Requiem for a Slave Read Online Free PDF
Author: Rosemary Rowe
afternoon?’
He was always unneighbourly, and I would not have been surprised if he had ignored me and gone away inside. However, he simply scowled and shrugged. ‘Your slave was here an hour or two ago; I haven’t seen him since. As for customers, I have no idea. I’m far too busy with my own affairs. Why ask me anyway? It isn’t my business to look out for yours.’ He went in and slammed the door, leaving me standing in the middle of the road.
I stayed there a moment wondering what to do. Quintus intended to notify the authorities and have them move the corpse, but I wanted to speak to Lucius’s mother first, if possible. And I wanted urgently to try to find my slave. However, I still had a dead man lying on my floor and I did not feel able simply to leave the place.
I could not even reasonably use the time to work, although I had a commission to accomplish fast. I hadn’t quite finished the Apollo plaque, and it was urgent that I did, since it was more than possible that the superstitious Pedronius would decline to pay if he learned that it had been in the company of a corpse. What’s more, I would be particularly dependent on the money from this job if the contract for Quintus’s pavement was to be annulled.
If only we had taken the mosaic yesterday, when Junio and I had laid the mortar base on which it was to sit! There was only half an hour’s work, at most, to finish off the piece – all that was missing was a border at one end. It would be possible to fix the mosaic into place today – before any rumour of the murder got about and awkward questions started to be asked – if I could only get it there, but I did not have a handcart that I could move it on. Junio had borrowed ours to fetch the numerous supplies that would be wanted for tomorrow’s naming feast.
It was doubly frustrating since I knew from my abortive visit to the villa earlier that the tax-inspector was now likely to be absent several days and could not possibly have heard about the death. But although the plaque was very near complete, glued upside down on to its linen back, and I had a terracotta tray prepared that I could move it on, I could not take it anywhere without a cart – not even from the shop into the street, where at least I could argue there was no question of a curse. Besides, I could hardly go inside my shop and do what was required with Lucius’s body still on my heap of edging tiles. Neither could I leave him till the army came.
If only I had Junio at my side just now!
‘Important-looking customer you had this afternoon!’ The speaker made me jump.
I turned to see the turnip-seller I had noticed earlier. He was a regular visitor to the area; a round, rough cheerful fellow with a stubbly beard and a brownish tunic smeared with earth and clay, which, together with his wide body and oddly skinny legs, gave him a marked resemblance to the wares he sold. People called him Radixrapum – ‘turnip root’ – though never to his face: a man who regularly wielded a spade and pushed a heavy barrow round the streets for hours was likely to be fit and handy in a fight.
Radixrapum flashed his snaggled smile hopefully – I had occasionally bought a turnip from him in the past. ‘That fancy cloak and private carrying-chair! Must be someone wealthy. Hope he paid you well.’ It was clear what he was hinting: that I could spare an as or two.
I shook my head. ‘I lost my contract with him, I’m afraid. There’s been an accident.’ I was about to turn away when a thought occurred to me. ‘You usually come here earlier than this. Have you been up and down this street previously today?’
‘As a matter of fact, I came by twice before,’ he muttered with an embarrassed grin as if I’d accused him of something untoward. ‘I was hoping to find you.’
‘You haven’t seen anybody else outside my shop this afternoon?’
He thought a moment and then said doubtfully, ‘No one that I can think of, except that
He was always unneighbourly, and I would not have been surprised if he had ignored me and gone away inside. However, he simply scowled and shrugged. ‘Your slave was here an hour or two ago; I haven’t seen him since. As for customers, I have no idea. I’m far too busy with my own affairs. Why ask me anyway? It isn’t my business to look out for yours.’ He went in and slammed the door, leaving me standing in the middle of the road.
I stayed there a moment wondering what to do. Quintus intended to notify the authorities and have them move the corpse, but I wanted to speak to Lucius’s mother first, if possible. And I wanted urgently to try to find my slave. However, I still had a dead man lying on my floor and I did not feel able simply to leave the place.
I could not even reasonably use the time to work, although I had a commission to accomplish fast. I hadn’t quite finished the Apollo plaque, and it was urgent that I did, since it was more than possible that the superstitious Pedronius would decline to pay if he learned that it had been in the company of a corpse. What’s more, I would be particularly dependent on the money from this job if the contract for Quintus’s pavement was to be annulled.
If only we had taken the mosaic yesterday, when Junio and I had laid the mortar base on which it was to sit! There was only half an hour’s work, at most, to finish off the piece – all that was missing was a border at one end. It would be possible to fix the mosaic into place today – before any rumour of the murder got about and awkward questions started to be asked – if I could only get it there, but I did not have a handcart that I could move it on. Junio had borrowed ours to fetch the numerous supplies that would be wanted for tomorrow’s naming feast.
It was doubly frustrating since I knew from my abortive visit to the villa earlier that the tax-inspector was now likely to be absent several days and could not possibly have heard about the death. But although the plaque was very near complete, glued upside down on to its linen back, and I had a terracotta tray prepared that I could move it on, I could not take it anywhere without a cart – not even from the shop into the street, where at least I could argue there was no question of a curse. Besides, I could hardly go inside my shop and do what was required with Lucius’s body still on my heap of edging tiles. Neither could I leave him till the army came.
If only I had Junio at my side just now!
‘Important-looking customer you had this afternoon!’ The speaker made me jump.
I turned to see the turnip-seller I had noticed earlier. He was a regular visitor to the area; a round, rough cheerful fellow with a stubbly beard and a brownish tunic smeared with earth and clay, which, together with his wide body and oddly skinny legs, gave him a marked resemblance to the wares he sold. People called him Radixrapum – ‘turnip root’ – though never to his face: a man who regularly wielded a spade and pushed a heavy barrow round the streets for hours was likely to be fit and handy in a fight.
Radixrapum flashed his snaggled smile hopefully – I had occasionally bought a turnip from him in the past. ‘That fancy cloak and private carrying-chair! Must be someone wealthy. Hope he paid you well.’ It was clear what he was hinting: that I could spare an as or two.
I shook my head. ‘I lost my contract with him, I’m afraid. There’s been an accident.’ I was about to turn away when a thought occurred to me. ‘You usually come here earlier than this. Have you been up and down this street previously today?’
‘As a matter of fact, I came by twice before,’ he muttered with an embarrassed grin as if I’d accused him of something untoward. ‘I was hoping to find you.’
‘You haven’t seen anybody else outside my shop this afternoon?’
He thought a moment and then said doubtfully, ‘No one that I can think of, except that