“To see Vibius.” I offered no explanation, but Cassia seemed to understand. She slid a fold of her cloak across her face and padded across the city with me.
Vibius was not in. The man sweeping his doorstep, a bony specimen in a short tunic, regarded me in some annoyance when I asked for him.
“Off on the Esquiline Hill, isn’t he?” the man snapped. “Dining with the wife’s brother. Always asking for money, that one.”
I wasn’t certain whether he meant that Vibius or Cloelius asked for money but decided not to pursue the topic. The man turned his back, finished with the pair of us.
The Esquiline was a good walk from here, and the city was darkening, but I still wanted to wring some answers out of Vibius.
“We will not be welcomed to a patrician’s domus at supper,” Cassia pointed out, guessing the direction of my thoughts.
She did not, I noticed, tell me we should not go, only what our reception might be.
I trudged back the way we’d come, and Cassia followed without a word.
I quickened our pace as we reached the Circus Maximus and moved around it past the Forum Bovarium and the warehouse where Laurentius had assailed me yesterday.
At the Forum Romanum, I cut south to move through the Carinae instead of the Subura, though after dark this area was not much safer. I reached behind me to grasp Cassia’s hand, pulling her tight against me as we navigated the narrow streets.
Just past the Porticus Liviae, its large marble facade a pale smudge in the dying light, I turned right and climbed the hill. Our path took us steadily upward, the steps cut into the hill worn from years of use. Pedestrians jammed the conduit of the Porta Esquilina near the top, Cassia and I carried along in their stream.
The crowd thinned after we moved through the gate, people breaking off to enter insulae or larger houses beyond them. I relaxed slightly when we reached the open area lined with villas of the wealthy. These streets would be better patrolled, the near lawlessness of the slums left below us.
I did not know which was Cloelius’s villa, but a question to a slave in a well-made tunic pointed us in the right direction. We continued past a large circular portico, a promenade for the inhabitants in the villa beyond it, which would giving them a grand view over the city.
Not far beyond this, we came to the gate that led to Cloelius’s villa.
A doorman lounged on a bench beyond the gate, a flickering lamp illuminating his slumbering form behind its grill. The lamp proclaimed the household thought nothing of wasting oil on a lamp meant to burn all night.
I yanked the rope hanging on the outer wall, sending a bell clanging.
The doorman, a slave who obviously enjoyed eating well, came awake with a grunt, climbed to his feet, and lumbered to us.
“What do you want?” was his greeting.
The fact that he addressed us at all, strangers after dark, indicated that brigands were unusual in this neighborhood—at least brigands who rang at the front gate.
“I seek Titianus Vibius,” I said. “I am a friend.”
I stretched that truth, as I did not think Vibius liked me. The doorman stared at me, narrowing his eyes to make me out in the gloom.
He gave another grunt. “Wait here.” He turned on his heel and marched to the house.
Cassia peered through the gate, taking in the courtyard with her assessing eye. “Cloelius must come from a very prominent family.”
“Gallus said their money was gone,” I said.
“They don’t appear to have noticed,” Cassia mused. “Though I imagine they don’t want to announce to the world that their fortunes have diminished.”
She fell silent as shuffling steps signaled the return of the doorman.
The doorman didn’t look at us as he thrust a large key into the lock and cranked it several times before he pulled back the gate. The bronze hinges squealed, showing the household had decided not to waste oil on them.
“Follow me,” the doorman said tersely.
I was surprised we were admitted at all—I’d imagined the doorman would summon Vibius to speak to me through the gate’s grill. But maybe intrigue at my visit persuaded Cloelius to allow us in.
We stepped into a large courtyard paved with mosaics. The flickering light picked out multi-colored tiles depicting vines ripe with fruit, baskets full of breads, and other scenes of plenty at our feet.
