The Legatus Mystery by Rosemary Rowe Page B

that
was
the name.’ Gwellia frowned with concentration. ‘Of course, it didn’t mean anything to me. But your Honorius Optimus was terribly impressed. Apparently he knew the man, because they were in the army together. Not that they were especially friendly then. They were officers in the same unit – only this Fabius Marcellus person had wealthy patronage, and he soon went on to higher things. From the way your client talked about it, I don’t think he was very pleased at the time – but of course now his old rival’s an imperial ambassador, he’s very keen to claim acquaintanceship.’
    ‘Gwellia, you are a marvel. You gleaned all this in a few moments’ conversation. Optimus would never had said any of that to me.’
    Gwellia smiled. ‘Ah, but he wasn’t really saying it to me. He was talking to some pompous steward he brought with him. I am a woman, and a slave – he hardly noticed I was standing there.’ She looked at me. ‘What are you frowning at, Libertus? Do you doubt the truth of what he said?’
    ‘Something has just occurred to me. Oh, there’s an imperial legate on his way all right. And his name is Fabius Marcellus. But how in the name of all the gods did Optimus know that? Only my patron and the high priests knew about it – and they only received the communication this morning.’
    ‘Other people know about it now. He said his wife’s slave heard it in the market-place,’ Gwellia said. ‘Taking back a length of woollen cloth.’
    I nodded, impressed again by her talent for deriving information.
    ‘Then there’s your answer, master,’ Junio put in. ‘The pontifex knew: no doubt he told his wife – and she’ll have sent into the town for cloth. Something very expensive too, I expect, which will have set the whole town’s tongues wagging again.’ He saw my quizzical look and added quickly, ‘Well, you know what he’s like, master, always trying to be as holy as a flamen. But insofar as he’s the flamen, master, she is his flaminia. You know how strict the regulations are, and yet she manages to find a way around them. She has quite a reputation for fashion. He will not let her comb her hair, but last year when the style was for long blond hairpieces, she had a fair-haired slave girl sent in specially from the Rhinelands. She had
that
combed and curled and wore it as a wig, with a little ritual sprig of fresh leaves tucked into her veil, to keep her husband happy. And her gown is always of pure dyed cloth. I’m sure she’d want a whole new outfit to greet the legate in.’
    I nodded. The pontifex was whispered to indulge his younger wife. That was not altogether surprising perhaps, since his hoped-for job depended on it. The Pontifex of Jupiter must have a wife, and if he loses her – to death or desertion – must resign his office. Discreet divorce is not a possibility. A few lengths of costly cloth must seem a small price to pay for the lady’s loyalty. ‘All the same,’ I said, ‘I am surprised the news about the legate’s visit has travelled quite so fast. It’s evident the whole town knows already.’
    Gwellia said, ‘Perhaps not quite the whole town yet, citizen. I think, from what he was saying, that Honorius Optimus was one of the first people to hear. And he came here straight away. He said he was anxious to have his entry-pavement repaired before everyone else in Glevum heard the news and wanted to do the same.’
    I smiled. That was unlikely to happen now – though it might have done, without this temple corpse. Whenever a dignitary visited the town, there was always competition to entertain him. Sometimes by moving out altogether and lending him a house (though that was a signal honour), but everyone who aspired to be anyone vied to provide banquets, dancers, poets, even lunch – anything, where the host could be seen in the great man’s company. And of course every banquet-giver (and his wife) wanted new murals and decorations, and, if not new mosaics, at