He had turned chalk white again. ‘It was in the lararium when we came back from the festival. The statue was broken — the head was severed and there was a bloodstain on it. And my master had been murdered, with his head in the furnace. I thought — you can see what I thought. People would think that I had done it. The body of the statue was no problem. It was only roughly carved to suggest a toga, and without the head it just looked like a piece of weathered stone. I simply threw it away. But the head! I was terrified someone would find that! I took it away and hid it in the tree.’
‘Where Aulus found it,’ I said.
Paulus gaped. ‘He had it?’
I nodded.
‘In that case. .’ The barber trailed off helplessly. ‘But it would have done no good, I had no money to bribe him. When I found the head had gone, I panicked. I ran away to Lucius. You cannot be punished for running away to find someone to plead for you, and I thought if I confessed he would protect me. He would believe me in any case. I had done nothing.’ He gulped hard. ‘But Lucius was angry — I suppose because he thought I had dealings with idols.’
‘That was not Lucius,’ I said. ‘Lucius was already dead.’ I explained, briefly. ‘And no suspicion for any murder now attaches to you. So, keep your mouth shut about Druids and you may yet escape from this alive. You came to find your new master, that is all you need to say. Keep your own counsel and do not run away again. Now, here is Marcus coming. I must go.’
I got back into the gig with my patron and we bounced uncomfortably back towards Glevum. Even then, I did not try to explain until we were past the staging post. I did not want Marcus to go back to the roundhouse and start demanding the body.
When I did explain, he was thunderstruck.
‘The hermit was Crassus!’ he kept exclaiming. ‘I can’t believe it. How did he get away with it?’
‘He looked much like his brother,’ I said. ‘And you heard the woman, no one at the roundhouse had seen Lucius shaved. When Crassus took his place, he claimed that he had shaved his head and beard in mourning for his brother. Equally, none of us had seen Crassus with a beard. His plan was to hide himself away until he had time to grow one. It would not take him long. With that cowled hood and the dim light of the cave, he came close to getting away with it.’
‘I see,’ Marcus said. There was a silence, during which we bounced along more perilously than ever. ‘At least. . no, I don’t see. Lead me through the arguments again. Crassus killed Regina and buried her under your pavement. And then he got Daedalus to take his place in the procession so that he could meet his brother at the villa unobserved; that much I understand. I suppose that is why he gave all his slaves a holiday to Glevum. I thought it was unlike him at the time.’
‘I doubt he even went as far as Glevum himself,’ I said. ‘It is more likely that he just went to the ruined roundhouse, where Daedalus changed into his old uniform. They must have hidden it there.’
Marcus said thoughtfully, ‘That would explain the piece of scale-armour which you found there. I suppose Crassus simply waited until the villa cart had left and then went back to the house to await his brother. But how would he get in? The gates were locked. You think he scrambled up the path past the nymphaeum? That would be quite a feat, in full armour.’
‘Yes, but he was very strong. He was getting fat, but he was a centurion after all. He had been trained to march twenty-four miles non-stop in a day, carrying his kit. Besides, we do not know that he was wearing armour then. It would have been an easy matter simply to come back in his tunic. That would have impressed his brother, too. Lucius must have believed he had a true convert, a veteran centurion who chose to miss the festival of Mars. It was on those grounds, perhaps, that they shared a celebration drink.’
‘Into which Crassus had poured Regina’s aconite,’ Marcus finished. ‘I wonder why he did not use some of that to try to poison Regina herself.’
‘She was too familiar with poisons,’ I said. ‘She may even have carried antidotes — if there are any. No, the novacula was safer. Crassus was strong, it was no problem to tie her and slit her throat.’
‘That is why the blade was bloody?’
‘I don’t think so. I think he cleaned it, that time. He had more time after all, and he took the body to the latrine; he could have cleaned the razor in the running water there. He told me himself how easy that would be. He blunted the blade, though. Paulus said he had to buy a new one, recently.’
‘Much riskier than poison.’
‘But more certain. She probably tested any food he gave her, especially after her custos died. She must have been suspicious of Crassus. He was certainly suspicious of her — look how he got Daedalus to taste everything he ate and drank while she was in the villa. It wasn’t love potions he feared, of course, it was hemlock and aconite.’
‘Yet he did not use her potion to poison you,’ Marcus said. ‘I wonder why?’
‘Perhaps he sprinkled some on the bread, but I doubt there was any left. He would have used a heavy dose to be sure his brother died quickly. There was not a lot of time.’
‘No,’ Marcus agreed. ‘His brother cannot have arrived early; he lived a long way from the villa. And there were no strangers in nearby inns. We established that.’
‘He had a mule,’ I pointed out, ‘Crassus saw to that. And no doubt Lucius left his cave the day before. No one would think it odd — he was known to spend whole nights in prayer with the sick. And he would not stay in an inn. Doubtless if we enquired among Christian sympathisers we would find someone between here and Glevum who offered him shelter for the night.’
‘So Crassus murdered him, dressed him in his own armour, and stuffed his head into the hypocaust?’
‘And his hand,’ I said. ‘I should have seen the force of that. It was only today, as Crassus was imprinting his seal on a wax tablet, that I understood. It was Lucius’ ring, and it was too big for him. Lucius’ hands were fleshier. His finger had to be made smaller before Crassus’ seal ring would fit. It was tight, even for Crassus, I saw the mark it made. It would not fit Lucius. I think he cut away a little of the flesh with the novacula — the blood on the blade must have come from somewhere, and the cuts in the legs did not bleed.’
‘Why did he shave the legs?’
‘He had to, of course, because he had shaved his own. He did that so that Daedalus could impersonate him in the march. Ironically, he was an even worse barber than Paulus was.’
Marcus thought about that. ‘So he forced the ring on, and then thrust the hand into the furnace so that the fire would disguise the wound?’
I nodded. ‘He must have done it early, before the fire died down. He tried to rinse the blade again, but he was in a hurry and the handle and pouch were blood-soaked. He had a better idea. He decided to hide it, as it was, in the barber’s bed. If it was found there, it would incriminate Paulus. I think that’s why he chose the broken genius to replace his own. The fact that it had no head would make us think of Druids.’
‘Why take the statue from the niche at all?’
I laughed, a little shakily. The breathless ride in the gig was taking its toll. It had been a long day. ‘If he left the statue behind it would be ritually broken and charred with the corpse. He was too superstitious for that.’
Marcus said thoughtfully, ‘He must have hated Paulus, to single him out in that way.’
I shook my head. ‘I’m not sure that he did. He chose Paulus just because the slave was inclined to nervous talk; he was likely to blurt out that he’d found the razor, and so implicate himself. If one slave was blamed, the whole household would be executed. That was what Crassus hoped for. After that there would be no one alive who was a real threat to him. By his own will his money came back to him. No doubt he would soon have moved away, renounced Christianity, and begun again.’