Rosemary Rowe - A Whispering of Spies

‘Then why were you asking questions of everyone today — including questions about the treasure on the carts?’

I spread my hands in a gesture of despair. ‘I was attempting to find out what sort of man he was, that’s all.’ I was tempted to tell him the other part of it — that I was only doing it on Marcus’s behalf — but decided that discretion was the wiser choice.

The servant’s smile was disbelieving and disagreeable. ‘Indeed? And does enquiry about his valuable possessions tell you that? You can’t pretend, for instance, that there is any doubt about whether he could afford your services — not when he has taken an apartment on that scale! Which brings us to another suggestive circumstance. You had not, by your own admission, ever called there before. Yet there you are today — the very day on which the theft occurred.’

‘Surely it’s more likely that the cart was set upon last night and not discovered until daylight came?’ I said, then devoutly wished I’d held my tongue. I could imagine how our visitor would construe my foolish words.

I was right. He raised an eyebrow. ‘You might be a better judge of that than I!’

‘That is merely a guess that anyone might make. We know that there are active bandits in those woods. At least I assume it was in that area,’ I burbled, ‘since I understand the cart was coming from the south.’

‘Exactly so! And don’t you live in that direction, too?’ He smiled his knowing smile. ‘But then, of course, this was not just a robbery: there are several savage murders to be considered, too — all of them no doubt committed, as you rightly say, under cover of darkness and discovered after dawn. Though very few people ever travel after dusk. Amazing that you seem to know so much about it, citizen.’

‘It was merely guesswork. .’ I was beginning to protest.

‘Naturally! But suggestive, don’t you think? Especially in the light of all the other things I’ve pointed out. Of course this may all be mere coincidence but Florens and some of the other councillors would like to talk to you and have you explain it, if you are able to.’

I glanced at my son and servant who were standing by, as appalled as I was by this development. I murmured, ‘They want to see me now? But I have work to finish here and I am due to report to my patron in just an hour or two. .’ I trailed off in dismay.

In my attempts to justify myself I was in danger of implicating Marcus Septimus as well. Indeed, as I realized with a sinking of the heart, this was possibly the purpose of this whole interview. Marcus, like any wealthy magistrate, has powerful enemies who would be delighted to see him humbled and brought before the courts: it had actually happened once before.

Perhaps I had unwittingly given a new pretext. As it was, I had already admitted that I was carrying a letter from my patron when I called at the flat. That clearly suggested that I was there on his behalf, and it was difficult to see how that could be disproved, because it was the truth. So if I were accused of involvement in the crime, he would seem guilty of complicity at least. I sincerely wished that I hadn’t mentioned him.

But it was far too late to keep him out of this. The servant smiled. ‘Of course, we know you are the protégé of Marcus Septimus,’ he said. ‘And we are aware that His Excellence is an important man. That is why my master has sent me here to ask you politely if you’ll accompany me. At once, if possible. He is waiting for us at the curia. However, if you are reluctant to comply with this request, I could go back and summon the town guard and have you formally arrested — as we would have done with anybody else who could not claim such exalted patronage.’

Junio stepped forward to speak in my defence. ‘Now look here, serving-man, I don’t know who you are. .’

I raised my hand to silence him. It is never wise to make unnecessary enemies — especially the servants of a magistrate. ‘It is all right, Junio. This man is merely doing what he was sent to do. Of course I will go with him. There must be some mistake. My patron knows what I was doing at the lictor’s house and no doubt he will speak up in my defence. The sooner I get this sorted out, the sooner we get home.’

Junio looked doubtful. ‘Well, Father, if you’re certain I will say no more. Though if you wish I will go with you to the curia.’

Florens’s servant gave him a disdainful look. ‘You’re lucky that you’ve not been asked to come in any case. We know of your close association with this pavement-maker here, and therefore it is likely that you are involved in this yourself, though at present no one is accusing you. But there are many ways of finding out the truth — as you may discover, to your cost.’

It was my turn to leap to Junio’s defence. ‘Are you presuming to make veiled threats against my son? Be careful what you say. He is a citizen.’

A shrug of the shoulders, but my words had hit their mark. A sudden alarm had flashed up in the eyes and his manner was less haughty and hostile as he said hastily, ‘I am not threatening anyone at all! Especially not a citizen; I know the law. I thought he was merely a manumitted slave. But I should not care to be in your sandals when the lictor gets here, either of you, I can tell you that.’

‘Then, Father, I must certainly come with you to the curia,’ Junio said. ‘Minimus can shut up the shop and douse the fire and then come and meet us in the forum later on.’

Our visitor looked icily at him. ‘And what about my master’s pavement? I believe you said that there was work remaining to be done? Or would you rather he invoked the penalty?’

Junio looked at me, exasperation written in every lineament. ‘What do you think, Father?’

There was only one thing I could possibly reply. ‘There is not a great deal remaining to be done, but — since we are certainly not in receipt of stolen gold — we can’t afford to risk the fine. You stay and finish that with Minimus, and then the pair of you can come and find me later on. You know where I shall be. In the meantime, I will do as I am asked and go and speak to Florens, though there is obviously nothing I can tell him which he does not know. Minimus, hand me down my cloak and give this servant his.’

Minimus is a timid person as a rule but I was amused to note that he took enormous care to wrap me in my cape and fuss around me making sure that I was dry — or as dry as possible in the circumstances — while he handed our visitor his wet wrap without a word and made no attempt at all to help him on with it.

‘Very well,’ I said, once the man had struggled into it. ‘Let us go and see these councillors. You can lead the way.’ And I followed him briskly out on to the street.

The rain was easing slightly by this time and people were beginning to come out on to the streets again. But my uniformed attendant, striding purposefully gate-ward in his splendid crimson cloak, looked sufficiently important for people to make way to let him pass, though their attitude was apt to change to a resentful one when they caught sight of me. Although escorted by this impressive slave, I was still in my tunic and damp workman’s cape.

One old man in particular, who had struggled to one side, despite the heavy load of wood that he was carrying on his back, put down his burden and turned round to glare at me. ‘And to think that I gave deference to him! Only a tradesman!’ he muttered to the ancient woman at his side — deliberately just loud enough to make sure I could hear.

But his companion — who was probably his wife, since she was stooped under a load of kindling of her own — shook her head and whispered something in his ear. He looked alarmed and moved as far away as possible from me. Instead of glaring he gazed pointedly away, spat, then licked his finger and rubbed it on the skin behind his ear — the age-old ritual to ward off ill-luck.