Dark Omens (4 page)

Junio held up the candle to illuminate the rack while I pulled out my favourites, but he shook his head. ‘Remember, we’re being paid a fixed amount for this, and we’ll have to make another version to replace the one we use. If there is nothing to be learned by lingering at the house, it’s obviously sensible to choose the simplest piece – something that will be quick and easy to repeat.’

He was right of course and it did not take us long to settle on an appropriate design: a pattern of triangles around a central square, in which was depicted an inoffensive flower.

‘There we are!’ I said triumphantly. ‘Put a border round this and you could lay it anywhere. Starting tomorrow, if this weather clears a bit and it still isn’t possible for us to get back home. Though it will be quite a tramp to Ulpius’s house – or Silvia’s house, as I suppose that I should call it now. If I recall correctly, it’s over by the river on the other side of town.’

Junio looked doubtful. ‘I expect the streets are clearer once you’re inside the wall.’

I nodded thoughtfully. Genialis was right about the army sending out fatigues: they would try to keep the military routes available, at least to horsemen, and so allow free passage to the imperial post. And that included the road through Glevum to the garrison. So if we could struggle to the northern gate we should get through town all right – even if the country tracks were still impassable.

‘We wouldn’t need the hand-cart to start with, anyway,’ I said. ‘We don’t want the pattern-piece until we’ve got the site prepared and measured up. So we’ll try tomorrow, if the snow has eased,’ I said. ‘Now let’s get back and sit beside the fire. The boys have already heated up the mead.’

The warm drink was welcome though we saved the food until we estimated it was supper time. By then we were so hungry that even Junio, who had been raised in Roman ways, was content to have me offer only a token sacrifice – the merest crumb or two – to appease the household gods. Then we huddled near the fire and did our best to sleep.

The morning found me stiff and chilled but I must have slept, because I woke dreaming of Ulpius floating in the tide, covered with seaweed and the hides of goats. I could almost smell the smoke that had been used to cure the skin. When my eyelids opened and I looked around it was to find Minimus already kneeling by the fire, adding fresh firewood from the pile and using the leather bellows to improve the blaze. Of my other two companions there was no sign at all.

I grimaced as I eased my aching bones. ‘I see you managed to keep the fire alight?’

‘Maximus and I have taken it in turns to tend it overnight,’ he told me with some pride. ‘He’s gone out now with the young master to see if there are any street-vendors about, although it is still snowing … Ah, but here they are!’

He broke off as the front door opened and the other two returned, shaking the snowflakes off their capes and stamping cold slush from their rag-wrapped feet.

Junio put a package on the bench and shook a rattling water-pail at me. ‘Only stale cakes this morning, I am afraid, and we found an urchin selling clean ice that we can melt to drink. The pumps are frozen and there’s no water to be had. But the town gates are open and pedestrians are able to get through. Word is that the authorities are going to open the emergency grain-store in the town, so there might be someone selling fresh bread later on. In the meantime, this is all we have.’

Even stale cakes are welcome to a hungry man – better still when they are toasted at the fire – and our little party scoffed them with a will, though it did occur to me to wonder what we were going to do if this freeze continued. Food would get expensive and credit hard to find – and I had only a small sum in my purse. I said as much to Junio.

‘Fortunately, we have a contract for a profitable job – and witnesses to prove it – so if we really need to we can venture out and borrow something from the money-lenders in the forum,’ he replied.

I countered his enthusiasm with reality. ‘I suppose that’s possible – but the interest they charge is quite extortionate – sometimes as much as twenty-four per cent.’

He made a grimace. ‘Better make sure we get that pavement finished, then. Otherwise we won’t earn anything at all – and still have the wretched loan to pay. But it may come to borrowing. There’s obviously no prospect of getting home for days.’

That was self-evidently true. ‘As soon as we have eaten, we’ll try to get to Silvia’s house and make a start,’ I agreed. ‘We’ll take you, Maximus. We’d better leave Minimus to keep the fire alight.’ I turned to the slave in question, who was looking rather glum. ‘I’ll leave you a
sestericius
from my purse, so you can watch out for street-vendors while we’re gone, and we will do the same in town. There might be some cheese on offer, I suppose, though I doubt that there’ll be fresh milk or vegetables today. No one will be able to come in from the farms.’

