Again the man hesitated, and this time, looking at him, Kasia thought she saw something. It was unexpected, but she was almost sure.
‘Thrown out?’ He gave that same short rasp of laughter. ‘You aren’t presumptuous, you are ignorant. Where is Martinian?’
Careful, she said to herself. This man was important, and Crispin might depend upon him, work with him, for him. She could not give way to panic or anger, either one.
She schooled her voice, cast her eyes downwards, thought of Morax, genuflecting to some fat-pursed merchant. ‘I am sorry, my lord. I may be a barbarian and unused to the City, but I am no one’s whore. Martinian of Varena is at the Hippodrome with the tribune of the Fourth Sauradian.’
Siroes swore under his breath. She caught it again, then, that hint of something unexpected. He’s afraid, she thought. ‘When will he be back?’
‘My lord, I would imagine when the racing ends.’ They heard a roar from across the narrow streets and the expanse of the Hippodrome Forum. Someone had won a race, someone had lost it. ‘Will you wait for him? Or shall I leave him a message from you?’
‘ Wait? Hardly. Amusing, I must say, that the Rhodian thinks he is at leisure to go to the games when he’s taken the god’s time arriving.’
‘Surely not a failing during Dykania, my lord? The Emperor and the Chancellor were both to be at the Hippodrome, we were told. No court presentations were scheduled.’
‘Ah. And who is informing you so comprehensively?’
‘The tribune of the Fourth Sauradian is very knowledgeable, my lord.’
‘Hah! The Sauradians? A country soldier.’
‘Yes, my lord. Of course, he is an officer and does have an appointment with the Supreme Strategos. I suppose that required that he make himself aware of doings in the Imperial Precinct. As best he could. Of course, as you say, he wouldn’t really know very much.’
She looked up in time to catch an uneasy glance from the mosaicist. She cast her eyes quickly downwards again. She could do this. It was possible, after all.
Siroes swore again. ‘I cannot wait on an ignorant westerner. There is to be an Imperial Banquet after the chariots tonight. I have an honoured couch there.’ He paused. ‘Tell him that. Tell him… I came as a colleague to extend greetings before he was faced with the . . . strain of a court appearance.’
She kept her eyes down.
‘He will be honoured, I know it. My lord, he will be distressed to have missed your visit.’
The mosaicist twitched his cloak up on one shoulder, adjusting the golden brooch that pinned it. ‘Don’t fake proper manners or speech. It hardly suits a bony whore. I do have enough time to fuck you. Will a half solidus get your clothes off?’
She held back the biting retort. She wasn’t afraid any more, astonishingly. He was. She met his gaze. ‘No,’ she said. ‘It will not. I shall tell Martinian of Varena you were here and offered, though.’
She moved to close the door.
‘Wait!’ His eyes flickered. ‘A jest. I made a jest. Country folk never understand court wit. Do you … would you … by chance have any experience of Martinian’s work, or, ah, his views on … say, the transfer method of setting tesserae?’
A terrified man. They were dangerous sometimes. ‘I am neither his whore nor his apprentice, my lord. I shall tell him, when he returns, that this is what you came to learn.’
‘No! I mean … do not trouble yourself. I will discuss the matter with him myself, naturally. I shall have to, ah, ascertain his competence. Of course.’
‘Of course,’ Kasia said, and closed the door on the Mosaicist to the
Imperial Court.
She locked it, leaned back against the wood, and then, unable not to, began to laugh silently, and then to weep, at the same time.
Had he arrived back at the inn after the racing, as he had intended, had he spoken with Kasia and learned of her encounter with a visitor-the details of which would have meant rather more to him than they did to her-Crispin would almost certainly have conducted himself differently in certain matters that followed.