I said, ‘It’s an improvement on the previous pavement, certainly. That corner piece, you could have used a smaller template there – but it will do. I think I can disguise it.’ I tied on my leather apron as I spoke (it had been folded on the floor nearby) and got to my own knees, creakily. ‘If you let me have those last few tile pieces there, and some water perhaps, so we can wash it down . . .’ My last remark was intended for the kitchen slave, but he had already seized the bucket and was gone.
‘Master, what happened at the temple?’ Junio asked eagerly, as soon as the boy was out of earshot. ‘Have they discovered something new? What did they want you for in such a hurry?’ He was already collecting up the tesserae I’d asked for.
I told him, briefly – omitting my sacrilegious moment in the grove. ‘So, you can see, I have made little progress. Not like you – I see you’ve had assistance all the morning here?’
Junio nodded. ‘Lithputh gave orders that the boy was to help me until you came back – decided that someone should keep an eye on me, I think. I got the feeling that he knew what I was planning, and did it to stop me wandering about unsupervised and questioning the other slaves.’ He put the pieces he’d collected into a pile, and stood nearby to help. I looked up at him, inviting him to think about the task. ‘Red, in that corner, do you think?’ he said.
I held a tile or two above the floor to try out the effect. He had a good eye – red was exactly right. I nodded, satisfied. But I was still interested in Lithputh. ‘It wouldn’t make much difference how many slaves you saw. If Optimus or his steward had anything significant to hide, surely one servant would know as much as any other?’ I spoke from experience. ‘It’s hard to keep a secret in a household full of slaves.’
Junio shook his head. ‘Perhaps not in this household, master. Lithputh rules it with a rod of iron – quite literally a rod sometimes, I hear. Out of frustration, I suppose. It seems he’s been trying for a long time to save up and buy his freedom – but you know what Optimus is like. Phrygian stewards may be commonplace in Rome, but they’re a luxury item here – and Optimus must have set the price unreasonably high. In any case Lithputh can’t afford it. And his master fines him for all breakages and “wastage” in the house – so even that price rises all the time. It’s clear his master doesn’t want to let him go.’
‘And Lithputh takes it out on all the rest?’ I guessed.
Junio nodded. ‘Beatings for everything, from breaking plates to “standing gossiping” – and he has his spies – so naturally, if there is the slightest problem, everyone blames everybody else, and no one confides in anyone. There’s a real household atmosphere of resentment and mistrust.’
‘At least when Lithputh is about,’ I said, remembering the doorman’s manner. I put down the tiles and began to scratch the pattern in the mortar. The paving task that I had set myself was complex – an inner curve to minimise the flaw and link the new work to the old, and a final small medallion shape to draw the eye away. Curved lines are always more difficult than straight, and it must be done before the mortar dried.
‘There!’ I said at last, sitting back on my heels. ‘That will do, I think. Now we can start filling in the tiles.’ The task must have needed all my concentration because it was only now that a thought struck me. ‘All this about the household, the slave boy told you that? You seem to have gained his confidence, at least.’
‘I’m not part of the household,’ Junio grinned. ‘All he wanted was a sympathetic ear. He was only too anxious to pour out all his woes.’ He was passing me the tiles one by one, anticipating my needs.
‘Which were . . .?’ I prompted.
‘The poor boy was only purchased recently, to replace another kitchen slave that died. He is terribly ill-suited to the job. His name is Kurso. He was a child slave and playmate to a rich man’s son before, but then his master went to school and so he wasn’t needed any more. He’s had a dreadful time since he arrived. He dropped a serving dish the first hour he was here – he had not known that it would be so hot. Of course, they punished him – and that made it worse. He’s grown so terrified that he’s clumsier by the hour. The other slaves avoid him – they think he brings bad luck.’
‘Perhaps that’s why Lithputh selected him to come and help us?’
‘I expect so, master. Unfortunately, though, if there is gossip in the household, he is the one least likely to have heard it. He seems to have spent much of his time locked in a cellar, either waiting for a beating or recovering from one. Poor boy, he has no skills at anything. I’m surprised that Optimus chose to purchase him. Though Kurso was healthy, young and cheap – no doubt that appealed. But he’s not stupid, master, though they think he is. He isn’t clumsy if he isn’t scared. I showed him what to do here, and he was very quick to learn. Especially when Lithputh left us alone. I think Kurso even quite enjoyed himself.’
