I nodded. Of course, Alfredus Allius, the new owner of the export business was a curial councillor, and quite a senior one — no doubt he’d been summoned to the garrison. I hadn’t noticed him when I looked through the arch, but Alfredus was not a man to stand out in a crowd.
Vesperion misinterpreted the nod. ‘In the end I told the patrician that, since I obviously couldn’t help, he would simply have to call again another day to see my master — which displeased him very much. And then I saw you and excused myself. Frankly, I was glad to get away. I was clearly about to get a diatribe against impertinence — I don’t think he’s the kind of man who likes delays, or inconvenient truths. But I’m fairly sure he wouldn’t come in here to find me after that.’
‘This caller must be someone different,’ I agreed. No patrician that I ever met would deliberately seek to be humiliated twice.
‘One of our usual customers looking for some olive oil, I expect, if the news is round Glevum that there’s a shipment in. Well, we shall soon find out.’ He was about to lead the way towards the office area when he realised that I was hanging back. I hadn’t wanted to ask my questions with strangers listening in and run the risk of starting rumours in the town.
Vesperion seemed to guess my feelings. He glanced at me uncertainly, and paused. ‘You are looking doubtful, citizen. Perhaps the information that you want is something that you wouldn’t wish to share with anyone?’
‘I think I’d rather ask you privately,’ I owned. ‘Is there a quiet corner where we could talk out here?’ Not only was it likely to be more discreet, I thought, but perhaps I could be excused the time-consuming formalities and wine which politeness would otherwise require.
Vesperion looked flattered by the prospect of intrigue. ‘Follow me.’
He led the way into the right-hand corner of the store, where there was an empty storage compartment, screened from the rest of the warehouse by a pile of fleeces higher than my head. He patted an empty box invitingly. ‘Sit down here a moment, citizen, and tell me what it is you want to know. We won’t be overheard — even if that wretched slave comes out again.’ He gave me a sly grin and squatted on the stone floor at my feet. ‘If it’s about the market price of anything, I’m sure my master wouldn’t mind me telling you.’
He thought that I was hoping to make a profit on some deal! ‘Nothing of that kind.’ I returned his smile. ‘All I want are the names and destinations of any sea-going craft that left the harbour in the last few days. I assume that you would know. And — if possible — whether any of them had unusual private loads aboard — tables, statues, gold and silver ornaments, fine furniture, and personal effects?’
He gave me a sharp suspicious look. ‘What makes you ask? Are you in the market to buy or sell these things?’
I leaned back on my makeshift stool and found my back in contact with the soft wool of a fleece. ‘The truth is, steward, this is delicate. I’m trying to trace something which has disappeared since His Excellence, Marcus Septimus, has been away.’
This was a massive understatement, of course. I was trying to trace a whole houseful of goods, though I was not going to tell Vesperion that — the fewer people who knew what I was looking for, the more chance I had of finding it, and — with any luck — discovering the thieves. But as a slave himself, I knew the steward would sympathise and understand why even a single missing item would be troubling. A man who’s left in any way in charge — as I had been — is generally accused of theft or negligence if something disappears in his patron’s absence.
That was an uncomfortable thought, in fact, now it occurred to me. Not that Marcus was likely to blame me for the crime itself: fraud and theft on this scale was obviously planned by somebody outside — and by someone with sufficient wealth and influence to afford that number of horses, carts, and men to do his work. But would he think that I should somehow have prevented it? I shook my head. No one could possibly have guessed at such a scheme. My patron — surely — would realise that at once.
For the moment, though, my obvious concern and thoughtfulness convinced Vesperion that I was serious. He frowned a moment. ‘Private goods? Not that I can think of, citizen. The only ship that left here yesterday was carrying wheat and wool, most of it from our warehouse — from where you’re sitting at this moment, actually — in exchange for a few bottled dormice, and some olive oil and wine.’ He gestured to the stores that I had noticed earlier.
‘There’s no chance that there was any other hidden cargo, too?’
He shook his head. ‘I oversaw the loading of the hold myself, so I can assure you there was nothing else aboard. I’m sorry I can’t be more helpful, citizen.’
‘And what about the ships that are in harbour now?’ I asked, fidgeting with the curls of wool beside my neck and finding my fingers damp with lanolin.
‘They both came in this morning while the wind was light — and they are only just discharging their cargo as you saw. There’s been no opportunity for smuggling goods aboard. And I’m certain that there’s nothing of that kind in store in any of the other warehouses round here. I walk around each morning to see what goods our rivals have and what their prices are — and of course they do the same to us. No good asking a denarius for oil if someone else is selling it for half the price.’
‘But you’ll keep an eye out for me when the ships begin to load — in case something is brought in from the town?’
‘Gladly, citizen, but I doubt that they’ll be doing that until tomorrow, now. This proclamation will have seen to that. No point in having perishable goods stored in a stuffy hold any longer than you need.’
I made a sympathetic face. I’d spent tormented days and nights chained up in a stuffy hold myself when I was first captured into slavery. It was a memory that still recurred to haunt my dreams.
Vesperion mistook my grimace for disbelief. ‘The wind has not been favourable for going downstream today, though I know that at least one of the captains was hoping it would veer round later on so he could catch the breeze and get away again. But there is a favourable tide. That’s why there’s so much discontent at being made to wait. I presume it’s something urgent? People were muttering it might be some new tax, on ships perhaps, and that no one was to leave until it had been paid.’ He darted an uncertain glance at me. ‘It’s said that Emperor Pertinax, hail to his mighty name, is attempting to restore the public finances.’
He was obviously hoping that I’d enlighten him, but I said nothing. I simply did not dare.
‘You came here with the trumpeter, I think. I thought perhaps you’d know.’ He paused. ‘And possibly that you’d exchange your news for mine?’
It was an awkward moment. I had not — like the soldiers — been sworn to secrecy, but I knew that the commander expected it of me. If word of the assassination of Pertinax got out, the news could be all over Glevum in an hour — and if there were riots I would be responsible.
I shook my head. ‘I know there is some urgent news from Rome,’ I hedged. ‘Something significant, which is to be proclaimed throughout Britannia. There’ll be an announcement in the forum later on.’ It sounded uncommunicative — as indeed it was — but I did not want the steward concealing facts from me in turn. So I smiled, apologetically, and got up as I spoke. ‘I think the captains have been ordered to remain because it’s felt they ought to know before they leave.’
‘Something political? Or warnings of a bad storm threatening?’ His cracked voice rose an octave with anxiety as he, too, got stiffly to his feet.
Both, I thought, bitterly, but I merely shrugged. ‘I can’t tell you any more than that. I’m sure those two soldiers know exactly what’s afoot, but they didn’t talk to me. They’ve been sworn to silence till the proclamation’s made. It does not concern new taxes, I’m certain about that.’
What I had said was literally accurate, of course, but it disguised the truth, and was intended to. I offered a mental apology to the ancestral gods — I usually set great store by honesty.