Sallust didn’t work for the state but for private individuals. If a debt wasn’t paid or a wager withdrawn, a slave escaped, a child went missing or valuables disappeared, Sallust and his searchers would soon put that right. He had lost some of his wealth during the confusion following the civil war and was eager to make up his losses. He already owned a palatial town house within walking distance of the Palatine, as well as a restful villa out in the Campania. Sallust, however, liked to act the poor man, the nondescript, the person who could sit in a tavern and never be noticed or missed.
For a while Claudia just chattered about the She-Asses and Polybius’s garden, but Sallust gave her a grim reminder of what had happened the previous night, whispering that he and his family already knew about Spicerius’s death and Murranus’s boast.
‘Well, mistress?’ He drained his beer and gazed across at his huddle of relatives, busy filling their bellies with pear tart.
‘They’re so quiet!’ Claudia murmured.
‘Always like that,’ Sallust declared. ‘That’s how we do our business. Now, mistress, you asked to see me.’
‘Ah.’ Claudia edged a little closer. ‘I want to discuss three things with you: love tokens, a holy sword, and the town of Capua. Now. .’ She paused at the knocking on the door. She got up, opened it and stared at the tinker with a tray slung round his neck. She would have immediately closed the door, but he lifted his hand, displaying the crude icthus ring on his middle finger.
‘I’m looking for the woman Claudia.’
‘I’m she.’
‘Are you?’ He peered closer. ‘You know the turnings?’
‘Across the cemetery to the tomb dedicated to Servilius.’ Claudia gave the agreed answer.
‘He sent you this.’ The tinker handed across a scroll, waggled his fingers and disappeared.
Claudia made her excuse to Sallust and went out to the garden, where she undid the scroll and read Sylvester’s message. She was so surprised she read it again.
‘What is this?’ she exclaimed, staring down at the carefully formed letters.
Sylvester had described a mystery involving a violated tomb and the remains of a man and a woman known as Lucius and Claudia, not listed as Christians but still martyred for that faith. Apparently they were a childless couple whose holdings had been forfeit to the State but which now, under the Edict of Toleration, had been restored to the Church. Claudia reflected on her own suspicions and returned to Sallust.
‘As I said,’ she smiled, sitting down, ‘love tokens, a holy sword and the town of Capua.’
Sallust listened carefully to the problems facing Claudia, asking a few questions as she spoke. An hour later, he and his entourage left, promising to do what they could. The tavern was now stirring, and Claudia broke her own fast. Narcissus came down and sat in a corner, eating a bowl of yesterday’s meat and onions. Januaria sat next to him, all smiling and simpering. A short while later Murranus clattered down the stairs, complaining of a dry mouth and sore head. He wanted to be alone, to reflect on what had happened the previous day. He grunted greetings but said he had to hurry, wolfed down some bread soaked in milk, took a mouthful of beer, kissed Claudia on the brow and almost fled through the tavern door. Narcissus, tired of Januaria, came edging over.
‘Mistress,’ he asked plaintively, ‘what are we going to do?’
‘We are going to sit and moan,’ Claudia replied, mimicking his voice, ‘about having a soft bed, freedom, a purse of money, good food and a pretty girl to smile at you.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be sorry,’ Claudia snapped. ‘Go down to the stables and saddle my cob. If you want, saddle a mount for yourself. We are going back to the Villa Pulchra.’
‘Then I’ll walk, I don’t like horses.’
‘Please yourself,’ Claudia retorted. She was eager to do something rather than sit and let the terrors seize hold of her.
Claudia collected her cloak, belt and purse, pushed some bread and dried meat into a napkin, borrowed a leather bag from the kitchen and made her farewells. Narcissus didn’t object to her proposal; he walked beside her describing how horses made him seasick before asking her why she wanted to return to the villa, pointing out that no one would be there; Timothaeus and the rest would now be in the imperial palace on the Palatine. Claudia murmured, ‘Good, I hope they stay there,’ before returning to her own thoughts and the list of suspicions she’d drawn up last night as she had lain in bed waiting for sleep.
Their journey through the streets was quick; only a trickle of early-morning travellers were taking advantage of the good weather and the half-empty streets. For most of their journey down to the Flavian Gate they followed a cohort of lightly armed legionnaires tramping out to one of the small forts on the approaches to Rome. Narcissus commented on how there seemed to be more troops on the move, whilst Claudia privately wondered if Constantine had decided to retaliate against his rival in the East. She was glad to be free of the She-Asses. Murranus had placed himself in great danger, but she did not want to worsen matters with sharp advice and a tart tongue. She made herself as comfortable as possible in the saddle, half dozing as they left the busy streets with their noise and smell, on to the main via which ran through the Flavian Gate. They passed the place of the dead and Claudia wondered about Sylvester’s enigmatic message. She was sure Sallust would help with that. Beside her Narcissus hummed a love song Januaria had taught him, whilst swiping with his stick at the brambles and weeds on the side of the path.
They made good progress, only standing aside for imperial messengers who came thundering along the via with their military escort. Soon they left the main road and followed the winding country paths, past the pickets guarding the approach to the villa, now reduced to only two or three men squatting before a fire, more interested in their oatmeal than a traveller who carried an imperial pass. When they reached the villa, a yawning guard opened the gate and ushered them into the cobbled yard. An under-steward came down to greet them, all blustering and protesting, but the protests died on his lips when he recognised Claudia and the pass she carried. He listened with astonishment as Claudia demanded that he summon all the servants and what guards were left down to the yard as soon as possible. He made to protest, but smiled at the prospect of a silver coin and hastened away. Claudia knew that once the court had left the villa, the servants would enjoy themselves doing as little as possible, hiding away and finding whatever mischief they could to while away the boredom. They soon flocked down to the yard, full of curiosity at this visitor and what she proposed: kitchen maids, page boys, gardeners, cleaners and washerwomen. Claudia asked them to gather round. She opened her purse and took out five silver pieces, promising them that anyone who found a weapon of war, as she described it, in the countryside to the south of the villa would receive a lavish reward.
‘What do you mean,’ the under-steward shouted, ‘a weapon of war?’
‘You’ll know it when you see it,’ Claudia retorted. She was standing on an upturned barrel; she felt it sway beneath her, so she snapped her fingers and told Narcissus to steady it. ‘You’ve all heard about the attack on the villa and the direction it came from. There’s a path leading down through the woods. I want you to go along that, oh, no more than two hundred paces from the walls, and search for any weapon of war, a dagger, a spear, an arrow, a sword or a shield. Anything which looks suspicious. Now, you know what I mean.’ She indicated with her hand. ‘On the right of the path leading from the main gate are woods, trees, shrubbery. Just ignore these. I want you to form a line and search the ground to the left of the path. As I’ve said, go no further than two hundred paces deep.’