A Coin for the Ferryman by Rosemary Rowe Page B

observed. ‘His chest and back were soft and white – not tanned and hardened by the sun, as they would be if he had been wrestling half naked at the baths, or even running races and playing ball-sports as young men often do.’ He picked up his wine cup and took another sip, looking hopefully towards the servant with the jug who was by this time hovering at my side again.
    I waved the slave away. Junio was not accustomed to drinking watered wine, especially in the middle of the day. I did not generally serve it in my house and although – like any other slave – he would have been given refreshment in the servants’ quarters when we went visiting, that would have been a thin, inferior vintage, vastly watered down. This was a good wine, kept for guests and only diluted to an appropriate degree: I did not think this was the moment for him to experiment with it, especially since there was Marcus’s banquet to look forward to tonight.
    Junio looked reproachfully at me, but I ignored the glance. A
paterfamilias
has a right to decide things for his son. ‘That was well reasoned, Junio,’ I said, knowing that the praise would please him – as it clearly did. ‘I had not thought that out myself. But you are right, of course.’
    Junio was keen to earn another compliment. ‘And he wasn’t in the army either – that would have hardened him.’
    ‘Perhaps he wasn’t even of military age.’ Julia was still toying with her fig. ‘Poor lad. That would have made him, what – fourteen or so?’
    ‘Always supposing that he intended to join up,’ I said. ‘It isn’t compulsory to do so nowadays.’ Service in the army was no longer universal, but it was still the custom for most well-born young men to have a short spell as an officer, since that was the surest route to preference and power. Most citizens had at least one family member in the legions still, and there was no shortage of recruits among those of lower status, who were content to serve among the humble rank and file, as long as the army offered them a secure career with the prospect of citizenship at the end of it.
    ‘He was about that age, Father, wouldn’t you have thought?’ That was Junio again. ‘Just a little younger than I am, probably. Though without his face and features I suppose it’s hard to tell. We cannot see, for instance, if he had a beard at all.’ He stroked his own cheek, a bit self-consciously. There was the very faintest hint of down upon his upper lip. I knew that he was very proud of it.
    Julia put her fig down and pushed the plate aside. ‘The thing is, Libertus, what are we to do? We’ve got the body of what looks like a well-to-do young man lying in our servants’ quarters with his face smashed in. We don’t know who he was, or who his family is – or even if he came from hereabouts. Meantime, we have a very important visitor in the house. Not only a patrician, with influence at court, but a relative of Marcus’s as well. You know that Lucius Julianus is a cousin, I presume?’
    I hadn’t known, but on reflection I was not surprised. I was aware that Marcus had been born and raised in Rome and that his family was an ancient one – not only very wealthy but patrician too. Marcus joked that his mother, in particular, was inclined to look down on everyone, with the possible exception of the Emperor; his own wedding to Julia had been hurried through to prevent his parents from finding out and choosing him a bride more in keeping with what they thought suitable. Julia had been married twice before, and although she brought a handsome dowry she was from provincial stock. The alliance had met with huge disapproval from Marcus’s mamma, and there had been a flurry of reproving letters by every messenger. It occurred to me that this was a potential problem, even now, with their Roman trip in prospect. ‘On his mother’s side?’ I asked.
    Julia gave me a glance that would have melted steel. ‘You understand, Libertus? Lucius