Marcus was not the only one to send a gift by proxy. There were several notes and letters from my customers in the town — including an unexpected tribute from Pedronius — and Quintus, to my immense surprise, had deigned to send his slave Hyperius with a little bronze trinket to add to all the rest. Hyperius was immensely condescending, as if he were doing us a favour by attending this affair, though, being just a servant on an errand to the house, he could hardly linger to join us in the feast.
And what a feast it was! The food was served by Maximus, Cilla and Gwellia in the main, though the villa had thoughtfully sent some extra slaves to help, apparently at the suggestion of Virilis himself in his role as my patron’s representative. It was a role that he was taking very literally indeed. He even came to help officiate in my place — as His Excellence would have done if he’d been here himself — in offering the traditional taste of every dish to the Roman household deities.
I hope the gods enjoyed it. The mortals clearly did. The bread and cakes were perfect and the lamb was beautiful — so soft and tender that it had fallen off the bones. People were eating it largely in their hands (we did not have enough knives and platters for them all) and had to be careful not to spot their festive clothes, especially once the mead and watered wine was served.
But I confess my own enjoyment was a little marred. I was watching Maximus moving through the throng, offering a plate of sweet cakes from the town, when it struck me with some force that he was on his own and Minimus was not there to help him serve. I had to turn aside and walk outside the door so that my distress was not too evident to the guests.
Hyperius, I saw, was still standing at the gate, exchanging farewells with another visitor, and when he caught sight of me, he gestured with his hand as if to acknowledge that I was there and to invite me to come and speak to them. But I was still thinking of little Minimus. Aware that unmanly tears were welling in my eyes, and disinclined besides to be summonsed by a slave — even a slave of Quintus Severus — I waved the briefest of salutes, then turned my back on them and pretended some interest in the cooking-pit.
A few moments later I felt a hand upon my arm. Gwellia had seen me leave the roundhouse and had come to look for me. ‘What is it, husband? You look quite distressed.’ She looked into my eyes. ‘But of course. You are still worried about Minimus. Perhaps I should have known. But really, husband, you should come back to the feast. There is nothing you can do in any case until the guests have gone.’
I nodded. ‘Once this feast is over, I shall go straight to town and start enquiring — I’ll try at every gate. And Junio says that he will come and help.’
She squeezed my arm. ‘It’s only a pity that you have to walk. That servant of Quintus’s was offering a ride. He’d heard from Junio that you were going to Glevum later on, and he came to find me in particular to ask if you wanted to travel into town with him — but I said you couldn’t leave the bulla feast before the end.’
So that was why Hyperius was waiting by the lane and why he’d attempted to summon me across. ‘I saw him at the gate. I got the impression that he hoped to speak to me, but I was preoccupied with other things.’ I glanced at her wryly. ‘He has taken a hiring-carriage, I expect, and wanted someone to share the cost of it.’
She shook her head. ‘He’d come in his master’s carriage, so he said. It’s coming back to collect him in a little while. The driver has gone up to your patron’s house meanwhile, to deliver a message from Quintus Severus — something about a banquet on His Excellence’s return. It’s a pity you have to stay here for the guests; it would have saved you quite a walk.’
‘If he’s using his master’s carriage, there’ll be no hire to pay,’ I said, brightening, ‘so it’s possible he could wait for me a little while. We could even ask him to join us at the feast. Perhaps that is what he hoped. No doubt he would be flattered to join this company. .’ I turned round, but the carriage and its occupant had already gone. ‘Too late! If that was what he wanted, I’ve disappointed him.’
‘You’ve disappointed him in any case, I fear,’ she smiled. ‘He was inordinately proud of travelling in such style and was obviously anxious to show off the fact by sharing it with you.’
I nodded. ‘I saw him talking to someone at the gate; perhaps he was still trying to find a passenger.’
‘Well, he’ll be doubly disappointed, in that case,’ Gwellia said. ‘I’m almost sure that it was Virilis that he was talking to, and being a military messenger, that young man will no doubt have a horse, back at the villa I shouldn’t be surpri-’
‘Indeed he has,’ a cultured voice behind me interrupted us. ‘The finest one the army could provide.’
I turned round to find the messenger himself, now wearing a handsome full-length woollen cloak over his uniform, which was why I hadn’t recognized him at the gate — though Virilis was a striking enough figure, by the gods. He was an unusually tall and athletic-looking youth, whose easy stride was almost swaggering, and he boasted an impressively square chin and chiselled cheeks. His wavy hair was swept back from his face, and his dark eyes were appraising me with shrewd intensity.
However, his manner was deferential when he spoke. ‘Excuse me, citizen, for interrupting your private conversation with your wife. But I did hope to speak to you before I leave, which, unfortunately, I’m obliged to do, as there are other duties to which I must attend. When I saw you standing here, I thought I’d take my chance to come and meet you properly. And your lovely wife, of course.’ He flashed a set of perfect teeth at Gwellia, who smiled.
‘But we spoke in the roundhouse,’ I said ungraciously.
He countered that with a dismissive wave. ‘Of course, we did exchange a few words during the naming ceremony, but that hardly counts. It was purely official, wasn’t it?’ He spoke with the patrician accent of the imperial court, his perfect Latin putting my own to shame, and his long strong fingers, as finely manicured as if they were a girl’s, artlessly adjusted his ruby shoulder-clasp. I moved my own stubbled hands so they were out of sight.
‘I had heard so much about you,’ he went on presently.
That surprised me, but it was Gwellia who said, ‘From His Excellence?’
He did the smile again. ‘From His Excellence, of course. He is fond of boasting of your husband’s intellect and skill, and of how he relies upon him for advice — though he could not insult your family by offering a fee.’
I nodded curtly. That was more than possible. Praise costs nothing and Marcus is often very lavish with it. ‘It is an insult I would sometimes be prepared to bear,’ I muttered — which was foolish, since it was indiscreet and Virilis very clearly was in my patron’s confidence. ‘But it is true that I have helped him in solving several crimes.’
Gwellia was frowning warningly at me, but the young courier looked at me with sudden interest. ‘Which reminds me, citizen, there is something significant I could impart to you.’ He gave me a knowing little smile. ‘Apart from that note of introduction which you already have.’
‘You have news of my patron? Messages for me?’
He glanced at Gwellia and, almost imperceptibly, shook his head as if to signal that this conversation should not be held in front of her. ‘Nothing so formal, citizen, and nothing that cannot wait until a more appropriate time. I am staying in the villa until your patron comes, so we shall be near neighbours for a day or so — I am sure we can find an opportunity. In fact, I understand that you are going to Glevum later on — perhaps we can meet there. And now, I have taken too much of your time. Forgive me, both of you. I will take my leave and allow you to get back to your guests.’ And, with a little bow, he turned away and strode back to the gate.