As Tranio started yelling orders, I asked my mother, “Was the stall door closed and barred when you got there, even if you didn’t see my seal?”
“Yes, dear, and the guard you posted was right there.”
“He was wide awake, my lord,” Naomi added, protecting her fellow servant.
“He wasn’t supposed to let anyone in but me,” I said.
“But you were on your way,” my mother pointed out.
She was right, of course. Nobody didn’t disappear between the time the door was opened and the time my mother stepped into the stall where the body was lying. And if the body was already gone, my seal was broken before my mother got there.
But why was I still thinking of him as a ‘body’? If the guards did their duty, no one could have gotten in to remove him, so he must have not been dead. He had to have been unconscious, in a deep sleep of some sort. When he awoke during the night, he managed to find some way out of the stable. It was as simple as that. My seal was already broken before my mother and Naomi lifted the bar.
It had to be that simple.
“All right, let’s go take a look,” I said.
The stable is about thirty paces south and east of the house. Mother walked beside me with Naomi on the other side of her and just far enough behind us to keep up the pretense that she was my servant. If I had not been there, I knew, she would have walked right beside my mother, as she always did, usually arm in arm with her. In the past year they had realized a closeness through similar losses they both had suffered—a daughter dead at birth years ago and a brother taken by an untimely death in recent years.
“Hurry, dear,” my mother urged, but I forced myself to walk at a steady pace.
“There’s no need to hurry,” I said, “if he’s already gone.” I would not let myself be thrown into a panic by women’s chatter. The disappearance of Nobody’s body, though, was unnerving me.
The stable is a rectangular building with six stalls in it, each opening into the paddock, which runs the length of the stable and is about ten paces wide. The fence enclosing the paddock is attached to the stable at each end, with an archway in each of its short ends and a larger archway on the long side to allow carts and wagons to enter. When animals are loose in the paddock, bars are inserted to block the archways.
We entered the paddock through the opening on the long side. Tranio slowed to touch the image of Epona, goddess of stables and the animals kept in them, which hangs on the fence beside the gate. My uncle, who commanded a cavalry squadron on the Rhine and wrote a book about using the javelin from horseback, brought the thing with him when he returned from one of his campaigns. The goddess is depicted sitting sideways on the back of a horse which has one of its front legs lifted as though in motion. Her cloak billows around her to add to the illusion of movement. I accord her all the respect I do any deity—which is to say, none—but Tranio is quite devoted to her.
Our arrival in the paddock seemed to disturb a large raven perched on the top of the stable. It squawked its protest and flew off.
The door to the stall on the end stood open. I could see fear on the guard’s face. He knew I could have him tortured to get answers to any questions I might want to ask. That’s the only way the testimony of slaves is accepted in court. I had no intention of doing so, but it wouldn’t hurt to let him dangle at the end of a noose of uncertainty for a while.
“Can I trust what this man says?” I asked Tranio as we stopped in front of the stall. “Or will I have to drag it out of him?”
“He’s one of our most reliable men, my lord. I can say that about all three men who stood guard here during the night.”
“You’re Nicias, aren’t you?” I asked the man.
“Yes, my lord.”
I remembered him from the time I had spent here in my childhood. He was a few years older than me. Even as a boy, he was big, and I had watched him bully the children of other servants. “I will have the truth out of you,” I said to him, “one way or another.” I might have intimidated him more if he hadn’t been taller and heavier than I am.
“Tell the master what happened,” Tranio demanded.
“Nothing happened,” Nicias said, as though daring me to prove otherwise.
“Something obviously did happen,” I said. “The body that was in the stall isn’t there any more. Did you hear anything from inside the stall?”
Nicias shook his head vigorously. “No, my lord. Nothing. I swear it ... on my life.”
“You certainly do,” I said. “How long have you been here?”
“Since the end of the second watch, my lord. Just like Tranio told me to.”
I inspected the bar, picking off a few specks of wax. “Was the stall door locked then?”
“The bar was across it, my lord.”
“Did you open it to check on the ... the body?”
“No, my lord. I was told no one was to open the door under any circumstances.”
“Did you look in?” The door had a small opening near the top with three solid bars in it.
“No, my lord. What could I have seen in the dark?”
So Nobody could have disappeared before this man even came on the scene. I turned to Tranio. “Who was on guard before him?”
Tranio named the men who had the first and second watches and I ordered him to send for them.
“Was the man before you alert and on duty when you got here?” I knew for myself that at least one man had been awake when I came out here.
“Yes, my lord.”
“And I checked on the men during each watch, my lord,” Tranio volunteered.
“Did anyone report hearing or seeing anything unusual?”
“No, my lord,” Nicias and Tranio answered in unison.
My mother stepped up and tugged on my arm. “Why are you wasting so much time out here, Gaius? Go look inside.”
“There’s nothing to see inside,” I said. “You’ve told me the man’s body is gone. I’m trying to understand how that could have happened.” And trying not to give in to the sense of fear that I could feel knotting my stomach. Something bizarre was going on. Something more bizarre than even Domitian and Regulus seemed capable of concocting.
