And with that he might have left the room, but Lucius forestalled him with a smile. ‘And, cousin, if I might use your seal to send it by official courier, it occurs to me that I should send a message to my aunt. Offering my condolences on this unhappy day.’
‘Of course. My mother would appreciate the gesture, I am sure. Libertus can pick the letters up at the gate, and set off as soon as possible. Meanwhile, Julia my dear,’ he added with a smile, ‘perhaps you could entertain the high priest for me. I see he’s coming through the courtyard garden now. You can take him into the new reception room, perhaps? I’ll send a slave with some refreshments by and by.’
Julia looked reluctant, but she went without a word, taking Atalanta with her. I wished my patron had not mentioned food — with the discovery of Aulus I had quite forgotten how hungry I’d become, but now I was reminded. I was ravenous.
‘Farewell till later then, my friends,’ Marcus said graciously, and he left the room with Lucius and the usual scattering of attendant slaves.
I turned to Gwellia. ‘At last we have the chance to talk,’ I was saying, when I was aware of a small scuffling at the entranceway.
Niveus was still hovering there. He looked nervously at me. ‘Master?’
I realised — eventually — what the trouble was. ‘Find the man in the wine cart and say to him, “Come round to the front gate and wait for passengers,”’ I explained, speaking the message with careful emphasis. ‘And then come to the gatehouse and find me there yourself.’
Niveus nodded gratefully, and disappeared at once.
Chapter Twenty-two
Gwellia was not looking very pleased with me. I was in my patron’s villa, and our son was watching us, but I was still tempted to take her in my arms. Fortunately I recollected what is acceptable, and merely raised my eyebrows with a smile.
‘What is it, wife?’ I murmured.
She looked up at me. ‘You are still working on this business, aren’t you? And I’m afraid for you. Morella’s father is an ugly man. And you propose to present yourself at this memorial feast, it seems, without the opportunity to wash yourself and clean your toga-hems.’
I laughed. ‘Thanks to the cleansing rituals which I’ve had to undergo, I’ve washed my face so many times today that I’m surprised it hasn’t washed away. And as for my toga-hems, don’t worry about them — ashes and tatters are a measure of respect.’
She made a tutting noise. ‘Only for the mourning family,’ she exclaimed. ‘And don’t change the subject, husband. This matter’s dangerous. That poor woman who was here a while ago — you know she thinks her husband may have killed the girl?’
That was a new idea. I turned to stare at her. ‘I’m sure that he could do it,’ I said thoughtfully, and then remembered what had happened at his farm. I shook my head. ‘But I don’t believe he did. He is afraid of being questioned by the torturers — his actions this afternoon have made that clear — but he wasn’t frightened when I spoke to him at first. He was concerned lest I had found her and was going to bring her back. And angry that she had left him with a settlement to pay. Money is more important to him than her welfare, I’m afraid.’
‘And if he had killed her he would have taken the coins from the dress?’ Junio had been listening.
I shook my head again. ‘I don’t believe he knew this morning that she’d taken them,’ I said. ‘He would have been more anxious to ask me about them at the time, instead of having to walk miles to look for me.’
‘Perhaps she was not wearing the plaid dress when he killed her,’ Gwellia said.
Junio exchanged a glance with me. ‘Minimus says she wore a tunic later on,’ he said. ‘Apparently he saw her with Aulus at the gate the morning of the civic feast, not long after the luggage cart had gone.’
I nodded. ‘The day we think the murder must have taken place. And she was spoken to by a carter afterwards — he took a message from her to the farm.’
Gwellia looked thoughtful. ‘So she was seen as recently as that? Then her mother must be wrong. She said Morella had been talking to a man in the forum market when the snake act was there — by my calculations, that was two days before the feast — and when her father heard about it he beat her savagely. Then, the next morning, she had disappeared. Her poor mother was terrified she’d perished in the night, and her father had done something with the body while they slept.’ She raised her eyes to me. ‘I think she’ll be relieved to know that isn’t true. She blamed herself for telling the father what she’d seen.’
I frowned. ‘But surely there was a message from the girl, saying that she had run away to join an entertainment troupe?’
‘Only the father heard that message, as far as I can see. He simply came and told the family what he claimed the carter said. Morella’s mother was convinced he’d made it up. Then when you came and said that she’d approached the dancing girls, you gave her hope again — until she realised that you thought the girl was dead. Now she is torn between despair and hope, and terrified of what her husband might have done. She married him against her parents’ wishes, it appears, but he was wealthy and she persuaded them — then learned too late that he was miserly and cruel.’
So miserly he’d stolen money from a family tomb, I thought. But something more pressing had occurred to me. ‘That message from the carter — it might be possible to check. Perhaps I should have looked into it before, though he might be hard to trace. .’ I stopped. ‘Great Mars! Why am I such a fool!’
‘What is it, Father?’ Junio enquired.
‘That carter! I think I might know who it is — in general terms at least. Something that Aulus said to me. He talked about a farmer from the hills who went past here each day, taking a load of produce to the market in the town!’
‘And you think that load might once have concealed a corpse?’
I shook my head. ‘Unless he killed her, I doubt it very much. But if we can trace him, we can ask him what he knows, and whether Morella really sent a message home with him.’
Junio looked puzzled. ‘But what makes you think that this farmer is the carter that took the message from the girl? There must be many carts that come and go along the lane.’
‘But very few from there,’ I said. ‘You haven’t seen the area where these people farm. It’s miles along the lane and up a winding track. Who but a farmer would go that way at all, and be well known enough to give a message to? And Morella’s father mentioned that one farmer had a cart — and sons — and so had the time to go to market with fresh produce every day.’ I paused, to give added emphasis to this. ‘He would have to pass the gate here, if he was doing that. There’s no other way to reach the market, without taking twice as long.’
Gwellia nodded. ‘He would not want to make the journey any longer than he need, especially if he was coming and going there every day. Obviously he’d take the best road he could find.’
I was staring at her. ‘Coming and going! Of course! I must be getting old, or I would have thought of it before. Junio, bring your mother to the gatehouse when I send for you — assuming that she still wants to change her clothes.’
Gwellia looked flustered. ‘I must wear a darker robe. I’ll have to come in my pink stola, but I have a deep blue over-tunic I can put on top which will be a bit more suitable. But why the hurry, husband? What do you propose to do?’
‘I will wait out in the lane for the wine cart and the letters that Marcus and Lucius want to send to Glevum with me. It occurs to me that I might see this famous farmer in his cart. If he goes in to the market, then he must come home again — it might take all day to sell a load of produce, I suppose, but he wouldn’t choose to travel on those roads in the dark.’