‘Ah!’ he exclaimed. ‘At last! Be pleased to seat yourself, Excellence, and then, please gods, send for your troops and have them take this accursed slave away. We should lock him up, before Jove visits any more miseries on us tonight. And you are here too, pavement-maker! What’s this I hear about a pile of bones? Don’t look so startled, citizen. One of your torch-bearers has been telling me.’
The little slave who had fled the shrine, I guessed. I gulped, ready to tell the story once again, but Marcus (who had taken the proffered chair) was already telling it – how Lithputh had killed the messengers, and tried to hide his crimes by smuggling the first body from the shrine, and changing the other for the beggar’s corpse. ‘No doubt, if we had them search the public pit, we’d find the other body we were looking for,’ he finished. He looked at me triumphantly. ‘Well, Libertus, what have you to say? You disagree with my analysis?’
I did, on several counts, but I know better than to ‘disagree’ with Marcus, especially since Meritus and Hirsus were now being ushered in. Marcus did not like to be contradicted even in private. In front of witnesses I must be a dozen times more circumspect.
‘I’m sure you’re absolutely right, Excellence,’ I said. I gave him time to smile before I added, apologetically, ‘In some respects.’
His smile grew tight, but I had done enough. He nodded.
‘Had you considered, Excellence,’ I ventured, ‘that there might be only one body here?’ An appeal to his intelligence was better than a simple explanation, as I knew.
He frowned for a moment, and then his forehead cleared. ‘I see. You mean that the body yesterday might be the same one as the priests saw today?’ I was aware of a tense hush around the room. Everyone was listening carefully to this. Then the smile reappeared, more broadly. ‘Indeed it might! Perhaps the substitution was intended to take place earlier – after all, the body of the tramp was there! But why? Simply to terrify the populace?’
Marcus could be a clear thinker when he tried, though his account was not exactly accurate.
‘Something very much like that, Excellence,’ I said. There was a rustle of relief around the room.
‘One body, then,’ he said. ‘Two if you include Trinunculus.’
I bowed my head. ‘Exactly, Excellence.’
The high priest had whirled around. ‘Trinunculus!’ he gasped, and I realised with horror that this was the first the old man had heard of the death of his assistant priest. It had shocked him deeply, by the look of him – his face was whiter than his robes, and his pale eyes seemed to have lost their gleam.
This time it was Meritus who explained – his voice so resonant that even the pontifex could hear – ‘Strangled, Mightiness! Probably a cord, or band – the soldiers found him lying in the grove. He must, I now realise, have been coming here – there was an angry mob outside the gate, and it would have been difficult for him to pass. I know you told him, Pontifex, to summon other priests to the procession. I imagine he had simply hoped to go out this way. But this worthless wretch’ – he gestured to the inert figure on the floor – ‘must have been loitering, and encountered him.’
‘Who is he, anyway?’ the high priest asked, his voice no more than a ghostly whisper. ‘I seem to have seen him somewhere before.’ He came forward to have a closer look, and the two slaves lifted up the lifeless form for him to see, then dropped it back cruelly, so that the head struck the floor.
‘Lithputh,’ I murmured, but Hirsus stepped forward. His anxious rat-face was more strained than ever, but he found an uncharacteristic courage from somewhere.
‘Don’t hurt him any more,’ he begged. ‘He didn’t kill anyone, not Luce . . .’ His voice broke and he burst into sobs. For two quadrans, I realised, he would have flung himself to the floor beside the Phrygian and bathed him in tears.
But he had started to say ‘Luce . . .’ and I was staring like a fool. The scattered pattern settled into place, and I saw what I should have seen hours before. The slave that Hirsus loved and hoped to ‘set up a household with’ – why had I assumed that it was a woman? Hirsus, who visited Optimus’s house when its owner wasn’t there. I’d seen him walking from there in a cloak, and taken him for a female myself!
I turned to face the pontifex.
‘I called the prisoner Lithputh, Mightiness,’ I said. ‘But that is not rightfully his name – merely a nickname I gave him with my slave. I think his slave name is Lucianus. “Lucianus the wretched” as he calls himself.’
