Requiem for a Slave (22 page)

‘I suppose you’re right,’ he acknowledged ruefully. ‘A lot of people saw the pattern too – including me – before the thing was laid. The finished product can’t be different and dangerous, unless you take Pedronius’s superstitious view and think it’s genuinely cursed.’

I laughed, but there was something niggling in the corner of my brain, some other connection that I could not place. It was disquieting. A little shudder ran down between my shoulder blades.

I was about to say as much to Junio when there was a sudden noise outside the shop, followed by a rapping on the outer door.

Eighteen

I was startled for a moment, but Junio grinned at me. ‘That will be Maximus and the messenger,’ he said. ‘They were on their way. I was about to tell you when I first came in, but then I was distracted by discovering the corpse.’

‘So you found the boy who brought the message to the roundhouse yesterday?’

He nodded. ‘We asked around and it was easier to find him than we thought. That urchin-girl we spoke to knew who it was at once and was eager to help us, for a tip. She even took us to the building where he lived – a flood-damaged ruin in the swampy part of town, where lots of the egentes find shelter overnight. He wasn’t there himself – he’d found another errand, taking a urine-pot to one of the fullers in the town – but we tracked him down, and he promised that when he’d finished he’d come and tell you everything he knew. Maximus was going to wait for him and show him where to come—’

Another knock, more tentative this time.

Junio strode to the doorway. ‘Shall I let them in? Or . . .?’ He nodded towards Radixrapum’s body on the floor. ‘Under the circumstances . . .’

‘Perhaps you’d better not,’ I agreed. ‘I’ll go and talk to them outside.’ I was already crossing to the entrance as I spoke.

‘I’ll come with you,’ my adopted son replied. ‘In fact, if the lad wants to earn an
as
or two, we might even send him out when we have finished with him here, to make enquiries as to where the turnip-seller lived. There must be someone in the marketplace who’d know.’

He pushed open the door and we went outside, blinking a little in the stronger light. I was already fishing in my purse for a small coin to reward the little messenger for his willingness to come. But it was no street urchin who was awaiting us. It was Virilis, my patron’s messenger, complete with military hooded cloak and now with a letter-wallet at his belt. Clearly it contained some kind of document – from the shape, most likely a sealed official scroll. For a moment I wondered if he had been sent with some authority for my arrest. He seemed equipped for it: as we emerged he was swishing with his whip at one of the piles of uncut stone that lay outside my door.

However, he looked as startled to see us as we were to find him there and, far from being threatening, he came over with a smile. ‘Citizen Libertus, I am glad to find you. I thought the shop was empty when I first arrived and there was no immediate answer to my knock. I have just come from Quintus, who has instructed me to ask if you have a message that you wish me to convey to His Excellence Marcus Septimus. I am on my way to meet him, starting off at once.’

‘Really?’ I was genuinely surprised, not only by Quintus’s apparent change of heart but also at the idea of setting off at such an hour to anywhere as distant as Londinium. It would be dark before he’d covered many miles, though doubtless as an official messenger he would have access to the military inns, where he could change horses, rest and have a meal. ‘You mean to leave tonight?’

‘Ready and saddled to depart at once, as you can see.’ He gestured to his horse, which he had clearly been leading through the streets and which was now tied to a tethering ring outside the tanner’s house. ‘I am to report the deliberations of the curia and the appointment of his nominated candidate. I should be in Londinium in a day or two at most. So if you have a message . . .’ He smiled at me again. ‘About your missing slave perhaps? Quintus Severus seemed to think you might.’

‘Ah!’ I murmured. So that was it. The chief decurion had not regretted his unhelpfulness, as for a moment I had foolishly supposed. On the contrary, he intended to ensure that Marcus was informed that Minimus was lost. ‘No doubt Quintus told you that I have some news? It seems the boy has been arrested on a trumped-up charge and is in custody. I’m not entirely sure where he is being held.’

Junio, beside me, made a startled noise. I had forgotten that this all was news to him as well.

‘And you wish me to pass this information to your patron?’ The cursor cocked a brow at me.

Something in his manner made me think again. ‘It might be wiser to wait until he comes,’ I conceded. ‘Of course, I’ll have to tell him all about it in due time, but perhaps it’s better if he hears the story from my lips. Besides, I hope that later on today I can discover where the boy is being kept and get him freed, if only on the promise of producing him in court. Or, failing that, at least to speak to him.’

