Of course this was a house of mourning and it was necessary to observe the proper protocol, especially since Lucius was there to disapprove. I made my due obseisance: first to the statue, then to the living men. Marcus accepted my homage with a benevolent, vague nod, while Lucius looked even more disdainful than before. Only Julia had the grace to smile.
‘You have news for us, citizen?’ she enquired, as soon as I had scrambled to my feet again. ‘Your wife informs me that there was an unpleasant man offering to give you information at the gate. In the light of recent happenings we were quite alarmed for you. Weren’t we, Gwellia?’
By appealing directly to my dear wife in that way our hostess was inviting her to speak, which might otherwise have been inappropriate for a female visitor of no especial rank, in such circumstances and in such company.
Gwellia was quick to seize the opportunity. ‘I do not know that the man was offering to give him information, Lady Julia. More likely to demand payment, from what I saw of him.’ That was my Gwellia, I thought. A tactful hint to my patron that I might need recompense! ‘I have explained to Marcus who the people were — that their daughter was probably the owner of the corpse’s dress, and that it seems she had run away,’ she said to me, and then she turned back to Julia again. ‘But if that was her father, then I am not surprised. Even his wife seemed quite afraid of him. So when he insisted on speaking to Libertus on his own I was a bit worried about what he had to say and whether he was going to set his awful dog on him.’ She gave me her special look, as if to remind me that she had more to tell, at some time when we found ourselves alone.
I flashed a smile in acknowledgement and turned back to my host. ‘He did give me information of a kind,’ I said. ‘He claims the girl had robbed him of the coins that we discovered in her dress. I think he was hoping I could arrange to give them back, but until I have more proof I did not promise to do anything at all. But I do bring other news — much more immediate and serious, I fear. I have found Aulus.’
‘Aulus! Where is he? What has he to say? Bring him to me instantly. What are we waiting for?’ Marcus was annoyed. Almost without seeming to be aware of it, he had pulled a piece of ferny branch from one of the floral offerings round his father’s neck, and was tapping it impatiently against his other hand, as though it were his magisterial baton. This was a habit I’d often seen before: it augured no good to those who crossed him in this mood. I felt actually uneasy when he turned to me and scowled. ‘Where did you find the wretch?’
‘He was in the forest,’ I answered the simple question first. ‘I have taken the liberty of sending some of your land slaves out to bring him home again. I’ve sent Junio to make the arrangements for it now.’
‘Why in the name of Jupiter do the land slaves-’ Marcus began hotly, then seemed to realise that something was amiss. His manner changed. He looked into my face. ‘You don’t mean that something has befallen him? Not Aulus, surely? He’s too big to be attacked.’
I said nothing. It was more than eloquent.
‘Are you telling us that the fellow’s dead?’ Lucius rapped out the question, like an officer giving the order to throw spears. The answer must have been written on my face, because before I could summon a reply he turned his back on me. ‘I can’t believe it, cousin. There must be some mistake. He was perfectly well when I last spoke to him. What can possibly have happened to him since?’ He shook his head. ‘If this is true, I have to suspect a supernatural hand. This is another omen, as surely as Jove makes thunderbolts. I don’t know what my aunt Honoria will say.’
Marcus held up a hand to silence him. ‘My mother is unlikely to find out,’ he said, with the kind of resolute finality he did not often show in the company of his visitor from Rome. ‘Not until I get there, anyway. Unless, of course, cousin, you propose to write to her? Which, given her bereavement, I suggest you do not do. No need to cause her added anxiety, I think.’
It was as near a prohibition as it could politely be. Lucius looked affronted, and said in strangled tones, ‘She is your mother, cousin. You must do as you see fit. She is under your official tutelage and protection now.’
Marcus smiled bleakly. ‘Exactly. Just as this household is.’
It was a reminder of who was master of the house, but Lucius was not so easily subdued. ‘So you will want to make immediate arrangements to cremate your slave. Fortunately we already have the funeral herbs and the pyre is barely cool. I left the priest of Jupiter in the new wing of the house — he asked to have a rest after his ritual exertions and his visit to the bath-house afterwards — and he will advise us as to how we should proceed. It is fortunate that he has not left the premises — I assume that he has been invited to join us for the feast.’
‘Then you assume correctly,’ Marcus snapped, ‘in that regard at least. But whatever customs may prevail in Rome, in Britannia we do not shuffle a faithful gatekeeper on to a funeral fire without a proper ceremony as tribute to his soul. Nor without attempting to discover how he came to die.’ He turned to me. ‘Libertus, old friend, you say you found his corpse. Have you any idea what might have brought about his death? Dragged away by brigands or attacked by bears? Or is this another of those unfortunate affairs with mutilated features and a choke-mark round the neck?’
I shook my head. ‘None of those things, Excellence. I believe that he was poisoned.’
‘Poisoned!’ The cousins spoke together, though their tones were quite distinct. Marcus sounded horrified, and Lucius full of scorn.
‘How could he possibly be poisoned?’ Marcus said. ‘He eats the food and drink that all the servants do.’
There was a little silence. Julia had turned pale, and Gwellia was looking at me with a glance that said ‘I told you this affair was dangerous’ more forcefully than if she’d voiced the words aloud.
‘Of course, there was the messenger who came from Rome,’ I said. ‘I suppose it is possible that something changed hands at the gate.’ I was not convinced by this theory, but everyone had been looking expectantly at me and I felt that some intelligent suggestion was required.
Lucius gave a bleak grimace that might have been a smile. ‘I suppose that’s possible.’
I was encouraged by this unexpected praise. ‘But who in Rome would want to poison Aulus? He wasn’t known to anybody outside Britannia. Unless there was an effort to bring poison to the house, which Aulus managed to take by accident.’
The smiled had faded, and Lucius looked dour. ‘Of course, you’re right. It is preposterous. More likely the gatekeeper strayed into the woods, and was bitten by a snake or something of the kind. I understand you have vipers in the forest hereabouts? I remember it was spoken of the other night.’
‘Would that make him stagger and vomit?’ I enquired. ‘It looked more as if he’d swallowed something poisonous to me, but I have never seen a person bitten by a snake. Certainly there have been vipers in the wood from time to time, but in that case I would have expected to see swelling in his legs.’ Yet even as I spoke, I realised that I might not have noticed fang marks among those streaks of blood.
My wife stepped forward. It was brave. She had not been invited to contribute anything. ‘Your pardon, Excellences, but I doubt it was a snake. For one thing it is not the time of year. And for another, Aulus is so big. It would have taken quite a lot of venom to have killed him with such speed — our snakes are not like those of other lands which will kill a full-grown man so quickly that he has no time to go for help or suck the venom out. A child, or someone old and frail perhaps, but hardly a strapping brute like Aulus. What do you think, husband? Is it possible?’