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

along with that. Clearly she did the minimum necessary to avoid notice or criticism.
    I did not blame her. If I was a slave, I would have behaved the same way.

7
     
    I took advantage of the steward believing our talk had gone well. Soon I would finish my initial enquiries, where I maintained a neutral attitude on purpose while I assessed the scene and familiarised myself with the witnesses. Once I began applying pressure, Polycarpus would realise he had failed to ingratiate himself, but for the moment I played grateful.
    I fetched a stole and asked him to show me where to find Aviola’s executors; on the way there we could see what the local shops and stalls had to offer and I would point out the kind of provisions I liked.
    Out in the streets it was immediately clear that around here Polycarpus had made himself a man of account. Everybody knew who he was. People bustled up to greet him. Whenever we paused at a greengrocer, salami seller or fruiterer, the proprietor dropped what he was doing to attend to us personally. If we failed to stop, traders left their stalls and shops and actually followed us for some distance, offering Polycarpus deals, treats, pleas and samples of their goods. I lost count of the times I was told what a wonderful fellow my companion was. Had he not been a freedman he could have stood as a local tribune and beaten all comers.
    It was based on favours, naturally. He must have steadily built relationships along the Clivus Suburanus and nearby, using his importance as controller of Aviola’s domestic budget; in return he could depend on these suppliers, making himself look good at home by miraculously providing whatever his master wanted, even at short notice. He probably had equally smooth dealings with building contractors and so forth.
    I saw no coins changing hands; it would all be done on account, with creditors no doubt having to beg for payment weeks in arrears in the classic Roman way. Nor did they yet seem too afraid that with the master dead the account might be closed, though one or two did enquire what would happen now. Polycarpus claimed not to know, implying that if it was left to him transactions would continue as usual.
    I was convinced little bonuses passed to him regularly. I don’t criticise. He was a really good steward. Whether I would want someone exercising that kind of influence in my household is another matter.
    ‘
What household is that supposed to be, Albia?
’ my family would roar. They thought I lived like a vagrant.
     
    The main executor was called Sextus Simplicius and had an apartment in a block three streets from Aviola’s. A door porter let us in; then we saw a polite functionary much like Polycarpus. He told us his master was out on business and made an appointment for me the next day. Polycarpus took the lead in our conversation, of course, though at the end I intervened and mentioned that when I came back I would like to see the will. Eyebrows were raised. I remained calm, simply letting the two stewards know I expected my request to be taken seriously and passed on to the executor.
    I could always call on Manlius Faustus to help me obtain sight of the document, though I preferred not to. Who wants to look incompetent?
    If Aviola and Mucia really had been murdered by strangers, knowing the contents of the will ought to be routine, simply covering all angles. On the other hand, if the slaves were implicated as the vigiles argued, anything Aviola had had to say about their disposal might be helpful. Which did he trust and value?
    I would have liked to know this before my next move but decisions were urgent for Faustus. I was now ready to go over to the Aventine and visit the group in sanctuary.
    Polycarpus seemed to think it one of his duties to attend these interviews. You guessed: I refused. I marched him back to the apartment, where instead I picked up Dromo.
    ‘Why’ve I got to haul myself all that way with you? You can report to Faustus