I gulped. This was even more serious than I’d thought. Usually Marcus was inclined to speak as freely in the presence of his servants as if they were not there, as Optimus had done with Gwellia. Like any other Roman, he seemed to believe that slaves — being mere possessions — were as incapable of independent thought as any other piece of furniture. But I had been a slave myself. I knew how easy it was for the blank-faced attendant in the corner to be following the conversation and, worse, how eagerly he will repeat it to his fellows afterwards. In a large household there is always gossip, and there is often someone, anxious to save his slave-price and be free, who might be tempted to betray his master to his enemies for the promise of a few denarii.
So I was not sorry that Marcus had dismissed his slave. What worried me was that he’d thought of it. Whatever my patron wanted to confide, it was evidently very sensitive indeed.
‘What did you wish to tell me, Excellence?’
He looked at me and his hand went out to take another fig. It was a particularly large and sickly-looking one, but he bit it absently in half as though he were almost unaware of it. ‘The question is, Libertus. .’ He took a deep breath. ‘Do you suppose the Emperor has sent another ambassador to Glevum, secretly? Ahead of Fabius Marcellus, perhaps, and that is the ambassador who got himself killed today? I dismissed the idea previously, but now I’m not so sure.’
‘Another legate in Britannia? Without your knowledge?’ I shook my head. ‘I am sure that is unlikely, Excellence. And — forgive me — what would be the point?’
He gulped down the fig. ‘Perhaps he did send someone here, to spy on us? You know what the Emperor is like, all victory and honour be to his divine name. He suspects everyone. If he intends to honour the city, it would be very likely, don’t you think, that he would send a spy to sniff us out beforehand? You see, that would explain everything. If someone had been lurking in the city, in disguise. .?’
The idea had not occurred to me, but now that he had raised the question, I could see the force of it. But there was a flaw in Marcus’s reasoning. I tried to point it out as delicately as I could.
‘But surely, Excellence, even if Commodus sent a spy — as I agree he very likely would — he would not have chosen an official legate for the job. An imperial ambassador causes such a stir — you said yourself that you would have heard if one had landed anywhere in the province. I’m certain, if the Emperor posted spies to Glevum, he would send them in some less conspicuous guise. A travelling merchant perhaps, come to the market-place with goods from Rome? Even a well-placed slave or two?’ I meant that there were almost certainly a dozen imperial informers in the town already, if not actually here in Marcus’s house.
It seemed my patron was aware of that. ‘Of course, I would have expected all of that. And naturally, I’m being very careful. You notice that I sent my slave away! Only that doesn’t solve the problem. It wasn’t a visiting merchant who was found dead this morning at the Imperial shrine. I would be less worried if it were. That corpse was an imperial ambassador — or at least the apparition of one.’
Something stirred in the recesses of my brain. I sat up sharply. ‘I suppose we can be sure of that? The corpse was wearing “rich civilian clothing”, the sevir said.’
Marcus stared at me a moment, then said thoughtfully, ‘By Mithras, Libertus, I believe you’re right. Meritus only concluded it was an ambassador because of the documents and seal. I don’t suppose, for all his wealth, he’s ever seen an actual ambassador before. After all, he was only slave-manager on a remote estate. And we have only his interpretation to go on.’
‘Exactly, Excellence. A fine tunic, cloak and an imperial warrant don’t make a legate, necessarily.’ The more I thought of it, the more likely this all seemed. ‘Supposing this was just a messenger? Part of the legate’s retinue, perhaps, sent on ahead to make arrangements here?’
Marcus paused in the act of biting into the last remaining fig. He brightened. ‘I suppose that is a possibility. A man may send an agent on ahead, and give him a document and ring to confirm his authority.’ For a moment his face cleared, and then he frowned again. ‘But it still does not explain how he got here unobserved, still less where in Dis the body’s got to now.’
I was still thinking. ‘Suppose that he was acting on instructions. He turns up at the temple — by appointment, do you think? Perhaps he did not put on his ring or show anyone his warrant until he got there,’ I said slowly. ‘Those may even have been his orders. It would make sense, if there was secrecy. An ordinary merchant, with a bag, would attract no more attention than any other wealthy traveller.’
Marcus leaned forward on his cushions. ‘So. . he took his documents and ring this morning, in particular, and presented himself at the temple? Why there, do you suppose? Perhaps to give a message to one of the priests? It seems an obvious conclusion.’ He smiled at the cleverness of his own deduction. ‘Thank you, Libertus, I knew that I could rely on you to make sense of the mystery.’
Of course, I had done nothing of the kind. And even if this was the truth, it was not a comforting explanation. Certainly, the death of the legate’s representative (if that was indeed what had happened here) was much less of a civic catastrophe than the murder of the ambassador himself, but it was no trifle, all the same. The man had still been carrying an imperial warrant, and any affront to that was a capital offence.
With some diffidence, I pointed this out to Marcus.
I had spoiled his moment of relief and he was impatient. ‘So someone will have to pay for it. And quickly too. I’ll leave that to you, Libertus. Obviously someone with access to the temple. Find out a little bit about the priests. And discover who knew Fabius Marcellus — since this was apparently to be a private meeting. I’ll send to the ambassador again, and find out who it was he sent and why — he won’t be best pleased, I’m afraid.’ Marcus had seized on this interpretation, I noticed, and was now ignoring the uncomfortable possibility that the dead man was really someone of consequence, or a direct emissary from Rome.
I tried again. ‘But Excellence, suppose the Emperor had sent an informer here-’
He cut me off. ‘Libertus, you have never travelled here from Rome. I have. If Commodus had despatched a spy the minute after he sent that letter, the man could never have reached us in this time. The imperial post has fresh horses every few miles, and fresh riders when the others tire. And this murdered man certainly was not the messenger who brought the letter to me earlier. For one thing that rider was hardly more than a boy — I saw him myself: a great horseman, but no one would ever have taken him for a legate — and for another thing he stayed here overnight. I have just despatched him, with my messenger, back to Fabius Marcellus. So it wasn’t him.’
‘But did you ask. .?’
‘If the legatus had sent another messenger? Of course I did. You’re not the only one with intelligence, Libertus. I questioned him most carefully. But he knew nothing about it.’
I hoped that ‘careful questioning’ did not include the whip. Probably not. One cannot casually mistreat a legate’s messenger. Which brought us back to that mysterious corpse. I frowned. ‘But in that case. .’
‘You think Commodus might have sent a spy before he wrote to me? I suppose that’s so. But why should the man wait till this moment to reveal himself?’ My patron shook his head. ‘Much more likely that the dead man was some secret messenger that Fabius sent. I’ll write to him again, and see what he says. But, whoever it turns out to be, the same thing still applies, Libertus my old friend. You will have to make enquiries at the temple and see if you can find out why he went there today, and who it was that he was hoping to see.’
How in the name of Cunomaglus was I to do that, I wondered? ‘But Excellence, this is a priestly matter. I can hardly become involved. .’