wanting messages carried all over the place – to funeral musicians, stonemasons, orators, anointers, and even to the market to order food for the funeral feast. She even has the garden slaves cutting greenery and herbs. In the end there were only three of us left in the slaves’ waiting room. Then Sollers came in and ordered us to come and get the study ready for His Excellence. Me, Rollo! I did my best, but I am no cleaning slave. In the end the other two said I was in the way, and sent me outside. So here I am. Can I serve you in any way, citizen?’
Not in the way he presumably served Quintus, I thought. I have no taste for pretty young pages. Nor as a witness, either. According to the testimony I had just heard he was in the slaves’ room until after the murder. I toyed for a moment with the idea of sending him to look for the missing men, but one glance at his exquisite turquoise tunic and embroidered slippers was enough to dissuade me. His function was merely to look decorative. He would be more concerned with keeping his expensive shoes clean than in doing anything useful. As the slaves cleaning the study obviously recognised.
And there was Junio, banished to the attic, I thought with irritation. But it wasn’t this lad’s fault. I tipped him a couple of copper
asses
, which brought a smile back to his face, then I sent him off to pour the wine for Marcus, and set out to find the missing clientes myself.
It did not take me long. They were sitting together halfway down one of the colonnades in the front courtyard, in a little leafy arched arbour with a stone seat. The place was screened from the rest of the garden by a semicircular area of thick hedge and a portly and charmless statue of Minerva – so secluded that I might have walked straight past it, had I not heard the murmur of voices.
‘It is absolutely typical of the man,’ one of them was saying. ‘Absolutely typical. Keeps me waiting until last, and then has me sent away to kick my heels in the garden while he is “resting”. I suppose I shall count myself lucky if he consents to see me before dark.’
I grinned to myself. The rituals of visiting a patron are less formally observed here than they are in Rome. Marcus, for example, does not require me to attend him every morning and night, as many patrons expect their followers to do in the imperial city. But supplicants are usually received in strict order of social precedence. Keeping important visitors waiting is a deliberate insult.
‘It is the same for me.’ The other voice was older, high-pitched and querulous. ‘He’s kept me waiting as well. And in this cold wind, too. As least you’ve been able to walk around and enjoy the garden. With my aching joints and swollen knees it is all I can do to hobble to the nearest seat and sit on it.’
‘Enjoy the garden! Enjoy it! When it’s planted with exotic shrubs purchased with my wife’s dowry? You wait till I see Quintus. I’ll plant
him
– three feet deep, with a coin in his mouth to pay the ferryman. I’ll even donate the money myself.’
There was a pause, and then a nervous cackle of laughter. ‘Don’t worry! I’ll help you pay it, three times over. And if you’re going to plant him, I’ll give you some fertiliser – from my cesspit. It’s no more than he deserves.’
Eavesdropping is not very dignified, but it is often fascinating. And, in the circumstances, illuminating. I inched a little closer to the hedge.
‘Don’t worry,’ the same voice went on. ‘I hate him as much as you do. You heard how he treated me? Standing up in the amphitheatre and denouncing me to the council, persuading them not to re-elect me to office. Me, Paulus Avidius Lupus, after I have served this town as decurion for eleven years.’
Flavius – the younger man had to be Flavius – sounded unimpressed. ‘I heard that he had opposed your selection as magistrate. I also heard that you had done the same to him.’
‘That was years ago, when
Not in the way he presumably served Quintus, I thought. I have no taste for pretty young pages. Nor as a witness, either. According to the testimony I had just heard he was in the slaves’ room until after the murder. I toyed for a moment with the idea of sending him to look for the missing men, but one glance at his exquisite turquoise tunic and embroidered slippers was enough to dissuade me. His function was merely to look decorative. He would be more concerned with keeping his expensive shoes clean than in doing anything useful. As the slaves cleaning the study obviously recognised.
And there was Junio, banished to the attic, I thought with irritation. But it wasn’t this lad’s fault. I tipped him a couple of copper
asses
, which brought a smile back to his face, then I sent him off to pour the wine for Marcus, and set out to find the missing clientes myself.
It did not take me long. They were sitting together halfway down one of the colonnades in the front courtyard, in a little leafy arched arbour with a stone seat. The place was screened from the rest of the garden by a semicircular area of thick hedge and a portly and charmless statue of Minerva – so secluded that I might have walked straight past it, had I not heard the murmur of voices.
‘It is absolutely typical of the man,’ one of them was saying. ‘Absolutely typical. Keeps me waiting until last, and then has me sent away to kick my heels in the garden while he is “resting”. I suppose I shall count myself lucky if he consents to see me before dark.’
I grinned to myself. The rituals of visiting a patron are less formally observed here than they are in Rome. Marcus, for example, does not require me to attend him every morning and night, as many patrons expect their followers to do in the imperial city. But supplicants are usually received in strict order of social precedence. Keeping important visitors waiting is a deliberate insult.
‘It is the same for me.’ The other voice was older, high-pitched and querulous. ‘He’s kept me waiting as well. And in this cold wind, too. As least you’ve been able to walk around and enjoy the garden. With my aching joints and swollen knees it is all I can do to hobble to the nearest seat and sit on it.’
‘Enjoy the garden! Enjoy it! When it’s planted with exotic shrubs purchased with my wife’s dowry? You wait till I see Quintus. I’ll plant
him
– three feet deep, with a coin in his mouth to pay the ferryman. I’ll even donate the money myself.’
There was a pause, and then a nervous cackle of laughter. ‘Don’t worry! I’ll help you pay it, three times over. And if you’re going to plant him, I’ll give you some fertiliser – from my cesspit. It’s no more than he deserves.’
Eavesdropping is not very dignified, but it is often fascinating. And, in the circumstances, illuminating. I inched a little closer to the hedge.
‘Don’t worry,’ the same voice went on. ‘I hate him as much as you do. You heard how he treated me? Standing up in the amphitheatre and denouncing me to the council, persuading them not to re-elect me to office. Me, Paulus Avidius Lupus, after I have served this town as decurion for eleven years.’
Flavius – the younger man had to be Flavius – sounded unimpressed. ‘I heard that he had opposed your selection as magistrate. I also heard that you had done the same to him.’
‘That was years ago, when
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