He shrugged. ‘By that time I fear that there would be insufficient time to get the pavement done. It would be difficult to do it now, in any case. A message arrived at the curia today, nominating a candidate for the vacant ordo seat — you will remember there was a councillor who died, and we are due to vote in a replacement in a day or so — and saying that Marcus hopes to be here very soon himself.’
‘Really?’ I attempted to look unconcerned, but secretly I was a little stung by this. I had told my patron of the vacant seat myself, in the monthly bulletin about the town which I had sent to him (at his express request but at my own expense), though I’d never had an answer or acknowledgement. He was naturally concerned about the ordo seat, and any candidate he gave his blessing to was sure to be elected, so I could understand that he had written to the curia, but, I thought, he could have let me know as well.
Quintus was anxious to show how well informed he was. ‘I understand he has found a ship in Gaul and is already on his way, so there is hardly time to have a pavement laid. I shall have to content myself with giving a grand banquet at my home to welcome him, as that fool Pedronius has already announced that he will do.’ He saw my face and gave his sneering laugh. ‘You hadn’t heard that news? I had supposed you such a favourite that he’d have written to you first!’
I shook my head. ‘If there was a message at my home today — as there might well have been — it had not arrived before my son and I set off for town,’ I said. There was some truth in this. My roundhouse was not far from my patron’s country house — indeed, he had given me the land to build it on — but in his absence the villa was closed up and only a few staff remained to keep it clean and aired.
I was thinking fast by now. Perhaps it was as well that the contract would be void. If Marcus was already on a ship from Gaul, then he would be here in less than half a moon. That made it near impossible to lay the floor in time — this was no stock sample pattern that I held prepared — and failure would have cost me a considerable fine. Besides, Pedronius would want his plaque completed by then too, and there was well-known rivalry between the two officials. Perhaps Quintus was doing me a favour after all.
But he had already climbed aboard the carrying-chair and pulled the litter curtains round him as a screen. So there was little that I could do except watch it move away, the bearers loping at a rapid pace while Quintus shouted ‘Faster!’ from the interior. My only consolation was to see Hyperius, already hot and breathless, trotting after them.
Three
I was still staring after them when I heard a noise behind me, and I turned round just in time to see the candle-maker from the tallow factory next door. He had opened his street-gate a crack to watch the litter leave and was about to slam it shut again, but I was too quick for him. He was a surly fellow, but he might have seen something which would throw light on events, though if he had information I would have to pay for it. I shouted out to him, ‘Candle-maker, have you seen my slave at all? Or anybody calling at my shop this afternoon?’
He was always unneighbourly, and I would not have been surprised if he had ignored me and gone away inside. However, he simply scowled and shrugged. ‘Your slave was here an hour or two ago; I haven’t seen him since. As for customers, I have no idea. I’m far too busy with my own affairs. Why ask me anyway? It isn’t my business to look out for yours.’ He went in and slammed the door, leaving me standing in the middle of the road.
I stayed there a moment wondering what to do. Quintus intended to notify the authorities and have them move the corpse, but I wanted to speak to Lucius’s mother first, if possible. And I wanted urgently to try to find my slave. However, I still had a dead man lying on my floor and I did not feel able simply to leave the place.
I could not even reasonably use the time to work, although I had a commission to accomplish fast. I hadn’t quite finished the Apollo plaque, and it was urgent that I did, since it was more than possible that the superstitious Pedronius would decline to pay if he learned that it had been in the company of a corpse. What’s more, I would be particularly dependent on the money from this job if the contract for Quintus’s pavement was to be annulled.
If only we had taken the mosaic yesterday, when Junio and I had laid the mortar base on which it was to sit! There was only half an hour’s work, at most, to finish off the piece — all that was missing was a border at one end. It would be possible to fix the mosaic into place today — before any rumour of the murder got about and awkward questions started to be asked — if I could only get it there, but I did not have a handcart that I could move it on. Junio had borrowed ours to fetch the numerous supplies that would be wanted for tomorrow’s naming feast.
It was doubly frustrating since I knew from my abortive visit to the villa earlier that the tax-inspector was now likely to be absent several days and could not possibly have heard about the death. But although the plaque was very near complete, glued upside down on to its linen back, and I had a terracotta tray prepared that I could move it on, I could not take it anywhere without a cart — not even from the shop into the street, where at least I could argue there was no question of a curse. Besides, I could hardly go inside my shop and do what was required with Lucius’s body still on my heap of edging tiles. Neither could I leave him till the army came.
If only I had Junio at my side just now!
‘Important-looking customer you had this afternoon!’ The speaker made me jump.
I turned to see the turnip-seller I had noticed earlier. He was a regular visitor to the area; a round, rough cheerful fellow with a stubbly beard and a brownish tunic smeared with earth and clay, which, together with his wide body and oddly skinny legs, gave him a marked resemblance to the wares he sold. People called him Radixrapum — ‘turnip root’ — though never to his face: a man who regularly wielded a spade and pushed a heavy barrow round the streets for hours was likely to be fit and handy in a fight.
Radixrapum flashed his snaggled smile hopefully — I had occasionally bought a turnip from him in the past. ‘That fancy cloak and private carrying-chair! Must be someone wealthy. Hope he paid you well.’ It was clear what he was hinting: that I could spare an as or two.
I shook my head. ‘I lost my contract with him, I’m afraid. There’s been an accident.’ I was about to turn away when a thought occurred to me. ‘You usually come here earlier than this. Have you been up and down this street previously today?’
‘As a matter of fact, I came by twice before,’ he muttered with an embarrassed grin as if I’d accused him of something untoward. ‘I was hoping to find you.’
‘You haven’t seen anybody else outside my shop this afternoon?’
He thought a moment and then said doubtfully, ‘No one that I can think of, except that red-haired slave of yours. He was here the first time I came — that would have been an hour or two ago.’
‘You are quite sure of that?’
He nodded. ‘Fairly certain. Of course, I wasn’t taking any special notice at the time, and there are always lots of people moving to and fro — street-vendors and messengers and clients for the various businesses — but nobody near your workshop in particular. I would have noticed that, I think, because I was looking out for you. But you weren’t here, of course.’ He did the grin again. ‘I decided to go on into town and come back later on. And when I did come back, I saw the litter and realized there was no point in calling while your customer was here, so I went off round the corner and waited until now. I’m trying to sell these last few turnips so I can go back home.’ He gestured towards the barrow. ‘Very good for soup.’
I shook my head again. ‘I shan’t be buying turnips to take home today,’ I said. ‘There’s been a tragedy. Lucius the pie-seller — do you know the man?’