‘Indeed we did.’ I frowned. ‘He brought them with him. Alfredus and Bernadus. I know them both by sight. They are councillors, of course, so they must have accommodation in the town — but I don’t know where they live and the curia won’t be sitting in this weather, I’m sure. How could I be sure of finding them before the Ides?’
‘You could go to the Festival of Janus, citizen, the Agonalia — in eight days’ time. That is if you’ve done the work by then. They’re certain to be there.’
That was a sensible suggestion. I should have thought of it myself. The Festival is always a very big affair, with a senior priest to make the sacrifice. This year the celebrant was particularly grand — a Flamen of Juno, all the way from Rome. I knew that, because he was due to stay with my patron overnight. ‘A good idea,’ I told the doorkeeper. ‘Anyone who is anyone is likely to be there. No doubt Genialis will want to get there if he can — though who knows if the roads will be passable by then.’
The doorkeeper permitted himself a wry grin. ‘We had better hope so, pavement-maker! He’ll be furious if he can’t attend the ritual after all. He was boasting that he’d be there with all the councillors, making sure that he was seen by the electorate. He even offered to provide the sacrificial ram — hoping to make a public show of that — but some citizen from the outskirts had already promised one, and could not be persuaded to withdraw. My master had to be content with offering barley cakes and wine. He wasn’t very pleased — he told me that everyone influential would be there. So wait outside the temple, you should find your councillors.’
‘I’ll do more than that,’ I chuckled. ‘I’ll attend the feast myself.’ I saw his startled look. ‘Oh don’t worry, I’m entitled — I’m a Roman citizen and I can wear a toga with the best of them. Then, even if your master isn’t back himself, it would be courteous to invite the witnesses back here to see the pavement in its finished state.’
‘And Genialis could not deny the contract then.’ The doorkeeper gave me a conspiratorial wink. ‘Just don’t let him know that I suggested it! He’d have me flogged within an inch of death for costing him the fee. He’s manic about money.’ He dropped his voice. ‘I pity that poor lady — and there’s the truth of it. In fact … I shouldn’t say this, citizen, but I have sometimes wondered if the death of Ulpius …’ He broke off as my son and slave appeared at the entrance to his guard-cell.
I waved them off and turned to him again. ‘What did you wonder about Ulpius’s death?’
But he had already thought better of his unguarded words. He shook his head. ‘Nothing, citizen.’
‘That it was convenient for your master, possibly?’ I tried to win his confidence again. It was frustrating to have come so close to what was clearly his suspicion of the truth.
However, he was not to be cajoled. He looked at me coldly. ‘Of course not, citizen. I would not dare to speak about my owner in that way. I merely wondered if the death was quick and merciful. Now, if you have finished, shall I show you out? I’ll attend to the brazier before you come again.’
And that was all that he could be prevailed upon to say, either that day or the five days following as Junio and I — after struggling with the hand-cart through the icy streets — laid the new pavement in the entrance hall.
THREE
We made a good job of the pavement, and with a day to spare. The fact that the base was waterproof helped, making it possible to simply put a mortar-bed on top and lower the backing-layer on to it, instead of installing the mosaic upside down and soaking off the linen as we’d have had to do outdoors.
There was nothing to be got out of the doorkeeper again, but at least the extra brazier made the entrance hall a pleasant place to work, and the mortar set more quickly that I’d dared to hope. So by the sixth day there was little left to do, except clean up the surface and collect our tools — though it seemed more and more certain that we’d need our witnesses, for Genialis was unlikely to be back in time himself.
The snow had stopped by now, but it was freezing hard instead, and even the main roads were still closed to carriages and very hazardous for pedestrians. The country tracks were blocked entirely, which meant that my son and I were stranded in the town — and there still was no way I could think of to get word to our wives. It would be inhuman to send a slave the long way round on foot — and we could find no mounted messenger who would agree to go.
So I was startled, after our last day working at the house, when we were struggling through Glevum with a handcart full of tools, to chance upon a neighbour in the market place — a free-born Celt called Cantalarius, whose roundhouse-property lay not far from my own. Like myself he was a Roman citizen — in his case by right, because he was born within the walls of the colonia — but the rank had not brought him any special privilege; he still struggled for a living on his muddy fields.
He was an ugly fellow with a twisted arm, and famed for grumbling, but I was fascinated to discover how he had got to town. I left Junio and the slave to watch the hand-cart and slithered over to the pavement on the far side of the street, where he’d set up a makeshift stall — and found that he was selling cabbages and turnip-tops from the panniers of a pair of mules.
Judging by the sample he was holding up, his wares were rather limp and blighted by the frost, but there were people clustering round to buy them all the same. Food had been very difficult to get these last few days, though some enterprising farmers on the river-bank had acquired a raft and brought things in by water every day — milk and chickens and a slaughtered sheep or two. There was a rush to buy them as soon as they arrived, though the price was very high: but Ulpius’s house was fortunately placed and we’d managed to acquire a scrawny hen or two, which Minimus had turned into a warming meal. The public granaries were open, so there was bread on sale and one day we’d also paid a fortune for some fish — which had been very scarce, because the water in the forum fish pool was inclined to freeze, until some prisoners from the jail were sent to stand in it and work with poles to stop the ice from forming on the top. Another team was doing the same thing by the docks, in case a large ship came up the river to unload supplies — though with the recent weather none had managed it.
So vegetables would be a welcome treat. The mules had solved the puzzle of how he’d got to town, but I joined the crush of customers surrounding him and in a little while he spotted me. ‘Citizen Libertus! What are you doing here?’
‘I might ask you the same!’
He shrugged his humped shoulders. ‘I struggled into Glevum with this pair of mules. Had to come here to fulfil a vow, and thought that I’d improve the day by selling something too.’
‘A vow?’ I was puzzled.
He dropped his voice. ‘I promised to provide an animal for the Janus offering …’
‘You did?’ I interrupted in astonishment. Perhaps my reaction was not polite, but it was quite a compliment to be permitted to donate a sacrifice for any ritual at all. To provide one for a major festival was an honour generally reserved for rich and influential citizens — like Genialis — who wished to make a public show. ‘I heard that a “citizen from the outskirts” was offering a ram, but I never supposed that it was you.’
Cantalarius misunderstood my evident surprise. ‘It was at my new wife’s insistence, citizen. We are not usually driven to such Roman practices, but we have had a dreadful run of luck ever since the moment that she married me. Half my crops are rotting in the fields, my barns burned down last summer so we’ve no feed for the sheep and now a spotted fever has brought low all my slaves — and none of the Celtic rituals have helped. My wife consulted a soothsayer in the end, and he told her that it was obvious that she’d upset the gods by marrying a hunch-back like myself — and that only a significant blood sacrifice would lift the curse.’