever too. He has helped to solve a number of unpleasant crimes, and has even uncovered several plots against the state. He once received a personal reward from Pertinax himself.’ She saw the expression of surprise, and pressed the point. ‘That’s right – the Pertinax who was the Governor of Britannia once – the same Prefect of Rome that you’re so proud to know.’
‘I see. Then I salute the citizen.’ Lucius’s expression did not change a whit. ‘Obviously, Marcus, he is the proper person to advise on how you should deal with this unwelcome corpse. Myself, I should have counselled that you put it on the pyre – as I was saying to your charming lady here – before the Festival of the Dead begins. But obviously you don’t need my advice. I leave it to Libertus, who’s accustomed to such things.’ His condescending little smile did nothing to mask the harsh, sarcastic tone.
My patron, however, did not rise to the bait. He pretended to accept what Lucius had said as a genuine compliment to my aptitude. ‘Then, since there is to be a banquet later on, perhaps you would care to pay that visit to my new bath-house first? I instructed the slaves to light the furnaces last night, and the steam bath and the hot room should be warm by now. I will have a robe and oil and a strigil sent across to you, and Niveus can come and scrape you down and rub you dry – unless you would prefer to use your own attendant for the task?’
Clever. Marcus had acquired this country residence only a year or two ago and he had been making improvements ever since – including a new sleeping wing for himself and Julia – and this new bath-house was his latest toy: proper little hot and cold rooms and a plunge pool at the end, for which I’d been invited to design the floor. An invitation to enjoy the private facilities in this way could only be interpreted as a compliment – a piece of conspicuous hospitality extended only to the most honoured guests – and since Lucius had obviously been angling for the chance to sample it, he found himself entirely outflanked. He could do nothing dignified except capitulate, muttering his less than heartfelt thanks, and accept the offer with as good a grace as he could muster in the circumstances.
‘Ah, here is Niveus now,’ my patron said, as the page came struggling in, with a tray in one hand and a pair of folding chairs in the other. ‘Stay and take a cup of Falernian with us, and then he can escort you to the bath-house straight away.’
Lucius was too much of a Roman to decline a glass of wine, and he permitted Niveus to pour a measure out. He sipped it thoughtfully – I am no connoisseur of wine, but even I could tell that it was excellent – and pointedly talked of other things, murmuring to Marcus about the coming trip to Rome.
‘There are so many splendid new constructions since you saw it last, you’ll hardly recognise the place. Triumphal arches, fountains, temples – everything. There are whole new suburbs springing up these days . . .’ I thought he was choosing the subject to exclude me from the talk, until I realised that Julia was feeling left out too.
At last, he pushed his cup aside, and rose to take his leave. ‘Time for the promised bath, I think.’ He clapped his hands, and his bull-headed bodyguard instantly appeared, with an alacrity which suggested that he’d been listening at the door. Niveus was sent trotting off with them, first to lead the way and then to fetch the cleansing olive oil and the strigil with which to scrape it off again.
‘Odious man!’ Julia remarked, as soon as they had gone. She sank back on to her seat. ‘Are all your cousins so self-consciously superior?’
Marcus leaned over and helped himself to figs, and – in the absence of the servants – poured himself some wine. ‘Lucius is the only cousin I have left,’ he said. ‘All the relations on my father’s side are dead. My mother had one brother, and he’s the only son. I did not see a great deal of him when I was young, or of his parents either.’ He rolled the wine pensively around his cup, as if he were reading fortunes in it. ‘It was not, I think, a very happy match – a matter of consolidating family estates – and once the heir was born my uncle put his wife aside, though he kept her in some style until she died, I understand. He never actually divorced her, in case she wed again. Wanted to keep her fortune, I suppose. She used to come and see us now and then.’
Julia shuddered. ‘What a dreadful life for her.’