The cursor made a doubtful face at me. ‘What makes you think his captor would agree to that?’

He was right, of course, but I said stubbornly, ‘The law requires him to. I am not an expert on such things, but I am sure of that.’

I expected Virilis to be anxious to be gone and impatient of these legal niceties, but instead he flashed me an unexpected smile. ‘I believe you may be right,’ he said in his most charming voice. ‘I was witness to a case like this once, in Londinium. The matter came to court and the magistrate decreed that the prisoner had to be produced so they could speak to him. He wasn’t freed, of course, but it proved that he was safe.’

I was privately ashamed of my earlier churlishness. ‘Go on,’ I said.

‘The plaintiffs were people of no account in law – just the wife and child and a former slave – so it seems that anyone can make a legal claim, if they can prove they have an interest in the prisoner, that is.’

‘Who has a better right to see Minimus than me?’ I demanded of no one in particular. ‘I am his legal owner while Marcus is away, and I want to hear his version of what happened yesterday. I simply don’t believe he took that purse.’ I turned to Virilis. ‘No doubt you’ve heard from Quintus about the troubles here?’

Virilis gave me a knowing, unexpected smile. ‘Oh, indeed I have. Quintus talked to me of very little else. He said that when he got here, you’d come across a corpse – some one-eyed pie-seller with a disfigured face – and he’d had to send the army to take it to the pit. He seemed to feel the entire episode was a personal affront.’ He gave me a sympathetic grin. ‘Do you wish me to tell your patron about it when we meet, or is that another thing you’d rather leave till he arrives?’

He paused, and for a moment I considered this.

‘Before you answer, citizen’ – he gestured to the document wallet at his waist, and I would have sworn he winked – ‘perhaps I should mention that I have a letter to deliver under seal. It’s possible that Quintus has mentioned it himself.’

It was a friendly warning and I smiled my thanks. ‘Then perhaps you’d better tell my patron everything – including the fact that I’ve mislaid his slave. But make it clear that nothing’s certain yet, and it may be just an accident that I found the corpse at all.’ I outlined my theory of the empty shop, and how the killer simply used it as a place to hide the corpse, meaning to come back later and hide the evidence. ‘I’m pretty sure the murder didn’t take place here at all,’ I finished. ‘Lucius was dragged there after he was killed.’

Virilis looked suitably impressed. ‘What makes you think that?’

‘The dragging of the body left scuff tracks on the floor. And I have a witness to prove it . . .’ I tailed off in dismay, remembering that Radixrapum was now lying dead himself. ‘Or I used to have.’

If Virilis had noticed the last remark, he gave no sign of it. Instead, he nodded briskly. ‘Then I’ll tell your patron that. And I’ll give him an account of your grandson’s naming day. I daresay you would like me to convey your thanks for his handsome gift?’

I nodded, embarrassed to have forgotten all about the bell. ‘I would be very grateful. I should have thought of it, but with all that has occurred . . .’

He gave me another conspiratorial smile. ‘Of course. You have had a great deal to worry you of late – what with murder and robbery and a missing slave. But never fear, I will express your thanks for you. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I must be on my way or I shall never reach Corinium before dark, let alone the staging post I’m aiming for tonight.’ He glanced up as he spoke. ‘Besides, it may take a little longer than I’d planned. I see it’s going to rain.’ He gave a little half-ironic bow. ‘Your servant, citizens.’

He turned away, picking his way along the muddy street towards his horse.

I paddled after him. ‘But you’ve forgotten something. You have news for me, I think. Something you said you wanted to impart?’ He turned towards me, frowning, and I pressed the point. ‘Something regarding my patron, I believe.’

The face cleared, but now it was his turn to look a little abashed. ‘Ah, of course! But I fear that matters have overtaken me, and it is no longer of very much account, especially now that the ordo has voted as it did. Besides . . .’ He caught my glance and gestured towards Junio with his eyes. It was clear that he would tell me nothing more in front of witnesses. ‘In any case, Marcus will soon be here himself and no doubt he’ll give you his own account of things.’