My uncle was a rational man. He taught me that whatever I can explain, I do not need to fear. But ever since those hounds began to bay yesterday afternoon, I had been presented with one conundrum after another, each more inexplicable than the last. A seemingly lifeless body had appeared in the middle of a wilderness, leaving no evidence of how the man died—if he had died—or how the body got there. Now that seemingly dead body had disappeared from a locked building under the nose of a guard.
Did the man I saw on the shore during the night have anything to do with this business? But he couldn’t. I checked the door just moments before I saw him, and the seal wasn’t broken then. He couldn’t have gotten from the stable to the beach before I got back to the terrace. He would’ve had to get past me. That was at least one question I could answer and not worry about any more. Whenever Nobody got out of the stall, it was after I saw the man on the shore.
“Get some lamps,” I ordered Tranio. The door of the stall faced east, so there would be some sunlight penetrating it, enough for my mother and Naomi to have seen that Nobody was gone. But the roof extended over the front of the stalls by the length of a man’s arm, putting the doors in the shade and providing more comfort for the animals. I wanted to be able to scrutinize the interior from front to back.
When several lamps and a torch had been procured, I led the way. Tranio, holding the torch, hesitated until Naomi slapped him on the shoulder. “Two women have been in there already. What are you afraid of? Go and protect your master.”
“If there’s nothin’ to be afraid of,” Tranio said as I entered the stall, “why does he need protectin’?”
“Assist him then,” Naomi said, and I heard another thwack on some part of Tranio’s body.
With Tranio standing far enough inside the door to avoid another swat from Na
omi, I walked slowly from the front of the stall to the back. The windowless room was the length of a horse and half again as much and narrow enough that I could reach out and touch both walls. It was empty except for the manger by the door. There simply was no place a man could hide.
“We laid him right there, my lord,” Tranio said, “on the floor. And we wrapped that blanket around him.”
The blanket was the only thing on the floor now. Tranio’s eyes got bigger as we stepped closer to it.
“That’s exactly how it was when we left, my lord, all neat and snug around him.”
The blanket was not thrown back, as I would have expected if a man had awakened and decided to rid himself of the hindrance. It still looked as if it were wrapped around something, something that had simply disappeared, like melted snow.
I took the torch from Tranio and raised it to examine the back wall. A bat, disturbed by the light, bared its teeth at me, hissed, and flew out the door. Tranio let out a squawk and threw up his hands as the creature passed over his head.
“I hate those things,” he muttered.
In spite of the tension, I chuckled. “My uncle always told me they were harmless, but that didn’t make me like them any better either.”
“I’ve never seen one in our stables before, and that was a big one. And that white face—I’ve never seen anything like that.”
I raised the torch higher. “It could have come in through the opening in the door. Or there may be some crack or opening up there. Perhaps there’s even a place where a man could have squeezed through.”
“No, my lord,” Tranio assured me. “We keep the place in good repair, just like you’ve told us to, and like your uncle did before you. You’ve lived here, even played in this stable. You know we don’t slack on that.”
He was right. I had been in this stable—in this very stall—enough times to know that the structure was sound, from the stonework in the foundation to the tiles on the roof. I moved some of the straw at the back of the stall with my foot, but there was no evidence that Nobody had dug his way out.
“My lord, could we leave now?” Tranio pleaded.
I raised the torch again and scanned the roof beams once more to disguise my own uneasiness. There was no sign of other bats. Lowering the torch almost to the straw on the floor, I could not detect any of the droppings the creatures always leave. The one we saw must have been a recent arrival. I would have the opening in the door covered to make sure it did not return. Instead of keeping someone from getting out of here, now the task was to keep anyone, or anything, from getting in. “Yes, I think we’ve seen enough. Lock the door and post guards—different guards. Do not let anyone in here until I tell you to.”
At midday I returned to the house, exhausted from leading my servants and the dogs on a search for our missing man on foot and on horseback. Mother—with the inevitable Naomi—was reclining in the long covered arcade which connects the main part of the house with my rooms. It was still too cool for her to sit on the terrace that overlooks the water, but the arcade, with its glass windows, allowed her to enjoy light and warmth. At this time of year it was her favorite spot in the house. The mosaic floor and some plants in large pots made it feel like an indoor garden.
The servants brought wine and food, and I gave an account of our search while I ate.
“And you’ve found no trace of him?” Mother asked when I concluded.
“We covered the grounds of the estate from the seashore out to the road to Laurentum. We could not find a footprint or any evidence that a companion or a horse had been waiting for him.”
“Could someone have picked him up in a boat, my lord?” Naomi asked.
Her audacity made me pause. Except in an emergency, slaves should not speak unless asked to. The chair in which Naomi sat beside my mother’s couch was the only thing that distinguished her from a member of the family. Yet, as often as I was tempted to rebuke the woman, I had to remind myself that her quick thinking had saved me from possible arrest last summer. Even if I wanted to forget that, my mother would not let me.