‘And so did you, you impudent young scamp,’ I told him. ‘I heard you giving orders like an overseer!’ That sounded sharper than I meant, and I hurried to add, ‘To some effect, at least. He seems to have been very helpful here.’
Junio’s face cleared, and he grinned. ‘Helpful in more ways than one. One can learn things even in a cellar. As I promised, master – I think I may have some real news for you—’ He stopped suddenly as the boy came back into the room, red-faced and struggling under the weight of the heavy bucket, which was filled right to the brim.
‘Ah, Kurso! The water!’ I said, getting to my feet. ‘At last!’
It was the mildest of rebukes, but the effect was startling. Kurso turned a painful shade of red, stepped backwards, and slopped half of the bucket’s contents on the floor as he set it down. ‘I’m sorry, citizen,’ he blurted, with a little sob. ‘I did not mean to be so long – and now I’ve spilt it.’
‘You’d have been quicker with a lighter bucket,’ Junio said.
‘Lithputh is back. He saw me coming to you with the pail and sent me back to fill it properly. Said I was a lazy little swine and to fetch a proper bucketful next time. I’m sorry, citizen.’ His lip was trembling.
Poor child, I thought. That bucket was almost as heavy as he was. And, of course, he dared not spill a drop. ‘Junio says you have been helpful here,’ I said, giving him what I hoped was a reassuring smile, and reaching out to take the water pail.
Kurso misunderstood. He was expecting a blow. He dodged backwards, kicked the pail and almost overset the thing again. He stood there against the wall, gazing at me, breathing fast.
Junio rescued us. ‘Well, my master has come back now, Kurso. I think you should go and be about your duties. Thank you for your help. If you have finished with that pattern, master, I’ll make a start at cleaning over here.’ He picked up the brush that Lithputh had provided and turned away, scrubbing the fresh-laid tiles as if the water had been poured out there on purpose.
Even then Kurso looked at me, too terrified to move without permission. I nodded, and he scuttled off in reverse, still bowing, as fast as his legs would take him. (People talk lightly about unfortunates who have learned, from bitter experience, how to run faster backwards than forwards. In Kurso’s case, I realised, it was true.)
I waited until I was sure the boy was gone before I said to Junio, ‘Poor child. But I think you said he may have told you something significant?’
He put down the brush at once. ‘I did, master, and it seems that you were right! About it being Hirsus in the garden here last night. Of course I can’t be absolutely sure – Kurso didn’t see the visitor, and naturally I couldn’t press him too much for details.’
‘It wasn’t Optimus’s wife, at any rate,’ I said. ‘I met her a little while ago, and she is much too short and fat. So what did Kurso say? Be quick and tell me, Junio. Lithputh will be here any minute.’
Junio resumed his scrubbing and took a deep breath. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘it’s like this . . . Kurso was chained up in a store outside one day, waiting to be whipped for something he’d done. They left him th
ere for hours. He thought at first it was done to punish him, but Optimus had come home unexpectedly, and it seems in all the rush they’d genuinely forgotten him. They’d left the door a little bit ajar – fortunately, or he might have suffocated – but no one came near him all the afternoon. But later, when it was getting dark, he heard a noise.’ He paused dramatically.
‘Hirsus?’ I said, anxious to get to the point.
Junio shook his head. ‘I can’t be sure. Kurso himself didn’t know. He only knows he heard a voice – a whispering, he said, and what sounded like the chink of coins. He thought it was his master’s voice he heard, and he was petrified. Decided that Optimus was tired of him, and was in the process of selling him back to some slave-trader. Not that Kurso was happy in the household, but things could be a whole lot worse, of course – if he got sold on to the mines, or something – the more so if they sold him in disgrace. Naturally, he wanted to know what was happening. He couldn’t hear a word of what was said, and he was chained so he couldn’t really move, but he did contrive to shuffle up a bit and got a small glimpse through the door.’
‘And what did he see?’ I said impatiently. ‘Who was with Optimus?’
