"How long was this before the noise you heard later, when the assassins came?"
"Oh, quite a while before."
"But when you heard those noises and went to investigate, you told me you thought they might have been the sounds of Dio and Zotica… "
He shrugged. "I thought she might have slipped back into his room. But she hadn't. When we were breaking down the door to Dio's room, Zotica was off in the slave quarters with the other girls. There's no question about that. She woke some of the slaves with her weeping when she came in, then kept them awake with her sobbing, even when they threatened to beat her. There's no doubt that she was with the other slaves when Dio was stabbed."
"Still, I should dearly like to have a talk with her. Tell me, when you broke into the room, what exactly did you see?"
Philo was thoughtful. "Chair and tables overturned. Window shutters open. Dio on the couch, dead."
"How did you know he was dead?"
"The look on his face!" Philo turned pale, remembering. "Such a look-his eyes and mouth wide open with a look of pure horror, as if he'd seen the face of Cerberus himself."
"Pure horror-and yet you never heard him cry out?"
"Never."
"But to have such a look on his face, he must have known he was under attack, he must have felt the blows. Why did he not scream?" "I don't know. I only know I never heard him." "Did you see the wounds?"
"Very clearly. I helped undress him later, when the men from the necropolis came to take him away."
"How many times was he stabbed?"
"Six or seven times, I think. Maybe more. All in the chest, close together."
"How close?"
He held up his palms side by side. "Two hands could have covered the wounds."
"But surely he thrashed about. A frightened man startled from sleep, horrified. He's stabbed the first time-surely he cries out. Surely he thrashes and twists to avoid the next blow."
"Perhaps his arms were held down and his mouth was covered."
"How many men would that take?"
"The room was a mess. Perhaps there was a whole gang of them milling around in there."
"Perhaps. I suppose there was blood everywhere, on the walls and carpet?"
Philo wrinkled his brow. "Not really."
"And the sleeping tunic he wore-that must have been soaked with blood."
"Around the wounds, yes."
"But not-"
"Philo! I thought you were showing Gordianus to the door." Coponius appeared at the far end of the hall. He crossed his arms. "Yes, Master!"
"There was something I forgot to ask him," I said. "Just a small detail-"
"Farewell, Gordianus."
I took a deep breath. "Farewell, Titus Coponius."
Belbo was waiting for me outside the front door, sitting in a patch of warm sunshine. Together we took a silent walk through the streets of the Palatine, breathing in the smells of midday cooking, listening to the noises that echoed up from the Forum. I walked merely to walk, with no particular goal. I needed to think.
I was beginning to discover a side to Dio that I had never guessed at. This disturbed me. I had also begun to piece together the sequence of his final days and hours. The gory drama of his death seemed forthright enough; it only remained to determine who had broken into his room that fateful night. Yet I could not put aside a nagging feeling that some-thing was very, very wrong.
Chapter Fourteen
The girl is important.
I'm not sure how, but I can't help thinking so." "What girl?" said Eco. "The slave girl, Zotica.
The one Dio was…"
"Important?" said Eco. "But how? If she'd been in the room when the killers broke in, she'd be a witness, though I doubt they would have left her alive. Unless of course she was in on their plan, in which case they'd have had no need to break in the shutters-she'd have let them in.
But then they'd have broken the shutters and killed her anyway, to keep her from talking… but all this takes away from what we know, which is that the girl was not in the room when Dio was killed." "Still…"
I had finally tired of walking and thinking and had gone home for something to eat, to find that Eco and his family had dropped by. While the women and children visited in the garden at the heart of the house, Eco and I sat in the little atrium just off the foyer, basking in a narrow shaft of warm sunlight. I told him all I had learned that morning from my visits to Lucceius and Coponius.
"It's too bad that Cicero's entered the picture," said Eco. He shook his head. "Imagine, Cicero taking on Marcus Caelius's defense, after the bad blood between them!"
"There's a lot at stake," I said. "The charges are serious-serious enough to send even a brash fellow like Caelius running back to his old teacher. I'm sure Cicero made him promise to be a good boy from now on and always support the status quo. It must have been quite a coup for Cicero, bringing the errant sheep back into the fold."
"And, provided Cicero gets him off the hook, Caelius will get a chance to betray his old mentor all over again," observed Eco.
I laughed. "Exactly. I suppose the two of them deserve each other."
"Still, too bad it's Cicero for the defense. Even if you do find compelling evidence against Caelius -"
" – Cicero will probably make it go up in a puff of smoke while he takes the judges down some completely irrelevant path to Caelius's ac-quittal. Yes, I was thinking the same thing myself. Having worked for Cicero, we know just how thoroughly unscrupulous and damnably persuasive he can be. It's not much fun, being on the opposing side."
Eco closed his eyes and leaned back against a pillar, letting the sun warm his face. "But the really bad news is about the slaves in Lucceius's kitchen being sent off to work the mines in Picenum. If Lucceius's wife is right, those two are at the very heart of the matter. If they were bribed to administer poison, they must have some idea of who paid them, or should at least be able to yield up a clue. They're the link in the chain, the ones you need to go to next. But there they are, away up in Picenum, and no matter what they know, it doesn't sound like Lucceius would ever let them testify."
"Yes, it's frustrating. But I suppose someone could trek up to Picenum and try to get at them. Even if they can't testify, they might lead us to someone who could."
Eco half opened one eye and peered at me sidelong. "I have no pressing business for the next few days, and it's always nice to get out of Rome. Just say the word, Papa."
I smiled and nodded. "Perhaps. I suppose it is the next logical step. Still, I keep thinking about the girl… "
"The girl?"
"The slave girl, Zotica. I should have a talk with her. She might know something."
"I'm sure she knows a great deal, Papa. But do you really want to hear it?"
"What do you mean?"
Eco peered at me shrewdly, narrowing his eyes in the bright sunshine. "Tell me, Papa, do you want to talk to this Zotica to find what she knows about the murder, which is probably nothing-or do you wish to talk to her to satisfy your own prurient curiosity about the things that Dio did to her?"
"Eco!"
"If she told you that her treatment from Dio was not nearly as cruel as you've been led to think, you'd be relieved, wouldn't you?" I sighed. "Yes."
"And what if the opposite happened? What if the things that Dio did to her were quite as appalling as you fear, and even worse? I know how you felt about Dio, Papa-the way he died, the fact that he came to you for help. But I also know how strongly you feel about those who abuse slaves in such a fashion."