A Whispering of Spies (7 page)

I suppose that I really should not have been surprised. I knew how quickly rumours in this town could spread – I had been warning people of this very fact myself – but I stood there boggling. Not so much that news of the robbery had spread, but that anybody should have noticed me! Who could have done so, except perhaps the people that I passed through on the stairs? And why was that of interest anyway?

Florens’s servant misinterpreted the pause. ‘Don’t bother to deny it. You were seen to come and go, and I have reason to believe that you had scarcely left the flat before a slave-boy from the household was sent here after you.’

I shook my head. The question of denial had not crossed my mind. ‘I do not contest that I visited the house. Surely there is nothing noteworthy in that?’

‘Beyond the fact that you are the only person from the town to call at the new apartment and be allowed inside?’ He was already taking off his cloak, and – uninvited and with as much assurance as if he were a councillor himself – handing it to an astonished Minimus to hold. ‘Though perhaps you were expected? It is quite evident, since Voluus is not here, that your business was with the steward of the house.’

‘My business was not with anyone in particular. I called at the apartment to enquire if Voluus wanted a mosaic made – though obviously that meant that I spoke to Calvinus. My patron was good enough to send a note with me, recommending my services.’ I was uneasy now. There was something in his manner which disturbed me very much. ‘Though who might have noticed me, I cannot understand. A trademan’s movements are hardly of much concern to anyone.’

The servant almost smiled. As he moved, his scarlet tunic gave off wafts of perfumed oils. ‘Perhaps you should not be too confident about that, citizen. Several people are prepared to swear they saw you there, immediately after the robbery was known. What is more, it seems that you were welcomed in – though previous would-be visitors had all been turned away.’ He had stripped off his leather mittens – a winter luxury which was presumably a sign of household rank – and began to tap them rhythmically against his open palm. ‘You are said to be a solver of mysteries, I think, so – if you were in my place – would you not think that very interesting? And also that this steward, whom you claim you have never met before today, is none the less a person whom you can call by name?’

‘But . . .’ I protested.

A gesture cut me off. ‘And would you not be more interested still in the extraordinary fact that, immediately after a second message reached the house, this same Calvinus thought it fit to send a courier to you? If you did not know him, why should he do that? My master and some of his fellow councillors would be interested to know.’

It had taken me some moments to realize his drift, but all at once I understood what this was leading to. ‘You can’t mean that your master thinks I am involved in this?’ I was too startled even to expostulate. ‘I did not even know the cart was on its way. What’s more, I’ve never met the lictor in my life.’

‘Then why were you asking questions of everyone today – including questions about the treasure on the carts?’

I spread my hands in a gesture of despair. ‘I was attempting to find out what sort of man he was, that’s all.’ I was tempted to tell him the other part of it – that I was only doing it on Marcus’s behalf – but decided that discretion was the wiser choice.

The servant’s smile was disbelieving and disagreeable. ‘Indeed? And does enquiry about his valuable possessions tell you that? You can’t pretend, for instance, that there is any doubt about whether he could afford your services – not when he has taken an apartment on that scale! Which brings us to another suggestive circumstance. You had not, by your own admission, ever called there before. Yet there you are today – the very day on which the theft occurred.’

‘Surely it’s more likely that the cart was set upon last night and not discovered until daylight came?’ I said, then devoutly wished I’d held my tongue. I could imagine how our visitor would construe my foolish words.

I was right. He raised an eyebrow. ‘You might be a better judge of that than I!’

‘That is merely a guess that anyone might make. We know that there are active bandits in those woods. At least I assume it was in that area,’ I burbled, ‘since I understand the cart was coming from the south.’

‘Exactly so! And don’t you live in that direction, too?’ He smiled his knowing smile. ‘But then, of course, this was not just a robbery: there are several savage murders to be considered, too – all of them no doubt committed, as you rightly say, under cover of darkness and discovered after dawn. Though very few people ever travel after dusk. Amazing that you seem to know so much about it, citizen.’

