XIIAmbrosius groped his way to the bathhouse, seeking an old man’s solace in the warm comfort of water. The underfloor heating system, laid down in the time of Agricola, had long since ceased to function and rats had made their homes in the shelter of the flues. But a slave-girl had heated enough water on the wood fires in the kitchens to fill the shallow scooped-out stone bath almost to the brim.
They had spilled rather a lot of water on the stone floor, and Ambrosius was irritated that he was forced to splash through it, his long robe dragging in the wet. It clung damply about his ankles as he moved. He swore a defeated old man’s oath, without force or conviction. His tottering mind tried to picture what would have happened to such slaves in the time, say, of Caligula, or even of Claudi
