This time it was Meritus who explained — his voice so resonant that even the pontifex could hear — ‘Strangled, Mightiness! Probably a cord, or band — the soldiers found him lying in the grove. He must, I now realise, have been coming here — there was an angry mob outside the gate, and it would have been difficult for him to pass. I know you told him, Pontifex, to summon other priests to the procession. I imagine he had simply hoped to go out this way. But this worthless wretch’ — he gestured to the inert figure on the floor — ‘must have been loitering, and encountered him.’
‘Who is he, anyway?’ the high priest asked, his voice no more than a ghostly whisper. ‘I seem to have seen him somewhere before.’ He came forward to have a closer look, and the two slaves lifted up the lifeless form for him to see, then dropped it back cruelly, so that the head struck the floor.
‘Lithputh,’ I murmured, but Hirsus stepped forward. His anxious rat-face was more strained than ever, but he found an uncharacteristic courage from somewhere.
‘Don’t hurt him any more,’ he begged. ‘He didn’t kill anyone, not Luce. .’ His voice broke and he burst into sobs. For two quadrans, I realised, he would have flung himself to the floor beside the Phrygian and bathed him in tears.
But he had started to say ‘Luce. .’ and I was staring like a fool. The scattered pattern settled into place, and I saw what I should have seen hours before. The slave that Hirsus loved and hoped to ‘set up a household with’ — why had I assumed that it was a woman? Hirsus, who visited Optimus’s house when its owner wasn’t there. I’d seen him walking from there in a cloak, and taken him for a female myself!
I turned to face the pontifex.
‘I called the prisoner Lithputh, Mightiness,’ I said. ‘But that is not rightfully his name — merely a nickname I gave him with my slave. I think his slave name is Lucianus. “Lucianus the wretched” as he calls himself.’
Chapter Twenty-four
I was rather pleased with my deduction and expected my statement to cause a little stir, but I had forgotten that the steward’s identity was no surprise to anyone but me.
Hirsus nodded tearfully, and Meritus said, ‘Indeed, Sacredness, it’s true. Lucianus was a penitent of mine. His master would not release him, and he felt that he had mortally offended the Imperial gods. He has made handsome offerings to the shrine.’
‘I have seen some of them,’ I said. ‘Gold, silver, jewellery. . all kinds of things. That’s why I was so slow to recognise his identity. How could a mere slave afford such offerings?’
Marcus was tapping his baton on his hand. ‘Stealing from his master, doubtless? Sevir, you are an expert in the metal trade. You must have known the value of such things? Did you not ask where he obtained them from?’
The sevir said coldly, ‘It is not my place to ask him, Excellence. If a man comes to the temple, and offers repeated sacrifices in good faith, it does not occur to me that he may be a thief. That is a crime with heavy penalties. If that were proved. .’
‘There is no need to look for explanations, Excellence. I helped him,’ Hirsus said, with unexpected dignity. ‘He had no need to steal from Optimus. I am a wealthy man.’
Marcus looked at me, with an expression which said that he believed none of it.
‘Excellence, I think he’s telling you the truth,’ I said. ‘When we were working at the house one of the slaves told us that he’d seen Lithputh — Lucianius — secretly receiving money from a priest.’ For services rendered, presumably, I thought to myself, although I didn’t say the words aloud. In fact, I was careful not to say too much. Hirsus was already in danger from the law.
For a man to love another man is not unknown, and there is no legal barrier to having intercourse with a slave of either sex: many citizens keep pretty boys or youths precisely to gratify their procilivities. The danger for Hirsus — and a serious one — lay in the fact that this was not his slave. Using another man’s slave, for anything, without the permission of his owner is legally a form of theft, and there are nasty punishments for that — though only, of course, if an accuser can be found. I didn’t want to take that role — I was concerned with murder, not with lust.
The prisoner on the floor moaned softly and stirred, and I seized the interruption eagerly. ‘In any case,’ I said, ‘it seems the Phrygian is regaining consciousness. You’ll have an opportunity to ask him for yourself.’
‘That is the least of what he has to answer for!’ the high priest said, echoing my thoughts. ‘If he has desecrated the Imperial shrine — committed murder in the precinct of the gods — and killed a Priest of Jupiter no less. .!’ He quavered into silence as if his voice had failed him.
Marcus nodded. ‘The punishment will be terrible indeed.’ He’d adopted his magisterial tone again. ‘My judgement is that this has endangered the safety of the town, and would call for the severest penalties. The hook, perhaps, even for a man with personal rights. For a slave like this. .’
There was an uncomfortable silence. The hook is an appalling death — being whipped half dead, then dragged around the town behind a chariot by an iron hook thrust through the flesh. And when Marcus talked of ‘his judgement’ these were more than idle words: he was the highest magistrate in this part of the province. A freeman is entitled to a trial before the courts, and a citizen can even appeal to the Emperor, but for a mere slave Marcus’s word was law. If Marcus had uttered the same words in the curia, the sentence would have been instantly imposed.
Hirsus had beads of nervous perspiration on his brow. ‘How can you say so, with him lying there like that? He’s hurt. He has been beaten. He’s not even had an opportunity to defend himself — and you are already planning horrors for his death!’
Sevir Meritus looked at his assistant priest. ‘It’s hard to see how he can defend himself — discovered at the scene, where he’d no right to be, with bloodstains on his clothes. But perhaps we should have him locked up and brought to trial — it will satisfy the mob. They have been looking for a sacrifice. There will be no difficulty — there are accusers enough against him. And then we shall see what he has to say about his crimes.’
Hirsus blanched at this, and looked as if he might faint. The outcome of a public trial might be crueller still. But he said nothing.
Marcus, however, was enthusiastic. ‘A good thought, sevir. It will appease the crowd, and make it seem that justice has been done. And if we lock him up, he can’t escape.’ That was an important consideration — under the laws of Rome a man cannot be formally tried unless both an accuser and the defendant himself can be produced. ‘Very well, take him away.’
The slaves half lifted the unconscious man. He moaned and for a moment his eyelids fluttered, but a swift kick from one of his captors quieted him again.
Marcus turned to me. ‘He needs a proper guard. Where is the armed contingent that I sent?’
‘Most of them are in the temple precinct, Excellence,’ I said. ‘Some are on guard, others are disposing of the bones, and the rest are dealing with Trinunculus.’
‘And where is he?’ Marcus looked avuncular.
‘We have used the bed that’s in the robing room. The sevir said. .’ But I didn’t finish.
The pontifex had raised his head and begun to howl. ‘The grove, the altar and the robing room. This is intolerable! This is the most holy place in Glevum, and you’re turning it into a storehouse for the dead!’
‘The centurion wanted to bring Trinunculus back here,’ I pointed out. ‘Custom demands that he should be anointed on his bed. But I did not wish to do so, without informing you. I know your vows do not permit-’