Rosemary Rowe - A Whispering of Spies

Brianus took the tablet and bowed himself away. A moment later we heard Minimus ushering him out.

Junio raised an eyebrow at me as he looked up from the floor. ‘So much for your questioning of the boy,’ he said. ‘You treated him so gently, you haven’t got any information out of him at all.’ He frowned at a piece of pattern that did not seem to fit.

‘That depends,’ I told him, wiping the seal-block clean and returning the lid to the pot of sealing-wax, ‘on what he might have said to Minimus.’ I looked up as the boy in question came back into the room. ‘And here he is. Let’s ask him.’

Minimus looked from Junio to me with obvious concern. ‘Have I offended, master? I didn’t like to ask while Brianus was here, but you seem annoyed with me. Is it because I did not climb the ladder straight away? Or is there something that I’ve not done well enough? If it is about the preparation of the mead. .’

I cut him off. ‘The mead was excellent. Almost as good as Junio used to make. And you are quite mistaken, I am not annoyed at all — unless it’s with myself, for failing to find out what my patron hoped to learn.’

‘If my father spoke sharply,’ Junio put in, ‘it was for the benefit of that unfortunate young slave.’ He took a piece of coloured stone and tried it in the space, first one way and then the other, before rejecting it. ‘Brianus is not used to kindnesses, I think — and would not have accepted our warmth and succour otherwise.’

‘Oh!’ Minimus looked visibly relieved. He turned to me. ‘Well, you may be right. I know that he was terrified the whole time he was here — he could not believe you’d given him a part of your own meal, but he was dreading what might happen when he gets home again. Apparently his master’s left a steward in the house who beats him savagely for almost anything. Poor thing! You should have seen his back!’

‘You did, I take it?’ I enquired. I tried to exchange a ‘told-you-so’ glance with Junio but he pretended to be busy with his coloured stones.

Minimus, though, was nodding. ‘He pulled down his tunic neck so that I could see. He’s covered all over with blue bruises and red weals.’ He glanced up sheepishly at me. ‘He told me I didn’t know how fortunate I was to have an owner as compassionate as you.’

‘Because of a piece of oatcake and a sip or two of wine?’ I laughed. ‘What is special about that? Any other household would have done the same. No one sends a visiting slave away — especially the slave of a wealthy man like Voluus — without giving him something warming on a day like this.’ I could see that Junio was really struggling, so I went back to join him at the mosaic as I spoke — though he’d obviously been making a good job of it so far. There was just that piece of pattern. . I set to work on it. ‘In fact, I felt quite sorry for sending you outside — it is much warmer in this inner room and he was soaked right through.’

‘It wasn’t only the food and drink that he was grateful for,’ Minimus went on, handing me the tesserae that I gestured to. ‘He says you saved him from a flogging earlier. Something about a vase which tumbled off its plinth? And you put in a word to say it was an accident and not his fault at all?’

‘I had forgotten about that,’ I said, sliding a fragment snugly into place.

‘Brianus was especially impressed,’ my slave said eagerly, ‘not just that you spoke up on his behalf, but also that the steward took your word for it and did not even punish him when you were gone.’

‘That was not entirely my doing,’ I replied. I sat back on my haunches to view my handiwork. I was content with it. The space that I had left could now be filled in easily. ‘There was another servant there and she defended him as well.’

‘That would be Pronta — he told me about her,’ Minimus agreed. ‘She does her best for him. The steward rather fancies owning her himself, so she does not get beaten like Brianus does. She does try to protect him, but it doesn’t always work. Sometimes her attempts to shield him only make things worse.’

‘The steward hopes to own her? I am surprised at that.’ I clambered to my feet and dusted off my hands. ‘Surely she is Voluus’s slave?’

Minimus wrinked his freckled nose at me. ‘Apparently the lictor’s bringing slaves with him from Gaul, including a whole retinue belonging to the wife, so it’s probable the girl will not be needed after that. The steward thinks his master will agree to pass her on — though at a price, of course. Apparently it’s commonplace in Gaul for the senior slaves of very wealthy men to have servants of their own.’

‘Not only in Gaul,’ I told him. ‘It happens here sometimes. It’s seen as a sign of status for the master, I believe.’

Minimus nodded. ‘That’s exactly what Brianus said, so he’s sure his owner will agree to let Calvinus have the girl. But the boy’s afraid the steward might try to buy him, too, and then his life would be a total misery. He says it’s possible. The steward gets a small allowance from his master every month and has been saving up for years.’

‘But won’t he want that money to buy his freedom with?’ Junio said, putting the last few pieces of the pattern into place. ‘Isn’t that more important than acquiring slaves?’

Minimus looked from Junio to me and back again. ‘Oh, Calvinus has negotiated for his freedom several times,’ he said, bursting with importance at knowing all of this. ‘But Voluus keeps demanding a more and more inflated sum, claiming that it’s the current market-price for any steward of such experience.’

‘And then he pretends it is a compliment, no doubt,’ I said. It seemed that — as well as being an expert with the lash — Voluus had methods of being more cunningly unkind. ‘But he does allow the steward a small pecunium?’

Minimus nodded. ‘And permits him to keep gratuities! But then he fines the steward for all the breakages — like that pot this morning — which makes it very difficult for Calvinus to amass enough to buy himself free. But a basic slave — particularly a girl — is only a fraction of that price, so the steward could afford that as an alternative — it would give him status and she would be obliged to serve his needs, in any way he chose. He might even find enough to buy Brianus as well — though he would have to pay his master for their food and keep. The boy is sure that Calvinus is saving for something of the kind — he says they have been kept short of food and light for days, because the steward has been keeping money back out of what the lictor left to run the household with.’

Which explained why the slave-boy was so underfed, I thought. I said aloud, ‘So Brianus will be relieved to know his master’s on his way.’

Junio had completed the pattern by this time and, scrambling to his feet, he came to join me by the fire, rubbing his hands together to get more warmth in them. ‘How will that assist? I heard that Voluus was famously severe and had a dreadful temper when aroused, though I don’t know if it’s true.’

‘Brianus says he does,’ Minimus put in. ‘He witnessed it himself.’

‘Well?’ I murmured, to encourage him.

Minimus needed no more urging. He plunged into his story like a chariot horse let loose. ‘When they were staying at the mansio — the official inn — there was a message for Voluus which he didn’t like. He was having a meal with some patrician at the time — arranging to buy some land outside the town — but he did not seem to care that there were witnesses. He was so angry that he took a broken table leg and started hitting things. Turned an oil-lamp over, which almost set the place alight.’

‘Dear Mercury,’ I murmured. Fire is an ever-present threat and greatly to be feared. No wonder rumours of the lictor’s temper had been rife around the town.