Chapter Twenty-four
I was rather pleased with my deduction and expected my statement to cause a little stir, but I had forgotten that the steward’s identity was no surprise to anyone but me.
Hirsus nodded tearfully, and Meritus said, ‘Indeed, Sacredness, it’s true. Lucianus was a penitent of mine. His master would not release him, and he felt that he had mortally offended the Imperial gods. He has made handsome offerings to the shrine.’
‘I have seen some of them,’ I said. ‘Gold, silver, jewellery . . . all kinds of things. That’s why I was so slow to recognise his identity. How could a mere slave afford such offerings?’
Marcus was tapping his baton on his hand. ‘Stealing from his master, doubtless? Sevir, you are an expert in the metal trade. You must have known the value of such things? Did you not ask where he obtained them from?’
The sevir said coldly, ‘It is not my place to ask him, Excellence. If a man comes to the temple, and offers repeated sacrifices in good faith, it does not occur to me that he may be a thief. That is a crime with heavy penalties. If that were proved . . .’
‘There is no need to look for explanations, Excellence. I helped him,’ Hirsus said, with unexpected dignity. ‘He had no need to steal from Optimus. I am a wealthy man.’
Marcus looked at me, with an expression which said that he believed none of it.
‘Excellence, I think he’s telling you the truth,’ I said. ‘When we were working at the house one of the slaves told us that he’d seen Lithputh – Lucianius – secretly receiving money from a priest.’ For services rendered, presumably, I thought to myself, although I didn’t say the words aloud. In fact, I was careful not to say too much. Hirsus was already in danger from the law.
For a man to love another man is not unknown, and there is no legal barrier to having intercourse with a slave of either sex: many citizens keep pretty boys or youths precisely to gratify their procilivities. The danger for Hirsus – and a serious one – lay in the fact that this was not his slave. Using another man’s slave, for anything, without the permission of his owner is legally a form of theft, and there are nasty punishments for that – though only, of course, if an accuser can be found. I didn’t want to take that role – I was concerned with murder, not with lust.
The prisoner on the floor moaned softly and stirred, and I seized the interruption eagerly. ‘In any case,’ I said, ‘it seems the Phrygian is regaining consciousness. You’ll have an opportunity to ask him for yourself.’
‘That is the least of what he has to answer for!’ the high priest said, echoing my thoughts. ‘If he has desecrated the Imperial shrine – committed murder in the precinct of the gods – and killed a Priest of Jupiter no less . . .!’ He quavered into silence as if his voice had failed him.
Marcus nodded. ‘The punishment will be terrible indeed.’ He’d adopted his magisterial tone again. ‘My judgement is that this has endangered the safety of the town, and would call for the severest penalties. The hook, perhaps, even for a man with personal rights. For a slave like this . . .’
There was an uncomfortable silence. The hook is an appalling death – being whipped half dead, then dragged around the town behind a chariot by an iron hook thrust through the flesh. And when Marcus talked of ‘his judgement’ these were more than idle words: he was the highest magistrate in this part of the province. A freeman is entitled to a trial before the courts, and a citizen can even appeal to the Emperor, but for a mere slave Marcus’s word was law. If Marcus had uttered
the same words in the curia, the sentence would have been instantly imposed.
Hirsus had beads of nervous perspiration on his brow. ‘How can you say so, with him lying there like that? He’s hurt. He has been beaten. He’s not even had an opportunity to defend himself – and you are already planning horrors for his death!’
Sevir Meritus looked at his assistant priest. ‘It’s hard to see how he can defend himself – discovered at the scene, where he’d no right to be, with bloodstains on his clothes. But perhaps we should have him locked up and brought to trial – it will satisfy the mob. They have been looking for a sacrifice. There will be no difficulty – there are accusers enough against him. And then we shall see what he has to say about his crimes.’
Hirsus blanched at this, and looked as if he might faint. The outcome of a public trial might be crueller still. But he said nothing.
