Dark Omens (19 page)

I shook my head and he signalled to his pimply slave to lead the way. ‘I hoped to call in at the temple,’ I explained, as we began to follow. ‘But they have closed the shrine today for cleansing rituals.’

‘Not because of the problems at the Agonalia, surely?’ Lucius said, taking my arm to aid me across a pile of frozen snow and making me feel like a great-grandfather. ‘I thought that had been dealt with days ago.’

‘This is more recent. There’s been an accident to one of the old priests, and they are anxious to purify the shrine. You haven’t heard the rumours?’

He shook his head. ‘I haven’t been back in Glevum long enough to talk to anyone. Except yourself, of course. What are you waiting for?’ This last was to his servant, who was hovering at the entrance to a narrow alleyway.

‘It’s quicker this way, masters, if you can manage it.’

I nodded, and we turned that way, though the ground was still treacherous with patches of black ice and the occasional heap of frozen piled-up snow.

We picked and slithered our way in silence for a little while, then Lucius said, ‘Is this what happened to this aged priest? You mentioned an accident? What did he do? Slip on the courtyard ice and kill himself?’

‘Rather worse than that. They discovered half the body in an icy pond, miles outside the temple, earlier today,’ I told him, as we paused at a corner to let a hand-cart pass.

‘Half?’ He whirled around to face me. ‘But …?’

‘You are wondering if it might be Genialis?’ I suggested.

He looked nonplussed a moment, then nodded ruefully. ‘I see you read my mind.’

‘The same thought had occurred to me, at first,’ I told him with a smile, ‘but I’ve been thinking since. The two men were of such different builds, there could hardly be confusion anyway. And the temple is obviously sure it is their missing priest, because they sent a party out to bring back the remains – and they would not have done that if there were any doubt. The mere presence of any corpse within the shrine would call for hours of purifying rituals – let alone a priest, and a half of one at that.’

He made a face. ‘A corpse would call for cleansing rites, wherever it was brought. But I suppose in a temple it requires much more.’

I grinned. ‘Fire and smoke and water and the gods know what besides, and no doubt special ceremonies and sacrifices to propitiate the various goddesses he served. I think that they were beginning all that when I was there. Not that I could see what they were doing at the shrine – they’ve posted a giant servant at the gate, who wouldn’t even let me talk to anyone.’

Lucius brayed with laughter. ‘I see. I wondered what your interest in the temple was. I had not taken you for a religious man – at least not where the Roman deities are concerned. Though you went to the Janus festival, I think? The first time I met you, you and your patron had just come from that abortive sacrifice.’

‘Only the first one, when it had to be postponed,’ I said. ‘In the afternoon I took advantage of the thaw and went back to my roundhouse, before the pathways froze. The Agonalia is not one of the obligatory rituals – not like the Imperial birthday sacrifice – and my home is quite a long way out of town. Quite near to Marcus’s in fact – the land was originally part of his estate. You would have passed it, when you were out there earlier.’

‘If I go there again, I will look out for it,’ Lucius said graciously, as we turned the corner to the docks. ‘And, speaking of your dwelling, here is mine.’ He indicated a building in the quayside area. ‘Not a fancy residence, but it suits me well enough. Office and warehouse this end and living space behind – and I’m lucky enough to share a proper kitchen in the court.’

‘You are well-provided for,’ I said and meant it too.

Many people had no formal cooking-space, and unless – like Marcus – they were very rich indeed, most apartment dwellers had no fire at all and depended on the vendors in the street, or the hot-soup kitchens, if they wanted a warm meal. No wonder Lucius was proud of his abode. And since he boasted a shared kitchen and was inviting citizens to dine, then more likely his home had several rooms – at least a dining area and a separate sleeping room – which was better provision than I had myself.

On the other hand this was clearly a poor place compared to Ulpius’s house. It was close beside the river wharves and the associated smells were already reaching us – which was perhaps the reason that his living space was situated at the back, and did not have a separate front entrance directly to the docks. If the owner hoped to marry Silvia – as my patron seemed to think – he must be relying on the house which came with her estate. Surely he could not expect to bring her here?

