The Fateful Day

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Perhaps it was my own fault that I got involved in this affair. It was none of my business who was calling at my patron’s country house. But since I knew that Marcus was away — gone to Rome, in fact, and likely to be gone for several moons — when I saw the expensive private carriage standing at the gate, I thought it only fair to warn the occupants. Marcus had left only a few slaves to run the place — his wife and son had moved back to the town-house in Corinium while he was gone: she was expecting a second baby soon, so it was risky to go with him, and this way she’d be closer to a midwife if need be. So, I was only trying to be helpful, or so I told myself. Of course, there were still gatekeepers and slaves to pass on this kind of news, but to be honest — given the magnificence of the equipage — I was hoping that there might be a few quadrans in it for my having taken the trouble to explain.

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