Gaeto lay on the floor beside his bed, fully clothed. His eyes were open, his head drawn back as if he had been observing the heavens for omens when he died. There was no blood staining his clothing nor on the floor.
"How did he die?" I asked. I scanned the room. There were no displaced or broken furnishings, no sign of a struggle.
The steward summoned the two Egyptians and they entered. At his direction they lifted the body gently and turned it over. "These men are undertakers, Praetor," said Archias. "Skilled Egyptians are much in demand in Italian funeral establishments."
No wonder these two had no qualms about handling the dead. Unlike Roman libitinarii they did not wear masks or gloves, but men raised in an Egyptian House of the Dead are not likely to be squeamish. Their craft involves handling the internal organs as well.
"Ah, now I understand," I said.
Protruding from the back of Gaeto's neck, driven upward into the base of the skull, was a small dagger, buried hilt deep. It was an extremely clever method of assassination. Paralysis would have been instant, death following in mere seconds. The man would have been unable to cry out and no blood escaped.
"His hands show no sign that he tried to defend himself," Hermes noted. "He must have been taken completely unawares."
"So it would seem," I agreed. "Archias, who was in here with your master last night?"
"Sir, last night, just after dinner, I was dismissed with the rest of the staff. We live in other houses within the compound. Only the immediate family and their personal body servants live in the great house."
"Then who was with him last night?" I asked him.
"Nobody. The gate was secured and there were no callers until your man arrived this morning."
"Then he was killed by someone already here," I said, "and that could prove very bad for all of you."
He went even paler. "Praetor, that could not have happened!"
"Then what did happen?" I demanded, indicating the corpse. "Does this look like suicide to you?"
He stammered, then said, "Someone must have come in over the wall."
"I'll want to talk to whoever guarded the gate last night," I told him. I looked around the room and saw that there was nothing to be learned from it or from the body. I had rarely seen a murder site so devoid of usable evidence. Only inference was of any use. "Now give me a tour of the establishment."
We followed the steward outside, and I drew young Marcus near me. "Marcus, ride back to the villa and find Regilius, the horse master. Tell him to ride here immediately and scout the ground around this estate, paying particular attention to the part of the outer wall nearest the main house. He'll know what I want." The boy was clearly mystified, but he did not waste my time with questions; he merely said, "At once, Praetor," and ran for his horse. That boy had a promising future.
"From the wharf"-Archias indicated the jetty visible through the main gate-"the merchandise is brought within the walls and taken to the great compound. Please come this way." He was talking like a tour guide, probably to help get over his jitters. I could sympathize. I had the feeling that he gave this tour often, probably to prospective investors and big-scale buyers. We went into a large courtyard faced by a quadrangle of two-story barracks. The severity of the design was relieved by bright paint, a shady portico, and many fine trees and shrubs planted in huge jars around the perimeter. Lest anyone be too allayed by the pleasant prospect, in the center was a frame to which a number of slaves could be triced for whipping.
Next to the main entrance was a huge signboard of white-painted wood. On it in large, black letters were written the rules of the establishment and a list of punishments for infractions. On the left it was written in Latin, then repeated in Greek, Punic, Aramaic, Syrian, and demotic Egyptian.
"Here," Archias went on, "the new stock are separated by categories. Those destined for domestic service are assigned quarters in the north building, skilled craftsmen to the west building. Entertainers, masseurs, bath attendants, and so forth are housed in the south building; and the most highly skilled-architects, physicians, teachers, and such-live in the east building."
"Where do you keep the dangerous ones?" I wanted to know.
"Oh, sir, the house of Gaeto does not handle dangerous stock. No gladiators, new-caught barbarians, or incorrigibles sold off cheap. Only quality slaves are sold here."
"Your men have clubs and whips," Hermes said.
"That is traditional. It is what all slaves understand. Why, the whipping frame here practically rots from disuse. The rare times it is employed, it is usually because of petty jealousies and fights among the slaves themselves."
"I see. I want to inspect the quarters. And the slaves."
"As the praetor wishes."
"Do they know yet?" I asked.
"No, Praetor. Even the staff have not yet been informed of the master's death."
"Good," I said. "I'll be able to learn a good deal more without a great uproar of false mourning and lamentation. Don't parade them. I want to see them in their natural state."
"Then, please come this way."
The tour was fairly lengthy and educational. The domestic servants had that demure, eyes-lowered appearance that all such slaves cultivate. Doubtless they thought I was some rich buyer come to look them over and they might well end up in my household. My own family rarely bought slaves, preferring to employ only those born within the household, although we sometimes traded them around among ourselves. That was how I acquired Hermes, after he'd worn out his welcome in my uncle's house.
The craftsmen's quarters featured small shops where carpenters, smiths, potters, weavers, and such could keep gainfully employed while awaiting sale, as well as having an opportunity to demonstrate their skills to prospective buyers. I wasn't sure what the Egyptian undertakers did in their leisure time. They didn't seem to be provided with corpses to practice on.
The professionals had more spacious quarters, as befitted their superior rank in slave society. The scribes, bookkeepers, and secretaries were held in least esteem, physicians and architects at the top. At that time, great men were expected to exercise euergesia by donating great building projects to their client towns and to the capital. Some simply bought a permanent staff of architects for this very purpose. Even when you weren't having anything built, it enhanced your social status to let everyone know you could afford to own your personal architects, then support them in idleness.
The entertainers' quarters were the most enjoyable part of the tour. Gaeto had bought Spanish and African dancers, Egyptian magicians, and Greek singers and reciters of poetry-men who could recite the entirety of Homer from memory and women who could play every conceivable musical instrument. It is possible that I lingered in this wing longer than was strictly necessary for the purposes of the investigation, but you never know what sort of information might turn out to be of use.
Reluctantly, we went back outside and took a tour of the outer wall. It was about ten feet high, without battlements or a sentry walk. It was no more formidable than the sort of wall that often surrounds a great house in the country, and had probably been built during the Social War or the rebellion of Spartacus or some other time of unrest. Such walls were often demolished in peaceful times to clear the view, but Gaeto had cause to maintain this one.
We went to the main gate and found a pair of nervous-looking guards within and a mob of officials milling about outside.
"You two were on guard here last night?" I said.