Any chip of stone tile that wasn’t on a stockpile, neatly sorted out, had been swept into his heap, together with the dust of ages by the look of it, and he was looking round for somewhere to dispose of it. I gestured to a corner, where I’d roughly swept the debris from the shop before, ready to be gathered up and join the midden-heap.
He pushed his pile in that direction with his broom. ‘Naturally I was worried about where my brother was, and the man on the gate there had no news of him. I wondered if someone had already taken him — all the big villas have farm wagons they can use — so I went home to see. But he wasn’t there, of course. How could he be, since he was lying here?’
‘So perhaps the ox-wagon did take him to the town,’ I said.
‘He would not have done that, when my uncle was going to pick him up.’ The young man was splashing drops of water on my workbench as he spoke, and on the coloured stockpiles of assorted stone.
‘Or he’d have come straight to tell me if he had,’ the older man agreed. ‘Besides, if he’d come back to Glevum, I would certainly have heard. From the hiring stables, if from no one else. You can’t walk through the gates without someone seeing you.’
I had to acknowledge there was truth in this. But I was following a different train of thought. ‘Then I wonder if he was brought back to the town against his will?’ Or was already dead, I added privately, although I did not voice that thought aloud. ‘These wagons from the villas — are there many on the roads?’ I hoped he would identify the one the gateman saw.
He disappointed me. ‘There are always lots of them. I saw half a dozen of them yesterday, queuing at the gate.’
‘Why would they go to Glevum at that time of day, if they came from country houses fairly close nearby?’
The nephew dispensed the last few drops of water from the jug. ‘I suppose they bring in fresh produce from the villa farms to supply the owners’ town houses, but it’s easier to bring things in on horseback if you can. Then you don’t have to wait till dusk to bring them in.’
His uncle nodded. ‘Like those hangings that decurion had brought in yesterday — the one who made the speech at the basilica today, congratulating Gaius Greybeard on capturing the vote. . ’ He turned to his nephew, ‘Though, come to think of it, I saw his cart as well. .’
But I had lost interest in wagons, suddenly.
‘Gaius Greybeard! That doddering old fool! Elected to the ordo?’ I shook my head in total disbelief. ‘I knew that he was standing as a candidate — he has done that for years — but there must be some mistake. Surely they cannot have elected him! I understood that Marcus Septimus had proposed a candidate.’
‘Well, so he did,’ the older man replied. ‘And that’s why Gaius won. He was the nominee. Of course, the whole election was a formality once it was known that His Excellence Marcus had endorsed him for the post.’
I could not believe my ears. I knew that Marcus had no patience with the man and his repeated efforts to become a councillor. Too easily influenced, my patron always said, too inclined to do anything for gold, and with no more judgement than the average fish. Marcus would not endorse him for a post as street-sweeper, let alone as town councillor in the curia.
I must have looked as startled as I felt. ‘Don’t look so disbelieving, citizen,’ the stallholder exclaimed. ‘I can assure you that it’s true — I heard the proclamation of the news myself. We were in the forum market together at my stall when the chief decurion came out on to the steps and made the announcement about the outcome of the vote. He actually mentioned that it was His Excellence’s wish.’ He gave a rather peculiar sort of grin. ‘The bystanders were a bit surprised at first, I must agree, but most of them decided that he’d been well paid for his support.’
I looked across at Junio who had been listening to all this.
‘Are you thinking what I am thinking?’ I enquired.
Junio nodded slowly. ‘Marcus would never have nominated Gaius for that seat. Unless he was coerced. Certainly he’d never stoop to take a bribe. He’s always been scrupulous in avoiding any hint of that. There has been some mistake. Or someone tampered with the message on the way. .’
‘There was no mistake.’ Radixrapum’s brother was peremptory. ‘And how could anyone have tampered with the scroll? It had his seal on it. I saw it come myself. It was brought to the forum yesterday by that official messenger in the fancy clothes — Virulus or Virilis, or whatever he is called. .’
But I was no longer listening. His words had struck a sudden echo in my brain. I felt my jaw drop open and my mind began to whirl. ‘Dear gods,’ I said. ‘Of course! That is the solution! How could I be so blind? The answer has been here in my workshop all along.’
‘What is it, Father?’ Junio was instantly alert and at my side. ‘You have thought of something? Something related to the murderer?’
I was quite excited. ‘I believe so, Junio. It all fits into place. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before. It was Radixrapum’s brother who gave me the idea. You heard what he just said?’
‘That he was in the forum when the message came?’
That had not been my meaning, but it sparked another thought. ‘And that was in the morning!’ I exclaimed. ‘I should have seen that it was odd. I am even more stupid than Gaius Greybeard is, if that is possible.’ I turned to the two mourners. ‘I am sorry, gentlemen. I shall have to ask you to move the bier as soon as possible. Junio and I must go to the garrison at once. People are in danger and the killer must be stopped. I only hope that we will be in time.’
‘But who is it that we’re stopping?’ Junio enquired in a tone of anguish.
For the first time since the bulla feast, I allowed myself to smile. ‘Why, the green man, of course. Glypto is deaf! Have you not understood?’
Radixrapum’s son sidled up to Junio. ‘Who on earth is Glypto?’ he enquired, as though he was talking to the only person still sane. ‘And what has a green man got to do with it? Does this mean your father thinks he knows who strangled mine?’
‘I think so,’ Junio answered in an undertone. ‘And Glypto is the latest victim of the same murderer. Though I don’t understand what Father thinks he knows.’
‘Then let me show you something.’ I bent to the stockpile of assorted tesserae and picked up a little sliver of green stone. ‘What is this, Junio?’
They were all looking at me now as though I’d lost my wits, but Junio humoured me. ‘It looks like a piece of lapis viridis,’ he said.
‘Exactly,’ I couldn’t keep the triumph from my voice. ‘Lapis is the word for the material, and viridis. .’
‘You mean. . the colour?’ Junio always thought in Latin — he had no other tongue — but the connection had just occurred to him.
‘Precisely! We thought when Glypto said the man was green, he was giving a description of him in some way. It never occurred to me that he thought it was his name. He told me that he knew the man was green, because he heard them talk. The other speaker — the urchin — must have used the word. And Glypto misheard it. Virilis and viridis — the sounds are very close. And once you have seen that, a lot of things make sense. Who — except the tanner and ourselves — knew that Glypto was going to meet me at the pile and tell me what he knew about the murders here? Only Virilis — I told him so myself. It troubles me. I didn’t see the danger at the time, and half an hour later Glypto was found dead.’ I sighed. ‘The tanner’s wife is right. I might as well have slipped the dagger in his ribs.’