Free The Making of the Lamb by Robert Bear

ducks, swans, fish, and all manner of aquatic plants depicted in the mosaic floor.
    Jesus looked up at the rectangular patch of open sky. “Uncle, why is part of the roof missing?”
    “To allow rainwater to fill the pool,” Daniel answered before Joseph had a chance. “That’s why they call the pool an impluvium.”
    “It’s quite impressive with rainwater falling in,” said Joseph. “It’s something to see at night in the light of the oil lamps.”
    “I bet it splashes on the floor a lot,” said Jesus. “I guess the Romans need to keep their minions busy with the mopping.”
    Joseph raised an eyebrow in warning. “Remember what I said aboard the ship?”
    “I’m sorry, Uncle. I will just stand behind you and Daniel. I will be quiet as a mouse when we meet your friend.”
    Septurius strode into the atrium and embraced Joseph. Merchants of lower social rank were required to wait and then, when summoned, approach the legate as he sat behind a table on a raised platform in his office. But as a noblis decurio , Joseph was entitled to the courtesy of having the legate come from his office and greet him in the atrium. Besides, the two were longtime friends.
    “Greetings, my friend,” Septurius said in Greek.
    Only a thin purple border on his white toga signified Septurius’s office. The simplicity of his garb was a marked contrast to that of Joseph. Romans were not put off by distant travelers appearing in native dress, so Joseph had on his best cloak, a subdued shade of red with gold fringes at the hem and at the ends of the wide sleeves. It was loosely draped over his shoulders and open in front, revealing the long white tunic bound with a gold-colored sash around his waist. His skullcap was light green, with its turned-up edge revealing a gold-colored lining.
    “Daniel, how you’ve grown over the winter,” said Septurius. “What has it been, eight months?” He turned back to Joseph. “So, my friend, how long will you be in Arelate?”
    “Just a few days at most, to hire a wagon team and possibly trade some of my olive oil for other goods,” Joseph replied. “I need to see what wares the local craftsmen have.” Joseph took the legate’s cue as the two continued in Greek. Clever of him to forgo Latin for this occasion. That showed a bit of culture while also keeping the conversation private within the earshot of household slaves.
    “Ah, you’re in need of trinkets. You must be off to trade with the Britons again.”
    “Yes, but it is becoming a sorry business to deal with the Cantiaci tribe around Dvrobrivae. They know how much Romans dislike sailing across open seas, and they occupy the only place on the other side of the Oceanus Britannicus that you can reach while staying within sight of land. So, they take advantage by exacting heavy tolls. On my last expedition, I went out to a place called Yengi. Have you heard of it?”
    “Isn’t that the old Celtic trading port on the southern coast of Britain? They still export slaves from there, don’t they?”
    “Yes. Some merchants also go there to pick up iron ore. They find it lying around the beach.”
    “There’s not much money to be made in iron,” Septurius said. “And you don’t have armed retainers to control slaves. Jupiter knows you would need them. I tried purchasing a Briton earlier this year, and the cheeky bastard struck another slave. I had to sell him off to the workhouse at a great loss. If he had done that to a freeman, I would have been forced to have him crucified. I’d have lost my entire investment.”
    “I go in search of more profitable metals,” Joseph said. “A little tin will strengthen ten times as much copper into a strong bronze alloy. When I was in Yengi last time, I came across a chieftain who had several large tin ingots that he didn’t know what to do with. I bought them for a song. I paid heavy tolls to the Cantiaci and several other tribes just to bring the ingots through their provinces back to our