A Whispering of Spies (9 page)

Clearly Titus only meant to help, but his suggestion left me even more nonplussed. I bowed towards him, saying with respect, ‘Councillor Titus, I am flattered and grateful for your confidence in me. But I fear it is misplaced. I genuinely know nothing whatever of all this: until I spoke to Calvinus today I did not know the special treasure-cart was even on its way – far less when and how it was expected here. As for the murders and the theft, I had not heard so much as a whisper about either of those things until he mentioned them. I certainly have no theory as to who committed them.’

Porteus was on his feet again, his face so pink the acne showed like little pits of white. ‘Don’t listen to the man. Of course he knew about the cart – though he tries to deflect suspicion from himself by feigning ignorance. Why else would he be pointedly asking questions in the town today, very specifically about Voluus’s wealth and what he was bringing with him out of Gaul? That did not happen by mere coincidence. If Libertus did not carry out this robbery himself – and I grant you that he probably did not – then I say he helped at least to organize the raid. It required armed men and horses and probably a vehicle to remove the treasure too, which means his patron, Marcus Septimus, was almost certainly involved as well. Marcus assuredly knew all about the lictor’s carts. Weren’t we, as councillors, all discussing them and the amount of treasure they contained – here on the steps of this very basilica, just the day before the Ides?’

Titus Flavius gave a barking laugh. ‘I know that you were, Porteus, because you were boasting of the lucrative deal you made with the lictor while he was here before! How much was it that Voluus promised you for that piece of land of yours? Hundreds of denarii – twice what it is worth. It’s clear why you might have an interest in the safe arrival of the lictor’s wealth. But why should you suppose that Marcus Septimus is involved? He is immensely rich. What interest could he have in raiding Voluus’s cart?’ He shook his head. ‘Much more likely to be that steward, I should think, bribing accomplices and seeking to get rich at the expense of a master who was not kind to him. He would not be the first.’

Porteus snorted. ‘And where would Calvinus hide the treasure? It isn’t in the apartment! I tell you, Marcus had a hand in this. You’ve just heard that he sent a letter to the steward there, and ordered this pavement-maker to deliver it. As for his being wealthy, that’s no argument! Who would not be interested in wagon-loads of gold, however rich they are? And who can hide treasure more easily than a man of wealth? In Marcus’s villa a few more gold coins and jewels would scarcely raise remark!’

‘But Calvinus . . . ?’ Florens interrupted, with a frown.

Porteus held up a restraining hand. ‘I agree that Calvinus played a part in this: most likely he told the ambush where to strike and when. But he doesn’t have the money to buy arms to mount a raid, and he doesn’t have the goods that were taken from the cart. I’ve had the apartment searched most thoroughly and there is nothing there that wasn’t on the earlier manifests, beyond a few gold coins beneath the steward’s bed. I say that we should seize Libertus and search his patron’s homes – both the town apartment and the country house. And the pavement-maker’s own roundhouse, too. That is near the villa, so I understand, and would make a splendid temporary hiding place.’

I
was struck with horror at this new development. The idea of them rummaging through my roundhouse was ominous enough – likely to cause damage and terrify my wife – though I was merely a private citizen. But offering to search Marcus’s property as well? That was an indication of how serious things were. This affair was escalating like a dreadful dream.

I was so shocked and startled that I could hardly speak, but at last I managed to collect myself. I said with such calm dignity as I could conjure up, ‘Gentleman, you are completely wrong. I’m certain that my patron had no part in this. He’s famously honest: look at his record as a magistrate – he has never taken bribes or altered the course of justice to protect the powerful. He will be as shocked as I am when he learns about this crime. He always says that robbery on the highway is bad for all of us – it gives the colonia a bad name for trade. As for his personally conniving at the theft, I am amazed that you could imagine such a thing. Certainly, I swear that he never plotted anything with me.’

This time it was Gaius who shuffled to his feet. I could see he was embarrassed because he would not meet my glance. He was as old as he was skinny and his voice was tremulous. ‘Citizen, your loyalty to your patron is commendable. But – and it pains me to say this, as I have always held Marcus Septimus in very high regard – I fear that I must contradict your evidence.’ At last he raised his rheumy eyes to look at me. ‘You say that he didn’t plot anything with you. Do you deny that you were with him yesterday, in private conference, a little before noon?’