Marcus, however, was enthusiastic. ‘A good thought, sevir. It will appease the crowd, and make it seem that justice has been done. And if we lock him up, he can’t escape.’ That was an important consideration – under the laws of Rome a man cannot be formally tried unless both an accuser and the defendant himself can be produced. ‘Very well, take him away.’
The slaves half lifted the unconscious man. He moaned and for a moment his eyelids fluttered, but a swift kick from one of his captors quieted him again.
Marcus turned to me. ‘He needs a proper guard. Where is the armed contingent that I sent?’
‘Most of them are in the temple precinct, Excellence,’ I said. ‘Some are on guard, others are disposing of the bones, and the rest are dealing with Trinunculus.’
‘And where is he?’ Marcus looked avuncular.
‘We have used the bed that’s in the robing room. The sevir said . . .’ But I didn’t finish.
The pontifex had raised his head and begun to howl. ‘The grove, the altar and the robing room. This is intolerable! This is the most holy place in Glevum, and you’re turning it into a storehouse for the dead!’
‘The centurion wanted to bring Trinunculus back here,’ I pointed out. ‘Custom demands that he should be anointed on his bed. But I did not wish to do so, without informing you. I know your vows do not permit—’
The pontifex, who had been in a state of agitation all along, suddenly seemed to give way to frustration, like a child. ‘Great gods!’ he whinnied, throwing up his withered hands. ‘Don’t ask me what I think. Do as you please. Bring them all in – soldiers, corpses, thieves, bones, murderers! What does it matter now? Why not hold a market in the temple court? I’ve spent long enough chasing them away – sellers of birds, charms, amulets – invite them all! I’m sure there are a hundred slaves and women who’d like to pay a visit to the sanctuary – as the Christians do – or have a hand in sacrificing bulls. Why not? Why not? Nothing is sacred any more.’
Everyone was staring at him in astonishment. Even the two slaves who were dragging Lithputh from the room paused for a moment in their efforts to look back at the priest. His usually ashen face was scarlet now, and he was trembling with emotion.
‘Pontifex . . .’ Marcus murmured, but it did no good.
‘Pontifex!’ the old man stormed, shrill with ineffectual rage. ‘What kind of Priest of Jupiter am I? All these years of ritual, fulfilling every item of the law, and more! And look what it has brought me to! The legate coming, and my temple the centre of bloodshed and riot! Even Jupiter has turned against me. I thought I read his hand in these events – but what were they? The actions and machinations of a slave! The body of a beggar from the pit! He thundered earlier, and I hoped to learn his will – to what effect? Even my pathetic effort to placate the gods tonight is doomed! This will teach me to have inflated dreams of being Flamen Dialis. Go, slaves, tell the city the procession’s cancelled and your foolish pontifex is duly punished for his presumption.’
There was an astonished pause. You could have heard a feather drop: no sound except the drumming of the rain. The two house slaves who were standing by the wall looked uncertainly at Marcus, as if appealing for his authority.
He gave it. ‘Tell them it has been postponed. Until the legate’s visit. Jove has delivered the culprit to us now. In the meantime, there will be perpetual vigil in the court. I think that’s best.’
The slaves looked grateful, and slipped silently away.
‘You see?’ the pontifex said bitterly. ‘My orders countermanded in my own house.’ He turned and blundered wildly from the room, brushing past Aurelia who was coming in, accompanied by her page.
‘Husband?’ she called after him, but he disappeared without a backward glance.
She came into the room. ‘Citizen, there have been people asking . . .’ she began, and stopped, aware of the startled atmosphere. ‘Why, what has happened? Why is my husband so disturbed?’ She looked at the two men dragging Lithputh out, and her face turned whiter than the lupin powder with which it was dusted. ‘What are they doing to that man?’
Not ‘who is this man and what’s he doing here?’ I noticed. It was his arrest which caused this alarm. Another little piece of pattern fitted into place. ‘This is Lucianus, lady, steward to Optimus,’ I said. ‘As I believe you know.’
She did not deny it. She was still staring as they dragged him senseless from the room. ‘But why . . .?’
