‘Then why not take his armour? His helmet at least? It is worth many denarii, even now.’
Junio shrugged. ‘It is hard to smuggle such things within the city, unless you come prepared. No, I am sure Lucius is right. The answer lies with tracing Regina. A pity we cannot go to her home town, but it is a long way — days and days of travelling.’
He said ‘we’ I noticed, as though he and I were working as a team.
‘Perhaps,’ I said.
He looked at me intently. ‘There is something else?’ It is impossible to hide anything from Junio.
I sighed. ‘There is something that escapes me, I don’t know what. Something I half-noticed at the time. I feel there is some important information I have missed. Something that Lucius said or did.’
‘Something he told you about Regina?’
‘No,’ I said, trying to capture that elusive thought. ‘I feel it was something about oatcakes.’
Junio laughed. ‘You and your oatcakes! You are obsessed with Celtic food. I am sorry I did not buy some for you from the market.’
I thought of that delicious childhood taste. ‘No market oatcakes ever tasted like these,’ I said. ‘And it does not take a Celt to think so. Lucius enjoyed them too.’
‘What sort of man is Lucius? I never met Crassus, but from what you say the two men were as different as charcoal and cheese.’
I tried to describe the man. ‘Shrewd, serious, solitary and very softly spoken,’ I finished, rather proud of my oratorical flourish.
‘A hermit,’ Junio said, ‘living a humble life. Not at all the sort of person to be impressed with my poor librarium mosaic. I wonder why Crassus bothered.’
‘Crassus did not know that his brother had changed so much,’ I said. ‘He was disappointed. He had hoped for all kinds of orgies and entertainments, so Paulus says.’
Junio laughed. ‘Poor old Crassus. That is the first time I ever felt sorry for him. Although you would have thought that in that case Lucius was even less likely to be impressed by a librarium.’
I took a sip of my delicious mead, and then stopped, my drinking cup still in my hand. ‘What did you say?’
He goggled at me. ‘I said, “I wonder that Germanicus hoped to impress his brother with a pavement.” Why are you staring at me like that?’
I put down my beaker carefully. ‘Because,’ I said, ‘I should have asked myself the same question. When Lucius loved feasts and orgies he did not care for libraria — he would think the money better spent on women and wine. Once he converted to the new religion, he did not care for mortal show. So, if it was not for his brother as he said it was, why did Crassus want the mosaic in such a hurry?’
Junio said nothing.
‘I do not believe he wanted the pavement because of his librarium at all,’ I said, excitedly. ‘I believe he created the librarium as an excuse to have a pavement. People said that he bought manuscripts without caring what they were. “Laundry lists on vellum” would have served the purpose as well as any poet. Perhaps that was true. He sincerely did not care.’
‘He wanted a pavement,’ Junio was visibly working through the argument, ‘because he had buried something under it.’ He looked at me. ‘What do you think it is? Treasure? You said that Crassus’ treasure chest was bare.’
‘There is only one way to find out. We must go back to the villa,’ I said, ‘at once.’ It was my turn to say ‘we’, but Junio looked subdued.
‘We cannot go tonight,’ he protested. ‘It is dark and dangerous, and it has rained all day.’
‘Tomorrow then,’ I conceded. ‘At first light. See you wake me early. And while I am dressing you can go to the market and get some oatcakes for us to eat on the way. It is a fair walk to the villa, and Marcus will not provide his gig this time.’
‘Very well, master.’ It was not like Junio. I had tried to be breezy but he seemed cast down.
Suddenly I realised what he was thinking. I reached out a clumsy hand to pat his arm. ‘I’m sorry about your pavement.’
I was right. He grinned at me ruefully. ‘So am I,’ he said.
Chapter Twenty-two
We did set out early. It was a damp, cold morning and I was glad of my woollen cloak and hood to keep me warm. I had opted to leave my toga at home this time. Pavements, I decided, were a professional affair. With Junio beside me, very similarly clad, we looked like a pair of local peasants heading to market to buy cows.
Perhaps that was why a galloping imperial messenger ordered us curtly off the main roadway, and we were obliged to trudge for several miles on the miry track at the side. By the time we came to the back road to Crassus’ villa, we were both heartily glad to take it.
There was little on the road at this hour. A flock of sheep and goats impeded our progress for a while; an old man, bent double under a stack of firewood, shuffled out of our way, and two men struggled past us with a wooden barrow laden with watercress — to sell in the stalls of Glevum, I assumed. Apart from that the countryside was empty; only the drip of the trees and the occasional scuffle of an animal broke the silence. Even the birds were hushed.
The deserted roundhouse seemed more melancholy than ever. I kept a wary eye out for wolves and I noticed that Junio, too, kept one hand on his knife hilt.
As we descended the hill, though, we caught the sounds of man. Somewhere, there was the rhythmic thud of an axe, an unseen cart rattled noisily over the stony track, and a distant labourer grunted as he worked. We reached the gravel farm track with relief and made our way along to the gate of the villa.
Already there was a different air abroad. Marcus had left a guard, a pair of armed soldiers who stood, pikes at the ready, flanking the doorway. Aulus, peering through his aperture, seemed almost friendly in comparison. The guards, though, scarcely afforded us a glance. They were not there to prevent people entering the villa, they were there to prevent people leaving it. Without a master some slave might be tempted to run away — and that would be a serious loss of revenue.
Aulus swaggered out to meet us, squaring his shoulders and trying to look suitably belligerent. He seemed to fill the whole gateway. When I pushed back my hood, however, and he saw who it was, he almost fell over his cudgel in his anxiety to let us in.
‘I did not recognise you, citizen. I shall send for Andretha at once.’ He motioned to a slave who was crossing the courtyard, and sent him scuttling, then bent towards me confidentially. ‘You have heard the news? Paulus is still missing, and Marcus has sent us those’ — he nodded towards the armoured guards — ‘to make sure no one follows his example.’ He smiled, leaning close to my face and exposing his discoloured teeth. He had been eating boiled cabbage again. There were times when I felt that I preferred Aulus in less friendly mood.
I murmured something.
‘It was uncalled for,’ Aulus complained, gesturing towards the guards. ‘I could have done the job just as well.’
‘Perhaps,’ I said, ‘Marcus was afraid you would escape yourself.’
Aulus gave me a reproachful glance, and moved away. I had insulted him, but at least it removed the cabbage fragments from my immediate vicinity.
There was no time to say more. The little slave appeared again, with Andretha at his heels.
‘Citizen!’ Andretha looked at my tunic and cloak in dismay. ‘What brings you here? I thought your business at the villa was concluded. We are hardly in a condition to receive you. Rufus has been taken to Glevum in chains and the furniture is being prepared for removal and loaded onto the cart. Marcus sent us word last evening, and the slaves have worked all night.’
‘Rufus has been moved?’ I said, trying to adopt a businesslike tone. ‘Excellent, in that case I can work in the librarium. I wish to remove the pavement. I shall need help.’