The door to the cellar had two locks, the keys held separately. From everything I observed and heard there was no evidence of any trickery here.
Quarto:
Narcissus was one of those who helped carry Timothaeus’s stretcher out of the cellar.
Claudia drew a line and made a second heading:
Dionysius
Then she nibbled the end of the stylus and stared at the wall. The philosopher’s death was the key to so much mystery; that and the burning of the House of Mourning. She dipped her stylus and began to write.
Primo:
Dionysius had gone to the orchard to think, to be alone. Or had he been invited there? He was sitting with his back to the tree when he was stunned by a blow to the head. Once weakened, he was apparently gagged and bound, dragged into the trees, pegged out like a lion skin, cut countless times and allowed to bleed to death.
Secundo:
Dionysius’s corpse was moved to the House of Mourning, joining that of an old beggar man. According to all the evidence, the cords and gag were removed but nothing remarkable was noticed.
Tertio:
Later that same day, after darkness, the House of Mourning was consumed by a ferocious fire. Did the killer burn the corpse to hide some mistake, some clue to his identity? Was it to start the beacon fire, or both? Such arson would have been easy to arrange. A cord leading to a cluster of oil skins which was lit whilst the perpetrator fled into the darkness. Yet would oil burn so fiercely as to create such an inferno?
Claudia remembered searching amongst the ruins. She had caught a certain sweetness but had put this down to some accident with the fire. Who was the arsonist? Gaius Tullius had been with her, but only the gods knew where everyone else was. Claudia paused. There was something about that fire she had missed, something she couldn’t place. Recalling her suspicions about Narcissus, she sighed and returned to her task.
Quarto:
The motive behind Dionysius’s death. Was it the result of bad blood between the orthodox and Arian parties, or did it have its origins in the betrayals which took place some ten years ago when Diocletian launched his savage persecution of the Christian faith and singled out Capua for special attention? The orators now live lives of apparent probity but what about their past? Are they hiding secret sins? Are they frightened of old crimes catching them out? Or was Dionysius’s death the work of someone like Chrysis, a dyed-in-the wool pagan? He would love to turn this public debate into a bloody arena where the Christians could tear each other to pieces in front of the Emperor and bring their religion into public disrepute.
Quinto:
Why kill Dionysius in such a gruesome fashion? A knife thrust, a garrotte string, a barbed arrow or a cup of poison would have been just as effective. What did the killer intend? Was the method chosen to inflict as much pain as possible? What could prompt such malice?
Sexto:
Finally, is there any connection between the theft of the sword and Dionysius’s death?
Claudia picked up a new stylus, drew a line and made a further entry:
The Traitor
Primo:
The assault on the villa last night was launched from a galley which came in from the sea to land a corps of assassins. The galley was signalled to by a series of beacon fires started here in the villa, which means the attack was planned, Licinius was given precise information about when and where the Emperor and his mother were staying, but that was common knowledge. Constantine’s love for the Villa Pulchra is well known. He published his intentions to come here. The galley must have stayed off the coast and waited for the signal that the Emperor had actually arrived.
Secundo:
Are Dionysius’s killer and the traitor the same person? Was the sword stolen to hand over to Licinius, who could use it to ridicule the Emperor’s mother? Had the arsonist always plotted to use the House of Mourning as a beacon light?
Claudia closed her eyes. Logic dictated a connection, she thought, but where was the evidence?
Tertio:
Was the attack the work of Licinius, Emperor in the East? Probably, yet as Chrysis illustrated at the supper party, there are those at court eager to seek a casus belli, a reason to go to war and make Constantine Imperator Orbis, Emperor of the World.
Claudia put the stylus down and leaned back, stretching out her legs to ease the cramp. She recalled the fierce discussion in the council chamber after the prisoners had been removed. Constantine had been furious that his mother had taken full responsibility for defending the villa. He had been supported by his officers, and even Rufinus had nodded in agreement. Helena, however, had remained calm and composed, arguing that the attack, by definition, was secret, composed of a modest force which, if surprised, could be defeated. The attackers would have had to move through woodland, during the dead of night. Such conditions were most favourable to her Germans. Finally, and on this point Helena would not concede, there was a traitor in the villa. If the attackers had been warned, they would have withdrawn and waited for another day. As it was, she had frustrated the attack and sent a powerful reply to Licinius. Sharp discussion had followed, but Helena had won the day.
Constantine then raised a question which had also concerned Claudia. If the House of Mourning had been fired by the traitor who had lit the other beacon lights, who was missing from the villa that night? Gaius Tullius went to check, returning sometime later, whilst Helena was still arguing with her son, to report that no one had left, although he could not be certain as most of the guards on picket duty had been massacred during the assault.
Claudia’s stylus skimmed across the piece of parchment. She sanded it and moved to a new piece. Outside she could hear voices and realised the villa was stirring. She got up and stretched, then crouched back into the corner, making herself comfortable. She picked up the writing tray and wrote the final heading.
Spicerius, Murranus, Meleager
Primo:
People are intrigued as to why Murranus didn’t close to kill his weakened opponent, but that is Murranus, the way he fights. Spicerius was poisoned, but the potion was not strong enough to kill him. Was the wine poisoned? Or was it some other method? Was Spicerius weakened so Murranus could kill him easily? Was the poisoning an act of personal vengeance against Spicerius, or even against Murranus? Or was it just the result of heavy betting? Yet why were these wagers being laid unless Murranus was going to win?
Claudia chewed on her lip. In a few days’ time Murranus would fight Spicerius, and if victorious face Meleager. She wrote down that fateful name and scored a line beneath it time and time again. She could feel a surge of emotion, not so much hot and angry, more cold and calculating. She felt like a swordsman studying an opponent, watching for his weakness, wondering where to strike. She threw the stylus down to distract herself, and tried to review what she had written, but she kept going back to that dreadful meeting. Had Meleager recognised her? Rufinus said he had been in the villa some time. Was it he who had attacked her? Drawn that crude painting on the wall?