But not at all, it seemed. He had risen to his feet and was smiling eagerly. ‘Of course. That would be easy, citizen. I can show the record scrolls. That would tell him everything he wants to know. Apart from the usual records — of profits, cost and loss — Ulpius used to keep a note of all the suppliers and importers that we used: where they traded from and what they traded in and how reliable they’d proved to be. He used to put a little mark beside the ones he did not trust, whether because of gambling or otherwise, and a cross to indicate the ones that we should never do business with again. And the same with customers.’ He shot a glance at me. ‘If I gave you that information, could you contrive to pass it on?’
‘Give me the records and I’ll see what I can do,’ I promised silkily, though inwardly I heaved a happy sigh. I stood up too, as courtesy demands.
I thought he was about to go and get the records then and there, but we were interrupted by the spotty slave, bringing — at last — the promised tray of fruit and mead for me and a handsome-looking jug of wine for Lucius. However, Lucius waved him impatiently away.
‘Not now! At the moment it is inconvenient. Take it away and wait until I call for you. And when you do come bring another goblet and some different wine — I’d forgotten that we still had this in the house. It’s the rubbish that Genilias gave to Ulpius once. It isn’t fit to drink. Go and get rid of it at once — and throw the jug away. Bring us something else. There is some of the best Rhenish in that amphora still, I think. And don’t be so long about producing it, next time. Our other dinner guest is an important man.’
The servant sighed. ‘I’m sorry, Master, for the long delay, but we had to wait to use the fire so we could heat the mead.’ He padded off again.
Lucius turned to me. ‘The disadvantage of shared kitchens, I’m afraid. Fortunately our meal is in the clay-oven, and has been for hours, so there will be no problem over that. However — to conclude the matter we were talking of just now, you will speak to your patron in support of me?’
I nodded and he came across to slap me on the back.
‘I thank you, citizen. Silvia thought you would. And you believe that there is hope?’
It was time to backtrack slightly. I pursed my lips and said judiciously, ‘I think there is a chance. Not immediately, of course, but in a year or so.’
Lucius looked startled. ‘Why not sooner if Marcus will consent? She is Ulpius’s widow, not Genialis’s — and there is no need to wait the customary full ten moons from now. I’m aware that it is usual, in case the lady is with child, but Genialis was prepared to marry her at once, and I would be more than glad to do the same. If there is to be a child, then Ulpius fathered it, and I am happy to acknowledge that and rear it as my own. In any case it’s most unlikely — there would be signs by now.’
I shook my head. ‘All the same, there would have to be a decent interval — especially if Genialis’s body is not found. In the absence of a corpse, there is no proof that her former guardian is dead and it may take some time for Marcus to make a formal application to the court — especially since he plans to go to Rome within the moon. But he will need the legal sanction, if he’s to take charge of her affairs and have the right to find another husband for his ward. And, incidentally, to deal with Genialis’s estate. I know the man had debts, but there was the house in Dorn. Presumably, since he was a councillor out there, his residence is of a certain size. Who will that go to?’
Lucius shrugged. ‘I’ve no idea at all. I hadn’t thought about it. No doubt — being in public life — he’s made a proper will, with seven witnesses and all that sort of thing. If not, I suppose the state will benefit.’
I raised a brow at him. ‘Or Silvia, as his nearest relative? Would she not have a claim? He was her guardian and she was married to his brother, after all.’
He nodded doubtfully. ‘Though Silvia says that he was heavily in debt — what with his gambling and his financing of public works in Dorn, to secure his election — so I doubt there’ll be a lot left over, anyway.’ He ran his fingers through his tawny hair. ‘Would that make a difference to your patron’s attitude …?’ He broke off as there was a tapping on the door that led out to the warehouse. ‘Enter!’ he called and Adonisius came into the room on silent feet.
‘Alfredus Allius, masters!’ he announced, standing back to let the visitor come through.
Of course I’d seen Alfredus several times before: not only in the snow when he was witnessing my contract for the pavement and at the ill-fated Janus sacrifice, but also at a distance at the basilica in his capacity as a minor councillor. However, he was not a man who stood out in a crowd. I had always found him instantly forgettable, and even here, in a humble freeman’s house — where he was clearly the most distinguished guest, wearing a toga and a curial one at that — he somehow contrived to lack presence and prestige.
Partly this was the product of his looks. There was nothing about him that distinguished him: he was of middle-age, of average height, and neither fat nor slim. His hair, which was of medium length, was nondescript and brown, and though he was not ugly he was hardly beautiful — his regular features were resolutely plain. Even his toga was only moderately white. All the same, it bore a very narrow purple stripe, an indication that he was a councillor-magistrate, though of the lowest rank.
I gave a little bow in salutation, very conscious of my own improper dress and preparing to frame an explanation and apology for it. Even a narrow-striper demands a certain deference.
However, having exchanged the proper greetings with his host, he was already blinking short-sightedly at me and saying, in his strangely flat and nasal voice, ‘Ah, the pavement-maker! I remember you. I witnessed a contract for you, I believe.’
‘For Genialis,’ I corrected as courteously as I could. ‘Though you were never called upon to see it was fulfilled. However, the work was duly witnessed by a magistrate, and I have been paid.’
The grey eyes looked dispassionately at me. ‘Then you’re a lucky man! Not many of his creditors can say as much.’
There was an awkward moment, then Lucius clapped his hands, and at once the pimply servant sidled in, bearing the tray of refreshments as his master had required. He set it down and was about to serve the wine, but his owner shook his head.
‘Adonisius will serve us. You go and find an extra seat for us — the folding stool from my bedroom will suffice. And when you have done that, you may tell the kitchen we will dine as soon as possible.’
The boy dashed off to do as he was told, and a moment later I was sipping mead while my companions drank the Rhenish, which was clearly excellent.
‘Just as well the captain of the vessel had some sense,’ Lucius was saying, holding his fine glass goblet to the light. ‘He had to jettison some cargo in a storm, to save the ship — with of course a total loss to the owner of the goods — but he had the wit to save this wine at least.’
‘And what happens if it goes overboard and is actually retrieved, but is damaged by salt water when it gets to shore? I suppose the shipper bears the losses in a case like that?’ Alfredus was asking questions eagerly. Obviously his experience with Genialis had made him cautious about lending capital.
‘That depends on what contract he has made. In any case, it’s generally worth the risk. There is good money to be made from wine.’ Lucius, in his enthusiastic way, began to discourse on the various types of wine, and where they could most profitably be traded to and from. ‘There is a ship tomorrow loading up for Gaul, and I’m going to bargain with the captain to bring me back a few amphorae from the vineyards there. Would you care to come and watch, and see the arrangements that are made and how these things are done?’