‘But does Genialis have the right to sell off Silvia’s share, in any case? I thought he only got the profits on her capital?’
Lucius’s servant gave a knowing smile. ‘Only after they are married, citizen. Until then he can dispose of it if she agrees in front of witnesses, and — though I’m certain that she would fight him all the way — in the end he could compel her to do that. Though she’d gladly give consent for him to sell to my master, I am sure; she’s fond of him and knows that Ulpius trusted him.’
‘How do you know all this?’ I asked, but I knew the answer as I spoke. ‘You were there when the matter was discussed and you couldn’t help but overhear, I suppose?’ I’ve been a slave myself and understand these things — owners think that servants have no eyes or ears.
‘That’s right, citizen.’ He was unaware of any irony. ‘And this arrangement would be the answer for everyone, I’m sure. The trouble is, I don’t think Genialis knows about it yet — Lucius was hoping to talk him into it — and if he’s gone back to Dorn instead of coming here, it is almost certain that the arrangement will fall through.’
‘I wonder.’ It occurred to me, from what I knew of Genialis, that he might well have known — and gone to Dorn on purpose, to put pressure on Lucius and so increase the price he could demand. I turned to Junio. ‘I think we’d better go inside and see. Maximus and Minimus can come as well — they don’t have horses to look after, like you two, and I presume that Marcus has taken his attendants in.’
The allusion to my patron seemed to do the trick. Adonisius and his friend had been standing right outside the entrance way — taking the place of the doorkeeper I suppose — but now they moved aside to let us pass. ‘You will be unannounced,’ Adonisius muttered, doubtfully. ‘Unless you would like one of us to go ahead of you and tell them you are here?’
I shook my head. ‘We’ll take our chances, thank you very much. After all this is not a social call and the household is not currently equipped for visitors. You stay here with the horses.’ And so saying, I led the way into the house.
FIVE
I found them gathered in the atrium. When I was there before it was devoid of furniture, but someone — perhaps the doorkeeper — had produced a pair of folding stools, and Marcus and the lady were sitting either side of a little table which was set up on the far side of the room, near the altar to the domestic gods, and which held three goblets and an empty jug. Obviously a minimal refreshment had been found. The third cup had evidently been used by a cheerful-looking fellow whom I didn’t recognize, who stood beside the table at the rear. This must be Lucius Tertius, I thought.
He must have been twenty-five or thirty years of age and was obviously used to working out of doors. His face was tanned, his arms were muscular and (though clearly prosperous) he did not appear to be a citizen. A freeman, probably, because he sported a very un-Roman beard and side-whiskers — particularly striking in this environment because they were the same amber colour as his embroidered tunic and his hair. He looked up to greet us as our little group appeared.
So did the rest of them. Marcus’s two scarlet-uniformed pages were ranged against the wall, and they came hasting forward to take our capes and cloaks — though only to add them to the armfuls they already held. Standing alone in the middle of the room, evidently the centre of a recent storm of questioning, even my gloomy friend the doorkeeper turned around to stare.
‘Longinus Flavius Libertus,’ I announced myself, before my slaves could say a word. ‘His Excellence is expecting me, I think.’
Marcus nodded. ‘So I was.’ He flapped a hand at me. ‘Do you know Lucius Tertius?’
I bowed towards my fellow beard-wearer. ‘Ulpius’s partner? We have not met, but I have heard of him.’ I turned to Silvia. ‘And this must be the lady of the house — as beautiful as Ulpius always said she was.’
Indeed, only a man who had a preference for Syrian slave boys could possibly have called her ‘ugly as a mule’ — though she might be wilful, I could imagine that. She was still in mourning for her husband, naturally, and her stola and undertunic were of sombre black, but she wore a lustrous girdle made of plaited silk arranged in the becoming Grecian style, so that it came round her shoulders, crossed over in the front, then looped around her body to be tied off in a knot — thus emphasizing both her waist and her other attributes. She was a shapely woman and was aware of it — as were all the adult males in the room. Her veil, which should strictly have obscured her face, was thrown back to form a sort of lacy frame from which a tangle of dark curls had half-escaped and the sparkling dark eyes which looked boldly into mine seemed more amused than grieved.
Her voice, however, was decorous and low. ‘Libertus!’ She half-rose in greeting and held out a plump, well-manicured white hand. ‘I, in turn, have heard of you. My late husband spoke most highly of your work.’ There was no offer of refreshment for me or Junio. Of course we were here as pavement-makers rather than as guests, so perhaps I should not have been expecting it. Silvia rather underlined the thought. She turned to Lucius. ‘This is the man who laid the entrance pavement with the ship.’
‘And the one which has replaced it,’ I pointed out, taking the hand and bowing over it. ‘Completed before the Agonalia, as I contracted with your guardian.’
‘And thereby meriting the double fee. That fact has been noted!’ Marcus murmured, with a nod.
Lucius said bluffly, ‘Then it is to be hoped that there’s enough to pay for it. Genialis has been spending money as some men pour out grain, and who knows what will be left in his estate?’
Silvia rounded on him, looking shocked. ‘What makes you say that? You speak as you think that my guardian is dead. I know the weather has been terrible, but I don’t think you need to worry about that. He’s a splendid horseman. He is known for it. Anyway he had borrowed Bernadus’s horse, branded with a most distinctive mark, so if anything had happened to him on the way we’d certainly have heard. Surely — as I pointed out before — it’s more likely that he’s simply gone to Dorn?’
Lucius looked doubtful. ‘I suppose you’re right. Under the circumstances, perhaps, it’s just what he would do! If only to disoblige us.’
‘Hoping to panic you a bit, so that you would agree to pay any price at all for the part of Ulpius’s business that was left to Silvia?’
If I had hoped to startle him by saying this, I failed. Lucius simply threw back his auburn head and laughed. ‘I see you have the measure of him, citizen. I would no doubt have paid him, too — like an idiot — if he had turned up just in time and made a high demand. Anything to make sure the deal went through.’ Then realization must have come to him. He frowned. ‘But how did you come to hear about this, citizen? I didn’t tell you, and I’m sure my potential partner has not mentioned it to anyone. I didn’t think that even Genialis knew what I had hoped to do, though — since on reflection I agree it’s likely that he has gone to Dorn — perhaps I was mistaken in supposing that. If you’ve heard about it, citizen, perhaps all Glevum has!’
This time it was Marcus laughing. ‘Oh, Libertus has a way of knowing everything! That is why I often call on him to find things out for me.’ He cocked an eyebrow at me. ‘Though I don’t suppose that even you can deduce what’s happened to our host? It seems he left Bernadus’s villa several days ago, and at the time he said that he would come directly here.’
‘And there was no message for him which may have changed his mind?’ I said, thinking aloud rather than expecting a response.
Silvia, however, gave a sudden startled squeak. ‘But of course there was a message. I’d forgotten that.’ She dimpled at me. ‘The rider reached me at the villa shortly after Genialis left, and I told him where I thought my guardian had gone and he set off after him. Something about provision for a sacrifice, he said. I had supposed that the message was from Glevum, but on reflection …’