‘Why hide in the butcher’s cart? It sounds an awful way to travel.’
‘He had to get out to the farm, and quickly too. I’d seen him in the town, and the cart enabled him to leave the city after dark without being noticed at the gates. The butcher picks the wagon up at dusk, but he obviously brings it into town first to pile it up with skins and carcasses — he’s not allowed to do that during daylight hours. It’s the obvious way to get out past the guards — no one was going to search that vehicle. In fact, I rather think I might have seen the cart myself — probably as Plautus first met up with it. It was blocking my way as I tried to get back to the inn, after I’d left the thermopolium. I heard footsteps behind me, which then mysteriously disappeared — presumably when Plautus got into the cart. The butcher saw me, but he had no idea then who I was. Otherwise I might not have lived to tell the tale.’
‘The thermopolium where the man was killed? You think one of them did that?’
‘I’m convinced of it. Probably Plautus — Thullero — himself, since he was on my heels — but if not him, another of the gang. When Lyra’s little spy went back that night and told them where I was, they came out looking to get rid of me. They missed me — not by very long — but by that time Lupus was a danger too. I might have told him what I’d seen — and that was dangerous. I imagine they were on the look-out for me all night after that — but they could hardly jump on me when I was on the Roman side of town, especially when I had companions, as I did. When I got arrested, the family must have been appalled. I was safe from their clutches absolutely, then. So they did the next best thing — tried to get me executed or exiled for the crime, using the best advocate in town — the one the optio had introduced them to. Of course Lyra couldn’t turn up at the court herself, but she sent her girls along. Lupus’s widow must have been delighted with her luck — probably saw it as an answer to her prayers. Of course if you find that treasure chest somewhere, either at the butcher’s shop or at the farm, you will have proof of this.’
‘And you would make a formal accusation in the court?’ Marcus asked.
‘If necessary,’ I said. ‘And if I don’t I know somebody who would. Lucidus would only be too pleased to bring a charge against his enemies — and since Laxus was called in to testify for me, he already has an interest in the case.’
Marcus was getting to his feet. ‘Then I think we should go and round these rebels up. You’ll have night riders, won’t you, optio? Get them to Nyros’s farm and the butcher’s shop. We’ll take them by surprise. And when we’ve got them, I’m sure we’ll find some method of making them confess. In the meantime, lock this woman up and lose the key.’
‘I still cannot believe this, Lyra,’ Optimus was saying, rather desperately. ‘Is it true? Your whole family has been conspiring against us all this time?’
‘Why should I tell you anything?’ she said. The guard was holding her, but she was fighting still. ‘Go on then. Do your worst. Go out and arrest them, if you can. I told you, by the time your soldiers reach them, it will be too late. You can get rid of me, but they will live to fight another day.’
‘She’s right,’ I said. ‘For one thing, we don’t know who they are. The butcher is obviously not the only one. We know that when he’s out of town, he leaves his brother managing his shop. So that’s Lyra’s brother too, of course.’ I stopped. ‘In fact, I have just realised who it is. I knew I recognised the man when he was here. He keeps the armour stall. The one where Claudinus’s arm-guard was displayed.’
‘You’re going to tell me they killed Claudinus as well?’
‘Who did we bury at the funeral? Obviously not anyone sent to murder Plautus, as I thought earlier. It must have been Claudinus,’ I said wearily. ‘I don’t know why I didn’t realise before. I have been looking for an extra man, and it made me overlook the obvious. He went to Glevum with a secret, dangerous to the rebels, and was never seen again. Of course it was his corpse beneath the stones — he was about the same age and height as Plautus, he had Silurian red hair, and once the face was crushed, it was not difficult to change the clothes. He was a citizen. He did not have work-hardened hands or sunburned legs. A toga would sit easily on him.’
‘So Plautus somehow lured him to the villa after dark?’
I shook my head. ‘I think he was dead already and was taken in a box — it was supposed to contain imported pottery and it needed three men to carry it. I’d like to know what happened to that box, and whether any pottery was ever on the ship at all. I dare say those things could be checked.’
‘A ship?’ Marcus was perplexed.
‘You remember that Claudinus hoped to get to Gaul and bribed his way aboard an olive-oil boat? Well, that was Plautus’s, of course. He made his fortune out of olive oil — that was another link we should have seen. Nyros owned a block of buildings where the wolf-house is — in the street of the oil-lamp sellers. Plautus presumably provided all the fuel. Claudinus obviously didn’t make the connection. He knew the wolf-house was a centre for intelligence, but he thought Plautus — a Roman citizen — was an ally and he went to him for help. Probably the rebels helped to lure him there — he talked of finding one more link to prove his case. Once he was on the ship, of course, there were no other witnesses except the ship-master, who was one of Plautus’s men. It would be fairly easy there to cut his throat or slip him poisoned wine and stuff him in the box. Plautus had to take the arm-guard off, of course.’
‘Rather dangerous to bring it back here where it might be recognised,’ Marcus observed.
‘What else was he to do with it? He couldn’t leave it there. And if it ever was discovered on the Venta stall, it would be taken — as it was, in fact — as evidence that Claudinus was dead, and murdered by the rebels. They couldn’t send body-bits back to Lucidus, this time, as they might otherwise have done. The corpse was needed for the funeral.’
‘So that’s another murder we could charge them with. And of a very wealthy man. Probably enough to sentence them to death, even if we never find their hideaway and prove they were responsible for the raids, and all the deaths and robberies which they entailed. I presume it was Plautus who dressed up as a messenger and sent our men on fruitless marches in defence of us — leaving the carts unguarded and open to attack?’
‘Not Plautus himself on that occasion, I don’t think — he knew we might be there, but certainly he’d hope to do it, if they used the plot elsewhere. He spoke perfect Latin and could write it too, which might be needed for a messenger. Interesting that they only killed the Romans, by and large, and left the slaves alone — part of the vendetta, I suppose.’
‘They killed my poor Promptillius,’ Marcus said. ‘Why make an exception out of him?’
‘That was Lyra’s doing. The sentry recognised her writing block — he told the optio so. And Promptillius posed a different sort of danger to the group. If I had disappeared that night — been killed as they intended that I should — even Promptillius would have come back in the end, and raised a search for me. Lyra pre-empted that. She sent her nephew with a message, so Promptillius came back for my clothes — which meant that no one at the mansio would look for me. When he turned up at the address she gave, they murdered him and took him to the place where he was found. No doubt he travelled on the butcher’s cart as well. Is that right, Lyra?’
Lyra looked maliciously at me. ‘Prove it!’ she challenged.