The governor, however, was more circumspect. His voice was a murmur as he said, ‘It might be so. And the document too. That disappearance worries me, though it is not clear exactly what it was. A list of transactions, perhaps, or a register for taxation. No one knows. It was merely noted that there was a sealed official scroll locked into his study chest last evening, and it is not there now. His slaves confirm it.’
‘Confirm it? Then who noticed the disappearance in the first place? And how, if the chest was locked?’
This time the governor did smile. If it were not for his general air of dignity I would almost have said that he grinned. ‘Caius Monnius’ mother went into his study this morning and discovered the money was gone. The chest was open — and empty, though the slaves swear that it was locked as usual the night before.’
‘Caius’ mother lives with her son?’ I said, more to show intelligent interest than anything. It is not unusual, if a woman is widowed, for her son to take on legal and financial responsibility for her and offer her a home.
‘More than that.’ Pertinax leaned back on his couch expansively. There was no attempt now to disguise his amusement. ‘Caius Monnius has built an entire wing for her attached to his mansion, though she did inherit quite a sizeable estate in her own right somewhere out towards the sea. No doubt Monnius hoped to get his hands on that estate, but his mother insists on running it herself — through a steward, of course. A lady of decided views and personality. She is quite a figure in the town. She is the one who sent to me with this information.’
I said nothing. You didn’t have to read the entrails to see where this was leading. An awkward political situation, falling between the province and the city. Sensitive papers missing. An hysterical woman demanding justice, and the governor not wishing to seem involved. And, of course, a foolish pavement-maker with a reputation for solving mysteries.
I was right. Pertinax regarded me benignly. ‘As to how she discovered the document was missing, you will be able to ask her yourself. I have promised her that you will look into it — I would prefer not to involve the legal officers at this stage. I am sure you will handle things discreetly. Her name is Annia Augusta, and she is at the mansion, waiting for you, now. I have made the necessary arrangements.’
He gestured towards one of the massive bodyguards, who seemed to come mysteriously to life. The man clapped his enormous hands three times. The sound rattled the statues in their niches. At once, the supercilious slave appeared at the doorway.
‘There is a litter waiting for this citizen,’ the governor said. ‘Accompany him wherever he wishes, and make sure he has everything he wants. And you may have them show in the last of my clientes.’ He rose to his feet and extended the ringed hand to me again.
I knelt and kissed it and then got to my feet and stumbled off down the steps to follow the slave. I was dismissed.
As I passed one of the huge, impassive, brown-skinned guards, I would have sworn that I saw the corner of his mouth twitch momentarily as if in sympathy, but when I looked again the face was immobile as ever.
My heart sank. It seemed like an omen. What devilry, I wondered, were the Fates hatching for me now?
Chapter Three
Londinium is an awe-inspiring city, even when viewed from the uncomfortable vantage point of a swaying litter carried by two sweating slaves. From the moment we lurched past the ornamental fountains and the crowd of curious onlookers, and out of the gates of the governor’s palace, I began to understand why this provincial capital is spoken of in awed terms by all who visit it.
I had glimpsed something of its wonders the evening before, though because of the imperial festival there had been little commerce on the streets. Even so, as we arrived in the failing light the mere expanse of tiled roofs had impressed me, and so had the vast numbers of houses, shops and colonnades. This morning, in slanting sunshine, the city was about its business again and the sheer quantity of people made me gape.
There are rumoured to be ten thousand men in Londinium, and as we turned away from the so-called Wall Brook and on to the main road across the city, I felt that all of them must be out here on the streets.
I am accustomed to crowds — Glevum is a substantial town and so is neighbouring Corinium — but I had never seen so many men together at one time in the same place, except for military processions or religious festivals. But this was an ordinary working day.
There were people everywhere: rich men in togas giving orders; lesser ones in tunics lifting bales; others, in little more than rags, attempting to sell their pitiful baskets of wild herbs and berries, or offering to hold a horse for a bronze as or two. Boys hustled by with handcarts laden with pigskins; women passed with firewood bundled on their backs. And creatures too. Dogs and donkeys loitered in doorways, caged birds whistled from a vendor’s stall, and pigs, sheep and cattle called plaintively from the butchers’ pens in the distant market, while mules and horses plodded in the gutters, laden with every cargo known to man, from olive oil to oysters, candlesticks to cloth.
‘Where does it all come from?’ I muttered, half to myself.
The supercilious slave was trotting beside my chair, obedient to the governor’s orders, and heard the remark. ‘All unloaded from the boats that come up the river,’ he informed me breathlessly.
The pace that the litter-bearers were setting meant that he had to scurry along in a rather undignified manner to keep up, to my secret amusement. His name was Superbus, he told me proudly, ‘meaning excellent’, and that caused me to smile even more. ‘Superbus’ does mean ‘excellent’, but it also means ‘supercilious’. Governor Pertinax had his own sense of humour, then, under that stern exterior.
The slave was not looking very excellent now. The pace was telling on him — he was already turning red and panting slightly, to the visible detriment of his self-esteem and the scarcely concealed amusement of the litter-bearers. (I half suspected they were doing it on purpose, so I was unreasonably pleased to notice that Junio, who was striding along on the other side of the carrying chair, appeared to be managing the brisk walk effortlessly.)
Junio caught my eye and grinned appreciatively. ‘A little bigger than Glevum, master. Look at that basilica!’
I could scarcely help looking at it. We had just turned into the street which fronted the forum, and the building which Junio was excitedly indicating would have been hard to miss. It dominated the entire neighbourhood with its lofty columns and gracious portico. The whole dignified edifice — town offices, function halls and courtrooms, flanked by temples and official market halls — was set back across a spacious public square, itself dotted with mighty statues and surrounded by a colonnade where independent vendors had set up makeshift stalls.
‘Great Mercury!’ I exclaimed, as all this came fully into view. ‘Whoever built that intended to impress!’
‘It’s said to be the biggest basilica in the Empire, outside Rome,’ Superbus informed us, as loftily as his heavy breathing would allow. Despite his scarlet cheeks he managed to sound as if the glories of the city were to his personal credit.
‘Imagine!’ I gave him a cheerful smile, hanging on to my chair with both hands as my bearers navigated a pile of turnips spread out for sale on the pavement. ‘Hard to believe that less than two hundred years ago there was nothing here but a swamp.’
Unkind, perhaps, although it was nothing less than the truth. Everyone knew that the Romans had built their elaborate city on virgin land. None of our Celtic tribes had ever bothered with the place — the lowest practical crossing of the river, certainly, but the soil for miles around was too poor to support farming. Superbus, however, saw any comment on the city as a blow to his own self-esteem, and he deflated like a punctured pig’s bladder. His face became more scarlet than ever and he said nothing further until we had arrived at our destination.