‘It was merely guesswork . . .’ I was beginning to protest.

‘Naturally! But suggestive, don’t you think? Especially in the light of all the other things I’ve pointed out. Of course this may all be mere coincidence but Florens and some of the other councillors would like to talk to you and have you explain it, if you are able to.’

I glanced at my son and servant who were standing by, as appalled as I was by this development. I murmured, ‘They want to see me now? But I have work to finish here and I am due to report to my patron in just an hour or two . . .’ I trailed off in dismay.

In my attempts to justify myself I was in danger of implicating Marcus Septimus as well. Indeed, as I realized with a sinking of the heart, this was possibly the purpose of this whole interview. Marcus, like any wealthy magistrate, has powerful enemies who would be delighted to see him humbled and brought before the courts: it had actually happened once before.

Perhaps I had unwittingly given a new pretext. As it was, I had already admitted that I was carrying a letter from my patron when I called at the flat. That clearly suggested that I was there on his behalf, and it was difficult to see how that could be disproved, because it was the truth. So if I were accused of involvement in the crime, he would seem guilty of complicity at least. I sincerely wished that I hadn’t mentioned him.

But it was far too late to keep him out of this. The servant smiled. ‘Of course, we know you are the protégé of Marcus Septimus,’ he said. ‘And we are aware that His Excellence is an important man. That is why my master has sent me here to ask you politely if you’ll accompany me. At once, if possible. He is waiting for us at the curia. However, if you are reluctant to comply with this request, I could go back and summon the town guard and have you formally arrested – as we would have done with anybody else who could not claim such exalted patronage.’

Junio stepped forward to speak in my defence. ‘Now look here, serving-man, I don’t know who you are . . .’

I raised my hand to silence him. It is never wise to make unnecessary enemies – especially the servants of a magistrate. ‘It is all right, Junio. This man is merely doing what he was sent to do. Of course I will go with him. There must be some mistake. My patron knows what I was doing at the lictor’s house and no doubt he will speak up in my defence. The sooner I get this sorted out, the sooner we get home.’

Junio looked doubtful. ‘Well, Father, if you’re certain I will say no more. Though if you wish I will go with you to the curia.’

Florens’s servant gave him a disdainful look. ‘You’re lucky that you’ve not been asked to come in any case. We know of your close association with this pavement-maker here, and therefore it is likely that you are involved in this yourself, though at present no one is accusing you. But there are many ways of finding out the truth – as you may discover, to your cost.’

It was my turn to leap to Junio’s defence. ‘Are you presuming to make veiled threats against my son? Be careful what you say. He is a citizen.’

A shrug of the shoulders, but my words had hit their mark. A sudden alarm had flashed up in the eyes and his manner was less haughty and hostile as he said hastily, ‘I am not threatening anyone at all! Especially not a citizen; I know the law. I thought he was merely a manumitted slave. But I should not care to be in your sandals when the lictor gets here, either of you, I can tell you that.’

‘Then, Father, I must certainly come with you to the curia,’ Junio said. ‘Minimus can shut up the shop and douse the fire and then come and meet us in the forum later on.’

Our visitor looked icily at him. ‘And what about my master’s pavement? I believe you said that there was work remaining to be done? Or would you rather he invoked the penalty?’

Junio looked at me, exasperation written in every lineament. ‘What do you think, Father?’

There was only one thing I could possibly reply. ‘There is not a great deal remaining to be done, but – since we are certainly not in receipt of stolen gold – we can’t afford to risk the fine. You stay and finish that with Minimus, and then the pair of you can come and find me later on. You know where I shall be. In the meantime, I will do as I am asked and go and speak to Florens, though there is obviously nothing I can tell him which he does not know. Minimus, hand me down my cloak and give this servant his.’

Minimus is a timid person as a rule but I was amused to note that he took enormous care to wrap me in my cape and fuss around me making sure that I was dry – or as dry as possible in the circumstances – while he handed our visitor his wet wrap without a word and made no attempt at all to help him on with it.