‘Because he was found lurking in the temple court,’ I said. I was aware of the eyes of everyone in the room, watching me intently. ‘He came through here earlier, I think?’
She looked at me then, her pale cheeks turning red. ‘He did indeed. Is there some reason he should not have done? He had my permission – though I don’t know how you knew.’
‘You told me earlier, in this very room, that Optimus was pleased with the repairs to his pavement. I wondered about that at the time. How could you possibly have known that – unless you had some contact with someone from the house? When I saw the steward in the court, I understood.’ She looked so taken aback that I took pity on her, and added, ‘In any case he could hardly have gone in through the other gate – the slaves had closed it to keep out the mob.’
‘So,’ Marcus said, frowning at her, ‘Lucianus chose tonight to ask if he could enter the temple by the inner door? After all that had been happening at the shrine! You didn’t think that it was rather odd?’
Aurelia looked as if she was about to speak, but changed her mind. She stared down at her hands and said nothing.
‘But it was not the first time, was it?’ I was reasoning aloud. ‘The Phrygian had often come this way before. It was some arrangement that he had with you – is that not so, lady?’
She nodded, but she did not raise her eyes. ‘He sometimes carried things for me, that’s all. Nothing of importance, to anyone but me.’
I thought of the time I’d glimpsed her in the garden, and the piece of folded bark she’d tried to hide. ‘Letters, perhaps?’ I hazarded, and saw by the scarlet in her cheeks that I was right. ‘Letters you did not want your husband’s slaves to see?’ It was not a difficult deduction. Why else would a woman avoid using her own servants for the task?
She started as though I’d stung her with a lash. ‘Well, citizen, and if it was? There is no infidelity in a piece of bark. I wanted news of someone, that’s all, simply to know that he was safe – but my husband would not countenance even the mention of his name.’
‘But surely, Optimus . . .?’ I began. I was not making sense of this.
She interrupted before I could show my ignorance. ‘Optimus knew nothing, citizen. He was in touch with his old cohort, that was all. He mentioned it one evening when he called on us. I knew that Tertius had been posted to the same legion. Of course I couldn’t ask Optimus directly – he would have told my husband instantly – but I made a friend of him and enlisted his steward when I could. Whenever Optimus sent missives to the legion, Lucianus ensured that mine went too, with the messenger – and if there was a reply, he intercepted it and brought it here.’ She seemed to realise the impropriety of
this, and added quickly, ‘It did not happen often, citizen. I am a married woman, and Tertius cannot take a wife until his service ends.’
‘Tertius is the young cavalry officer you left behind in Rome?’ I said.
She was quite feminine when she blushed so charmingly. ‘He is in Britannia now, attached to one of the legions here. I did not wish the pontifex to know. Not for my own sake, but for Tertius. Marcellus Fabius is my uncle – as perhaps you are aware since it seems you know all my business, citizen – and my family always disapproved of Tertius. They would have posted him away, put him in the front line somewhere where he would be killed. Tertius is a contarius,’ she added with pride, naming the rarest and newest of the degrees of cavalry, ‘and though he’s a skilled horseman, that is dangerous. He writes that he has fallen several times – it’s hard to balance that long lance while you’re holding yourself on a galloping horse with nothing but your knees.’
Meritus was looking impatient at all this. ‘So,’ he thundered, ‘not only do you deceive your husband by receiving letters from this man, but you encourage Optimus’s slave to creep into the temple court at night – again without your husband’s knowledge – to murder and desecrate the shrine. Are you attempting to make fools of us?’
‘I’m not attempting to make fools of anyone, sevir,’ she retorted with some spirit. ‘Lucianus was unhappy and so was I. We tried to help each other, that is all. At first I paid him, or gave him trinkets and ornaments to sell – he was trying to acquire his slave-price and buy himself free – but he soon told me it was hopeless, and asked for my help in this instead. He often went this way to the temple secretly, sometimes quite late at night. It wasn’t difficult. Even if my husband was in the house he wouldn’t hear.’
The Legatus Mystery Page 21
