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m-m-market-place and find out where you l-l-lived.’
    ‘But you managed to hurry fast enough to catch me on the way?’
    Another nod. ‘I have a m-m-message for you.’ Rain was streaming down his face unchecked and his fairish hair was plastered to his head.
    ‘Come into my workshop and give it to me there,’ I suggested, with a smile. ‘Perhaps we could let you dry off by the fire.’
    ‘Oh, I c-c-couldn’t do that, citizen. That would take too long. Calvinus will . . .’ He stopped in confusion, and trailed off helplessly.
    ‘Flog you?’ I finished.
    He didn’t answer but I saw that I was right.
    ‘Very well then, give me the message if you must,’ I said. ‘But be very quick. I’m getting soaked out here.’
    ‘It’s quite a short m-m-message and I have learned it off by heart.’ He took a deep breath and went on – quite loudly and in a peculiarly artificial tone, as though he were a herald at the basilica: ‘“J-j-just after you left, we had a messenger to s-s-say that master reached B-B-Britannia a day or two ago, together with his wife and slaves and the r-r-remainder of his goods. He has found a ship’s c-c-captain who will bring them round by sea, and they should be here in less than half a m-m-moon. He himself has taken horse, and sends word that he’s already on his w-w-way.”’ He raised his streaming face to me again and added in a more normal tone of voice, ‘That was the m-m-message. And I’m to add that, “the m-m-master doesn’t know what happened yet, and this m-m-makes things urgent.” Calvinus says that you will understand.’
    I nodded. It was becoming obvious that my surmise was right and Calvinus had not told the other slaves about the theft. ‘I understand,’ I said. In the circumstances, I rather wished that I did not. What did the steward expect that I could do?
    ‘Is there a reply, ci-ci-citizen?’ It was not a stammer, I realized suddenly. The boy was shivering.
    I looked down at him and felt a wave of sympathy. The lad was undernourished and soaked through to the skin and too afraid of punishment to come and dry himself – as any other slave would certainly have done – at once. I made a quick decision. ‘Indeed there is an answer, but I will have to write it down. Come to my workshop and I will see to it.’
    If he saw through my little ruse he gave no sign of it. He bowed. ‘In that c-c-case, citizen, you had b-b-better lead the way.’ I had forgotten that he did not really know where we were going. I hurried the few remaining paces to where the workshop was. The street door was half-open, and I motioned him inside, but Brianus was too timid to precede a citizen so in the end I led the way myself – through the front area where the counter was, round the partition wall, and so into the inner room beyond. A fug of smoky warmth enveloped us.
    I looked gratefully around the room. A cheerful fire was burning in the chimney-place and gangly Minimus – the second of my little red-haired slaves – was warming something in a small pan over it, while Junio was busy with a pattern on the floor. It was a pleasant scene of humble industry and there was a welcome smell of oatcakes, pies and newly spiced hot mead.
    Minimus saw me first. ‘Master!’ he cried, scrambling to his feet. ‘Come in and dry yourself.’ He hurried over to take my cloak from me. ‘We saw you coming. What kept you so long outside in the rain?’
    I indicated Brianus, who was hanging back against the wall. ‘This slave has been sent after me from Voluus’s residence with an urgent message,’ I replied. ‘He’s awaiting my reply. In the meantime, take his cloak. He’s dripping on the floor.’ I winked at Junio, who had sat back on his heels and was watching this exchange with amusement on his face.
    He saw the wink, nodded, and went back to his work – saying over his shoulder, ‘See to it, Minimus. Hang it on that nail there on the chimney-piece. We don’t want water falling on