“If a boat was involved, we wouldn’t likely find a trace of it.” Several other villas overlook the small cove where my house sits. I enjoy a walk on the beach—the sand is particularly soft—but it’s a spot where landing and launching a boat requires considerable skill, in part because of the current created by the stream that runs beside my house. Could the man I saw running on the beach last night have come out of a boat or been waiting for one? Did he have anything to do with Nobody’s disappearance from my stable?
“What could have become of him then?” Mother asked.
“He might as well have vanished into the air. I simply don’t know.”
“Maybe he sprouted wings and flew away,” a man’s voice said from the doorway. Tacitus stepped into the arcade, followed by four of his servants and the two of mine who had summoned him.
I stood and embraced him. “Thank you for coming so quickly. I know this is a difficult time for you and Julia.”
Without waiting for my mother to order her, Naomi sent the servants who had arrived with Tacitus off to be fed and then remained standing near the door.
My mother offered her cheek for Tacitus to kiss. “How is the dear girl?” she asked, putting her hand on his arm and pulling him down to sit on her couch.
“The doctor says she’ll suffer no ill effects from the miscarriage, but her spirits have been slow to recover. She’s been very withdrawn from me for the past month.”
“You men have no idea what we women go through bearing your children.” My mother shook her head mournfully, her hand still on Tacitus’ arm. “Until you’ve carried a child yourself, you’ll never understand what it feels like to have ... a part of you die. You expect us to get up the next morning and resume our lives as though we’ve recovered from a ... a toothache.”
“Lady Plinia, I don’t think you’re giving us enough credit. Men sympathize with women and appreciate what they endure. Euripides has Medea say that she would rather stand in the front line of battle three times than give birth once.”
“Did Euripides ever give birth?” Mother’s eyes narrowed and her voice took on an edge that surprised me.
Tacitus drew back. “Why, no. And I doubt he ever stood in the front line of battle, for that matter. Playwrights aren’t much given—”
“Well, when he, or any other man, does give birth—and loses a child—then I’ll be ready to consider what you have to say. Until then, keep your opinion to yourself.” She patted Tacitus’ arm and gestured to Naomi. “Come, dear, let’s let the men talk, hopefully about things they know something about.”
Tacitus stood and watched the two women leave the arcade arm-in-arm. When he turned to me, his face registered bewilderment. “Did I say something to upset her?”
“Not at all. Yesterday was the anniversary of the day her daughter was stillborn. We come down here every year because this is where she was living at the time. The girl’s grave is here.”
“ ‘The girl’? ‘Her daughter’? You talk about her as though she were someone else’s child. She was your sister.”
“I never saw her. I was only three at the time. They kept me in another part of the house. I understood nothing of what was going on. All I knew was that something was wrong with my mother and I couldn’t see her for several days.” Dredging up my earliest memory made me eager to change the subject. “I’m sorry to hear that Julia isn’t bearing up well.”
Tacitus motioned to a servant to fill a wine cup and cut himself a piece of bread. “She is finding comfort with her mother. They’ve become closer than they’ve ever been, I think. They’re planning a trip to Sicily for some warmth and sunshine.”
“That’s certainly the place to find it.”
“And to be charged an exorbitant fee for it.” Tacitus rubbed his hands together like a man getting ready to work. “Now, what is so urgent? Your messengers were absolutely close-mouthed.”
“As I told them
to be.” I motioned with my head toward the terrace overlooking the sea, and Tacitus followed me out there. The pounding of the waves on the rocks below would make our voices indistinct to anyone not standing beside us and, with my back to the sea, I could watch for anyone who might be spying on us. I could not see distinctly through the glass windows of the arcade, but I could discern if anyone was moving around in there. There was no other vantage point from which someone—not even the best of Regulus’ spies—could get close enough to hear what we said.
Tacitus leaned on the balustrade around the terrace and looked out over the water. “You’ve sung the praises of this house since practically the first day I met you, but you’ve not done it justice.”
“I’ll give you a tour later.” I was content to talk trivialities until I was sure we were alone.
“You must enjoy a lot of fresh fish from that bay,” Tacitus said.
“Actually, no. There aren’t many fish in the water. We do get some good prawns, though.” When I was satisfied that no one could hear us, I said, “The reason I asked you to come down here is that, while we were hunting yesterday, my servants found a man’s body.”
I expected a strong reaction, but, without even taking his eyes off the water, all Tacitus said was, “I know you well enough by now that I know, when you say ‘body,’ you mean a dead body. And, since you sent for me, you must think he did not die without some help.”
“That’s part of it. The bigger problem, though, is that I’m not sure he was dead. I would call him ‘lifeless,’ but is that the same as ‘dead’?”
Now Tacitus straightened up and looked at me in disbelief. “If anyone can determine whether a man is dead, it’s you, Gaius Pliny. What makes you doubtful?”
“Several things. The second one—”
“Wait! Shouldn’t you start with the first?”
“Under normal circumstances, yes, but there’s nothing normal about these circumstances, as you’ll see if you’ll let me continue.”
“By all means.”
“The second thing that makes me doubtful he was dead is the fact that, as of this morning, the body has disappeared.”
The Corpus Conundrum Page 3
