Enemies at Home by Lindsey Davis Read Free Book Online Page A

staffed houses work. He showed me a couple of small cells on the service corridor. Numbers of slaves slept there, layered on pallets in wall niches, in much the same way as crockery was stacked on shelves elsewhere in walk-in cupboards. These slaves would have no time to relax at leisure, no personal possessions and absolutely no privacy. One such cell was crammed with mattresses and mats; these could be used on the floor anywhere. ‘Normally the house is full of people looking after the master. They all find space for themselves where they can – the kitchen, corridors, the garden. But they are the master’s
familia
and we make our accommodation versatile, Flavia Albia. When we have no guests, the best slaves may sleep in greater comfort in unused bedrooms.’
    ‘Well, that raises a question, Polycarpus: did any of the guests at the feast stay overnight?’
    ‘None. They all live locally and were taken home as soon as the meal ended.’
    ‘So, let’s go back to the attack. I need details of who was where at that point. What do you know about where the fugitive slaves were sleeping – if that is what they were doing − when the thieves broke in?’
    All Polycarpus could say was that Nicostratus, the porter on duty, was by the front door. We went to look. Off the entrance corridor was a tiny cubbyhole, but Polycarpus said neither of the porters liked it, finding it too stuffy and enclosed; they tended to sleep on a mat in the corridor. That was where the wounded Nicostratus had been found.
    Otherwise, Polycarpus reckoned that the gardener, Diomedes, generally curled up in the garden or one of the cloisters around it. Then the steward remembered giving permission for the two females, Mucia’s personal attendant and her young musician, to sleep in one of the decent rooms at the front of the apartment. He suspected that Chrysodorus, the philosopher, would have taken it upon himself to sleep in another, probably the one I was now using.
    ‘Your master had a tame philosopher?’ I kept my expression neutral.
    ‘My new mistress liked refinements,’ answered the steward stiffly. This was the first hint that there might have been friction between him and the householders, but it was only a hint.
    ‘Stoic, Cynic or Epicurean? What variety is he?’
    ‘A bone idle one.’
    ‘I see. Perhaps he would say he has successfully cultivated an untroubled inner life.’
    ‘Possibly, Flavia Albia. My feeling is that somebody should give him a kick up his untroubled arse.’
    I noticed Polycarpus letting himself express something less bland than normal. It made me think I might enjoy meeting Chrysodorus. It was also a clue to explore relations between the master’s established staff and new people brought by Mucia Lucilia. When I asked, Polycarpus assured me they all got on perfectly together, but he was bound to say that.
     
    We were coming to the end of my meeting with the steward, except that I did mention my unhappiness with the eating arrangements. I instructed him to buy in food for me and Dromo, which I would prepare. If he provided salad and meats, little work would be necessary. He agreed, so we went back to the kitchen where he showed me equipment, crockery and cutlery.
    A fire was kept in for hot water. Myla had that job. We found her there, adding firewood in a desultory way. She was the first of the household slaves I met, and I did not take to her. She was a slow drudge with a dreamy manner who accepted my presence in her domain, received instructions to look after me, but said nothing.
    The newborn babe lay quiet in a basket. I was curious to ask who its father was, but kept that for another time. Polycarpus was still with us and from what I knew of freedmen with power in a house, he might be a candidate.
    The steward treated Myla offhandedly. I had the impression he had given up trying to impose discipline. Myla seemed to be one of those slaves who lived in her own world, and somehow persuaded everyone else to go