I wondered where he had learned that. From the guard who had been posted at my door, perhaps. I had to admit it, Aulus seemed to be an effective spy.
Andretha had concerns of his own. ‘I wished to ask your advice, citizen, about this body you have found. Should it, do you think, be given burial? And if so, how? After all, it has already been buried once, after a fashion.’
It was typical of Andretha, I thought, to agonise over the ritual niceties of reburying a corpse, when we were faced with a double murder and a runaway slave. Yet, strictly, he had a point. As a free woman visiting the villa Regina should be accorded funeral dignities.
‘Cremation would be best,’ he went on fretfully. ‘But the land is Lucius’ now. He might not welcome that. Christians do not like to burn the dead. Perhaps we should send to him for instructions. Or to her family. But we cannot wait for long. In the meantime we should wrap her up, at least. The sight is awful and the stench is worse.’
‘I think you might lawfully do that,’ I said. I had no authority, but somebody had to take command. ‘Fetch in some bedding and lie her in the librarium. It is cold in there, and dark, and you can lock the door. In the meantime we will send to Marcus. He should be told in any case.’
‘I fear to touch the body,’ Andretha said. He looked ashen. ‘She was not properly interred. I do not think her spirit could escape when it wished to. Her hair and nails have grown.’
If that was true, it was certainly horrifying. Andretha looked pale. More than pale, in fact. He had been living with acute fear for several days and this body under the pavement had been the last straw. I realised that this visit to the latrine had been born of necessity, not merely a desire to find me. If we had been equals, of course, there would have been no difficulty — the place was built for communal use. But since I was a citizen and a guest, and he was merely a slave, it was out of the question for him to ‘insult’ me. The least I could do was leave quickly.
I said, matter-of-factly, ‘We have found Regina. Now perhaps I can look for Paulus. Come, Junio.’
Andretha let out a little whimper. ‘Yes, I have lost Paulus, too. I shall be executed, I am sure of it.’ He was already edging urgently towards the wooden bucket with the communal sponge-stick in it.
I could take a hint. I led the way outside and left him to it. ‘He is right,’ I said to Junio. ‘Who would have dreamed that Paulus would run away? He was so timid. And where would he go? He took nothing with him — he had nothing to take. To his family perhaps?’
‘He couldn’t do that,’ Aulus said, desperate to please me by offering information. ‘His family are all slaves too. He told me so. Besides, he still has his neckchain, identifying him as Crassus’ slave. I am surprised he has not been dragged back here before.’
Andretha came out of the latrine looking shaken, and hurried up to us. Now, perhaps, he might be in a position to assist.
I held out the head that I had been holding. ‘Aulus found this. Have you seen it before?’
He looked at it. ‘It looks like the missing genius from the household shrine; Rufus said it was broken. But who could have done this to it?’
‘I wondered about that for a moment,’ I replied. ‘But I have changed my mind. I don’t think this came from the shrine at all. From Crassus’ collection of figurines, more likely. See where the stone has been broken? That is an old scar. It is too smooth to be recent damage, and not clean enough. This has a patina that comes with age. It has been broken for a long time.’
‘It must be important, all the same,’ Aulus said sulkily, ‘otherwise Paulus would not have hidden it in the oak.’
‘Paulus hid it in the oak?’ Andretha said. ‘A severed head?’
Aulus looked smug. ‘Among the mistletoe.’
‘Then that proves it. Paulus was a Druid.’ Andretha made a despairing gesture. ‘I suspected as much! A Druid! And in my household too. One disaster after another. I wonder if it would help if I denounced him to Marcus.’
‘We shall denounce him to Marcus,’ Aulus said hotly. ‘I was the one who found the head.’ He flung Andretha a mutinous glance. ‘There may be a reward.’ He turned to me. ‘And we should find him quickly, before he goes running to Lucius. Lucius will claim him as a Christian convert, and the next thing you know they’ll be blessing bread together and I shall lose my reward.’
I stared at him, taking in what he had said. Suddenly I had the missing piece, and everything made sense. What Aulus had said was surely the solution. It is no crime, even for a slave, to run away and find your master. Being a Christian is frowned upon, but it is not in itself a capital offence — not yet, at any rate. Far better than being under certain sentence of death. Paulus was no dedicated Druid, and he was so terrified of mere physical punishment — let alone execution — that a swift conversion would not bother him. He would sacrifice his own left arm to the emperor if it would help.
‘Of course! He has gone to Lucius!’ I cried. ‘How could I have been so blind? Andretha, put that body in the librarium and have the farm cart readied. I must go to Glevum, and then to Lucius. And hurry! If I am right, delay could be fatal.’
‘Fatal?’ Andretha quavered. ‘Fatal to whom?’
‘To you, among others,’ I told him brutally. It was not, admittedly, likely to be true but it ensured I had the farm cart readied in record time. In less than a hour Junio and I were at the gates of Glevum.
Chapter Twenty-four
I found myself in a quandary. Marcus, of course, had no idea that I had gone back to the villa, and I was faced with the rather unpleasant necessity of telling him, not only that I had done so against his instructions, but that I had also dug up his librarium floor without his consent and found a decomposing body under it. These were not tidings likely to improve his afternoon.
Under the circumstance, I felt, I would have to be more than usually persuasive to convince him that it was necessary to stop whatever he was doing and accompany me immediately to visit Lucius in the fastest available official transport. Yet that was precisely what was required.
My heart sank when, after enquiring at Marcus’ lodgings, we discovered where he was. If I were to make a list of all the places where Marcus hated to be disturbed, a private massage room at the bathhouse would be very near the top of it. Lying there while a nubile slave rubbed his body with perfumed oils, before he strigiled off and went to join his friends for intrigue and gossip in the steam room, was one of my patron’s most sacred pleasures. He would not welcome intrusion there.
I sent Junio. All right, it was a sort of cowardice. Junio was willing enough — that is what slaves are for, he said — but I was rather ashamed of myself for it. Though there was a kind of excuse. I knew Marcus. He would think it below his dignity to lose his temper with a menial messenger. While he was getting dressed to see me he would have time to cool down a little, mentally as well as physically.
A little while later Marcus emerged in a tunic, looking pink and furious, and followed by a slave carrying his towel and cloak. He cut short my obeisance and greetings.
‘There had better be an excellent explanation,’ he said.
I swallowed. ‘Your pardon, excellence, but I come on your commission. I believe I know now who our killer is.’
He made an exasperated sighing sound. ‘I thought we had disposed of that. I suppose that you will tell me now that it was not Rufus? Although the slave confessed?’
I smiled, I hoped ingratiatingly. ‘Yes, excellence. That is what I am going to say.’
‘Very well, I am listening. But do not expect me to reprieve your little lute player. He is guilty of lies, if nothing else. No mere slave tells lies to me. I represent the State.’ He took his wrap from his own attendant and flung it impatiently around himself as he spoke. He did, I thought, look like a dumb show in a spectacle, representing Imperial Justice.