I could hardly argue, since it was the truth and others knew it – Maximus, for one. I didn’t want him questioned by the local torturers. ‘That is no secret. Marcus summoned me to attend him at his country house,’ I said.

‘Exactly, citizen. And what did he want to talk to you about?’ Gaius waited a moment while I debated what to say, then pressed the point again. ‘Wasn’t it precisely about Voluus and his wealth?’

‘Don’t try to deny it!’ Porteus said, with an unpleasant smile. ‘You are too careless, citizen. You were overheard on this occasion too! Tell him, Gaius.’

Gaius looked even more uncomfortable but he said, ‘I lament this, Libertus, but what Porteus says is true. I sent my page-boy on an errand to the villa yesterday, consulting Marcus on a point of etiquette, but when he arrived it was to be told that His Excellence was already occupied with a visitor – yourself – on a matter of importance and could not be disturbed.’

‘I have agreed that I was there,’ I protested. ‘That does not prove that we were plotting robberies.’

‘You were talking about Voluus and his treasure – and how you could inveigle yourself into the lictor’s house and talk to the steward about what he’d done with it.’ Porteus was bobbing in his seat impatiently.

‘We were talking about nothing of the kind. I was merely . . .’

Porteus leapt up to interrupt and point an accusing forefinger at me. ‘The page-boy – who is a professional courier, trained to learn a message off by heart at a single hearing – heard everything you said and reported it to Gaius, verbatim, afterwards. So don’t try to tell us otherwise.’

‘He was deliberately listening in to us?’ I was indignant, but my mind was racing, too, trying to recall exactly what we might have said.

‘He didn’t come and spy deliberately, of course,’ Gaius said apologetically. ‘It was an accident.’

Privately, despite the old man’s mildness, I rather doubted this. Spying on other men of power is what everybody does: Marcus has a dozen people in his pay – other people’s servants who report to him about their master’s households and who came and went, and why. Very likely Gaius had private spies as well and this eavesdropping was perfectly intentional – what else would explain the careful reporting afterwards? However, I could hardly voice that thought aloud.

Gaius spread his bony hands, appealing to his fellow councillors. ‘My page had already loitered in the servant’s waiting room, hoping to speak to Marcus when he was available, but in the end it was taking far too long. He tried to find a slave and explain that he was now obliged to leave, but he couldn’t find one in the public rooms, so he went out to the courtyard garden at the back.’ He turned to Florens. ‘In case you are not familiar with the house, that leads out through a gateway to the outer court, where the stores and servants’ living-quarters are, and thence to the rear entrance on the farm-lane at the back, where he thought at least he’d find a gatekeeper.’

It was a common pattern for a country house, of course, and Florens nodded. ‘I understand. Go on.’

‘Well,’ Gaius resumed, a little plaintively, ‘on his way across the courtyard garden towards the inner gate, he heard people talking in an arbour to one side . . .’

‘And sneaked up behind them to listen to their words?’ I said angrily. Yet another piece of foolishness, I realized instantly. By saying that I’d half-admitted guilt.

Gauis turned reproachful eyes on me. ‘Of course he had no inkling that it was His Excellence. He imagined that the master would be inside the house – in conference in his study, as you would expect – so, supposing that the speakers must be merely slaves, he skirted round and went to talk to them. But as he drew nearer he realized it was indeed the voice of Marcus talking to his guest. Once he’d discovered that, he backed away, of course, but not before he’d had time to overhear.’

‘Then he must know that we were not talking about robbing anyone,’ I said.

‘On the contrary. As Porteus has said, my slave is skilled at learning messages by rote. And since these words were rather startling, even an amateur could have remembered them. I made a careful note.’ Slowly, Gaius took a writing-tablet from his belt, undid the binding and held it up for me to see. ‘My fellow councillors have already heard this, citizen, but I will repeat it for your benefit. These are the very words of Marcus Septimus. “If you have my letter they will have to let you in and that will give you the opportunity to talk to the steward. He’s the one responsible for seeing that the lictor’s treasure – when it comes – is taken off the cart, so he knows exactly what it is and what it’s worth. He may even have witnessed how it was acquired and what favours it is – or was – intended to repay. In any case I’m sure you’ll manage to get it out of him. I know you, Libertus, you are skilled at things like that. I am quite certain I can rely on you.” There you are, citizen, you may read it for yourself.’

