set off towards the slaves’ quarters at the rear.
But almost before he had disappeared, a party of slaves arrived from the kitchen and filed into the room we had just left, ready with water bowls, cloths, linen wraps and anointing oils.
Someone, obviously, had given orders already.
Chapter Four
Marcus and I exchanged looks and went back to the atrium. A table had been set there, with two stools and a jug of wine.
‘Maximilian seems to be taking his new role as head of the household seriously,’ Marcus said wryly. ‘He appears to have thought of everything. Except a slave. It appears we shall have to pour our own wine!’
‘I’ll see if I can find someone,’ I said. ‘And I’ll look for this Flavius and his friend while I’m about it. They cannot be far away.’
Marcus nodded, and I left him to wait in comfort, while I set off in search of a servant to pour the wine. Strictly speaking, I should have sent a slave to find the missing clientes too, since I was a guest in the house, but I welcomed the chance to look around a little.
I had some idea, now, of the layout of the residence. The whole building was shaped like a giant H, the principal rooms across the centre, with attics above, and two wings projecting forwards and back on either side. I had been to the rear of the house. There, I knew, were the bedrooms and other private apartments ranged along each side of the central courtyard garden; while beyond the herb gardens, arbours and central water basin, the top of the H was almost closed off by a separate block which obviously contained the kitchens and the servants’ quarters, and a two-seater latrine over the drain. Presumably the rest of the household offices – the rubbish heap, oil stores, orchard, poultry yard and stables – lay beyond, the whole enclosed behind the massive wall which ran around the entire property.
I did not go that way. Quintus’s waiting room and reception salon formed one of the forward wings of the H, so instead of going into the rear courtyard, where the slave quarters were, I went out into the front court, and looked to my right, where the front entrance to the ante-room lay.
The door to the ante-room was open, and through it I could glimpse the table and a portion of the bench. Nothing more: the room was too long, and in any case the inner door would screen any view of the reception room beyond, where the funeral preparations must by now be under way. But I had seen what I wanted. Anyone coming from the reception room could have come out this way and rinsed his hands in the central fountain. Or he might have done so in the rear courtyard. In either case, he ran a considerable risk of being observed.
I looked around for possible witnesses, but there was no one in sight. As I watched, however, a page in a turquoise tunic emerged onto the farther veranda, one of those handsome young boys that every wealthy Romanised household seems to keep as a pet.
I summoned him with a gesture. ‘Slaves in this household are like donkey-hire men at a market. Lots of them around, but you can never find one when you need one. Where is everybody?’
He was obviously terrified, but he had been trained in flirtation, and batted his eyelids at me. ‘Your pardon, citizen. We are in confusion. No one is at their usual station. I, for instance, apart from carrying messages for the family or for guests, usually attend exclusively on Quintus Ulpius.’ He smiled at me ingratiatingly, but I said nothing and he babbled on, as if explanations might win my favour. ‘But since we heard of my master’s death, everyone is giving different orders.’
‘Such as?’
He counted them off on his fingers. ‘Two slaves were sent into the town for anointing oils. Citizen Maximilian demanded another four to go with him to the bathhouses, and two others were needed to attend my master.’ He was running out of fingers, and he spread his hands in a hopeless gesture. ‘Then Julia Honoria sent down orders,
But almost before he had disappeared, a party of slaves arrived from the kitchen and filed into the room we had just left, ready with water bowls, cloths, linen wraps and anointing oils.
Someone, obviously, had given orders already.
Chapter Four
Marcus and I exchanged looks and went back to the atrium. A table had been set there, with two stools and a jug of wine.
‘Maximilian seems to be taking his new role as head of the household seriously,’ Marcus said wryly. ‘He appears to have thought of everything. Except a slave. It appears we shall have to pour our own wine!’
‘I’ll see if I can find someone,’ I said. ‘And I’ll look for this Flavius and his friend while I’m about it. They cannot be far away.’
Marcus nodded, and I left him to wait in comfort, while I set off in search of a servant to pour the wine. Strictly speaking, I should have sent a slave to find the missing clientes too, since I was a guest in the house, but I welcomed the chance to look around a little.
I had some idea, now, of the layout of the residence. The whole building was shaped like a giant H, the principal rooms across the centre, with attics above, and two wings projecting forwards and back on either side. I had been to the rear of the house. There, I knew, were the bedrooms and other private apartments ranged along each side of the central courtyard garden; while beyond the herb gardens, arbours and central water basin, the top of the H was almost closed off by a separate block which obviously contained the kitchens and the servants’ quarters, and a two-seater latrine over the drain. Presumably the rest of the household offices – the rubbish heap, oil stores, orchard, poultry yard and stables – lay beyond, the whole enclosed behind the massive wall which ran around the entire property.
I did not go that way. Quintus’s waiting room and reception salon formed one of the forward wings of the H, so instead of going into the rear courtyard, where the slave quarters were, I went out into the front court, and looked to my right, where the front entrance to the ante-room lay.
The door to the ante-room was open, and through it I could glimpse the table and a portion of the bench. Nothing more: the room was too long, and in any case the inner door would screen any view of the reception room beyond, where the funeral preparations must by now be under way. But I had seen what I wanted. Anyone coming from the reception room could have come out this way and rinsed his hands in the central fountain. Or he might have done so in the rear courtyard. In either case, he ran a considerable risk of being observed.
I looked around for possible witnesses, but there was no one in sight. As I watched, however, a page in a turquoise tunic emerged onto the farther veranda, one of those handsome young boys that every wealthy Romanised household seems to keep as a pet.
I summoned him with a gesture. ‘Slaves in this household are like donkey-hire men at a market. Lots of them around, but you can never find one when you need one. Where is everybody?’
He was obviously terrified, but he had been trained in flirtation, and batted his eyelids at me. ‘Your pardon, citizen. We are in confusion. No one is at their usual station. I, for instance, apart from carrying messages for the family or for guests, usually attend exclusively on Quintus Ulpius.’ He smiled at me ingratiatingly, but I said nothing and he babbled on, as if explanations might win my favour. ‘But since we heard of my master’s death, everyone is giving different orders.’
‘Such as?’
He counted them off on his fingers. ‘Two slaves were sent into the town for anointing oils. Citizen Maximilian demanded another four to go with him to the bathhouses, and two others were needed to attend my master.’ He was running out of fingers, and he spread his hands in a hopeless gesture. ‘Then Julia Honoria sent down orders,
Similar Books
