Verecundus was red-nosed, jolly, a little thick around the middle, and a one-time gladiator. He enjoyed more simple pleasures-beer, bread and pork, in that order. He humored Narcissus, but ate plebeian style whenever the latter wasn’t looking.
They both rose to greet me, Narcissus with his typical elegance, Verecundus in a hug that nearly fused my lungs together.
“Arcturus! How good of you to come! Sit down and eat with us!”
Pyxis’ puppy was as fat as a calf. She must’ve been devouring table scraps on a regular basis. She sniffed my leg suspiciously, then decided I wasn’t worth her time and effort and turned back toward Narcissus, cadging for a snack.
“What’s her name?”
“Fames.”
“Appropriate, as always. Are you enjoying her company?”
“As much as she’s enjoying our dining habits. Come, Arcturus, sit, tell us why you’ve come-I can see you’re not just here on a social call.”
Narcissus was always astute. He’d been my father’s secretary and bookkeeper, and he had an excellent financial brain. I smiled, and sank into one of the plushly stuffed chairs.
“It’s nice and soft, isn’t it?” Verecundus asked eagerly. “Stuffed with chicken and duck feathers. Very comfortable.”
“Yes, it is. Though my ass isn’t in much of a position to enjoy it, as I just left Londinium yesterday morning.”
“What? Why the hurry? What’s wrong?”
“Plenty, but nothing for you to worry about. I’m working for Agricola, on an important case, and I’ve got to find a native, a townsman by the name of Rhodri-and now wouldn’t be too soon.”
Verecundus knotted his thick red-gray brows together in thought. “Rhodri. Rhodri. Can you recall anyone by that name, Narcissus?”
Narcissus sat up on the couch where he’d been reclining. “Yes, I can. He’s a horse-trader and cattle farmer. I’ve looked at a couple of his horses. Not for a bet, Verecundus.” he added hastily. His one weakness. There was a bookmaker inside every bookkeeper.
“Arcturus-are you sure this doesn’t affect us somehow?”
His eyes were deep and brown, and spoke about things I understood without mentioning. Domitian’s new bedroom laws had frightened him. Romans frowned on men who had sex with other men, particularly men of equal rank. And, though relatively wealthy and locally popular, Narcissus tended to worry about it.
Gentlemen could pound the back ends of as many slaves as they’d like-as long as they were content with being on top. But men who liked the other side-especially high-ranking men-that bothered Rome. Seems you couldn’t be ready to use your sword if you liked someone else’s stuck up your ass. Even all the emperors everybody claimed to hate-Nero, Tiberius, Caligula-all were supposed to enjoy playing the little Roman wife. Of course, it was “common knowledge” only after they were dead.
Flings were all right, especially with boys who looked like girls, but relationships were unusual, and could be dangerous. Adult men … men who stayed together like a married couple … even in Camulodunum, Narcissus was afraid.
I smiled at him. He and Verecundus were freedmen. Still citizens, but only the lowest rung. And that bothered Rome much, much less, and local people not at all.
“Doesn’t affect you at all. It might mean civil war, but nothing more personal than that.”
He looked relieved, but raised an eyebrow. “I’ll hope for the best. I take it you want to find Rhodri now. His house and land are to the north of town, near a sacred grove. He’s a Druid, you know.”
“I know. How do I get there?”
“Let’s see … go straight on, and exit through the eastern gate. Then turn left, and follow the road north north-west, until you find two roads, one on the right, one on the left. The one on the left leads to the grove-still active, from what I hear. The one on the right-Rhodri’s farm.”
“Thanks. I promise I’ll stay longer next time. And invite you to my wedding?”
Verecundus nearly spit out his wine and stood up to hug me again. “Wedding? Who? When?”
“A native woman. A widow.”
Narcissus raised his eyebrow again. “A widow? After you for your money, Arcturus?”
I grinned at him. “My other attributes.”
Narcissus threw his head back and laughed so hard he nearly choked on his peacock wing. Verecundus filled my hands with fish roe, a duck egg, and a couple of radishes pickled in garum. I thanked him profusely, handed the food back to Nye along with a sestertius, kissed Dilys on the cheek, and headed up the street, into the quickly fleeing sunlight. Rhodri was next.
CHAPTER TWENTY
The streets were crowded with soldiers, farmers, traders, and slaves, all trying to squeeze out a few more drops of warmth and daylight. It dribbled from the sky like wine from an empty skin. I was running out of time.
I passed Claudius’ gaudy temple, showing off more colors of marble than Agricola’s palace. I grinned to myself, thinking of the statue inside. There were a few soldiers by the steps, obviously new arrivals, probably en route to a Legion somewhere. You could always spot a newcomer by his shiny red knees. Men who lived through a winter conquered their legionary distaste for “sissy” trousers. The recruits looked as out of place as Numa at a Bacchanal.
Nimbus and I continued past the enormous temple, avoiding the hawkers of spurious goods, pots that wouldn’t hold water, bridles that would snap before you got them on the horse’s head. Some men tried to blend into the shadows, their furtive eyes scanning the afternoon crowds for a purse, a play, or a tip. It must be a racing day-Camulodunum was usually more well-bred than this.
We crossed through the eastern arch, a less ostentatious and more effective gate, and turned left, toward the north. It was quiet, and I urged the mare forward. The warmth was fading fast. This road wasn’t as well-traveled as the Londinium route, and I hadn’t met anyone coming or going. The quiet was starting to get to me.
A grassy track led to the right, toward Rhodri’s house. He couldn’t be that stupid, but I had to check anyway. Trees on either side watched me, as we turned and rode toward the farmstead. It was sturdy and well-built. The sound of no sound at all was deafening.
I nudged Nimbus closer to the house, my back stiff from tension. I loosened the scabbard of the gladius tied to my saddle. Nimbus sniffed the air like an elegant greyhound, and carefully picked her way, ears alert and listening, toward the house. We rode cautiously around it.
The main house was a small, one-wing villa, with smaller, separate buildings for different functions-storage, threshing, feed, livestock. There was a back entrance, and it was ajar. I nudged Nimbus in the ribs again, and took out my sword. Without getting out of the saddle, I leaned down and to my right, and managed to use the gladius to open it a little wider.
The inside was a mess. Whoever had been here had left in a hurry, or someone else had come and searched-and had made an obvious job of it. There were clothes on the floor, ledger tablets, some broken crockery. A sparrow landed on the door, and cocked its head at me, its bright eye inquisitive and curious. I straightened my sore back, while it cheeped at me.
I opened a bag on my other side, and took out a bit of bread and tossed it on the ground. It cocked its head the other way, cheeped some more, and flew away. Maybe it was trying to tell me something.
I rode again around the outbuildings, checking to make sure there weren’t cattle needing feed. No livestock. Rhodri had either sold everything, or-more likely-had a neighbor looking after his herds. There was nothing here for me except trouble, and I had enough of that at home.
I pulled Nimbus back toward the road, and urged her to a gallop. Light was starting to faiclass="underline" long shadows were creeping from beneath the trees, and the thick line of green marking the river was deepening into black.