She paused. Timothaeus and Narcissus were now sitting closer together, as if for protection. Burrus had thrown Gaius’s sword belt well away, and one hand rested on the hilt of his own stabbing dagger. Gaius had paled; only a bead of sweat running down his cheek betrayed his agitation.
‘I was an orphan,’ he stammered, ‘but I never knew Capua, I. .’
‘Don’t lie,’ Claudia replied softly. ‘You may have added to your name, but one thing about the Roman army, it does keep scrupulous records. Somewhere amongst those records I will find your real name, your age and where you come from.’
She paused again and sipped her wine. She looked Gaius up and down but could not detect any concealed weapon.
‘A time of terror,’ she repeated. ‘Christians from Capua and elsewhere were rounded up; it was a time for settling grudges and grievances. Dionysius and Septimus were Christian scholars who were terrorised into betraying other names. Lucius and Octavia were not Christians but somehow they got caught up in the persecution. They were only poor farmers with no one to help them, whilst their adopted son was possibly hundreds of miles away. We don’t know who betrayed them, or why; it may have been Dionysius or Septimus. I’m sure you’ve been through the records yourself, though men like Chrysis are only too willing to destroy anything about those days, when Christians were hunted like rats in a sewer.’
Claudia picked up the daisy chain, balancing it in her hand. ‘An old man and an old woman,’ she continued, ‘innocent of any crime, dragged into Rome. And of course, the more they denied their crime, the worse it become. They were kindly people, weren’t they, Gaius? Had they allowed Christians to meet on their farm, or had they sheltered a Christian? Whatever, these poor people were murdered and their farm was confiscated by the State. It would take months for you to learn the news; you were, by then, an ambitious army officer, a trusted member of the staff corps in Constantine’s Army of the West. Diocletian abdicated and the civil war broke out, but you had not forgotten.’ Claudia broke the daisy chain. ‘You returned to Rome with the conquering army and you conducted a thorough search. You are a good soldier, you know how to plan an ambush. You don’t go riding into Sisium or Capua; rather, you search the records and listen to rumour and gossip. You’re not a Christian, are you, Gaius?’
‘I hate them, I always have,’ came the quiet reply. ‘It’s a sect of slaves and anarchists. Like many officers, I believe Constantine has made the wrong choice.’
‘Do you feel he’s betrayed you?’ Claudia asked. ‘Is that why you are also the traitor in the Emperor’s camp? Have you already sold your soul, sword and loyalty to Licinius’s agents? Are you so furious at the death of your foster parents, so incensed at the Christian faith that you have lost all trust in Constantine and his mother?’
Gaius gazed solemnly back.
‘You watched and you seethed,’ Claudia continued. ‘You learned as much as you could about the horrifying details of your foster parents’ cruel capture and death. What rubbed salt in the wound was what happened to the home where you played as a child, their farm. It had been confiscated by the State but Constantine restored it to the Christian sect. Insult upon insult, injury upon injury. You discovered that Lucius and Octavia had even been buried in the Christian catacombs, only their first names carved on the tomb. The catacombs are now deserted; it would not be difficult for a soldier like yourself to creep down, break open the tomb and remove their remains for what you’d call an honourable burial.’
‘I didn’t know this.’ Timothaeus spoke up. ‘Gaius, you always seemed so tolerant.’
‘Contemptuous is a more accurate description,’ Claudia interrupted. ‘You hated the Emperor and men like Sylvester; you were ready to support Licinius.’
‘But he’s a bodyguard,’ Burrus broke in. ‘He could have killed the Emperor whenever he so wished.’
‘Could he? With other soldiers standing about? What if Constantine is murdered but his family still survive, above all the Augusta? More importantly, Gaius Tullius wanted to live. He wanted to witness the return of a new pagan Emperor who would set his face, and raise his hand, against the Christian Church. Oh, I’m sure if a new persecution broke out, Gaius Tullius would prove to be the most zealous hunter of Christians.’ Claudia spoke evenly.
‘Do continue,’ Gaius snapped. ‘I’ll listen to you, little woman, then I’ll decide.’
‘You have no choice,’ Claudia replied. ‘This may not be a court of law, but can you imagine if it was? After all, you are a soldier; you will be tried in front of a military tribunal where the rule of law is not so scrupulously observed.’
Claudia stared across at the tavern. A shutter opened and closed, and she briefly glimpsed Murranus standing there. She turned back to Gaius Tallius, spreading her hands out.
‘Astrologers claim that sometimes the stars and planets move into a favourable conjunction. This is what happened with events at the Villa Pulchra. You knew the Emperor would be going there, not the precise day, but you could make an accurate guess about when he would arrive; after all, you are one of his staff officers. You gave that information to Licinius’s agents and the war galley was dispatched. All the enemy had to do was wait for the agreed signal. You would give that from the villa, and Licinius’s agents, hiding in the woods, would pass it on. You overlooked one thing: the wanderer in the woods, that inquisitive old man who knew the lie of the land like the back of his hand. He must have realised something was wrong and came to the villa to pester Timothaeus. You decided he was too dangerous, so you killed him!’
‘That’s not true!’ Gaius Tullius broke in.
‘Yes it is.’ Timothaeus spoke up again. ‘On the day that old man was found, you left the villa early; you said you were going for a ride.’
‘You were busy plotting,’ Claudia continued, shifting on the grass, staring back at the tavern window. ‘You were planning not only to betray your Emperor, but to seize a splendid opportunity for revenge. The Christians were coming to the Villa Pulchra, the orators from Capua, at least two of whom you suspected of being turncoats. Those orators are lonely men, much given to brooding; they like to be by themselves. You didn’t really care who died as long as you inflicted revenge and depicted these Christians to their Emperor as being as murderous, quarrelsome and vindictive as the rest of his subjects.’
‘You walk softly,’ Burrus interrupted. ‘That is how you killed Dionysius. .’
Gaius Tullius dismissed him with a contemptuous flick of his hand.
‘You killed them,’ Claudia accused him. ‘You caught them on their own, like rabbits in a snare. Dionysius you stunned, then cut to death. Next came Septimus, and finally Justin. You must have been pleased to use Dionysius’s corpse, and that of the wanderer, as part of your beacon light.’
‘I was with you when the House of Mourning caught fire. .’
‘Of course you were.’ Claudia smiled. ‘But you also knew Narcissus was fast asleep. It is easy to take a length of old rope, grease it with oil, strike a tinder and watch the flame burn fiercely but slowly away, giving you sufficient time to be with a witness when the conflagration broke out. The House of Mourning was neglected, Narcissus had drunk deep; it posed little problem.’
‘Why did you burn it?’ Narcissus asked crossly.
‘As I’ve said, it was the beacon light,’ Claudia accused. ‘The agreed signal for the assault on the villa to be launched. You also wanted to conceal your own handiwork, just in case you’d made a mistake: the way you tied those ropes around Dionysius, perhaps, or that I might examine the corpse of that old man and wonder if he were a murder victim too. You really didn’t care. If the attack had been successful, Licinius’s men would have taken you away, ostensibly as a captive, though one who would later change sides.’