‘Very well,’ I said, once the man had struggled into it. ‘Let us go and see these councillors. You can lead the way.’ And I followed him briskly out on to the street.

T
he rain was easing slightly by this time and people were beginning to come out on to the streets again. But my uniformed attendant, striding purposefully gate-ward in his splendid crimson cloak, looked sufficiently important for people to make way to let him pass, though their attitude was apt to change to a resentful one when they caught sight of me. Although escorted by this impressive slave, I was still in my tunic and damp workman’s cape.

One old man in particular, who had struggled to one side, despite the heavy load of wood that he was carrying on his back, put down his burden and turned round to glare at me. ‘And to think that I gave deference to him! Only a tradesman!’ he muttered to the ancient woman at his side – deliberately just loud enough to make sure I could hear.

But his companion – who was probably his wife, since she was stooped under a load of kindling of her own – shook her head and whispered something in his ear. He looked alarmed and moved as far away as possible from me. Instead of glaring he gazed pointedly away, spat, then licked his finger and rubbed it on the skin behind his ear – the age-old ritual to ward off ill-luck.

Florens’s servant noticed and gave a little smirk, while I felt myself turn redder than his cloak. It was obvious what the crone and her husband were so anxious to avoid. Dressed as I was, I did not look remotely like a Roman citizen, so it must have looked suspiciously as though I were being hustled into Glevum under loose arrest – no doubt to be accused of some unpleasant crime, and very likely thrown into the jail, there to await some painful punishment. The wood-sellers were afraid that my fate might somehow pass to them, and that my breath and shadow were contagious, like the plague.

Their comic superstition almost made me smile, but then I thought again. Perhaps their interpretation of my plight was nearer to the truth than I supposed. For some reason which I couldn’t understand, I seemed to be suspected of collusion in this crime. But why? Was it simply because I had chanced to call on Calvinus today? That was unfortunate timing on my part, perhaps, but hardly more than that.

I couldn’t possibly have known about the robbery until I reached the flat, I told myself, mentally marshalling arguments in my own defence. The message had only reached Calvinus a few minutes earlier, and there was no opportunity for the news to get to me.

That made me pause. Who could have known, in fact? I could see how Florens might have learned the news. He was at the garrison, by all accounts, and Calvinus had sent there for assistance as soon as he heard about the crime. But, if Florens was at the army headquarters at that time, how did he find out that I had visited the lictor’s flat? There was no time for him to have set a watch on it.

Could it have been simple gossip which reached him afterwards – for example, from those gamblers on the stairs? I shook my head. Between the garrison and the curia, there was little opportunity for idle talk to reach his ears and no one would have made a point of going to find him to report the news. Unless . . . I felt myself turn cold. An awful thought had just occurred to me.

Suppose that Voluus had posted spies himself, to watch the place and guard his property while he was away? Such things were not unknown, especially if the resident house-slaves were not trusted very much. So had there been somebody watching the apartment all the time? Or, more unnerving still, was someone watching me? But why should they do that? Because I had been asking questions about the lictor and his treasure-carts, perhaps? I had, of course – and Florens knew it, from what his servant said.

Dear gods! In the light of subsequent events, that must seem peculiarly suspicious now. What is more, my reasons for those enquiries, though genuine enough, would sound woefully feeble and unlikely, I could see. What an unfortunate series of events! I would have to call on my patron to speak for me, after all! I only hoped that he already had business in the town today; if they had to send and fetch him from the villa to speak on my behalf, he would be imperially annoyed.

‘Citizen? Are you planning to stay where you are all day? Remember they are waiting at the curia!’ My escort’s voice came sharply from somewhere ahead of me. I realized that I had been so lost in thought that I had paused, stock-still, and he was waiting in a doorway further down the street.

I paddled after him, my sandals squelching damply in the mud, and we walked on in silence to the northern gate. The sentry on duty watched us pass, openly astonished at this incongruous pair, and I felt his amused eyes upon us as we hurried through the archway and on into the town.