I wondered fleetingly how he had known that, but I followed his glance and saw the view through the cave entrance down to the valley, where the imperial carriage still gleamed — small enough at this distance, but even more remarkable here than it had seemed at Glevum. This Lucius was not too unworldly to have sharp and observant eyes.
‘I do,’ I said, and was slightly discomfited to find that the penetrating gaze was now fixed on me.
He waved me to the stool. ‘You would like wine?’ he said, in that whispering voice of his. ‘Or water? I have little to give you. The boy comes here in the mornings: he fetches me food. Or there are these. .’ He turned to the package on the bench, and opened it.
The smell of warm oatcakes was so delicious that I could not refuse, although I knew that these few loaves might well be all his meal. Christians, I reminded myself, were famous for their generosity, and I was representing Marcus — he would have considered it impolite to decline hospitality. Besides, they smelt wonderful.
I accepted.
He fetched water from a second pitcher, broke one of the loaves into pieces and laid the simple food on the table for us to share.
‘Now,’ he murmured, reclining himself on the mattress — there was nowhere else to sit, ‘you come from Marcus, you say?’ He picked up a piece of oatcake as he spoke, for all the world like a Roman magnate discussing deals at a banquet.
I explained the purpose of the visit, beginning with Marcus’ wish to buy the villa. I named the figure Marcus had authorised and saw a shrewd look cross the bearded face. ‘He makes a poor offer,’ he said. ‘The villa is worth twice as much. But I have no choice. One cannot refuse a powerful man like Marcus. Tell him that I accept, provided that the sale is quick. Have him prepare a contract and I will seal it.’ He dipped his oatcake in water and smiled, a slightly tight smile. ‘I suppose it is useless to remind him that the money is to endow a church? He would prefer that it went to the games, no doubt, or to some Roman god?’
In fact, my patron probably had no strong views on that matter. Beyond a few propitiatory sacrifices and the obligatory public rituals, Marcus ignored the gods, and doubtless trusted that they would do the same for him. ‘He might give money to the games, perhaps,’ I said. ‘They are useful in buying popularity. Crassus did not leave money for memorial games.’
That disconcerting smile again. ‘When it concerned money, Crassus was no fool. For instance, he would have understood perfectly that Marcus was cheating me. But, as I say, I have no choice. Tell him that I accept his offer — for the villa. All the furniture and chattels come to me.’ I must have looked startled at his bargaining, because he smiled again. ‘I should get a good price for them. There is a table, for instance. It alone would pay for a fine building.’
I nodded. When it came to money, this man was no fool either.
‘Speaking of chattels,’ I said, ‘what about the slaves? Marcus promised that if one of them confessed, he would pardon the others. As a holy man, I imagine that will please you. Now that Rufus has confessed, do you wish the others sold?’
He looked horrified. ‘Rufus has confessed?’
‘Yes, the little lute player. You were once good to him, I believe.’
He had turned paler than ever. ‘Poor Rufus. Yes. But, Rufus confessed? You do surprise me. If it had been the gatekeeper, now! I always suspected that the man was up to no good.’ He seemed to take control of himself. ‘But yes, yes. Have the others sold. And Daedalus, I understand, is being sought as a runaway. Let him go. My brother was to free him anyway, after the festival. He may already have done so. There was some sort of wager, I believe. Crassus told me of it.’ He waved the hand again. ‘I do not approve of wagers, but my brother had given a promise. Daedalus shall have his freedom.’
‘Daedalus has been found,’ I told him. ‘He is dead.’
‘You have found him?’ Lucius looked grave. He said unsteadily, ‘Poor fellow, then his manumission cost him dear.’
‘There was no manumission,’ I said. ‘He had no certificate of freedom, and he still wore his neckchain, identifying him as Crassus’ slave. If he had been manumitted his first act would have been to remove that. Do you know what the wager was?’
‘Crassus did not tell me. He knew I disliked his gambling. In fact, it would be true to say that Crassus told me very little. We had — how shall I put it — grown apart.’ The grey eyes seemed secretly amused.
‘Then he did not tell you, either,’ I said, dropping my voice instinctively, ‘of any plots concerning the army? There are rumours that he was seen talking to a soldier, more than once, in secret and at dusk.’
‘He was?’ Lucius seemed genuinely alarmed. ‘That could be serious. Who saw him? Aulus, I suppose.’
‘Yes. There are rumours of a possible army rebellion, or even an imperial plot. That could be serious, certainly. Serious enough to cause your brother’s death, if he were involved and one of the rival factions found out. Marcus was sure that was the explanation, until Rufus confessed. You knew your brother. What do you think?’
He thought about that. ‘But surely Marcus is right? If Rufus has confessed, it was no military murder. No, Rufus should be executed and the others sold. That would be best.’ He must have sounded harsh, even in his own ears, because he smiled. ‘It saves innocent lives, besides.’
‘And if Rufus did not kill your brother? You yourself do not believe he did.’
He paused at that, and then said, ‘No, I don’t altogether believe it. But if he confessed, perhaps it is true. Rufus prided himself on truthfulness. And the boy is offering himself as a sacrifice. You cannot expect me to condemn that.’
‘He genuinely believes he had a hand in Crassus’ death,’ I said. ‘I think he went to a temple and put a curse on his master.’
That startled Lucius into momentary sharpness. ‘Did he? Perhaps then he brought this on himself. I do not hold with worshipping false gods, that is sin enough, but calling down curses is an evil business.’ He seemed to reflect and his face and tone softened. ‘Although his sacrifice is a fine gesture; I will offer prayers for him.’
‘And what about the chief slave, Andretha? I believe Crassus bequeathed him freedom too. Should he have it?’
Lucius gave me a shrewd smile. ‘Only if he can balance the accounts. Crassus suspected the man was cheating the estate.’
‘You might effect a pardon,’ I put in. ‘As the nearest relative — and a Christian.’
He looked at me. ‘You would condone his stealing?’
That was an awkward question. ‘I might show mercy,’ I ventured finally.
He smiled. ‘You answer well. You might show mercy. So indeed might I. I might for instance, save that little concubine of Rufus’. . what is her name?’
‘Faustina?’
‘Faustina, yes. I might spare her the slave market, find her a private owner who will treat her well. And I will not denounce that little Druid to the authorities. That will save his life, too. If Aulus has not denounced him already, that is. He would sell his own father for a handful of copper coins.’ He smiled. ‘Very well. Tell Marcus I agree to all his terms. The sale of the villa, and a pardon for the other slaves, since Rufus has confessed. And now, if there is nothing more that I can do for you, it is the hour of prayer.’ He dusted the crumbs from his fingers and rose to his feet.
I stood up too. ‘There is just one thing more,’ I hazarded. ‘This woman, Regina; did you know her well?’
He looked astonished. ‘Regina? Yes, I knew her slightly. What of her? She was my brother’s camp-follower when he was young. She claimed marriage with him.’