Read Online The Chariots of Calyx by Rosemary Rowe - Free Book Online Page A

called Eppaticus?’
    They looked at each other, shrugging. ‘I do not know, citizen. He is not a man we’ve ever seen before.’
    ‘Not as a dinner guest? Not among your master’s
clientes
?’
    They shook their heads in unison.
    I found myself in a quandary now. I was here to investigate the death of Caius Monnius, and Eppaticus had apparently not known about that, so I had no reason to detain him. Yet his behaviour throughout had been so extraordinary – barging into the house uninvited, and barging just as abruptly out of it again – that I was reluctant just to let him go.
    I turned to Junio, who had followed – like a good slave – at my heels. ‘Fetch me Superbus,’ I said, with sudden determination. ‘He can go and ask a few questions for me. I want to know more about that Trinovantine.’
    ‘Superbus, master?’ Junio sounded stricken. ‘Are you sure that he will ask the right question—’
    I interrupted him. ‘Send me Superbus,’ I said firmly. ‘You cannot be everywhere at once, and there are more immediate matters here which I want you to help with.’
    ‘As you wish, master,’ Junio said, and did as he was bidden, although with an expression which suggested that he still had the gravest doubts about the wisdom of my decision.
    ‘And be quick about it!’ I shouted after him, largely for the benefit of the assembled servants, who had been watching this unslavelike exchange with fascination.
    ‘Well,’ I said, rounding on the others briskly. ‘Have you no work to do? Back to your stations at once, and report this intrusion to your mistress. You!’ I elected one of them at random. ‘Escort me to the lady Fulvia. If she is well enough I think I should hear her account of what happened last night.’
    ‘Yes, citizen,’ he murmured dutifully, as the others shuffled off to their posts. ‘If you would follow me . . .’
    He led me back towards the master’s quarters. Only just in time. As I turned away, I could already hear Annia’s voice raised in outrage. ‘You worm! You offspring of a circus trainer’s pimp! How dare you not inform me of this sooner!’ While Lydia wailed plaintively, ‘Another intruder! Great Mercury defend us. We shall all be murdered in our beds.’
    My attendant shot me an embarrassed smile and led the way back to the painted passage where I had been before. The smoke was thicker now, and more pungent, but we passed the master’s room and the slave tapped timidly at the second door.
    ‘Enter!’ said Fulvia’s voice, and we went in.
    It was a luxurious room, beautifully decorated with roundels of painted flowers on the wall. Fine bed, fine cushions, fine rugs upon the floor: a great bound chest near the door for clothes and ornaments: another at the foot of the bed: an elegant footstool: a little brazier and a dozen lamps: an exquisite small shrine upon a stand, and a small shelf built into the wall where there was such an assortment of phials and pots, boxes, mirrors, combs and bowls that you might have thought the lady was going into the cosmetics business herself, and had made a collection for the purpose.
    As in every other part of the house, no expense had been spared, but here there was evidence of a discerning eye. The garments that an elderly maidservant was folding fussily into the storage chest, too, were not only of finest wool and linen, but in the subtlest colours to be had in the Empire – mossy greens, soft blues and amethyst – each one a tribute to the dyer’s art. And to the depth of the buyer’s purse, I thought.
    Fulvia was lying back against her pillows. She had removed her veil and silken belt and placed them on a stool beside the bed, but otherwise she was dressed as before, and her dark robes were in starkest contrast to the beautiful pastel shades around her. One of the pretty pageboys was engaged in bathing her forehead with what looked like goat’s milk and water from a bowl. The other boy stood at the open window-space, which was