“You can hardly avoid them completely when growing up in the country. This plant, if I remember right, was quite tall and branched out. It had white flowers.”
“I’m sure Hypatia will know what it is. I’ll get a ladle and fish the poor beast out.”
John returned to Petrus, who apologized profusely for his comments.
“No doubt you find us amusing? A strange family perhaps?” John replied.
“No, sir, I wouldn’t call it strange. Some in Megara…well…but never mind…I don’t find it strange. Not at all.”
“Very well,” was the curt reply. “Before you bring your wagon for these plows, find Diocles and send him to me. I’ll be in the triclinium.”
Chapter Four
Diocles was late. As sunlight falling through narrow windows crept across the triclinium floor, John shifted irritably on the edge of a dining couch with faded red upholstery, one of three around the long marble table.
No one had kept the emperor’s Lord Chamberlain waiting.
Finally he got up and examined the wall paintings. He hadn’t taken much notice before because he and Cornelia ate their meals in the second-floor living quarters which extended over the back of the house except for the triclinium. It surprised him to see, here in the countryside, bucolic scenes, not unlike the mosaic on the wall of his study in the capital. Why would a visiting owner need to look at a painted countryside when he could see the real thing simply by stepping outside or looking through a window?
Not that Senator Vinius had visited his estate very often.
Looking more closely, John realized the fresco landscape was not of the present time but rather that of classical Greece, with pagan temples on the hilltops and satyrs leering from behind intricate, stylized foliage. Here and there he spotted apparent additions, which might have been drawn by a child. A cow, or was it an overly large cat?
A crudely rendered waterfall descended in one corner. The ceiling directly above it showed water stains and peeling plaster.
“I see you are admiring my little repair job,” came a voice from the doorway.
Diocles entered, a tall, dark haired man of saturnine appearance, whose eyebrows met above a long nose. In soft boots and a green tunic decorated with a large bronze fibula in the shape of an eagle, he was dressed for a banquet.
“Repairs?”
“I like to put my hand to creative works from time to time, sir. And I thought, why not take advantage of such a golden opportunity? The waterfall becomes very realistic when it rains. I found it striking to contemplate while dining. Besides, a daub of paint is so much less expensive than replacing a roof and the former owner was ever careful of his finances.”
“I see.” John went back to his couch and gestured Diocles to join him at the table. From the way the overseer’s long nose wrinkled it appeared he didn’t like what was being served-several courses of accounts spread out in codices and scrolls. “Then you have been using the triclinium for your meals? As you used the owner’s quarters rather than the overseer’s quarters?”
“Senator Vinius gave his permission, naturally.”
“I should like to see that.”
“Impliedly permitted it, I mean,” Diocles replied.
“Much may be implied in a person’s absence.” John pushed a codex over to Diocles. “To proceed. According to the entry here the roof was replaced only last year. The expenditure was, in fact, considerably more than the cost of what you called a daub of paint.”
“Oh. Yes. That was the barn roof. As you will learn, sir, a farm needs a dry barn.”
“Thank you for enlightening me. You have much experience in overseeing a farm?”
Diocles nodded.
“Then you should be able to explain some of the discrepancies I’ve found in your records.”
“I will be glad to explain whatever small matters you don’t understand, sir.”
“First, there is the small matter of the lack of maintenance. The estate has the appearance of having been pillaged by the Goths. I hold you, as overseer, responsible for the neglect. What is your explanation?”
Diocles’ gloomy countenance darkened until John thought a storm was about to break out over the man’s head. However, only a few drops of sweat ran down his overseer’s creased forehead. “Residing here less than a month, sir, you might not realize-”
“It’s been enough for me to observe the sorry conditions. Explain.”
“Yes, certainly.” Diocles’ shoulders slumped but John could see defiance in his eyes. “For one thing, it has been a bad year in general for everyone. Very dry, all year, and an outbreak of sickness a month or so ago meaning lack of laborers and subsequent delays in completing the tasks needing to be done then. We’re still endeavoring to accomplish the last, ditches to be cleaned out and tools needing repair, for example.”
“The blacksmith tells me it’s been months since you asked him about repairs.”
“There were so many other tasks to be accomplished first, sir.”
“Indeed. I have also noted the meager income recorded for this past year and by contrast the luxurious furnishings in the owner’s quarters. I particularly notice very few sales of the wool and oil produced here. Further, I have established that most of the storage jars for the latter are empty.”
“Easily explained, sir. The olive crops last year were very disappointing, and with fewer sales we have had to consume much of our own produce rather than buy such as was needed. As for the other matter: The previous owner was very fond of his comforts. I suspect that is why we rarely saw him.”
“Rarely? He hadn’t visited in a decade, if not longer.”
“True, he preferred to stay in Constantinople. However, there was always the possibility he might suddenly decide to visit. It was my responsibility to ensure all would be as he wished if he should. I also laid in a stock of expensive wine for him and kept it near me, to ensure the estate workers didn’t take advantage.”
“Expensive wine is more important than patching the roof of the dining room where the senator would drink the wine! And how did you know of the former owner’s tastes? Whence came the money to pay for these comforts?”
“It was sent by his agent, who reported his master’s requests that these tasks be undertaken.”
“I see. These instructions were conveyed merely by word of mouth?”
“How did you guess, sir?” Diocles nervously fingered his bronze eagle. He looked as if he wished he could fly away. Dark patches of sweat blossomed down the sides of his green tunic.
John thought of his other estates, now confiscated, but seldom visited during his residence in the capital. Had they been mismanaged into ruin? If so, Justinian would be disappointed when the proceeds of their sale were added to the imperial treasury.
He pulled a codex over to him. “This purports to be the tax record. Regarding the blacksmith and the tenant farmer, there is no indication of their required tax payments. It is your job to see they are properly collected and turned over to the authorities promptly when due.”
“They were certainly collected, sir. But in these hard times it can be impossible to come up with the required sums all at once, and thus I am given last year’s taxes, which include part of the year before, along with this year’s, but part of this year’s needs to be credited to last year, leaving part of last year’s to make up for any deficit this year, which can be accounted for next year, so that it all adds up eventually.”
“One needs to be Pythagoras to grasp your accounts, Diocles.”
The overseer made no reply. John saw his eyes move, and then narrow, as he looked from one end of the codex strewn table to the other.
“Apart from these accounts, “ John said. “I notice the tenant farmer Lucian appears to have cultivated more land than he is entitled. I refer to several fields that are supposed to be dedicated to grazing the estate’s livestock. Why have you allowed this?”