I shook my head. There was no point in reading it. I recognized the words. Of course I could try denying everything – it would be my word against the messenger’s – but I dismissed the thought. Marcus might thoughtlessly confirm what he had said – in which case my denial would make bad matters worse: lying to the authorities is a significant offence. At the very least, I’d have lost my reputation as an honest man – which, admittedly, did not appear to count for much among these councillors.

Gaius was shaking his thinning locks at me. ‘What can that conversation mean, citizen pavement-maker, except that you and Marcus already knew about the theft?’

‘But how could we possibly have known about it in advance? We had that conversation shortly before noon, and the robbery did not take place till after dark!’

‘Did it, citizen?’ Porteus was standing up again, his pockmarked face wreathed in an ugly smile. ‘Thank you for that information. I am sure that the garrison will be pleased to know. That, as these other councillors are aware, was the commander’s guess, but since all the occupants of the cart were dead and the road was unfrequented, there was no proof what time the raid took place. And thank you also for the confirmation that Gaius’s courier was correct in his account.’

Too late, I realized what I’d admitted to. ‘I did have that conversation with my patron,’ I said desperately, ‘but it did not mean what you have twisted it to mean. It is true that he was interested in where Voluus got his wealth, but that was simply in order to decide whether or not it would be wise to accept the invitation to his feast. His Excellence thought the steward would have information on the point. That is all I was attempting to find out. Ask my patron. Ask Calvinus himself.’

‘Oh, we intend to ask your patron, believe me, citizen.’ Porteus’s manner was nastier than before. ‘And we are already asking Calvinus. He is a prisoner at the jail, being questioned as we speak. Of course they cannot interrogate him to the full – not until his master gets here anyway – but I have no doubt that in the end he’ll tell us everything.’ He sat down noisily.

I blanched. I could guess the methods Porteus had in mind – and no doubt Calvinus, as the steward of a professional torturer, had an even clearer picture of what might lie in store. Poor Calvinus! I did not especially like the man, but he had done nothing that I knew of to deserve a fate like that.

‘But there isn’t anything to tell,’ I murmured hopelessly, though that would not help the steward, when it came to it. Like the page-boy that Voluus once accused of theft, he might well end up confessing falsehoods just to make the beatings stop. And one thing was becoming very clear to me: if I was not careful, I would be the next. Highway robbery is a capital offence and, though as a citizen I’d be protected from the worst and (unlike Calvinus) was in little danger of being crucified, all the same this preposterous affair might prove to be extremely serious.

I had been worried about getting home betimes, but if this went badly I might never see my home again. Nor indeed my wife! I could find myself in exile for the remainder of my days, deprived of ‘water and fire’ throughout the Empire – and that was if the magistrates were fairly lenient. I did not care to dwell on what might happen otherwise.

Florens was speaking. ‘We have already questioned Calvinus about you. It was the first thing we asked him. He says you threatened him.’

‘Threatened him?’ I was incredulous.

He made a tutting nose. ‘Citizen,’ he said impatiently. ‘We’ve been through this before. You told him privately that he’d be held to blame, and publicly that he’d be lucky to escape. People on the stairwell will testify to that. And they will also swear that you had some kind of fight – though Calvinus is still persisting in denying it. What were you doing, citizen? Arguing over how to divide up the spoils?’

‘Fight?’ I was turning into Echo, doomed – like the nymph – to repeating everything.

‘We are told that when you went back into the flat, there was some sort of altercation, ending in a crash. We have at least a dozen witnesses to that.’ Florens twisted his pudgy fingers as he spoke.

It was astonishing how unrelated facts could be interpreted. I said dully, ‘A vase was shaken from its stand by someone running up the stairs. Nothing to do with any robbery. Look in the midden pile outside the house, and no doubt you’ll find the shards.’