I thought of that cloaked figure in the ex-legionary’s garden. ‘Junio, had you heard anything of this?’
‘Not a whisper, master.’ Junio sounded as surprised as I was. ‘If there was the slightest scandal — or worse, if Aurelia was to leave. . that would be the end of any hope of his becoming flamen. He’d have to resign his office in disgrace.’
Gwellia shook her head. ‘I don’t believe there’s any chance of that. The two have apparently been exceedingly discreet — and really there’s very little for anyone to see. They never do anything but smile and nod, and there has never been any other communication between them — at least as far as the servants are aware. But Optimus has started coming to the temple regularly, and bringing thunderstones for Jupiter. Though again, he has new business interests to protect — that’s why he wanted that sacrifice in the first place — so there may be nothing significant in that. In fact there may be nothing in any of it, except servant talk — those maids of Aurelia have nothing else to do. But I thought that all the same you’d like to know.’
‘I would,’ I said. ‘You have done well. And now, I think, I will prepare those tiles for tomorrow and then retire to bed. It will be getting dark soon and I need time to think.’
I knew that Gwellia would not consent to eat while I was in the room, and Junio would appreciate that stew as much as I did. I assembled my equipment speedily. I had a length of border-pattern mosaic, already made up and fixed to a strip of linen backing — a sort of pattern piece for clients. I could use that as a basis, I decided — lay it on one side of the passageway and tile the other side to match. It was an easy pattern, and I had the template made. With the help of that I could finish the whole entrance in a day or two — that would please Optimus.
I collected everything I’d need, ready for the handcart in the morning, then led the creaking way upstairs, and allowed Junio to help me into bed.
He was impatient to talk things over with me. ‘So, master, you have learned a lot today. You have discovered several motives for the murder of the Emperor’s ambassador. Optimus was a rival of Fabius Marcellus, and jealous of his advancement in the army — suppose that he had access to the temple, through Aurelia perhaps? She might well have helped him, too — it sounds as if she did not love her uncle, since he was instrumental in a marriage that she did not want to make. Perhaps she even encouraged Optimus? Or even killed the legatus herself?’ He broke off. ‘But I see that I am reasoning amiss. You look doubtful, master.’
I shook my head. ‘I can see why either Optimus or Aurelia would want to kill the legate. But I’m sure that body in the temple wasn’t Fabius. It seems more likely that it was a messenger. Why should anyone kill him? And more than that, where is the body now?’ I looked at him. ‘Go on downstairs and have your supper, Junio. You must be hungry and I want to think.’
My deliberations did me little good. I turned the problem over and over but no solution came. Perhaps Gwellia had gleaned some further information. I would ask her when she came — as my slave-cum-wife she consented always to lie beside me, and that part of life at least was sweet enough.
Downstairs I could hear her chiding Junio, and scrubbing the dish I had used with a handful of damp sand.
I turned over with a smile, and waited for my wife to come to bed.
Chapter Eleven
Gwellia had nothing further to report, and though we talked till far into the night no inspiration visited my dreams. I rose early, breakfasted on the oatcakes and water which Gwellia had prepared for me the previous night, and — having loaded everything onto a handcart and thrown an old sack over it — I had set off with Junio for Optimus’s house before the sun was well over the horizon.
Even at this time of the morning the streets were already busy. We came upon a group of schoolboys, dragging their feet outside the building where the paedogogus had his rooms. They went in as they caught my glance, and through the open window space we could distinctly hear one of them swearing that the household dog had chewed his writing tablet, and the master roaring for the whipping-slave (who was still cowering outside the door) to come and take his master’s punishment.
Towards the centre of the town stall-holders and shopkeepers were opening shutters and setting out their wares, and as we turned towards the macellum — the area of market stalls behind the forum — we twice had to avoid sullen butcher-boys with staves, who were driving their animals down the narrow side streets. The air was alive with moos and baas and bleats, and we had to be very careful where we trod. (It didn’t deter the purchasers, however. As we followed one lad and his herd of scabby sheep to the fresh-meat market stall, the first customers of the day were already gathering.)
Apart from a laden donkey or two, and the occasional handcart like my own, the roadway was empty of waggons and carriages — wheeled transport is not permitted within the walls during the hours of daylight. Of course, it is a different matter after dark: the streets are full of creaking carts, and a ragged urchin was even now busy scraping up last night’s manure into a makeshift bucket, no doubt hoping to sell it somewhere for an as or two. We negotiated our handcart around him, through the carriage ruts, and it was still only about the first hour when we presented ourselves once again at Optimus’s house.
I was in my tunic this time, naturally, so no courteous delay awaited us. Strange what a difference the absence of a toga can make. No sooner had the doorkeeper admitted us than the Phrygian steward came bustling out to tell us how inconvenient it was going to be to have the entranceway repaired, and to inform us that we couldn’t leave the handcart there. He watched us sulkily as we unloaded it, and despatched Junio to ‘hide it’ in the stable at the back.
‘It ith ecthtremely awkward,’ he complained. ‘My mathter Optimuth hath important callerth — and if you’ve got the floor tileth up, I thuppoth we shall have to thend them around to the thervantth’ entranth! That’th undignified enough, without them falling over a trademan’th cart!’
I realised that this was a veiled rebuke, and a reminder that today I should have come in by the servants’ door myself, but I said nothing except, ‘We shall be as swift as possible. Even quicker if you have a slave or two who could help us lift the broken tiles — and I shall need clean water later on for the mortar, and to clean the surface when the new pattern has been laid.’
The Phrygian steward looked appalled — perhaps at the prospect of the household’s supplying some of the unskilled labour for the job — although it is not uncommon in my trade, especially when a household wants a pavement in a hurry. ‘I’ll thpeak to Honoriuth Optimuth,’ he said, with his most self-important air, and disappeared.
Junio had come back by this time, and was already on his knees with a sharp implement, removing the damaged border tiles. I set to work beside him. The pieces had been so poorly set that they lifted easily, and by the time a terrified little kitchen slave had arrived to help us — lugging a wooden pail of water that was half as big as he was — we had almost completed one side of the hall.
Junio showed him what to do, and I got out my wooden template and my measuring stick and began the work of making up the border to replace the edge we’d moved. It was a tricky business. The pre-formed pattern would fill most of it, but the piece had not been created for the space and the placement of it had to please the eye, before additional tiles could be arranged to fill in the remainder of the gap. But first the area must be prepared, and once the mortar layer was laid it was important to set the work in quickly, before the surface dried — preferably without having so much cement mixed up that the excess hardened in the bucket.