So we left him to it, leaving our bedraggled togas to dry off before the fire – all three of us wrapped up like swaddled babes against the snow. Progress was difficult and slow and treacherous, but Junio was right, it was a little easier once we were through the gates. A few brave shops were open, with half their shutters down, and some tradesmen had even tried to clear the space outside their doors, but most establishments were firmly shut and barred. The unswept pavements were piled knee-high with snow and we saw several gangs of soldiers as we passed, continually shovelling yet more from the roads – which were very slippery, but had become the only place to walk.

We battled on until we reached the riverside. The troops had been especially busy here so it was relatively easy to approach the house – a fine one in a little court that opened to the street – but we had to thunder on the door for quite a time before we could persuade the slave to open it. When he came, he was a surly-looking man, with a mop of curly hair, clutching a heavy cudgel in one hand and in other holding a grubby blanket round him like a cloak.

He glared at us suspiciously. ‘And who in Dis are you?’

I explained our errand. ‘Genialis told you to expect us, I believe! And we must make a start. I have contracted to complete it in nine days or less.’

‘Oh, I see – the pavement! I wasn’t expecting anyone today!’ But reluctantly, he did allow us in to eye up the passageway – though he kept a careful watch on us throughout, from his little guard-cell by the door where he had a tiny brazier and a bed.

Preparing the site would not be difficult. We had done a good job with the ship mosaic – although I say so myself – and it was flat enough for us to use it as a base without disturbing it. All that it required was wet mortar spread on top so that the new pattern-piece could be lowered on to it and plastered into place. A row or two of border would complete the job. I left Junio and Maximus to measure up with string, so that we could judge the quantities required, while I accosted the suspicious doorman in his cell.

I was going to need him as an ally – and not only if I hoped to find out what he knew about the fate of the former master of the house. In this weather I could not be sure that Genialis would return from Dorn in time to verify that the contract had been fulfilled on the date specified – and the would-be aedile was just the sort of man to try to wriggle out of paying me, on some such legal technicality. I might need the doorman as a witness by and by. He was clearly not a friendly sort of chap – men in that position rarely are – but I thought I knew a way to win him round.

‘You’ll have to keep an extra brazier in this entrance overnight,’ I said, knowing – as he did – that he would benefit, but careful to phrase this as a professional demand. ‘We’ll never get the mortar to harden otherwise. Do you have a larger brazier in the house?’

He pretended to consider this. ‘There is one in the kitchen building you might use, I think – though I am not supposed to go out there myself. My master left me bread and cheese and apples when he went, and money to buy something from the street vendors as well – though I haven’t seen one since the snow began. The house is usually heated by a hypercaust, but I don’t have the slaves to keep the furnace lit and he told me not to hire any until the day of his return. But if you need a brazier, that’s another thing.’

I nodded. ‘I’ll take full responsibility. Besides, in this weather who knows when he’ll return? You can’t be sure he even got to Dorn. There was talk that he would lodge with Bernadus midway. He could return at any moment.’

‘Or not return for weeks.’ He gave me a mirthless grin. ‘You’d better hope he does. Or – I know my master – he will try to find a way of claiming that your contract was annulled, because you couldn’t prove you’d done the work in time. He’s very short of money for his election schemes.’

Exactly what I’d thought myself! I gave him a cheerful smile. ‘But you could witness that I’d finished it.’

He looked at me blankly. ‘More than my life’s worth, citizen, to testify against my master’s interests. Besides, who takes any notice of a slave? Much better you find a citizen to speak for you – didn’t you have witnesses when you agreed the work? He generally insists on things like that.’

‘Indeed we did.’ I frowned. ‘He brought them with him. Alfredus and Bernadus. I know them both by sight. They are councillors, of course, so they must have accommodation in the town – but I don’t know where they live and the curia won’t be sitting in this weather, I’m sure. How could I be sure of finding them before the Ides?’

‘You could go to the Festival of Janus, citizen, the Agonalia – in eight days’ time. That is if you’ve done the work by then. They’re certain to be there.’

