So, I thought, Fulvia Honoria had subtle ways of gaining her revenge. I could just imagine Annia Augusta’s rage at being banished to her lonely annexe, with only whining Lydia for company, while her daughter-in-law attended the banquet among the wine, warmth and laughter, singing — and no doubt dancing — in a beguiling manner for her husband and his guests. I pictured Annia’s outraged face and could not resist a smile.
Fulvia misinterpreted my amusement, and came round the bed to face me. ‘Citizen, you must not think too harshly of my husband. My servant Prisca has a savage tongue, and she saw only the worst side of him. Monnius had many qualities.’ She was standing close to me now, looking earnestly up into my face. ‘He could be generous, when he was sober; he was shrewd and he was rich. I wanted for nothing, and although he could be bestial in bed he made few other demands on me — apart from being decorative, and singing and dancing for his friends at intervals. It was a small price to pay. He allowed me to visit friends, go the theatre and the public baths, and attend the chariot races too. How many other wives can say the same?’
She smelled of lavender and roses. I tried to ignore it, and concentrate on what she was saying. There was truth in that too. Many wealthy Roman matrons lead a pitiful life, at least to my Celtic eyes — largely shut away from friends and family, and subject to the whim of their husbands, who are also their legal guardians. Of course, within the household it may be different, and situations like this one, where women hold much power behind the scenes, cannot be as uncommon as they seem to outsiders. If I could find my Gwellia, I thought, I would allow my wife to do anything she desired, only to have her by my side again. Except, perhaps, to share her bed with chariot-drivers.
Thinking of Gwellia seemed to break the spell. I took a step backwards. ‘I must not delay you longer, lady,’ I said. ‘The anointers will be finished with the body by this time.’
She extended one hand to me. ‘Then farewell for the moment, citizen,’ she said softly. ‘Send Prisca to me as you go. I need her help to prepare myself for the lament.’
I bowed briefly over her fingers, and then took my leave. Prisca was waiting outside the room, and as I emerged she flashed me an outraged look. ‘Your slaves are waiting for you in the librarium, citizen,’ she said shortly, indicating the last room off the lobby with a wave of her hand. ‘I sent them in there. They were getting in the way of the undertakers, and people coming in and out of my master’s room.’ Without waiting for a word from me she scuttled back to her mistress and closed the door.
The door of the study was half ajar, and Junio and Superbus were waiting for me. I glanced around the room. It was not unlike the cubiculum I had just left, except that it was smaller and there was no entry to the garden, only a small translucent window on the outer wall made of thin sheets of horn. It was sparsely furnished with a large writing table and a pair of stools, and a few shelves laden with all the paraphernalia of record-keeping: wax tablets, vellum scrolls, folded bark letter-forms and iron-nibbed sticks for writing, jars of soot, oil and octopus ink mixture; and a huge brass-bound chest, upon which Junio was perching.
He jumped up as soon as I approached. ‘Ah, master, there you are at last. I have told Superbus that you wish him to go into the city and find Eppaticus. He is waiting for your orders.’
I guessed from Junio’s tone that Superbus had not welcomed the news. He was looking more disdainful than ever, and without Junio I might have hesitated to send him on my errand after all. However, as Triumvir Pompey once famously said, the die was now cast. ‘Splendid,’ I said with a heartiness I did not feel. ‘I’d like you to find out where Eppaticus lives, at least.’
Superbus gave me a stare as though I had invited him personally to deliver those chamber pots to the weavers. ‘Citizen,’ he said, with a slight bow, ‘if those are your orders, I will do my best. Though I am not at all clear as to how I should proceed. Londinium is a very large city, and I do not know the man. I have few dealings with Celts.’
If I had been hesitating, the tone in which he pronounced the last word resolved my doubts. ‘Oh, just go out and ask a few questions in the street, Superbus. This man was a giant with an unusual hairstyle, and he galloped away from here at high speed on a horse. Someone must have noticed him. You could begin by asking the two slaves who gave chase, for instance. They must have seen at least the direction he took.’
He seemed to think about that for a moment, and then he said ponderously, ‘And perhaps I should speak to the doorkeeper too, citizen?’
‘Good idea, Superbus,’ I said cheerfully. ‘Of course, he wasn’t at his post when Eppaticus left — the Celt had dragged him in here, and thrown him on the floor, very much where you are standing now — but no doubt the doorkeeper did notice where the visitor came from. If Eppaticus came and went in the same direction, that would give you a good indication of where to start asking.’ I nodded at him encouragingly. ‘Very good, Superbus. You are getting the idea of this already.’
The slave, who had turned very pale at the mention of physical violence, swallowed and said, ‘As you wish, master,’ in a much more humble tone.
Behind his back Junio, who had been enjoying the exchange immensely, gave me a gleeful wink. I almost regretted my sarcastic tone, and I softened it with an attempt at flattery. ‘With your knowledge of the town, Superbus, you will have a much better idea than I would of where to look for him — where the corn markets are, and the Celtic quarter, for example.’
Superbus was still looking white-faced at the prospect of an encounter with the Trinovantine giant. ‘And if I find this man, citizen, what am I to do with him?’
‘Nothing,’ I said. ‘Simply find out what you can, and report back to me here. Or at the governor’s palace, if I have left this house before you return.’
Superbus looked extremely relieved. ‘At your service, citizen!’ he said, and left hurriedly before I could change my mind.
I turned to Junio, who was still grinning like a fish. ‘Well then, young man,’ I said, clapping him on the shoulder, ‘we have work to do. I want to talk to the other inhabitants of the house. But first you can tell me what news you have collected. I presume that you have been listening to the servant gossip as usual?’
Junio’s grin broadened. ‘You were the one who taught me to ask questions, master. It has become a habit with me.’
‘I’m glad to hear it,’ I said. ‘So, sit down quickly, and tell me what you’ve learned.’ It was not perhaps the most courteous of actions: I should have returned to the public rooms, but I was not anxious to meet Annia Augusta again before I knew what Junio had gleaned.
He perched on the chest again, and made a small grimace. ‘Not a great deal, really. Except I do not believe the servants can be in it. Caius Monnius was terrified of plots and every other slave in the place was his paid informer, as far as I can see. No one could have managed this without someone seeing him and giving him away, for fear for their own skin. Caius Monnius would have insisted on the letter of the law and had the whole household of slaves executed for a plot against him. Even now they were falling over their tunics to tell me things, but they seemed to have no real information to give.’
‘So they would have told Monnius if there’d been a slave plot against him. But would any of them have told him about his wife and Fortunatus?’
‘I am not so certain about that, master. That would not be an executing matter, and the slaves all seem utterly loyal to Fulvia. She is a just mistress, they say, and although she can punish faults mercilessly, she is always fair. Things have improved since she arrived, they say. And they should know. Most of them have been owned by Caius Monnius for years: all of them, in fact, except Fulvia’s nurse and pageboys — even Annia Augusta was not permitted to bring her own women with her when she came.’