Yet he was quietly boastful as he said, ‘Come!’ and ushered me inside the heavy warehouse door, which the spotty servant was holding wide for us. Lucius threw his cloak back and waved a proud, expansive hand. ‘There you are, citizen. What do you think of that?’

I have been in such warehouses before, so I was prepared for the general size and layout of the place, but it was still impressive: a huge stone building sectioned into parts by waist-high wood partitions – with a different commodity stored in each area. Despite the recent weather, the warehouse seemed jam-full: there were few window spaces and it was dim inside, but the flickering light of torches on the wall revealed sacks and wooden crates of every shape and size, stone jars and amphorae, piles of sheepskins and heaps of metal bowls, to say nothing of a stack of rough-hewn timber near the door. How could Genialis think of forcing it to close?

Lucius was clearly expecting some response. I said what I was thinking: ‘You have a lot of wares.’

He gave me a delighted smile. ‘A varied range, it’s true, although we tend to specialize. We concentrate mainly on little household luxuries. “Sell to the moderately rich – things for their wives and daughters”, Ulpius used to say. That’s where the profit is: glass beads, horn combs and perfumes and all that sort of thing. Or fancy dining ware.’ He had seized a torch that was burning in a sconce and was enthusiastically illuminating the various products as he spoke, bouncing down the central aisle like an excited pup. ‘Of course we import the usual oils and food and wine, and I brought in that silver fir-wood over there for a carpenter who wants it for making pails and bowls. Easier to work with and it doesn’t grow round here.’ He paused and looked at me expectantly again.

‘I had supposed that with the cold snap you might be short of stock,’ I said inanely.

He shook his head and gave a little sigh. ‘Unfortunately, it is quite the opposite. Most of this stuff is orders – already spoken for – and simply waiting to be sent on to purchasers: but of course there hasn’t been the transport, with the snow. The potted snails and dormice and the wine and oil will be all right, of course, but some of the other things are suffering a bit.’

‘Like these?’ I gestured to an area where a deep pile of heaped-up snow – obviously brought in from out-of-doors – had been compacted to a solid mass, which was now melting slightly, revealing sacks beneath, while the water formed a little puddle on the floor.

He gave a ghastly grin. ‘A trick I learned from traders from the north. In winter they store their roe-deer venison that way, so I was hopeful that it might have worked for me. But now I’m not so sure. I don’t often deal with perishable goods – and this, I fear, is going to start to rot and I shall have to throw it in the river at a total loss. But for other things, the cold has had the opposite effect. There’s a consignment of pigments over there which has frozen in its sacks and I don’t know if it will still be usable.’ He led me to the place. ‘Fortunately, I never deal in slaves or animals, or anything that needs attention while you’re storing it, but as I was saying to Marcus earlier today, if I can’t get some things delivered in a day or two, I stand to lose my profit, if not my customers.’

‘But you do handle perishables now and then?’ I said, a little doubtfully. ‘You mentioned that we were dining on Gallic fowl, I think?’ I hoped our meal had not come from the sacks that we’d just passed. There was a faint unpleasant odour there, despite the ice, and I was glad to have moved onwards down the aisle, where the air was heady with cinnamon and other Eastern spice.

Lucius must have seen my dubious look and laughed aloud. ‘Quite fresh, I assure you, citizen. One of the first consignments to get here for some time – bigger ships can’t get this far up the river when there’s ice. The trade-captain had attempted to bring them here alive, three dozen crates of birds and several pigs, though most of the creatures had perished in the cold. Normally we would have taken all of those – exotic fowl-meat has a value anywhere – but as you see, at present …’ He used the torch to gesture round the room.

‘You have no room to store the birds?’ I supplied.

‘Exactly, citizen. My stewards took some living ones for me to use myself, but the trader had to sell the others in the town for whatever he could get – which won’t be much, I think. The pork will do all right, but there is not much sustenance in a Gallic fowl and when food is scarce and dear, people will buy other things for preference.’

‘But you agreed to have them anyway?’

He did that laugh again. ‘Ah, but now he’ll take my sheepskins and some wood when he sails for Gaul – I’ve been waiting half a moon to find a boat to carry them – so we both stand to profit from the deal. Trade is a funny business.’ He gestured to his spotty servant, who was sulking close nearby. ‘The office door please, Pistus, and then you can let the household know that we are here.’

