A gruesome discovery leads Libertus on a dangerous quest . . . - Wealthy Volus, ex-lictor to the Imperial Governor of Gaul, is retiring to the town of Glevum. Libertus is sent to his new apartment, where he is informed that one of the ex-lictor’s treasure carts has been intercepted, the guards and horses brutally butchered. When his actions are misinterpreted by a network of spies, Libertus is suspected of involvement in the massacre and marched to the garrison to await trial. But after daringly escaping, Libertus embarks on a dangerous quest to discover the truth . . .    “Fans of other series set in ancient Rome by Steven Saylor, Kelli Stanley, and Lindsey Davis, among others, should add Rowe to their reading lists.”Booklist on A Whispering of Spies Rosemary Rowe is the author of the Libertus Mystery series. She has also written more than a dozen bestselling textbooks as Rosemary Aitken. A Whispering of Spies By Rosemary Rowe Severn House Publishers Limited Copyright © 2012 Rosemary Aitken All rights reserved. ISBN: 978-0-7278-8163-2 CHAPTER 1 Voluus the ex-lictor was a newcomer to Glevum, recently retired from the Provincial court in Gaul, and I had never met him yet – though I could guess from his profession what kind of man he was. Glevum is a free republic within the Empire and we don't have lictors here, but he had boasted publicly of what his previous duties were: personal attendant, bodyguard and on-the-spot torturer and executioner for the outgoing Roman governor of Gaul. People were already whispering that he could flog a criminal with such precision that the wretch was 'half a breath' from death, and yet present him living to be crucified – an example of commendable professional expertise, since to lose a prisoner by beating him too much was an official failure on the lictor's part. Of course, Voluus was retired now, so perhaps was past his prime – though no doubt he was still strong. A man must have a certain vigour to carry a bunch of hefty five-foot rods, each thicker than my arm, especially when the bundle is bound round a heavy axe – yet that was the nature of the fasces which, as lictor, he would have borne in front of his master in public at all times. So perhaps he was not as old as I supposed. I couldn't find anyone who knew what age he was, though I'd spent the whole morning trying to find out. I would have liked to know who I was dealing with, but it seemed that very few people in the town had actually encountered Voluus at all. He had yet to move into the expensive apartment which he had recently acquired and no one I asked had met him face-to-face. So far he'd merely paid one visit some time ago to inspect the area, staying at the mansio while he looked round to find a place that suited him. Then, having found one (and allegedly having paid the full asking price in gold), he'd left his steward behind to get the property prepared, while he himself went to back to Gaul to supervise the shipping of his things. Of course, it takes a long time for things to come from Gaul, but at last the move was under way. Of that, at least, there was no lack of witnesses. Half of Glevum had seen the carts arrive. Wagon-loads of his possessions had been lurching into town every evening for more than a moon, as soon as wheeled traffic was permitted past the gates. Gossips spoke in hushed tones of what was on the carts – sack-loads of onyx vases and priceless works of art, or maybe it was Gallic silver coins and crates of jewellery: the rumours varied on the detail. Whatever form his fortune took, it was clearly sizeable and the new apartment (which had belonged to a tax-collector previously) was said to be palatial and beautifully equipped. One of my informants – a former customer – had been inside it once. 'Alabaster pillars and fine marble floors throughout,' he told me with a laugh. 'So it's no use you turning up there, my good citizen pavement-maker, offering your services to lay mosaics in his rooms. He would not hire a Provincial craftsman to do work for him anyway – he'd think it was beneath him, however good you are.' He looked at my face and added in alarm, 'Dear gods, Libertus, don't tell me that you really do intend to call! I've heard that Voluus has a wicked temper when he's roused and flies into a tantrum at the slightest of affronts. What will he think if you just turn up unasked? And he won't want your mosaics, anyhow. I should save yourself a journey, if that's what you're thinking of.' But of course that was exactly what I was on my way to do. Naturally the errand was not my idea. Left to myself I would keep well away from him – or any ex-lictor – especially after the warning I'd received. But when one's wealthy patron suggests an enterprise, it is not wise for a humble citizen to demur, particularly when the patron in question is Marcus Septimus Aurelius, rumoured to be related to the Emperor and certainly the most important magistrate in all Britannia. Besides, th