I squatted uncomfortably on the smaller stool, and tried to look impressed. In fact, I was feeling simultaneously disappointed and relieved — disappointed that I had not found the perpetrator of the crime, and relieved that I was not obliged to confront this rich and powerful citizen. Because he’d unknowingly disposed of my suspicions straight away.
If what he said about being in Corinium was true, Fancy-Cloak could not possibly have arrived at Marcus’s country house more than a few moments before I saw him there — long after the thieves and murderers had left.
‘Lunched?’ I tried to sound admiring. ‘You were favoured then.’ Lunch is usually a fairly frugal meal, and only usually shared with intimates. Important guests are entertained at dinner, as a rule.
‘Oh, I arranged the food,’ he said, dismissively. ‘Just cheese, bread and fruit, and a flask of decent wine, by way of thanks. He’d agreed to be a witness for some land that I had sold. I wanted it done properly, the old-fashioned way, with five witnesses and a pair of copper scales. Quite a little ceremony, but well worth the expense.’
So it was almost certain to be true. There was no point in lying about a thing like that — too many people would have witnessed it. No guilty person would offer such an alibi. It was too easy to prove that it was false. (I would check, of course — a query to Julia would probably suffice. That kind of gossip would be all over the town. But I was sure I’d find that Fancy-Cloak was where he said he was at noontide yesterday.) Of course he could not be aware of how significant his little boast had been. He was simply attempting to make clear that he moved in the highest social circles possible. I shook my head.
He’d seen the gesture. ‘It’s true, I turned up at the villa unannounced, but one does expect a gatekeeper at least, even if the owner is not in residence.’
My mind was racing along a different route by now. If he had called on Marcus bearing news which he’d already shared with dignitaries elsewhere, dare I ask him what the news concerned? For a moment I wondered, like an idiot, if he’d somehow learned that Pertinax was dead. But I dismissed that as the foolishness it was. That news was far too recent to have reached him yesterday. He would have left Londinium days and days ago, so he could not have heard it there, and the message would not have reached Corinium until he’d left. Anyway, that bulletin was carried by imperial couriers alone — under imperial seal, and for named recipients. They would never have dared disclose it to anybody else, even an important purple-striper such as this. His ‘news’ must be regarding something different, and presumably something quite significant — though he was clearly not disposed to tell me what it was. Not for the ears of humble tradespeople, it seemed.
I tried a different approach. ‘You were in Corinium? You did not think of calling at my patron’s town house there?’ I forced myself to smile. ‘You would have saved yourself a detour, and you would have found a gatekeeper to let you in. His wife is due to have a child and has moved her household there.’
For the first time, the man looked less than confident. ‘Indeed? Nobody told me that. But surely Marcus isn’t in Corinium? Hasn’t he gone to seek preferment overseas?’
I had no time to answer before Vesperion spoke. ‘Not for ever, citizen. He’s gone to Rome to see the Emperor himself, so my master tells me, but he is coming back again — though he may be away for many moons.’ He was clearly proud of having information to impart and anxious to ingratiate himself, after having been rebuked before.
He might have saved himself the effort. Fancy-Cloak did not even deign to glance at him. ‘I was talking to this citizen,’ he snapped. ‘If I want information from you, steward, I shall ask for it.’
‘However, Vesperion is right,’ I confirmed. ‘Marcus is merely making a short trip to Rome. But he may be back sooner than originally planned.’ I was placatory, hoping to soften the implied rebuke to poor Vesperion — but then wished I hadn’t said anything at all.
‘A sudden change of plan?’ The patrician was looking at me searchingly.
I cursed my wayward tongue. Until the news from Rome was publically announced, I was not in a position to explain. ‘Something unexpected has arisen which is likely to bring him home before he planned,’ I proffered, lamely. ‘When he comes, Citizen Patrician, I’ll tell him that you called. Whom shall I have the honour of saying that you are?’
The patrician did not answer that at once. Instead he whirled his body round to stare at me, while I held his gaze and tried to look as nonchalant as possible. After a moment he turned to Vesperion again. ‘Leave us, slave.’ He flapped a dismissive hand. ‘I wish to speak privately to this citizen.’
‘But — citizen, you wanted to enquire about some wine?’
‘You heard me, steward. Kindly leave the room.’
The steward gave me a beseeching glance — obviously a good sale would be another step towards earning the promised freedom by and by, and the profit might even add a little to his peculium. But I could do little except nod my head.
‘If this concerns my patron, steward, I must hear him out. Any wine purchase can be dealt with later on,’ I said. I was not anxious for private conversation with a man who did not even have the courtesy to vouchsafe me his name, but it occurred to me that this message which he claimed to have may have been an attempted warning which arrived too late. Though surely the enemies of Pertinax could not have tentacles that reached as far as this?
The steward gave a defeated little bow and backed out of the door. As he did so the spotty slave appeared — finally arriving with the promised tray. Vesperion was about to shoo him testily away, but the lad forestalled him. ‘I’m sorry, steward, to have been so long with this. But I was delayed by a disturbance on my way — somebody shouting and hammering on the door. I’m surprised you didn’t hear it for yourself. I had to put the tray down and find out who it was.’ He glanced triumphantly around. ‘Turned out to be another visitor. Says he is the servant of the citizen who’s here, and he must see his master urgently. Won’t say what it’s about. I’ve left him at the door, but you’d better let him in — he’s got a most impressive-looking scroll with him, sealed with the biggest seal-box that I’ve ever seen.’
Vesperion looked enquiringly at me, but I shook a doubtful head — Minimus would not be carrying a scroll. The patrician, however, was on his feet again. ‘That will be my attendant, I expect. Bring in that tray, slave, and put it there.’ He gestured to the desk. ‘Then go and summon him to me at once.’
The pimply slave-boy hastened to comply, and — after a brief hesitation — Vesperion followed him.
‘So our private conversation will have to wait,’ I said, rising respectfully to my feet again, as courtesy required.
The patrician gave me a disdainful look. ‘On the contrary. Cacus has been with me since he was a boy. He is entirely in my confidence and I’d be glad of his advice.’
My face must have revealed the astonishment I felt. I could think of no one more unlikely to discuss things with an underling.
‘Cacus is no ordinary servant, as you’ll see. I bought him from his parents when he was just a boy fishing in poverty in one of the smaller islands in our sea. I saw potential in him even then and he has proved me right a hundred times. He’s very gifted — for a slave. Much like yourself, I suppose.’ I was about to protest that I had ceased to be a slave ten years or more ago, but he waved a jewelled hand to silence me. ‘I take him everywhere. He often assists me in conducting my affairs. In fact, he has been dealing with some urgent family business on my behalf today. I’ll have him in, and I want you to tell him what you have been telling me. Ah, here he is!’