‘Wait,’ I panted, as we reached the final slope. ‘Let me go on ahead, I want to-’
I broke off. The hermit had seen us coming. He was standing outside his cave, hands folded at his belt, and was confronting us, his hood half-obscuring his face, very still, very solid, very determined.
I said to him, ‘We have come for Paulus.’
The eyes beneath the cowl hardly flickered. ‘He has come to cast himself on my mercy.’
‘Then you know what he has done? It is an offence — you cannot shelter him. The price is execution.’ I raised my voice. ‘Paulus, come out. Come out or I will send the soldiers in.’
There was a silence.
‘Very well,’ I said, producing my best impression of an officer. ‘Cavalry detachment-’
‘All right,’ said a little voice. Paulus came trembling out of the cave. ‘I’m here. Don’t beat me. I confess. The head-’
I silenced him. ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘That misled me for a time. Heads. The head of a corpse in the hypocaust, the head of a statue hidden in a tree. And then of course I realised that it was intended to mislead. I was supposed to concentrate on the heads, to make connections between heads and Druid ritual. It drew attention to you, Paulus, but at the same time drew attention away from the brutal truth.’
‘Which was?’ the hermit said.
‘It was a much simpler murder. We have found damning evidence. There was a woman’s body buried at the villa — Crassus’ bride, Regina. Her throat had been cut with a novacula. A novacula which Paulus admitted was his own. It was found bloodstained, hidden in his bed-’
‘I didn’t kill her,’ Paulus interrupted. His voice was almost a shriek. ‘I came to find my new master, because-’
I whirled on him. ‘Quiet! How dare you interrupt a citizen. Silence him at once.’
One of the burliest soldiers stepped forward and seized the barber, one hand forcing his arms behind his back, the other clamped across his mouth.
‘A novacula, you say?’ The hermit had not heard of our find. He stared at me, white-faced under the beard.
‘And there is more,’ I said. ‘The barber used ointments in his work. Regina was an expert in herbs. She had a chest of potions, some of them deadly. That chest has not been seen since she died, but one of her phials was found, empty, on the rubbish pile, the day of the funeral.’
Paulus shut his eyes in anguish, but he could not speak.
‘With fatal liquids on his tray Paulus would have a thousand opportunities to murder his master. One nick is enough to introduce poison, and he cut Crassus badly the day before the procession. I imagine he applied one of Regina’s ointments, claiming it would staunch the bleeding. Not all poisons kill instantly — my own slave pointed out that if Crassus was poisoned, the murderer need not have been there when he died. Paulus hated his master. It would have pleased him to see Crassus die in public at the parade.’
The barber gave a little hopeless moan, but I carried on inexorably.
‘Only, it was not Crassus in the procession, it was Daedalus, taking his master’s place for a wager. Did Paulus slip away to see what had happened — he told me himself he had left the others at the festival — and stab Daedalus in the back with his centurion’s dagger?’
The hermit was looking at me steadily, the grey eyes very glittering. ‘Why should he kill Daedalus?’
‘Daedalus died,’ I said, ‘because he knew too much. Just that. That is the problem with murder, one killing leads to another.’ I turned to the soldiers. ‘You may have Paulus now. Take him to Marcus. Bind him, gag him, and take him away. I have some business to conclude with Lucius. Tell his excellence I shall not be long.’
I watched them bear the slaveboy, struggling, down the hill.
Chapter Twenty-five
The hermit watched them go. Paulus was being half-dragged, half-carried, as if his legs had failed beneath him.
‘Unfortunate young man!’ My companion turned to me with genuine emotion. ‘You did well, citizen, to fathom the truth. It was a subtle crime.’
‘More subtle than I thought,’ I said. ‘I underestimated the lengths to which fear will drive a man. Perhaps you guess yourself what danger you were in when we arrived here. I think we narrowly averted another killing.’
‘Mithras!’ The smile grew graver. ‘You think so? He meant to kill me? Citizen, I cannot thank you enough for coming here.’ His eyes searched my face. ‘But you have business with me?’
‘About the villa,’ I said.
He smiled. ‘Have you the leisure to break bread with me again?’
I glanced down the valley, where the gig was just visible in the distance. There was no sign of Marcus. ‘I think I might accept,’ I said. ‘My patron is being fêted by the Celts.’
I followed him into the cave again, and took my seat on the stool, watching as he poured out two goblets of watered wine. The woman’s barley loaves were on the bench, a single slice of cheese, and two bunches of the same meagre herbs I had observed before.
‘Wine?’ I said, in surprise, taking the goblet he offered.
He smiled. ‘From Crassus’ cellar. I have three amphorae here, for medicinal use. I meant to give some to that unfortunate boy. I was preparing a meal for him. He was so consumed with terror, I felt a little sustenance would help.’ He picked up a wooden platter on which a piece of bread, filled liberally with herbs and cheese, was already lying. ‘Take it, citizen. It is not much, but it is all I have.’ He went to the bench, carved an end from the barley loaf, and began to prepare a similar meal for himself.
I took a tentative sip of wine, and waited until he came to join me. Roman politeness demanded that, at least.
‘So,’ he said, cutting a slice of cheese with that handsome knife, ‘what will you do now, citizen, since you have resolved this mystery? Go back to your pavements?’
‘I have a commission for Caius Didio,’ I said. ‘I hope to start work on that again tomorrow. It leads me to a delicate matter, Lucius. The librarium pavement at the villa. Crassus commissioned it, but he never paid, and under the circumstances I can hardly ask Marcus. .’ I smiled hopefully.
‘Of course.’ He laughed. ‘You have dug it up again. Well, I will see what I can do.’ He came to join me, settling himself on the mattress as before.
‘And will you pardon the other slaves, now Paulus is arrested? Even Rufus? As a Christian, I suppose you will? Marcus would be glad of your seal on these matters. I have brought a wax-book for the purpose.’ I detached the small hinged tablet-book which hung at my girdle, opened it flat, and scratched a few words there with the stylus. Then I handed it to him and watched while he read what I had written and imprinted the wax carefully with his signet ring. The ring was so loose that he had to take it off to make the mark.
‘There.’ He folded the tablet in half again and gave it back to me. ‘Marcus will be pleased, now that you have caught Paulus.’ He took a sip of wine. ‘You reason well, citizen. I would never have connected him with the murders. He is too timorous.’ He raised his goblet.
I did the same. Carefully. It was important, very important, that I should not allow myself to drink too much. Roman wine did not agree with me, and if I was right about my companion I needed my wits about me. On the other hand, if I showed signs of inebriation, I would seem unthreatening. I took a gulp of wine, and appeared to savour it for a long moment. Then I put down the beaker again and took a deep breath before speaking again.
‘Of course,’ I said. ‘You are quite right. The evidence looked overwhelming, but Paulus did not kill anybody. As you know.’
Silence. The hermit did not move. He seemed scarcely to be breathing.
‘He did not have the subtlety for it,’ I said. ‘These killings were the product of a shrewd and clever mind.’