Gallus returned, disappointment on his face. “The foundation appears to be the remains of an ordinary Roman building,” he said. “Probably built less than fifty years ago. Ah well. A thief must have dropped that ring at some time in the past. His misfortune.”
I agreed. I had to wonder whether it was my fortune or my adversity that I’d found it. Already the ring hadn’t brought the best of luck.
The workers Gallus had hired, five men of varying heights and girths, showed up then with shovels and other tools for clearing the ground. Gallus gave the crew’s foreman orders to level what they could but leave the big stones alone. The men lifted spades and picks and made their way to the middle of the field, tramping heavily over the patch where I’d found the ring.
While they began, Gallus took Vibius and I around the site and explained the plan for the warehouse. He’d bring in ashlar blocks for the foundation, supplementing those with any that could be salvaged from the previous building.
Next, we’d form the frames for the concrete walls, which was where most of the design came in. Gallus wanted groined vaulting and lofty corridors, like those of the Porticus Aemilia, but he admitted that we’d end up with a much more modest building.
Sextus Livius had ordered that the walls be faced with opus reticulatum, which was pyramidal pieces of tuff, pressed into the wall so the exposed square tops formed diamond-shaped patterns. This facing would strengthen and preserve the concrete walls, making the building last.
Livius had also paid for peperino, a hard and durable form of tuff, to be imported for this warehouse. Gallus was pleased that the man had supplied the best.
Aside from talking us through the project, Gallus had nothing else for Vibius and I to do that day. He rolled up his plans, excited. If the warehouse turned out well, the wealthy Livius might recommend Gallus for more projects, which could only increase his importance.
Gallus cheerfully bid us a good day and returned to watch the workers, who were breaking the ground under the critical eye of their foreman.
“Are you for your Quirinal baths again, Leonidas?” Vibius asked, the sneer once again in his tone.
“I went to yours yesterday,” I said. “You’d already gone.”
“Did you?” Vibius dropped his contempt, uncertain. “Why?”
“I was curious to see them. It is a fine complex. And I’d hoped to speak to you.”
“Oh?” Vibius gave me a puzzled frown.
“We can go there now,” I continued. “If that was your plan.”
Vibius took one step closer to me. I did not like people so near and tensed, but he only spoke at me in a low voice, “If you are thinking it will be a liaison, I will correct you. I have a wife.”
The wife was new information, but the man at the baths had already informed me of Vibius’s proclivities.
“I don’t need a liaison.” I pinned him with my gaze until he took a step back. “We have to work together. We should trust each other.”
Vibius blinked as though he hadn’t thought of this then shrugged his bony shoulders. “Very well. Let us head for the baths.”
I let Vibius lead the way. We didn’t speak as we walked the relatively short distance to a lane that climbed up the Aventine Hill. At the junction of this road and the Clivus Publicius, the baths waited, the soaring foyer once more welcoming me.
Vibius and I stripped off in the changing room. I shoved my clothes into the niche with the one conch shell I’d used the day before.
For a man who’d been worried I’d wanted a quick go with him, Vibius showed no inhibition in baring himself in front of me. Ignoring my nakedness in return, he walked purposefully out to the exercise yard, strigil in his tight grip.
A few of my pupils from the day before were there, and I demonstrated more exercises. Vibius joined in after a time, and soon he was asking me as many questions as the other young men.
After the oil had been scraped from our sweating skin, Vibius headed for the caldarium, and I sought the frigidarium, as was my habit. The sardonic man I’d encountered yesterday was there again, and he sent me a thin smile.
“It is the gladiator, returned. How fares your day?”
I hadn’t told him I was a gladiator, but he either had recognized me from the games, or he’d guessed.
“Good.” Cassia had told me that answering at least this much when asked a question was polite.
“So happy to hear it.” He leaned back in the water and closed his eyes.
Vibius entered not long later, his long feet slapping the floor. He plunged into the water before he noticed the other man, and when he did, he stiffened.
“Cloelius,” Vibius said tightly.