‘Not at all. She rather liked it, it seemed to me, though of course I haven’t seen her since I was very young. She had more freedom than most Roman wives – went to the baths and the circuses, and visited her friends, and spent a fortune on her clothes and jewels. I remember she always smelled of spice, and wore a lot of kohl on her eyes. As a child you notice things like that. I was sorry when I heard she’d died. I looked forward to her visits. She used to laugh a lot. My mother thought she was disgraceful – I remember that, as well.’ He popped a sugared fig into his mouth.
Julia gave a sigh. It said, ‘Your mother disapproves of everything,’ as clearly as if she’d said the words aloud.
Marcus looked at her. ‘You mustn’t worry, Julia. It will be all right. My mother is patrician, whatever else she is, and she would never be less than totally polite to any visitor. And you will charm her, as you do everyone. Things are a little different in Rome, that’s all. Here in the provinces, people take their cue from us. If you and I decide to set a trend, half of the populace will follow suit. In Rome it’s more . . . traditional, perhaps. Fashion does follow the Emperor, of course, but since the Emperor is . . . well . . .’
He did not finish, but we all knew what he meant. Commodus’s extravagance and outlandish ways were the subject of rumour throughout the Empire. Doubtless Marcus’s mother thought him disgraceful too, though of course it would be suicide to voice the thought in Rome. Even here in Britannia it was dangerous: Commodus was as famous for his spies as for his opulent lifestyle – he was almost assassinated by a palace plot quite early in his reign, and now he is said to have paid eyes and ears in practically every corner of the Empire.
Julia looked at Marcus with liquid eyes. ‘Do we really have to go, husband? It is bad enough knowing that your mother disapproves of me – and don’t pretend she doesn’t, because she makes it clear in every letter that she thinks I schemed to trap her darling son, and I know I’m ignorant of proper Roman ways, and all the ancient customs she thinks so highly of. But now there is this dreadful omen hanging over us as well! Would it not be possible to defer the trip, at least? Think of Marcellinus, if you won’t change your mind for me. What would you do if anything should happen to your son?’
It was surprising to hear her talking freely in this way in front of me, though it was clear that she had done it on purpose in the hope of my support. Julia is a lively woman of high intelligence, and her husband has been known to seek her views even on financial matters and affairs of state. But to question his judgement – and in public too – was quite another thing. Marcus was affronted, and he made that evident by the way he tapped his fingers on his thigh and set his lips in an unsmiling line.
‘Then we shall have to hope that Libertus solves the problem very soon, and disposes of the “omen”, as you call it, well before we leave. Because – understand this, Julia – we are going to Rome. Not only has Prefect Pertinax invited us to go, sending a personal message that it would be insulting to decline, but Lucius also brings news, as you know, that my father is unwell and my mother wants me there as soon as possible.’ He drained his goblet in a single gulp and got abruptly to his feet. ‘I am sorry if it displeases you, but I intend that we shall go. Now, if you will excuse me, I will follow Lucius to the bath.’ He turned to Junio and me, with rather a fixed smile. ‘If you citizens would like to join us, that could be arranged. Junio, in particular, might enjoy the treat?’
I had been about to decline on behalf of both of us, but one glance at Junio’s shining eyes was enough to change my mind. As my slave he had often attended me when I went to the bath-house in the town, but his duties had been confined to helping me to change and watching my belongings in the stone-locker room. I don’t think he’d ever been in the baths himself, though there was sometimes a period set aside on occasional special feast days when even slaves could go.
‘My son would like it very much, I think,’ I said. ‘Though I must personally decline this time. My wife will be expecting me at home by now, I’m sure, wanting to make preparations for tonight. I expect she will be needing help, as well.’ It was even possible that she would want a big jug of water brought into the house so she could strip off all her clothes and wash. A banquet at my patron’s was a big event for her. And our young slave Kurso was here with me, of course – no doubt kicking his heels in the servants’ waiting-room. ‘But I will look in again on your mysterious corpse before I go, since the lady Julia is relying on my help in this matter.’
Marcus nodded and held out his hand, so that I could deferentially press the seal ring to my lips. Then he turned and left. I saw them as they walked across the court, Marcus surrounded by his attendants, with Junio walking gleefully behind.
