I knew when I was beaten. Argument was useless. Without a toga I was nobody and if he chose to search me, he would find the blade, and I knew what that would mean. I’d spent a very unpleasant hour or two locked up in a cell in the garrison before. I turned to leave and heard the sword go back into the scabbard with a swish.
I whirled around. ‘One thing, centurion. I notice that the members of the curia are here. He must have summoned them. Yet usually, I know, he’d go to them. And you say he’s not receiving supplicants. Am I right in thinking something unusual has occurred?’
He flashed the yellow-pointed teeth at me again, but this time in a snarl. He reminded me of a carving I’d once seen of Cerberus, the hound who guards the entrance-way to Dis. ‘Something unusual will occur to you if you ask too many questions, citizen. When decisions have been taken, you’ll find out soon enough. Now …’ His fingers were already on the sword-hilt as he spoke.
I raised both hands in surrender. ‘I’m leaving, officer,’ I murmured as I backed away. Then I turned and hurried ignominiously back to where Tenuis was still waiting with the mule. I felt like an idiot. No doubt the town sentry had been watching all this too. What an inglorious picture I must present, I thought.
But I need not have worried. Tenuis was too bemused by what was around him on the street to be interested in my success, or lack of it. ‘Master!’ he said, enthusiastically, as I came up to him. ‘What an enormous place. I didn’t know there were so many people in the world.’
‘But surely you were sold here, at the slave-market?’
He nodded. ‘That was the only time I ever came before, and I was half asleep when we arrived. It was cold and hardly light, and I was roped up between much bigger slaves. Anyway, they walked so quickly I had to watch my feet. It was all I could do to stay upright and not be dragged along. I couldn’t see a thing until we got to the slave-market and not very much of that. By the time that Marcus bought us — the lot of us — it was almost dusk and they hustled us straight out of the gates into a cart. I’d never have forgotten Glevum if I’d known what it was like.’
I looked around myself. The streets were very busy, certainly, though that was only normal on a ‘well-favoured’ day, when all the shops and law courts and markets were operational. (On ill-omened dates — the so-called ‘nefas’ days — the courts and theatres were shut, and the streets were much less crowded. But even that would have astounded Tenuis, I think.)
Today had been a fairly ‘ill-omened’ day for me, I thought, whatever the official calendar might say. But here one could believe in pleasant auguries. There were builders whistling as they climbed their flimsy scaffolding, carrying baskets full of bricks, or cursing as their winches swung the heavy stone aloft. Traders with creaking handcarts lumbered past, inviting inspection of their piles of wood and furs. Street vendors shouted the prices of their trays of steaming pies. There were foreign merchants in exotic clothes, women in carrying-litters, slaves with water jugs, and moving against them from the marketplace, a tide of people with their morning’s purchases: eels, cheeses, bolts of coloured cloth, one man even driving a pair of mangy sheep. Nothing at all unusual, although to Tenuis, used to working on a villa farm, it no doubt seemed a jumble of colour, noise and smells.
‘The town is certainly busy,’ I agreed. ‘And we have got to get through it quickly with this mule. I think we’ll go the back route, along the smaller lanes. This way, Tenuis!’ And I led him down an alley to the less frequented streets.
Even then I had to urge him constantly along. He wanted to stop at every shopfront that we passed and gaze at the various carpets, vegetables, pots and leather goods displayed on tables outside the premises or spilling out onto the pavement underneath our feet. Fortunately the traders didn’t bother us today. Usually they clutch your garments as you pass with urgent inducements to come and try their wares, but this morning we were spared their molestations by Arlina, who seemed embarrassingly eager to sample what they sold. Horrified traders clapped their hands and shooed us on our way. (Mercifully, with Tenuis dragging her in front and me plying the switch on her behind, we did prevent her from actually eating anything.)
All the same it took a long time to struggle through the town, and I was almost wishing I’d taken the longer route around the eastern walls, although that track is very damp and difficult — it passes close to beds of watercress and reeds, which skinny peasants bring into the marketplace to sell. But the way we’d come seemed blighted with obstacles today. So I was glad when by and by we reached the further gate, though Tenuis seemed disappointed to be outside the walls again and walking through the muddy suburb where my workshop lies.
‘There it is,’ I told him, pointing to my shop. ‘Just between that candlemakers and the tannery. And look, there’s Junio, just coming through the door. And Maximus is with him. They must have found a driver to bring them into town. They’ve started work already, by the look of it, and are coming to select some pieces from the stockpiles.’ I gestured proudly at the heaps of different-coloured stone which were the raw materials for our tesserae. ‘That’s what we make the tiles for our mosaics from.’
Tenuis looked blankly at them, clearly unimpressed. I was about to explain to him how it was done when Junio looked over and caught sight of us. He left what he was doing, and hurried down to meet us, signalling to Maximus to follow him.
‘You found a driver, then?’ I said, as he approached.
He grinned, squeezing my shoulders in a filial embrace. ‘We were very lucky there. A trapper with a wagon-load of furs. So we rode here in comfort. I half expected to pass you on the road, but of course we never did. I was beginning to wonder what had become of you, in fact. Your toga was still here, so I knew you hadn’t come to the workshop and gone away again. But here you are at last, so we’ll help you to get dressed, though it is getting late. You have just missed a customer, as well. A handsome contract, by the sound of it. A man who’s just retired here from Londinium. He’s buying the old Egidius villa and wants new floors throughout.’
I made a little face. ‘I suppose he doesn’t know the reputation of the place.’
The Egidius villa was a famous one — the most lavish in the district until the owner had been exiled years ago for murdering his wife — since when it had fallen into disuse and decay. It should have been seized and sold a long time ago to swell the Imperial purse, but the family fought bitter battles in the courts, claiming that it was bought with money they had lent and should revert to them. Marcus — who, as presiding magistrate had told me all of this — had prudently found in favour of the Emperor, but up to now no buyer had been found. But, finally, it seemed, a bargain had been struck.
Of course, it was derelict and had been a murder scene, and one of the ruined family committed suicide by hanging himself at the entrance in despair, so there were the usual stories of a curse. But a purifying sacrifice would see to that! And there were rumoured to be twenty rooms or more. A contract of that size was a rare event and now — because of my vain attempt to visit the commander when I did — it seemed I’d missed the opportunity. I was almost tempted to curse the Fates. But there was no point in offending supposed immortals, even Roman ones. Perhaps I had already offended them, I thought. This ‘well-favoured’ day, for me, could hardly have been worse. First the grisly scene at Marcus’s, then my ignominious failure at the garrison, and now this!
‘You showed him the pattern pieces that we keep on the rack?’ I said, without real hope. I always have some samples of popular designs, stuck on linen backing for customers to see.