Rosemary Rowe - A Whispering of Spies

‘Well,’ Florens linked his short, fat fingers on the desk in front of him, ‘I’m sure you know why we have summoned you.’

‘Something to do with my visit to Voluus, I understand from what your servant said — Servilis, as I now understand that he is called.’ Despite my nervousness — or perhaps because of it — I was privately amused to learn the servant’s name: it means ‘lowly and submissive’, despite that crimson cloak. No wonder he hadn’t chosen to introduce himself.

‘You regard that as amusing for some reason, citizen?’ Florens’s voice was icy.

Another error. I had not realized that I had smiled at all. Certainly I had not intended to. But all the councillors were scowling at me now, visibly disapproving of my apparent levity. I said quickly, ‘Not amusing, councillor. I’m surprised, that’s all. I do not understand why you have called me here. I am just a humble tradesman seeking work and I called at the apartment — as I told your slave — to see if Voluus required to have a pavement made.’

Porteus gave a disbelieving sneer and scrambled to his feet. ‘And you expect us to believe that, citizen? In an apartment of that quality? You must have known it would have splendid floors!’ He looked around as if for approbation from his peers.

I had begun to realize that I was genuinely pleading for my liberty, and I saw a chance to win a point or two. ‘Of course I hadn’t seen the inside of the flat; otherwise I would never have presumed. The floors, as you say, are already excellent.’ I paused a moment to achieve the full effect before I added, in a puzzled tone, ‘But I understood from Servilis that no one but myself had been allowed inside? Yet it seems that you have seen it, Porteus?’

Porteus turned pink beneath the acne on his cheeks, while the youngest councillor — the same one who had instructed me to sit — looked at him quizzically. ‘He is quite right, Porteus. Unless he had visited he couldn’t know about the floors. And nor could you. So how is that you speak about them with such confidence?’

I sensed a potential ally here and I looked at him with more interest than before. He was a youngish, untidy-looking man — in his thirties if I am any judge — with an energetic manner and a tow-coloured mop of tousled hair. His face was moody but intelligent and he wore his toga rather as I wore my own, as though it were a slight encumbrance. I noticed, for instance, that several times he hitched his shoulder-folds, as though they were in danger of cascading down in coils.

‘I visited when the tax-collector owned the place,’ Porteus mumbled rather sullenly. He was clearly embarrassed at admitting this to his associates (as I said before, tax-collectors are not usually accepted in good society). There was a murmur among the other councillors.

‘Just a business matter,’ he went on, reddening. ‘Nothing of importance, but he invited me to dine. .’ He tailed off.

He must have known, as I did, what the others thought: that he had been prepared to feast with the taxman and to drink his wine, against the generally accepted rules of what was socially acceptable. Was this just greed for expensive food and wine, or had he been seeking favours when it came to paying dues?

Titus Flavius voiced the feeling in the room. ‘Seeking a contribution, were you, Porteus? Still eager to be selected as Imperial priest and hoping to impress the people by funding public works?’

Porteus sat down, saying testily, ‘Well, if I am, what has that to do with anything? We are not here to talk about my presence at a feast, we are here to ask this pavement-maker to explain himself — and I, for one, am not convinced by what he says. Of course he claims he’s never visited the flat before today, but that is no proof that he hasn’t. In fact, it is just what you’d expect a guilty man to say.’

‘Guilty man?’ I blurted out the words. This was sounding more and more as if I were on trial — and since this was a convocation of town magistrates, I might as well have been. ‘But surely this was simply banditry!’

There was another little murmur in the room. Florens appeared to feel the need to exercise control. He rapped the dais sharply, so that all eyes turned to him, then he hooked his pudgy thumbs into his toga folds and looked around the room — exactly as though he were an advocate — seeking the gaze of every councillor in turn.

When he was assured that attention was on him, he said portentously, ‘Banditry, citizen? That’s what it was meant to look like, I am sure. But we are not convinced. I am inclined to concur with Porteus’s view of this. Remember, fellow councillors, what the witnesses declared. When this pavement-maker visited the lictor’s flat, he didn’t even reach the door before Calvinus came out to greet him. It’s obvious he was expected before he even knocked.’

My heart sank further at this talk of ‘witnesses’. This was more indication (if I needed it) that spies had been watching me throughout. I had entirely forgotten that the steward had not waited for my knock. That could look suspicious to unfriendly eyes. I said, ‘Calvinus was awaiting someone, but it wasn’t me. He told me he was expecting a messenger from the garrison.’

‘And yet he immediately welcomed you inside?’ Florens looked pityingly at me. ‘Do you think perhaps you looked like such a messenger yourself? That Calvinus mistook you for a member of the guard, and that’s why he let you in?’

That caused a titter among the councillors. It was a jibe, of course. Naturally I could never be mistaken for a member of the guard.

Porteus stood up to press the joke a little more. ‘Of course, councillor Florens, one can see how the steward was confused. Our pavement-maker here looks much like a soldier to the casual eye — apart from the fact that he is far too old and wears a faded tunic and a workman’s cloak, instead of an armoured breastplate, helmet, greaves and sword! Obviously an error that anyone could make.’ He sat down again and looked around triumphantly, delighted to make me look ridiculous.

I said, with an attempt at dignity, ‘Anyone can bring a message, councillor. And Calvinus was entitled to suppose that I’d brought an answer from the garrison, telling him what support he could expect from them, since he had sent requesting help.’ I paused. ‘I assume that such a message was eventually sent?’ It had occurred to me, while I was speaking, that I hadn’t heard of it.

It was obvious from the whispering that my words had touched a nerve. Even Florens looked discomfited. However, he was not nonplussed for long. After an instant he tapped the desk again and said in a peremptory, dismissive tone, ‘What message the garrison commander may have sent is none of our affair. Our concern is you and what your business was with Calvinus today. You say you called to offer him a floor. I presume that he did not engage your services?’

I shook my head. ‘Indeed not, councillor. He was so disturbed about the theft of the dowry treasures from his master’s cart that I doubt he would have felt able to order pavements then, even if the household had needed such a thing. .’

Porteus was on his feet again, seizing on my words before I’d finished them. ‘So he did speak to you about what was on the cart? You admit as much? And yet you say you were a perfect stranger to the man?’ He gazed around the room triumphantly. ‘Florens, fellow councillors, I call on your good sense. Do you think it likely that Calvinus would confide his master’s business to a man he’d never met? Isn’t discretion the first duty of a steward anywhere?’

This was going badly. There were murmurs of assent.

‘Well, citizen?’ Florens indicated that it was my turn to speak.