I turned to Julia. ‘I’ll go back to the stables. Can you have Kurso sent out there to me? The land slaves who were sent out to make enquiries should be returning very soon.’
She nodded. ‘They may be back already – they wouldn’t come in here. I told them to report to Stygius. You can ask him while you’re there. And if the cart is back from Glevum with the dancers for tonight, I will have the driver take you and Kurso home. Junio can walk over when he has finished in the baths – or even stay here, if he would prefer. I imagine he will be wearing the same toga later on?’
‘He will indeed.’ Since it was the only toga that my son possessed, I spoke with confidence.
She smiled. ‘You must be proud of him. He looks quite elegant.’
When he learns to manage his toga-folds he will, I thought, but what I said was, ‘Thanks to your generosity, lady. And I know that he has you to thank for the gift of the roundhouse as well.’
‘Then you can repay me, Libertus, by dealing with this corpse. I’m not generally superstitious, but it worries me – coming exactly at this time of year, just before our visit overseas.’ Another smile, a self-mocking one this time. ‘If I were Honoria Aurelia, I think I would say that I have a premonition of bad luck.’
There were no slaves waiting outside the door, except for Julia’s two maids – the others were all assigned to attend the bath party by now – so I found myself escorted back to Stygius by one of the girls, while the other accompanied her mistress to her room. It was one of Julia’s little vanities to purchase homely female slaves, so that she would look more beautiful by contrast, I suppose, and these were no exception. Both of them were plain.
My guide was the taller and the skinnier of the pair, a rather gangling nervous-looking girl whose straight dark hair and pointed nose and chin made her look even thinner than she was. I looked appraisingly at her as she led the way, wondering if I could tactfully raise the question of the corpse. I wanted to discover what the servants’ gossip was, in case there was anything to be gleaned from that source – it is surprising how often slaves know more than their masters ever dream of – but I was not sure if she would talk to me.
I need not have worried. She was as anxious as I to discuss the day’s events.
‘This business has upset the mistress terribly,’ she confided, pausing in the peristyle garden where there was no one else to hear, and favouring me with a smile which showed her rabbit’s teeth.
I recognised an opening, and I prompted more. ‘I’ve never known her go in for private prayer like that before. She must be really worried.’
A nod. ‘I realised that, as soon as Stygius came in to give us the news about the hands – she told us off for giggling at him behind his back, whereas usually she’s the one who makes fun of him because he is so slow.’ She gulped. ‘Citizen . . .’ she glanced around to make certain that we were alone, ‘do you really think the Lemures will put a curse on us?’
It was clearly a question that was troubling her. She was plucking at a herb bush and crushing the leaves between her fingers as she spoke – the sort of behaviour that would earn her a punishment, if either of her owners had caught her doing it. She saw me watching her, and blushed, hastily putting the offending sprig behind her back.
I saw an opportunity to make an ally here. I answered the question as if I had not seen. ‘Not if we find out who this person was, and give the corpse a proper funeral,’ I said. ‘Something befitting his rank and condition. So if you hear anything whatever about a missing youth, make sure you report it straight away. To me, if possible.’
Rather to my surprise she shook her head. ‘It isn’t very easy for me to come to you. I hardly leave the house unless I am accompanying the mistress somewhere. We handmaidens don’t get a chance to go out very much, and besides, we hardly ever talk to anyone who’s not a fellow slave, so it isn’t very likely that I’d learn anything of use. I haven’t spoken to anyone outside the house for days – unless you count an entertainer who stayed here overnight, but even he was walking back to Glevum through the grounds and could talk of nothing but his performance at the feast and the weight of the bag of costumes he was carrying. One of the mistress’s friends might mention something, I suppose, or one of the tradesmen calling from the town, but we don’t hear much gossip, in the general way.’
‘I see.’ I could tell that she was fidgeting with the sprig again. It gave off a faint smell of rosemary.
She realised this herself, and quickly stuffed the aromatic evidence into the bush behind her back. ‘If you want real information, you ought to ask the page. He’s the one who goes everywhere with the master, so he sees much more than we do of the outside world. He will have heard if there is anything to know.’