‘That’s just it,’ Junio exclaimed. ‘It wasn’t Optimus at all. It was Lithputh. And he was talking to a priest. Kurso is absolutely sure of that. It was getting dark, and he was peeping through a crack, but he is absolutely adamant. He’d seen the man before, he said, over at the temple – and anyway he recognised the robes.’ He grinned. ‘Sounds like an Imperial priest to me! Any of the other priests would wear a toga, wouldn’t they, even the High Priest of Jupiter.’
‘I suppose they would!’ I worked it out aloud. ‘Impossible to tell them from any other citizen, in the dark – except perhaps for that flaminial hat?’
My slave looked doubtful. ‘Kurso didn’t say anything about a hat. I got the impression he couldn’t see the face – he would have been kneeling on the floor, remember. But definitely he mentioned “priestly robes”.’
‘Not someone from the Mithraic temple or the Osiris cult?’
Junio shook his head. ‘From the temple opposite, he said. “And in the cloak he looked so slight and slim he might have been mistaken for a woman.” Those were his very words.’
‘It does sound like Hirsus, then,’ I said. ‘No one could take Meritus or Scribonius for a girl. So, what did Kurso do?’
‘Nothing,’ Junio replied. ‘He simply held his breath and tried his hardest not to make a noise and after a while the two men went away. But here’s the thing I thought would interest you. The priest wrapped himself up in a hooded cloak, he says – just like the figure we saw yesterday – and (this is the most extraordinary thing) Lithputh himself went out to the gate, and personally let the caller out. Kurso is sure of that. Lithputh would have a key for the back gate, anyway, of course.’
I stared at him. ‘Where was the doorkeeper?’
‘Who knows? At the front door perhaps? Anyway, Lithputh went back to the house, and Kurso was left to wait again. Nobody came for him for days – by that time he was starving and shivering with cold, and he was almost glad to have his beating and get back to his work.’
‘I wonder what Lithputh and Hirsus were up to?’ I said, putting the last scraps of tile away and collecting up my tools. ‘Who was paying whom for what? And why meet secretly in the dark to do it?’
Junio thought about this for a moment. ‘Hirsus bribing Lithputh, perhaps, to let him come into the house again – like yesterday? Kurso didn’t seem to know – or care, once he knew that they weren’t selling him! He only told me any of the story because I stopped to eat some of that piece of bread and cheese we brought. He looked at it so longingly, I asked if he was ever hungry. And then it all came out – how he’d been locked up and starved for days.’
All this talk of bread and cheese reminded me that it was now long past midday and I had not eaten anything myself. The floor was almost finished now – only those last few tiles that I’d put in remained to be cleaned off, and that could not be done until they’d set, so I asked Junio to pass me the remnants of the food.
He did so, rather sheepishly – there was not a great deal left. (‘The poor boy looked so ravenous, master,’ Junio said apologetically, ‘and I thought that you’d be eating with the priests.’)
I had to wait while the mortar dried, so I ate my unexpectedly frugal meal, leaving Junio to load up our things and bring the handcart round to the front door. I didn’t offer to help him – that would teach him to give away my lunch! – and I was just finishing the last few crumbs of cheese when Lithputh came back into the room. He looked displeased to see me squatting there.
‘Thtill here, thitithen? I underthtood from your thlave that you had finished?’ He looked at the floor. ‘I thuppothe the work ith thatithfactory – it didn’t theem to take you very long. You were away for half the morning, too, the doorman tellth me. I hope you don’t ecthpect my mathter to pay you the prithe that he agreed – when he provided half the labour and you’re thimply thitting there?’
‘I agreed to do the job within a day,’ I said, blessing Gwellia’s astuteness. ‘And I’ve completed it in less. If anything, I should increase the price.’
Lithputh looked singularly unimpressed by this, and I could see that I was in for a long dispute before I saw my money. I was about to argue – my slave’s work is mine to sell – when it occurred to me that Lithputh might have an interest in seeing me paid less. As steward of the purse, he would doubtless have the opportunity to pocket some of the difference himself.
Perhaps that’s what made me confront him then and there, and say, conversationally, ‘Perhaps we could ask the temple to arbitrate between us? It was they who summoned me away, and I understand that you are friendly with one of the Imperial priests?’
