However, we need not fear the justices. Our man was one of the freeborn poor. That was why I had let him go. I should have handed him over to the authorities — he was a blackmailer and a thief — but I couldn’t help feeling a twinge of sympathy for him, abandoned at an early age into a poky hovel and scratching a living where he could. After all, I told myself, he had done no great harm. He had stolen a few trinkets and forced Maximilian to pay a high price for his foolishness, but there could be no court case against him for that, because Maximilian had not complained about it at once as the law demanded. No doubt most of the things could be recovered — the little weasel was too terrified to return to his flat.
There would be no ‘little business’ for him now, either. Instead, I guessed, he would join the bands of ragged beggars and tricksters who frequent the highways, supported by whatever he had hidden in that urn. All in all, I did not feel that Corinium would suffer his loss.
In the meantime, the baths were short of an attendant and the place was filling up quickly.
‘Marcus will be waiting,’ I said to Junio, ‘and in any case, I think it is time we left. Prospective bathers are already shouting for somebody to watch their clothes. Besides, I want to go to the forum and hear the reading of the will. It will be starting soon.’
The boy shot me a delighted grin and we went out, back into the hubbub of the town. It was well past noon now, and a crowd was beginning to gather and make its way, jostling, under the carved portico and into the forum. We joined them and soon reached the steps of the basilica, where the ceremony would take place.
The basilica was a fine building, despite the works that were being carried out to it — a huge marble-faced edifice with an apse at one end and a flight of imposing stone steps leading up to the entrance. It was fronted by a number of fine statues, and in particular by Jupiter’s column, which had a decided cant. I remembered what Lupus had said about the collection of taxes for its repair.
I had plenty of time to admire it, because there was an appreciable wait. I was beginning to consider giving up and going back to find Marcus before we exhausted his patience, when there was a little stir at the entrance and people stood back to let two litters pass, accompanied by a small retinue on foot. Julia and Sollers had arrived, with Mutuus and a pair of slaves in attendance. I was surprised. It is not usual for a woman to attend, but Julia had defied convention, and although she wore a loose veil over her head, she had not covered her face as most widows do. She walked to the steps of the basilica with a firm tread and her head held high. What a woman she was. I looked for Maximilian, but there was no sign of him. A pity. I had things to say to him.
A group of toga-ed officials appeared from within the building, some with their staffs of office carried before them by lictors, while a chair was fetched and the presiding magistrate seated himself importantly upon it. As a decurion, Quintus could expect to have proper ceremony attending the opening of his will. The precious scroll was produced — an impressive legal document on fine parchment, sealed with heavy wax — the seals were broken (ceremonially, with the crowd crying ‘ahh!’ at each seal) and the reading commenced.
The will was concise, as far as Roman wills ever are. Quintus had eschewed the common practice of using his will as an opportunity to malign his enemies, and apart from a slighting reference to Lupus, ‘that vain and grotesque parcel of lascivious bones’, there was little in the preamble to delight the crowd. The endowments, too, were simple enough. His debts were first to be paid (cheers from the bystanders, including the fuller and his son whom I had spotted among the audience). Then, a great feast was to be held in the market square (louder cheers), followed by a gladiatorial contest and chariot racing in the arena. (Prolonged cheering, after which many of the audience began to drift away.) A series of substitute legatees was named, in case the prime and secondary heirs refused to inherit, as they sometimes did, and a number of small bequests were made to clientes ‘in remembrance of duty owed’. Manumission for the chief slave and a formal ending of Mutuus’s bond were also granted, although the remaining crowd was visibly less interested in these provisions.
Then came the real business of the day. There was a generous sum for Sollers, together with a small but adequate pension for life. To Julia, Quintus left his country house (I was not aware that he had one), and one third of the fortune. The town house and the rest of the estate went to Maximilian, who was named as principal heir. And then came the real surprise.
‘I appoint my esteemed friend, Marcus Aurelius Septimus, if he will accept the office, to act as legal sponsor to my wife, in all matters of contract and in the courts, on the understanding that he will act only according to her wishes; and she may marry or use her endowment as she will.’
That would please Marcus, I thought. I wondered if he had known of it.
Maximilian had still not put in an appearance. As the crowd began to drift away. I made my way through the remaining bystanders until I reached the basilica steps. Julia saw me and gave me one of her heart-stopping smiles. As I came towards the little party, she reached out a welcoming hand. There were, I noticed, tears glistening in the saffron-lidded eyes.
‘It is a mournful business, is it not? But Quintus has dealt generously with us all. Naming Marcus as my protector was a clever move. It will save me from Flavius. I was afraid he would try to claim jurisdiction over me. And there are a good many public endowments.’
I smiled grimly. ‘But not, I fear, anything about pavements.’
‘Quintus obviously expected to donate that while he lived.’ She turned impulsively to Sollers. ‘We might, don’t you think, commission one all the same? In memory of my husband?’
He looked at her indulgently. ‘Julia, my dear. The fortune is yours. Marcus is notionally your sponsor, but you heard the terms of the will. You are no longer in tutelage, either as a daughter or a wife. You must spend your money as you please. However, since you suggest it, such a gesture would be a gracious one.’
She smiled at me again. ‘Then, Libertus, the commission is yours.’ She seemed to stop and consider. ‘A bold design is best, I think. It will in any case be difficult to see the mosaic through the steam. When the funeral is over, I will speak to your patron about keeping you here a while.’ Julia, it seemed, had little difficulty making decisions, once the chance was offered.
I thanked her gravely, although, of course, without a nominated price such a promise does not constitute a contract — as I have learned before, to my cost. I wondered if Julia knew that. She raised her hand in dismissal, then turned and made her way towards the waiting litter.
Sollers might have followed her, but I detained him. I was delighted by the kindness of her offer, but I had concerns about it. ‘Will there,’ I asked him seriously, ‘be sufficient funds for such an endowment? I should not like the lady to overreach herself for my benefit.’
He laughed. ‘There is no fear of that. Quintus was worth a considerable fortune. Julia was always wealthy, my friend. Now she is very rich indeed.’
‘And Maximilian?’
His face clouded. ‘Maximilian even more so. He will have, of course, to take his father’s place as decurion in due course, but mercifully he cannot seek election until he is twenty-five. Perhaps by then he will have learned some greater discretion.’
‘And you, what will you do now?’
He shook his head. ‘I do not know as yet. Nothing, perhaps, for a little while. Quintus has been most generous to me. Much more than I expected or deserved. Perhaps I will seek a civic appointment. Or perhaps Julia will have a use for me.’