We had walked the whole length of the storage space by now and had reached a large partition wall which had two doors in it. One of these the servant Pistus was now folding back, revealing what was clearly the office area, containing a desk-table and a pair of stools, and book shelves full of scrolls and parchment-leaves. An ancient slave was seated at the desk, binding a new iron nib on to a writing stick. An oil lamp stood by him, but it was not lit and he was working by the fading daylight through the open window space high up on the wall.

He looked up and saw us, and made as if to rise, but Lucius waved him to continue with his work. ‘When you’ve finished that pen, Vesperion, you can shut up for the night. Put up the shutters and I’ll send in your meal.’ He turned to me. ‘That is my steward. Been with me for years – I’ll let him have his freedom, if this deal comes off, though I expect he’ll want to stay and work here as a freeman if he can. I’d be glad to have him for a year or two. I give him a sleeping mat down there beside the door and he acts as a sort of watchman for the goods – can’t be too careful, though my neighbours and I share the cost to keep a burly guard outside at night.’ He smiled. ‘Now, if you would like to come this way?’

He led the way in through the other, smaller door, through which the spotty slave had already disappeared, and which opened on to a little corridor and so into the house. I was pleasantly surprised by what awaited us.

I found myself in a spacious inner area. It had only one high window space, like the office next to it, but was lit by a dozen tapers in stanchions on the wall, and agreeably heated by a brazier at each end. It was not a fancy room. The floor was paved in simple kiln-fired brick, the plaster on the walls was painted plain ochre with a border of black lines, and there was not an ornament in sight, only a little niche with a statue of the Lars. The only furniture was a rustic table bench and a pair of rather crudely crafted wooden stools – yet the effect, though basic, was warm and welcoming.

Lucius placed his torch carefully into an empty sconce, took my cloak, then indicated the nearer of the stools and sat down on the other one himself. He clapped his hands and the pimply slave appeared through an inner doorway opposite. ‘Take these cloaks away and put them somewhere dry. Have warm spiced mead and sugared figs brought in, and then leave us to talk.’

The servant bowed and went away, but left the door ajar. Through the aperture I could see another passageway, obviously leading to further doors beyond. It was clear now that my guess about the house had been correct. There were several rooms on this floor and there was evidence of at least one more above. I could hear something – or someone – hurrying around up there, then the rattle of quick footsteps down what sounded like a stair. A moment later Adonisius came into the room.

He seemed about to speak to Lucius, but when he saw me he stopped in some surprise. ‘Excuse me, masters, I had not intended to intrude. I did not know that you had company.’

Lucius smiled. ‘Libertus has consented to come and dine with me. But I am glad to see you anyway. You can give him the latest news direct – though I’ve already told him that no trace has been found. I presume that nothing’s happened since I last spoke to you?’ He turned to me. ‘Adonisius has been assisting with the search. Indeed, we have placed him virtually in charge – no one knows Genialis more thoroughly than he does – and Silvia has kindly made him available as long as he’s required.’

‘Of course, he is formally at her disposal now,’ I said, remembering.

Lucius nodded. ‘At least until his master’s body’s found.’ He smiled. ‘And he has already proved his worth. After all he was the one who found the horse!’

I looked at the Syrian, who was wearing a proud smile – which in a man less attractive, might have been a smirk, but on Adonisius simply added to his charm. ‘You heard about that, citizen?’ His tone to me was soft and courteous. If Silvia decided to sell him later on, I thought, he would command a price as handsome as himself. ‘I searched for the body for a long time, then, but could not find the slightest trace of that,’ he said. ‘Though Bernadus was extremely pleased to have the horse.’

Lucius barked with laughter. ‘Pleased enough to let you keep the one he’d lent to you – until this search is over, anyway.’ He jerked his head at Adonisius and said, addressing me, ‘Of course, there is no risk. This slave is a considerable horseman, citizen. Genialis used him as a mounted page.’ He raised a brow at me. ‘Among other things, I understand.’

I ignored the innuendo. ‘And yet Genialis set off riding on his own, when he left the villa? That was a little strange?’