That was a sensible suggestion. I should have thought of it myself. The Festival is always a very big affair, with a senior priest to make the sacrifice. This year the celebrant was particularly grand – a Flamen of Juno, all the way from Rome. I knew that, because he was due to stay with my patron overnight. ‘A good idea,’ I told the doorkeeper. ‘Anyone who is anyone is likely to be there. No doubt Genialis will want to get there if he can – though who knows if the roads will be passable by then.’

The doorkeeper permitted himself a wry grin. ‘We had better hope so, pavement-maker! He’ll be furious if he can’t attend the ritual after all. He was boasting that he’d be there with all the councillors, making sure that he was seen by the electorate. He even offered to provide the sacrificial ram – hoping to make a public show of that – but some citizen from the outskirts had already promised one, and could not be persuaded to withdraw. My master had to be content with offering barley cakes and wine. He wasn’t very pleased – he told me that everyone influential would be there. So wait outside the temple, you should find your councillors.’

‘I’ll do more than that,’ I chuckled. ‘I’ll attend the feast myself.’ I saw his startled look. ‘Oh don’t worry, I’m entitled – I’m a Roman citizen and I can wear a toga with the best of them. Then, even if your master isn’t back himself, it would be courteous to invite the witnesses back here to see the pavement in its finished state.’

‘And Genialis could not deny the contract then.’ The doorkeeper gave me a conspiratorial wink. ‘Just don’t let him know that I suggested it! He’d have me flogged within an inch of death for costing him the fee. He’s manic about money.’ He dropped his voice. ‘I pity that poor lady – and there’s the truth of it. In fact … I shouldn’t say this, citizen, but I have sometimes wondered if the death of Ulpius …’ He broke off as my son and slave appeared at the entrance to his guard-cell.

I waved them off and turned to him again. ‘What did you wonder about Ulpius’s death?’

But he had already thought better of his unguarded words. He shook his head. ‘Nothing, citizen.’

‘That it was convenient for your master, possibly?’ I tried to win his confidence again. It was frustrating to have come so close to what was clearly his suspicion of the truth.

However, he was not to be cajoled. He looked at me coldly. ‘Of course not, citizen. I would not dare to speak about my owner in that way. I merely wondered if the death was quick and merciful. Now, if you have finished, shall I show you out? I’ll attend to the brazier before you come again.’

And that was all that he could be prevailed upon to say, either that day or the five days following as Junio and I – after struggling with the hand-cart through the icy streets – laid the new pavement in the entrance hall.

W
e made a good job of the pavement, and with a day to spare. The fact that the base was waterproof helped, making it possible to simply put a mortar-bed on top and lower the backing-layer on to it, instead of installing the mosaic upside down and soaking off the linen as we’d have had to do outdoors.

There was nothing to be got out of the doorkeeper again, but at least the extra brazier made the entrance hall a pleasant place to work, and the mortar set more quickly that I’d dared to hope. So by the sixth day there was little left to do, except clean up the surface and collect our tools – though it seemed more and more certain that we’d need our witnesses, for Genialis was unlikely to be back in time himself.

The snow had stopped by now, but it was freezing hard instead, and even the main roads were still closed to carriages and very hazardous for pedestrians. The country tracks were blocked entirely, which meant that my son and I were stranded in the town – and there still was no way I could think of to get word to our wives. It would be inhuman to send a slave the long way round on foot – and we could find no mounted messenger who would agree to go.

So I was startled, after our last day working at the house, when we were struggling through Glevum with a handcart full of tools, to chance upon a neighbour in the market place – a free-born Celt called Cantalarius, whose roundhouse-property lay not far from my own. Like myself he was a Roman citizen – in his case by right, because he was born within the walls of the colonia – but the rank had not brought him any special privilege; he still struggled for a living on his muddy fields.

He was an ugly fellow with a twisted arm, and famed for grumbling, but I was fascinated to discover how he had got to town. I left Junio and the slave to watch the hand-cart and slithered over to the pavement on the far side of the street, where he’d set up a makeshift stall – and found that he was selling cabbages and turnip-tops from the panniers of a pair of mules.