A Whispering of Spies by Rosemary Rowe Read Free Book Online Page A

inclined to think?’
    ‘It seems he’s even worse.’ I told him the story of the tortured page. ‘But that’s one of the things I wanted to check with Brianus. And the two of them have met. I understand the lictor personally bought him at the slave-market.’
    Junio grinned. ‘Well, if you meant to gain the slave-boy’s confidence, you’ve certainly done that. I rather suspect he’d walk on burning coals for you. You should have seen him eyeing that little piece of cake. You’d think he hadn’t seen a proper meal in days.’
    ‘It’s possible he hasn’t,’ I said soberly. ‘I think the steward at the house mistreats him dreadfully – though there can’t be any shortage of nutrition in the house.’
    My adopted son gave my arm a gentle squeeze. ‘Not everyone has masters as kindly as my own.’
    That was an unexpected compliment – he had been my servant before I set him free – but it was not the sort of thing he often said. The moment might have been embarrassing, but he turned away and began to search for something on the shelf. ‘You will want that pot of sealing-wax. I know I’ve seen it here. You had it when you were sealing that bill for the councillor the other day. Ah, here it is.’ He brought down the little jar and bent down to set it on the trivet by the fire, where it would soften in the heat.
    I had eaten every crumb of cake by now so I turned my attention to the writing-block. I did not often use a folding wax-tablet of this kind – most of our calculations are simply chalked on slates – but I had used such things before. I opened it out flat. The wax had melted slightly, as I’d hoped it would, and though it was badly crazed it was just usable. I smoothed out the surface as best I could, erasing the words that had been scratched on it before and, picking up the stylus, inscribed a message of my own.
    Junio was still standing at my shoulder as I wrote and he read the words aloud. ‘“I have received your urgent message and will report developments to my patron as soon as possible. I have chosen not to send a verbal message with your slave, because I am not certain how much he should know, but I will call on you again tomorrow and let you know what Marcus says.”’
    He grinned. ‘That is clever, father. Giving a reason why you had to send a written note, though in fact you just wanted to get the boy in here. I know your little ways.’
    ‘As I said, I want to find out what he knows.’
    ‘Nothing to do with feeling sorry for the lad?’
    I made a mock-rueful face. ‘I’m sorry that my motives are so obvious.’
    ‘All the same, what makes you think he’ll talk to you, however much he wants to please? You can see that he’s been trained in the old-fashioned Roman way: where a slave should never speak until he is spoken to, and preferably not then. He’ll be far too shy and awestruck to tell you anything.’
    It was my turn to grin. ‘Why do you think I sent him off with Minimus?’ I gestured with my head towards the outer room from where a murmuring of voices could be heard. ‘A slave will often prattle to a slave. That’s what I’m hoping for. But enough of that – I think they’re coming now.’
    Junio nodded and went back to his work, while Minimus ushered our visitor back into the room. A little food and warmth had clearly done Brianus good – there was a touch more colour in the sallow cheeks and he seemed a lot less nervous than he was before, although he still hung back against the wall.
    I did not confuse him by addressing him direct, but busied myself with tying the cords around the writing-block and securing them with a little dab of heated wax. I don’t have a fancy seal-ring, like patricians do, but I do possess a seal – a piece of wood with a raised iron pattern set into the end. I gestured to Brianus that he should pass me that, and – rather shyly – he stepped up to comply, while I winked at Minimus, who was sulking slightly at being