He shook his head. ‘This is not a widow, citizen, judging by her dress. And not a Christian, as far as I can see.’
I frowned. I could not imagine who it was. Unless. . That letter I had sent to Glevum! I had asked for Junio. Had Gwellia decided to accompany him? The wax tablet had been carried by the imperial post — the swiftest horsemen in the world. With relays of fresh horses, a message could reach London in a day from anywhere in Britannia, it was said, so mine would have reached my roundhouse at least two days ago. If Gwellia had organised a lift in some light vehicle. .
I turned to the slave-boy and said, with sudden hope, ‘Unless it is my wife?’
He stared thoughtfully at his sandal straps. ‘I do not think so, citizen. Not a wife, exactly. Possibly — a friend.’ There was a sort of embarrassed knowingness in the way he said this which made it more puzzling than ever.
‘A friend? I have no friend in Venta — and certainly no female ones.’
He did not look up. ‘She insists that you invited her to come.’
‘I’ve absolutely no idea who it can be,’ I said. ‘I don’t know any women in this town.’ And then, of course, I realised that I did. ‘It isn’t Lyra the brothel-keeper, by any chance?’
The servant was visibly relieved, but he did not meet my eyes. ‘I believe that is the name she mentioned, citizen. She said you had been asking for her in the town, and had required her to present herself to you.’
I sighed. ‘Well, that’s true, up to a point, but not for the reasons that she seems to think. I wanted her brought in for questioning.’ Why did I find it necessary to explain myself? ‘Well, never mind — I’ll go and speak to her. You’d better tell His Excellence she’s come.’
He didn’t move. ‘I shall have to tell the optio as well. My master is particular about these things. It may be that he won’t be pleased at all, and. . well. .’ He tailed off.
‘You think he would be angry because she’s here without a guard? I suppose it’s possible. I wonder that the sentry at the gate admitted her at all, much less permitted her to walk around the mansio unaccompanied in this way. I suppose he gave her directions to wait here in my room because he knew that we were busy interviewing someone else?’
Of course, even as I framed the words, I realised that the sentry had thought nothing of the kind. In the circumstances, what would anybody think? The boy obviously had his own opinions on the matter too, despite my explanations to the contrary. He made no reply but went on carefully scrutinising his feet, as though his toes were of enormous significance all at once.
I was about to protest my lack of interest in Lyra’s particular specialties when all at once the door of the sleeping quarters was opened from within and Lyra was standing there herself. She had evidently made an effort for her visit here. The pockmarks on her face were carefully disguised with thick white powdered chalk, and she had taken pains applying lamp-black to her eyes and wine-lees to her lips. Her hennaed hair was piled up in ringlets on her head, though it was clearly visible under the hood of her long green cloak and curls had been coaxed to stray down onto her neck in a way that would make any strict Roman mother blush.
All this titivation had been on my account and it was true that she looked a little more attractive now than I’d remembered her. I would have to disappoint her all the same. With her blackened teeth and exaggerated walk, she was not a type that much appealed to me — especially when that potent smell of cheap scent and onions came wafting from her every time she moved.
She was moving now — towards me, with a smile. ‘I hear that you were looking for me, citizen?’ she said, making her voice deliberately husky as she spoke. ‘I am sorry that I could not come at once, but I was out of town — very important business with a client.’ She shook her head free from the hood, and flicked the cloak back with an expert hand so that her inner tunic was revealed.
And not just her tunic, though that was eye-catching enough, being of fine fabric, deep red and richly decorated, but cut short like a man’s. I tried not to look at her lower legs — and found myself staring at the low-cut neckline instead. No hint of maidenly modesty about this! I tore my eyes away. ‘We had a few questions we wished to ask you,’ I said. I was trying to sound brisk and businesslike, but I found my throat was dry. I had not been expecting a reception of this kind, and finding Lyra in one’s private room was quite a different matter from encountering the lady in the street.
She smiled again, half closing her eyes into mysterious slits. ‘Of course, citizen. Anything you wish. You can ask as many questions as you like.’ She succeeded in making it sound as if this was a term agreed between us for improper services. She turned and stepped back inside the room, holding the door invitingly ajar. ‘I am at your command. Come in and see.’
It was awkward. The slave-boy was still staring at his feet, no doubt attempting to conceal a smirk. I have never in my life paid a woman for my needs — not even in the dark days when my wife was lost — and though I obviously did not intend to do so now, I still felt ridiculously ill at ease. There was something about the way she held herself, the flaunting walk and the way she leaned against the door-jamb which made me reluctant to be alone with her. Yet if I wanted Marcus and the optio to come — as I most sincerely did — I would obviously have to send the slave away to tell them she was here.
I tried the high-handed and severe approach. ‘You know it is against the law to try to ply your trade anywhere except on licensed premises?’
She gave me another smouldering smile. ‘Citizen, who said anything about my trade? I came here entirely at your request. I understand you sent a mounted guard to fetch me two days ago. He left instructions that I was to present myself to you for questioning at the earliest opportunity. So of course I came at once, as soon as I learned that you’d come back.’ There was nothing but sweet reasonableness in her words, but she allowed her eyes to linger over me and ran her tongue round the inside of her lips in a way which conveyed an altogether different message. She knew that she was creating an uncomfortable effect and she added, in the same honeyed tone, ‘As a law-abiding townswoman, what else could I possibly have done?’
I had allowed her to gain the initiative here, and I tried to wrest it back. ‘Very well. I will have a stool and water brought for you and you can wait while I eat my meal. Then we will see about interrogating you. See to it, boy,’ I murmured to the slave. ‘And you can make His Excellence aware that she is here. Ask for his permission to begin the questioning — perhaps your master could provide us with a room.’
The slave-boy seemed to recognise at last that my intentions towards the lady were after all what I’d declared. He leapt into obedience, suddenly alert. ‘At once, citizen. Allow me to serve you with your meal.’
I nodded and gestured him to precede me into the sleeping room, where a small stool and table was awaiting me. On it was a dish of cooling stew, a hunk of bread, a little end of cheese and a large metal beaker of red watered wine. At first I posted Lyra in the corridor to wait but she managed to look so provocative, leaning there against the wall, that it embarrassed me. It was obvious that she would flaunt herself in front of everyone who passed and I would be the gossip of the mansio; but if I shut the door and simply ate my meal there was a chance that — being there without a guard — she would slip away again. Either way I would look an idiot and Marcus would be seriously displeased. In the end I found a compromise. I allowed her to come into the room but told the slave-boy to leave the door ajar.