Caveat emptor

30

These days Hadrian’s reforming zeal had seen to it that all lodging houses for traveling officials were centrally administered. The majority of every mansio’s staff, however, were bound to be locals. Ruso suspected there would still be a wide variation, not only in style, but in the guests’ confidence that nobody might have spit in the soup. However, he was optimistic about Verulamium. It was a major town on one of the busiest routes in the province. The governor must travel this way regularly on his trips to the troubled North. If the natives here were the sort who wanted a theater, they would also want to impress with the size of their bathhouse, the jingle of coins at their market-and, hopefully, the welcome they afforded to the representatives of Rome.

Before he could sample that welcome, he found himself held up outside the town gates. Easing the sweating horse past a couple of vehicles whose drivers were obliged to wait in line, he saw that the delay was being caused by a couple of natives sporting military-style chain mail and red tunics. One of them was the strapping youth who had been escorting Caratius around Londinium. They were equipped with daggers and their spears looked like standard army issue, but in the place of swords they wore stout wooden clubs. He recalled his conversation with Metellus: presumably the routine wearing of swords would have indicated that the local guards had ideas above their station.

Today they were stopping everyone to ask in both British and heavily accented Latin whether anyone had seen a man named Bericus. They were looking very bored with the job until Ruso asked whether a carriage with two women, a baby, and a body had arrived from Londinium. The big one glanced across at the sound of his voice and announced, “It’s the investigator!”

His arrival seemed to straighten their shoulders and brighten their eyes. After confirming that his wife had arrived safely, Ruso followed the guard’s directions though a grid of busy streets and introduced himself to the bandy-legged overseer of the mansio stables. The man put down the bridle he was inspecting and shouted what sounded like “He’s here, lads!” in British before ordering one man to lead the horse away across the yard, a second to carry the investigator’s luggage around to reception-“Is that all you’ve got, sir?”-and a third to fetch a drink. “I’m Rogatus, sir,” he said, adding, “We’ve been expecting you,” as if Ruso might not have guessed. He glanced around, evidently looking for something. “Just you at the moment, is it, sir?”

“Just me.”

“I’ll take you across to your rooms right away. When your men arrive we’ll tell them-”

“There aren’t any men. It’s just me.”

“Ah! Well, not to worry. You’ll find everyone very willing to help. We’re all loyal to the emperor here.”

“Good,” said Ruso, wondering why it was necessary to say so.

“Always the first to send in our taxes, sir. Famous for it.”

Ruso refrained from pointing out that the town was known less for enthusiastic taxpaying than for being ravaged by people who wanted to pay no taxes at all. “Is everyone expecting me, or were you told in confidence?”

The man looked surprised, as if it had never struck him that an investigator might want to be discreet. “No, sir. The chief magistrates had a notice read out in the Forum this morning. You’ve been announced in both languages, just in case.”

Ruso suppressed a sigh and grasped the welcome cup of cool water. As he drank, the man stepped aside to deal with a question about a damaged axle before returning to say, “They said anyone with information was to come forward and tell you, sir.”

Clearly the Council had given up any idea of keeping the loss a secret. Now the whole town would be waiting to see what the procurator’s man would do about it. He had escaped from a small gang of willing helpers only to be confronted with a large one.

“You can be the first,” he said. “Tell me about Asper’s transport. Was it one of the public vehicles?”

“Asper had a warrant, sir. He made official journeys.”

Evidently they thought he was here to inspect the transport arrangements too. He handed his cup to the hovering servant and indicated that they could talk as they walked. “Did he always drive himself?”

“We didn’t have a man available, sir. It was pouring rain, and he was late starting out. His brother could drive.”

“So you did him a favor by letting him take a decent carriage.”

“The tax had to be delivered, sir.”

Asper had not given a reason for the late start, and Rogatus had not felt it was his place to ask.

They passed between gateposts where deep gouges at axle level bore witness to overoptimistic steering, and turned into the street. Rogatus explained that the carriage had been found the following morning, abandoned by the side of the road two or three miles out of town.

“Still with all the horses?”

“We were very lucky, sir.” Perhaps in case this sounded too cheerful, he added, “Not like that Julius Asper.”

Shooing a couple of children aside with a cry of “Make way for the procurator’s man!” he led Ruso toward a long low building. Its pristine white limewash gleamed, its glass windows glittered, and it seemed to occupy most of the rest of the block. Ruso’s hopes rose.

“Tell me something,” he said. “Asper was on a busy road: Do you think a carriage could be ambushed without anybody seeing it happen?”

Rogatus raised a grimy hand to scratch the back of his neck. “Hard to say, sir. It was a wet old afternoon. Nobody would be out if they could help it, and if they were, they’d be trying to keep under cover.”

Ruso paused at the foot of the low stone steps leading up to the reception doors of the mansio and tried not to be distracted by the smell of frying chicken. “If the horses were spooked, how far do you think they might bolt?”

This appeared to be some sort of insult. “We got our animals well trained here, sir.”

“I’m just wondering where the men and the carriage actually parted company.”

Rogatus, mollified, confirmed that it was “a heavy old vehicle” and was unlikely to have gone far without a driver.

Ruso said, “I’ll need to look at it.”

Rogatus looked at him as if he had just suggested interviewing the horses. “It’s out at the moment, sir. I’ll tell the boys you’ll be needing to see it.”

“I’ll need to talk to his, ah-where can I find a woman named Camma?”

The stable overseer’s face brightened. “She’s just turned up this afternoon, sir. I hear she’s back at Asper’s house with another young lady.” Ruso supposed the man was well placed to hear all the gossip of comings and goings. Reassured, he decided there was no need to rush across there.

“It’s a bad old business, sir.”

Ruso agreed. His foot was on the bottom step when he heard, “What do you think the procurator will do about it?”

“I couldn’t tell you,” he said. He had a feeling he was going to be repeating that many times over the next few days.