voice, ‘Get a proper carrying-brazier, Glypto, and take these coals next door. Help the citizen to light his fire. When you have finished, you can bring the brazier back.’
I was about to make excuses and refuse the help – I didn’t want the old slave seeing Lucius’s corpse and returning here to tell the tale – but it occurred to me that if Glypto accompanied me alone, I would have a chance to ask him more about the mysterious green man. I could always keep him standing at the workshop door while I discreetly took the brazier in. In any case, by this time he had scuttled from the room, his booted feet ringing on the stone-tiled floor.
The woman looked resentfully at me. ‘So, Husband, now I’m expected to stoke the fire as well, while you lend this man my slave – as if giving him the coals and light he wants was not enough. I hope you are going to charge him for the privilege?’
I am fairly certain that the tanner would have done – it was no more than I had expected, after all – but probably because his wife was urging it, he shook his head. ‘We local tradesmen must help each other, wife. Come, then, citizen,’ he added cheerfully to me, as Glypto reappeared, wearing a tattered blanket as a cloak and carrying the embers in a proper brazier now. ‘I’ll see you to the street and then get back to work. Glypto will accompany you and get your fire alight.’
‘Or at least he can carry the brazier to my door,’ I corrected hastily, before the slave could take his master’s words as a command. ‘Tanner, all this is very kind of you.’ I nodded at the woman. ‘Good-day, then, goodwife, and accept my thanks. Perhaps one day I can return the compliment and find some service I can do for you.’
She mumbled something in reply – to the general effect that she would rather find herself in Dis – then picked up the wooden paddle and turned back to stirring the tannage savagely. I took my lighted oil lamp and followed the tanner through the door, across the workshop and so out to the gate, with Glypto’s heavy footsteps clattering at my heels.
Five
The turnip-seller was still standing outside my workshop, of course, his barrow parked beside my pile of stones, but as I came on to the street, his back was turned to me. He seemed to be giving furtive glances at the door, as if he feared the corpse were likely to do something untoward if no one was keeping a careful watch on it.
But I didn’t hurry back to him. Glypto claimed to have seen someone in the alleyway, and that was information which might help me find my slave. I still clung stubbornly to the belief that Minimus was alive. If he’d been killed with Lucius, his body would be here. Captured, he would have some value in the slave market or someone would demand a ransom for his safe return. I hoped the latter, but I could not be sure, and it was vital I had any information I could find. The living must take precedence over the dead, I told myself.
So I turned to the old slave and gave him what I hoped was an encouraging smile.
‘You saw the green man in the alleyway, Glypto? The one that runs between the shops?’
‘You want Glypto to run between the shops?’ The slave looked mystified.
For a moment I was bemused at this, until I thought about it and realized he’d misheard. I should have remembered that he was a little deaf. There was nothing for it but to repeat what I had said, though this time in a louder voice, carefully articulating every word just as I had heard the tanner do. I saw the turnip-seller glance around at us. So much for trying to be discreet, I thought.
This time it was clear that Glypto had understood, though he was clearly suspicious of my motives for addressing him at all. I guessed that, as a general rule, no one said a word to him except to give orders. ‘I was putting rubbish on the midden-pile,’ he said in a reluctant mumble.
‘Of course you were,’ I reassured him, still in ringing tones. ‘Your
I was about to make excuses and refuse the help – I didn’t want the old slave seeing Lucius’s corpse and returning here to tell the tale – but it occurred to me that if Glypto accompanied me alone, I would have a chance to ask him more about the mysterious green man. I could always keep him standing at the workshop door while I discreetly took the brazier in. In any case, by this time he had scuttled from the room, his booted feet ringing on the stone-tiled floor.
The woman looked resentfully at me. ‘So, Husband, now I’m expected to stoke the fire as well, while you lend this man my slave – as if giving him the coals and light he wants was not enough. I hope you are going to charge him for the privilege?’
I am fairly certain that the tanner would have done – it was no more than I had expected, after all – but probably because his wife was urging it, he shook his head. ‘We local tradesmen must help each other, wife. Come, then, citizen,’ he added cheerfully to me, as Glypto reappeared, wearing a tattered blanket as a cloak and carrying the embers in a proper brazier now. ‘I’ll see you to the street and then get back to work. Glypto will accompany you and get your fire alight.’
‘Or at least he can carry the brazier to my door,’ I corrected hastily, before the slave could take his master’s words as a command. ‘Tanner, all this is very kind of you.’ I nodded at the woman. ‘Good-day, then, goodwife, and accept my thanks. Perhaps one day I can return the compliment and find some service I can do for you.’
She mumbled something in reply – to the general effect that she would rather find herself in Dis – then picked up the wooden paddle and turned back to stirring the tannage savagely. I took my lighted oil lamp and followed the tanner through the door, across the workshop and so out to the gate, with Glypto’s heavy footsteps clattering at my heels.
Five
The turnip-seller was still standing outside my workshop, of course, his barrow parked beside my pile of stones, but as I came on to the street, his back was turned to me. He seemed to be giving furtive glances at the door, as if he feared the corpse were likely to do something untoward if no one was keeping a careful watch on it.
But I didn’t hurry back to him. Glypto claimed to have seen someone in the alleyway, and that was information which might help me find my slave. I still clung stubbornly to the belief that Minimus was alive. If he’d been killed with Lucius, his body would be here. Captured, he would have some value in the slave market or someone would demand a ransom for his safe return. I hoped the latter, but I could not be sure, and it was vital I had any information I could find. The living must take precedence over the dead, I told myself.
So I turned to the old slave and gave him what I hoped was an encouraging smile.
‘You saw the green man in the alleyway, Glypto? The one that runs between the shops?’
‘You want Glypto to run between the shops?’ The slave looked mystified.
For a moment I was bemused at this, until I thought about it and realized he’d misheard. I should have remembered that he was a little deaf. There was nothing for it but to repeat what I had said, though this time in a louder voice, carefully articulating every word just as I had heard the tanner do. I saw the turnip-seller glance around at us. So much for trying to be discreet, I thought.
This time it was clear that Glypto had understood, though he was clearly suspicious of my motives for addressing him at all. I guessed that, as a general rule, no one said a word to him except to give orders. ‘I was putting rubbish on the midden-pile,’ he said in a reluctant mumble.
‘Of course you were,’ I reassured him, still in ringing tones. ‘Your
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