I was aware of the door behind him opening, but I did not glance towards it. If Lithputh had anything to say, I was only too glad for Junio to witness it – especially if Lithputh didn’t know that he was there.
Lithputh didn’t have anything to say. He stood there silent, looking shocked.
‘Well?’ I urged him. ‘Isn’t that the case? Hirsus the priest has been here, more than once?’
It wasn’t Junio at the door, I realised. It was Kurso, and if Lithputh had not been so intent on me, he too would have heard that sharp intake of breath. But the Phrygian steward was too transfixed by my words to be aware of anything else.
‘Hirthuth!’ he exclaimed, with evident astonishment. ‘How did you come to hear of that? Did one of the houthhold tell you? Or have you been thpeaking to the prietht himthelf?’
‘I did need to hear from anyone. I have the testimony of my own two eyes. I saw him leaving yesterday, shortly after I left here myself.’ I said this thinking to reassure Kurso, but when I glanced towards the door the boy had disappeared. Lithputh was still staring at me. I went on, ‘And since I didn’t see him in the public rooms, I deduced the priest had been entertained here privately.’ It sounded a bit lame, when I said it, but the effect on Lithputh was remarkable.
‘Ah!’ he said. His manner had changed abruptly, and he almost squirmed. ‘Well then, I thuppothe you’ll have to know . . . It’th nothing of importanth, really – just a buthineth matter between Hirthuth and my mathter.’
‘What kind of business?’ I demanded. I was genuinely curious. What did a miserly ex-legionary like Optimus Honorius want with an assistant Imperial priest and one-time slave?
Lithputh flushed and looked more embarrassed than ever. ‘That I can’t tell you, thitithen. If I knew the anthwer, which I don’t, my lipth would thtill be thealed. I am a private thteward, after all.’
‘I’ll speak to Optimus about it,’ I said, and hoped it sounded like a threat. ‘When I talk to him about the fees, perhaps? I shan’t leave here until that matter is resolved.’
‘Ah, ath to that,’ Lithputh began. He sounded suddenly conciliatory, as I’d hoped he might. ‘My mathter ithn’t here at pret
hent, but ath thoon ath he comth back I’ll thend it after you. I’m thure we can—’
But what we could have done, I never learned. At that moment Junio burst into the room.
‘Master,’ he said, without waiting for permission. ‘Can I have a word?’ He glanced at Lithputh. ‘For your ears alone, citizen pavement-maker. It may concern your patron . . .’
Lithputh sniffed, and looked affronted, but he left the room.
I turned to Junio. ‘Bad news from Marcus? You look terrified!’
He shook his head. ‘Nothing to do with Marcus. I said that because I wanted to speak to you alone. Master, I think you’d better leave. The front way, too, as quickly as you can. There’s a crowd of people out there, massing at the back – quite a little group of them, all shouting and calling on the gods. The mood is getting ugly: some of them are armed with sticks and stones. I don’t know what’s provoked this, master, but something clearly has. I heard them shouting at the doorman. They know you’re in here – it’s you they’re looking for.’ He gulped. ‘It’s something to do with the problems at the temple. You’ve brought down divine wrath upon the town, they say – and only your death will satisfy the gods.’
Chapter Sixteen
An armed mob! Looking for me!
For the second time that day I felt my blood run cold. I had been alarmed by the seemingly supernatural events I’d seen, but this was a far more pressing threat. I have seen what angry crowds can do. Even the Roman authorities are afraid of riots – especially religious ones. See how they persecute the Druids. And the founder of the Christians was put to death – though the provincial governor was reluctant to do it, if the accounts are true – precisely at the demand of an angry mob like this.
Of course, I was a Roman citizen, which helped – but if the rabble got hold of me, dressed as I was in working clothes, I didn’t suppose they would stop to ask questions. Even if I survived their sticks and stones, and claimed my rights, they would probably haul me to the authorities and demand a trial on a charge of sacrilegious treason. And if that happened, not even Marcus or Pertinax could save me – all I could do was appeal to the Emperor, whose temple I had accidentally desecrated! Commodus thinks he’s Hercules and will not tolerate any slight to his divinity: men who do not show appropriate respect to an Imperial shrine often end up as fodder for the arena beasts. I could face worse vengeance than the mob’s.
The Legatus Mystery Page 14