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however many high-ranking brothers he might have in Gaul.
    Cilla nodded. ‘I think he hoped that Mellitus
would
sanction it, and perhaps he will, if the master does not confess. I don’t suppose my owner will do that, citizen. Not when he is innocent of the crime.’
    I rounded on her sharply. ‘You know that? That he is innocent?’
    The plump plain face puckered. ‘Well, I thought . . . naturally . . .’ She was gazing at me in disbelief. ‘Surely, citizen, you do not suppose . . .? My master would never dream of such a thing.’
    ‘Of course not,’ I said hurriedly. ‘I only hoped that you might have had some proof, so that I could declare it to the magistrates and have him freed. Supposing that anyone would listen to my plea.’ It occurred to me that without my patron’s influence that might be difficult to bring about.
    She looked at me. ‘The new high priest of Jupiter might help you there, perhaps. He’s had no time to get involved in local politics, but he has dined at the villa once or twice. He has a theory that Governor Pertinax will be the future Emperor of Rome. Said he had read it in the stars. My mistress was very entertained. But if he believes that, surely he would help?’
    I smiled wryly. If the high priest sincerely thought that Marcus might be an Imperial favourite one day, no doubt he would be anxious to assist – once he was certain that Marcus would be freed. It is always useful to have friends at court. However, remembering that self-important little man, I could not see him risking a confrontation with real-life authorities without the most compelling evidence – whatever omens he purported to believe.
    I said gently, ‘If we could show Marcus to be innocent, perhaps. Unfortunately, although we think he didn’t do it, it will be hard to prove. All the outward circumstances seem to point to him.’
    She nodded thoughtfully. ‘Almost as if it was
designed
to look as if my master murdered him.’
    ‘Indeed,’ I said – although, on reflection, that was not entirely true. If anything, it had been designed to look like an accident, until an idiotic pavement-maker had opened his big mouth and suggested otherwise.
    ‘I will go into the garrison,’ I said, ‘and see if I can have a word with Marcus, privately. The garrison commander is a friend of his, and I’ve had dealings with him in the past. I doubt if I’m in any danger yet and Marcus may know something which will help to prove the truth. If I discover anything, I’ll come to the villa and tell Julia at once.’
    Cilla shook her head. ‘Until my master is at liberty, it may not be as easy as all that. Better to meet me secretly tonight and I’ll take word. The house is under guard. There are fresh soldiers posted at the front gate now – that’s why I feared there might yet be another search for Golbo by and by.’
    ‘But you got out?’ I was thinking about Julia and her slaves, virtually helpless prisoners in the house.
    ‘I told them I was going to fetch some oils for my mistress, and they let me go. The soldiers are not interested in women’s purchases. There is an old woman in a hut not far away who makes such remedies. My mistress buys one from her now and then: they are far cheaper than the ones in Glevum market – and just as good, she says.’
    I nodded. I knew the poor wizened crone myself. Her husband had been a prosperous miller, till he crushed his hand, but now they were forced to scrape a living where they could, sleeping in a makeshift hut among the trees. She made her ‘remedies’ from berries, roots and herbs, while he bundled twigs for firewood and sold them in the town. Gwellia and I had sometimes bought some kindling ourselves, simply out of pity for their plight.
    ‘But how will you get back past the guards?’ I said.
    She produced a small perfume jar from beneath her cloak. ‘I will show them this. I really mean to go and buy some oils. Lavender, my mistress says, to soothe her shattered