I was not satisfied with this evasiveness. We had reached the tethered animal by now, and as he reached up to untie the knot which held it to the ring, I insisted in an undertone, ‘This news about my patron, Virilis. Can you not give me some idea of what it was?’ I looked around. ‘Quickly, while we can’t be overheard?’

He laughed a little ruefully and looked up and down the street, but there was nothing of importance that I could see, at least – only the usual customers and tradesmen passing by, and Maximus in the distance hurrying this way, with a small figure tagging at his heels. But Virilis shook his head. ‘In this colonia, citizen, the very stones have ears. We cannot be too careful.’ He grasped the front pommels on the saddle as he spoke and swung himself effortlessly up and into place.

‘You think that there are spies?’ I was genuinely shocked. It was possible, of course. Commodus was famous for his network of paid ears and eyes. If Lucius and the turnip-man had fallen foul of one of these, for some reason that I could not see, this put a completely different complexion on the deaths. ‘But . . . here? In this humble area of town?’

He stooped down over his horse’s neck to answer, in an undertone, ‘I am sure of it. Mark what I’m saying, citizen. I speak of what I know. Be careful for yourself. With the present threat from the rebels in the woods, the Emperor has informers everywhere – often the people that you would least expect.’ He gestured with his head towards the workshop door, where Junio was still standing, staring after us.

I shook my head, indignant. ‘I can’t believe my son . . .’

He laughed. ‘Of course not, citizen. That was not what I meant. But there are others . . .’ He broke off and gestured with the handle of his switch. ‘That odd-looking fellow skulking in the alley there. Who is he, for instance? I’m almost certain he’s been watching us, though every time I look at him he pretends he’s not.’

I followed the direction of the pointing whip and saw ancient Glypto hovering by the pile. I waved at him and he went scuttling off, apparently to put something on the midden-heap, his great boots squelching loudly in the mud.

I grinned. ‘That’s my neighbour’s servant. There’s no harm in him. It’s simply that he wants to speak to me – he thinks he heard something in my workshop overnight.’ I thought about confiding the green man story too, but there was no time for that.

The cursor looked at Glypto with amused contempt. ‘Then you should hear him out, perhaps – I’m leaving anyway.’ He raised his voice ‘Hey, you there!’ But Glypto did not even turn his head, just tipped the contents of his bucket on the pile and scurried back into the tannery, leaving the front gate wide open in his wake.

Virilis turned the horse’s head towards the road and smiled wryly down at me. ‘I wish you good fortune with your witness, citizen – he doesn’t seem anxious to run into you.’

To my surprise, I found myself defending the old slave. ‘His master thinks that he is addled with the fumes, and certainly he only hears a half of what is said, but I doubt he’s as foolish as they all suppose. He might have seen something of what happened yesterday. And I think that he’ll be back. I promised him money if he met me at the pile and could me tell anything which proved to be of use.’

Virilis threw back his handsome head and laughed. ‘Perhaps he’ll buy himself some more conventional attire, instead of that ridiculous loincloth that he wears.’ He appeared to compose himself and said more soberly. ‘I’m sorry, citizen. I hope that you are right, and he comes back again and you learn something that will lead you to your slave.’ He made a little face. ‘Though a reeking midden-pile seems an unlikely choice of meeting place.’

I grinned. ‘I know. But one where it is easy for a slave to come. He is sent out with rubbish a dozen times a day.’

Virilis nodded. ‘I suppose that’s true. But in the meantime, here’s another slave who obviously hopes to have a word with you – bringing a companion with him, by the look of it.’ This time his switch was pointing down the street, where Maximus was hurrying towards me, accompanied by a form I thought I recognized.

‘Oh, great Mercury!’ I muttered. ‘He’s brought the wrong boy, after all. That’s not the messenger that we were looking for! That’s one of the egentes that hangs around the town, and if he went to my roundhouse – which I didn’t think he had – it’s only because I sent him there myself.’

Virilis gave me another conspiratorial smile. ‘It seems that you have further troubles, citizen. And I am a messenger myself, as you are well aware, with many miles to ride. It is time I went.’ He touched his plumed helmet in a gesture of farewell. ‘I’m sorry that I’ve not known you better, citizen. But, like that slave from the tannery, l too shall be back, if only to bring news of Marcus’s reply. I look forward to the next time that we meet.’