In no time at all we were back at the palace. We swept in through the gates, and the crowds of people who had business with the governor and were jostling in the courtyards stood back to let us pass. There were dozens of them, of every age and class, dressed in everything from tunics to togas. I realised for the first time what an immense administrative burden Pertinax must bear, in addition to his military duties — no wonder he had a household of scribes and secretaries at his disposal, as well as guards and sentries, though of course even the clerks were officers seconded from the army.
The governor was in council when we arrived, so a long-nosed secretary told us as we were ushered into the palace. Nevertheless, the man condescended to carry a message when he discovered who I was. He provided a wax tablet, on which I scratched a few words, and bore it off importantly, leaving me standing in the colonnaded entrance. I felt rather foolish and conspicuous, especially as other appellants (some of them important people, judging by the wide patrician stripes on their togas) were being turned away or briskly told to come back tomorrow when the governor would receive them. People were gazing at me curiously, and whispering behind their hands.
After what seemed an eternity the long-nosed clerk returned, his manner now entirely respectful. ‘The governor’s apologies,’ he murmured abjectly, ‘but he was unable to leave the meeting. However, your requests are being dealt with, and a carriage-driver is being found to take you to Verulamium without delay. His Excellence has given you this’ — he handed me a letter-scroll of bark, sealed with the governor’s personal seal — ‘which will ensure you lodging at any military post. He is sending you a small purse to defray expenses, and if you like to go to the triclinium he has ordered a light repast for you before you undertake the journey. There is a meal awaiting your slave, too, in the servants’ quarters.’
I blessed Pertinax for his swift and generous response, and went to partake of the ‘light repast’ as suggested, a good, simple meal of cold meat and fruits. I was in the process of washing it down with a large jug of cool, clean water when the serving boy sidled up to me and murmured apologetically in my ear.
‘I am sorry to disturb you, citizen, but there is someone wishing to see you. Urgently, he says, before you leave.’
I glanced towards the doorway indicated. Superbus stood there, although there was no longer anything superb about him. He looked shocked and ruffled, his immaculate tunic crumpled and torn at the neck, and as he came towards me in answer to my signal I saw that he was hobbling a little. One of his smart sandals was broken, although he still approached with as much formality as he could muster. It gave him a kind of touching dignity.
‘Superbus,’ I said in greeting. ‘What has happened to you?’
He bowed gravely. ‘I was attempting to fulfil your orders, citizen, when I had an altercation in the market.’
‘I am sorry to hear that,’ I said. ‘What happened?’
Superbus heaved a reproachful sigh. ‘I had been asking questions, citizen, as you directed, trying to find out about Eppaticus — though contrary to your expectations, no one seemed to know anything, at least not anything that they were willing to tell me. The moment I so much as mentioned his name, everyone suddenly became secretive. No one would admit to having dealings with him. He trades in this and that, was all I could discover. Wine two months ago, slaves last month, anything — it differs from month to month.’
That in itself was interesting. I had already suspected that some of Eppaticus’ activities were on the outskirts of the law. If his customers were less than helpful, it was almost certainly because they were afraid of the aediles, the market police — or of what Eppaticus himself would do to them if they betrayed him to the authorities.
But Superbus had not become dishevelled simply by questioning people who were too frightened to talk. ‘And then?’ I prompted.
‘And then,’ he said, in an affronted tone, ‘when I was just about to give up and come away, a big fat Celt in plaid trousers and a tunic came up behind me in an alley. Grabbed me by the shoulder, pushed me against the wall, and wanted to know why one of the governor’s slaves was hanging around asking questions about Eppaticus.’ He looked at me resignedly. ‘I imagine that he recognised my tunic borders. The palace servants are well known in the market.’
I nodded, rather guiltily. I had guessed something of the kind. ‘And what did you tell him?’
A strange expression crossed Superbus’ face, a mixture of self-congratulation and defensiveness. ‘I told him I was interested in buying one of the slaves.’
‘Well done, Superbus!’ I said, with more surprise than was altogether tactful. It was a more quick-witted strategy than I’d expected from him. It was entirely plausible for one thing — senior slaves in important households sometimes did have slaves of their own. It was more for status than anything, and in that case buying from someone like Eppaticus — selling old and worn-out slaves at a knock-down price — might well look like a better proposition than paying full price at the slave auction. ‘What did the man say?’
Superbus looked uncomfortable. ‘He wanted to know how much I was willing to pay. I didn’t want to offer a price, but he insisted, and in the end I suggested a figure. A very low one, of course.’
I winced. Under Roman law agreeing a price is tantamount to fixing a bargain, and Superbus seemed to have bought himself a slave, sight unseen. I could only imagine what kind of broken-down, or even diseased, individual he would find himself in possession of, and how he would provide for such a creature here in the palace. Most slave-owning slaves are very senior in the household hierarchy.
‘So you have acquired a slave?’
He swallowed. ‘Not yet, citizen. That is what enraged the Celtic gentleman. I didn’t have the money with me.’
‘Even though he picked you up by your tunic and shook you till your teeth rattled?’ I suggested.
Superbus nodded.
‘Then you have had a lucky escape,’ I said. ‘Now he will have to provide the goods in order to demand the money, and you will be able to escape from the bargain.’ I grinned. ‘Unless of course you want to buy a slave.’
I meant it as a jest but Superbus coloured, and I realised that his quick response had not been due entirely to cunning.
‘In any case,’ I went on, ‘you wouldn’t want one of those Eppaticus was selling. They were last month’s commodity, you said, so by this time he’ll only have the leftovers that no one else wanted to buy.’ Superbus looked so chastened at this observation that I hurried to change the subject. ‘Did you discover, by the way, whether he ever dealt in grain?’
Superbus’ face fell still further. ‘I am sorry, citizen. It did not occur to me to ask.’
I smiled. ‘Perhaps that is just as well. If Eppaticus is edgy about questions, as it seems that he is, asking about the grain trade might have been distinctly dangerous.’
‘You think my assailant was Eppaticus, citizen?’
‘I don’t think so, from your description,’ I said. ‘The most striking thing about Eppaticus is his height. And he did not wear trousers. More likely one of his attendants. But not a man to trifle with, all the same. Fortunately he won’t come looking for you here — the palace guard would soon see him off. Just make sure you keep away from the market for a while — in fact, it might be better if you did not leave the palace at all. A pity. I had hoped to send you to find the jeweller who made this necklace for Annia Augusta.’ I took out the bloodstained article from my pouch, still wrapped in its piece of protective linen. ‘Never mind, I will send it to Pertinax and ask him to despatch someone else to make enquiries.’
Superbus nodded, and withdrew, still hobbling. I finished my meal, and entrusted the necklace to the table-slave, who promised to deliver it to the governor with my request. When I joined Junio on the steps of the palace, he had already collected my few possessions for the journey.