I nodded. I was beginning to have some sympathy with this unhappy tale. ‘So then what happened? You took him to the ladder and across the wall? And no one saw you? That sounds difficult.’
He shook his head. ‘He was so thin and frail that he was feather-light. Less than a full-grown ram in any case, and he wasn’t struggling. I could have carried him one-handed, if I’d tried. I put him round my shoulders as if he were a sheep, climbed over and pulled the ladder after me. I didn’t even stop to put it back, just went to where I’d left the mules tied up, put the priest’s body on the frame that I’d used to bring the image into town, covered him with the blanket that I’d wrapped it in and rode back to the farm. Several people saw me, but it occasioned no remark — no one thinks twice about a farmer with a loaded mule, and in any case it was getting dark by then. I even found the trader at the southern gate and managed to buy a little hay from him — just a sheaf or two that I could tie on top. I suppose it made me even less remarkable.’
‘So when you got here, he was still alive?’ I said, incredulous.
Gitta let out a long, despairing wail. ‘If only that were true! I told him it was stupid. A frail old man like that! And after having given him a dreadful shock as well!’ All the struggle had gone out of her, and suddenly her frame was racked with sobs. ‘So there you are! You know now! I told you we were cursed!’
I let her hands go, and she raised them to her face, covering her eyes and the tears that flowed from them. ‘But I don’t know,’ I said gently. ‘I understand that he was dead when he arrived — but not how he contrived to be discovered in that pond. Nor how half of him was missing by that time. I don’t believe in demons. I presume you put him there?’
Cantalarius had lumbered to his feet. ‘Citizen, I’ll tell you, but first I need a drink.’ He picked up the pitcher and brandished it at me. ‘Would you care to join me? I will get a beaker each. Stay, wife!’ he added, as she broke away from me — but he was too late and she had already wriggled free.
She was flushed and weeping and utterly distraught — what I have heard physicians call ‘hysterical’, though I am not convinced it is an affliction of the womb. At all events she was disturbed enough to stamp her feet and shout. ‘I’ll tell him, husband! What does it matter now! We shall both be executed anyway, for the illegal abduction of a priest! They can’t do any more to us for bleeding him and trying to use his blood as sacrifice.’
I looked at Cantalarius. He put the pitcher down and came across to take her in his arms. She was red-faced and ugly with distress, but he looked at her as tenderly as if she were his bride. ‘It was my fault, citizen. She thought of the idea — what blood could be more pleasing to the gods than priestly blood? — but she’d never have put it into practice but for me. And we did try to give him a decent funeral — in fact you almost interrupted it …’
‘The pyre!’ I said. ‘How simple! Why, of course! And then, of course, you said it was a slave!’
He nodded. ‘I wondered if you’d notice that our last slave was still alive, but you did not question it. We had lost several others and we had kept the pyre alight — so adding him to it seemed an obvious thing to do, a kind of burnt offering even, to appease the deities. We even washed the body and treated it with herbs — and that’s when we discovered the final insult to the gods! You know the fellow should not have been a priest at all? A priest must be physically perfect in all respects, of course — is that not always a prerequisite?’
‘No limp; no impediment of hearing, speech or sight; and no physical or mental deformity,’ I quoted, in assent.
‘Only he had a birthmark, across both his upper thighs. A great big purple birthmark, bigger than my hand. Someone must have bribed the temple priests when he was young, for them to have accepted him at all.’
‘Surely it is possible that it developed afterwards?’ I said. ‘These things do happen sometimes, I believe. And priests can go on acting when they are frail and old — after all, apart from the Servirs of the Imperial cult, a priesthood of the Roman deities is generally for life.’
He shook his head. ‘I know a birthmark when I see one. I should do; I was born with one myself. And it was always held to be a sign of judgement from the gods — an indication that I was born unworthy and unclean — like this crooked shoulder that I bear. How could I offer that to purify my land? I cut off the offending limbs, and wrapped them in his priestly robes and took him to the pond next morning before light. I knew the place where the other corpse was found — perhaps that’s what gave me the idea — and we put him where the ice had already been disturbed. I knew that someone would soon discover him — I thought perhaps that would prevent a further search and people would simply think that he’d been gnawed by wolves. The last one had been, so I understand. But I reckoned without your involvement, citizen.’
There was nothing much that I could say to that. ‘So that is why the temple was so sure that it was him! They must have known about the birthmark too — but of course they couldn’t say so publicly. No doubt that’s also why they held the funeral so soon and privately. And, judging by the fact that you had put him on the pyre — or the part of him that you were offering to the gods — very shortly before I got here with my slave, both halves were cremated not very far apart. I see now why your wife was so upset when we interrupted that — especially when we talked about a missing man. Where have you put the ashes?’
He let go of sobbing Gitta to wave a hairy hand. ‘You are looking at them, citizen. We put them on the land. Isn’t that the way to use a cleansing sacrifice? But there you are. We meant no disrespect. For one wild moment, we thought you might be right — the sacrifice we’d offered had removed the curse — but of course I realize now that it was quite the opposite. Though I have to tell you, citizen, this has been a relief. I have not slept a moment since I found that he was dead. In fact I tried to tell you once before — but you misinterpreted. I’d said that I’d been tempted in the marketplace …’
‘I thought you meant the money-lenders!’ I said, remembering.
He nodded. ‘Precisely, citizen. But now you know the truth. So what, exactly, do you mean to do with us? I am unimportant — I am ruined anyway. But after all, perhaps you could contrive to save my wife? She was going to leave me, because she thought me cursed — poor creature, it turns out that she was right. Could you let her get away and go back to her home? Then it doesn’t matter what becomes of me.’
Perhaps it was that plea that made up my mind for me. Or perhaps it was Gitta sobbing as she clung to him. ‘Husband, don’t say that. It’s my foolish tongue again. I should not have threatened that I was going to leave. How could I know that you would take it so to heart? You’re old and you’re ugly, but you’ve been good to me. How could I let you make a sacrifice like that?’
It was not entirely clear what sacrifice she meant, but Cantalarius looked as thrilled as if he’d found the golden fleece. ‘You hear that, citizen?’ he said to me. ‘Perhaps she would not have left me after all.’
I did not have the heart to point out what this meant — that all his bargaining and worry was in vain and that he need not have troubled with the priest at all. But I had come to a conclusion. Earlier I had let Lucius and Silvia escape, on the grounds that they were honest and that no purpose would be served by handing them over to the authorities. I could not in fairness do any different now. These people were not wealthy — they had neither charm nor beauty or much intelligence — but they deserved no less.
‘Listen,’ I said. ‘I have a proposition for you. Pour me a cup of wine, and I will tell you what it is.’
EPILOGUE
Marcus was in a jovial and expansive mood when I arrived with my report, and from the way that he was leading Julia by the arm and looking at her in that doting way, it was clear that Gwellia’s assumptions had been right.