The Fateful Day (5 page)

‘If indeed the house in Gaul exists,’ I murmured inwardly. Aloud I said, ‘That is certainly a possibility. In any case I must discover who that caller was, and exactly what happened when his slave knocked at the gate. If the answer is nothing, then at least we’d have a time before which all this horror must have taken place.’

He looked at me keenly. ‘I think you’re right. I’d better come and take a look myself. I could tell you, at least, if all the household is accounted for. And I’d be glad to know if I’ve lost any of my land-slaves in this dreadful incident.’

‘But you saw them all this morning and they were accounted for.’

‘You are assuming, citizen, that these murderous men have not come back. It may be that we land-slaves are scheduled to be next.’ He gestured at the labourers still digging in the field. ‘Would it be acceptable to leave this lot, do you think? I know that Marcus forbids it generally, but in the circumstances …’

I nodded. ‘I think he would agree. Are you going to tell them what happened at the house?’

He screwed his face into a horrible grimace. ‘I don’t think so, citizen. Or at least, not yet. They can have a little longer to enjoy their ignorance. I’ll wait until I’ve seen these horrors for myself before I tell them what has happened to their fellow slaves. Time enough to give them nightmares then. In the meantime, I’ll just tell them that you’ve come to call for me, and we can leave your own slave here to keep an eye on things.’

I looked at little Minimus. ‘And that would be enough?’

‘They wouldn’t question it, if I instructed them – though it might occasion giggles, I’m afraid. But they know the boy is acting as your eyes and ears, and that’s sufficient to ensure that they keep working while we are away.’

‘But I’m just a humble tradesman!’ I protested with a smile. ‘My rank would hardly count for anything.’

He shrugged. A little uncomfortably, I thought. ‘You have a sort of reputation as a spy, snooping round for Marcus while he is away, and determined to find something to report.’ He gave me a sheepish smile. ‘My fault, citizen. I fear I haven’t talked of you with very much respect.’

I looked him in the eye. ‘And I, in turn, have underestimated you. You’ve shown a real concern about your men which I applaud. I was once a slave myself. So shall we, like warring generals with a common enemy, forget our differences and declare a kind of truce?’

He looked away. I saw him hesitate. ‘You? A slave? I’d not imagined that!’

I nodded. ‘Seized by pirates and sold into slavery. My master bequeathed me freedom when he died, together with the rank of citizen. That, after all, is how I gained my name: Libertus, “the freed one”, as no doubt you know. You may call me that in future, when we two are alone.’ I grasped his forearm and shook it heartily, as the Romans do. ‘And you must tell me what they call you, too.’

‘I would not dare be so familiar as to call you by your name,’ he protested, colouring, and extracting himself from the handshake with embarrassment. ‘But I am Georgicus. You can imagine why.’

I could. The word means ‘agricultural’, and it rather suited him. I noted, though, that he had not responded well to my suggestion that we might forget our differences. ‘Well, Georgicus,’ I said, trying to pretend that I did not feel rebuffed, ‘give your slaves their orders and I’ll do the same with mine, and we’ll go down to the villa and decide what’s to be done.’

M
inimus was almost beside himself with pride at being put ‘in charge’ and for the first time since we’d found Pauvrissimus, I saw a fleeting smile. We left my small slave standing where Georgicus had been, preening like a young patrician at his new-found role and staring round the field with a proprietary air – though any of his temporary charges could have lifted him one-handed if they had chosen to. However, his borrowed authority seemed to be enough and they turned back to their tasks without a word.

So we left him to it. We had urgent business of our own. In fact, in the interests of getting to the villa as fast as possible, I suggested to Georgicus that he could ride with me, sitting in front as Minimus had done, though it would have been a tight fit for us and a heavier burden for poor Arlina than I’d generally have liked. But the chief land-slave brushed the thought aside.

‘It will be faster for us, citizen, if I run beside the mule,’ he said, and as if to prove the point he set off at a trot – so fast that, by the time I’d climbed onto the creature’s back, it took me minutes to catch up with him. Indeed, he was very nearly at the villa gates before I shambled up beside him on my mount

He raised his head to greet me but he did not slacken pace. ‘Ah, Citizen Libertus! I am glad you’ve caught me up. I was not looking forward to going in there alone.’

I shouted my agreement. ‘Better if we keep together while we’re there, I think. It will take me a moment to tie this creature up, so I’ll go on ahead and wait for you outside.’

I did not have to wait. I had no sooner tethered up the mule than Georgicus came loping smoothly down the lane. He had been running by this time for better than a mile, but he seemed scarcely out of breath. No wonder that he boasted of how fit the land-slaves were. Without my mule, I could never have kept pace. But I refused to be abashed. Considering what awaited us within the walls, and the fact that the killer (or killers) might still be nearby, there was a certain consolation in having someone with me who had strength and stamina.

He padded up beside me. ‘No sign of my other land-slaves anywhere about,’ he said. ‘I suppose you noticed that?’

I hadn’t, but I didn’t tell him that. ‘They should have been in sight?’

‘There should have been several working in the fields back there – though not close to the villa, as I said before. But I could not see them where they should have been.’ He raised a brow at me. ‘Another little mystery, citizen, for you to solve.’ The tone was courteous but there was something in the eyes which hinted a little at ridicule.

I affected not to notice. ‘Then in we go!’ I said, with a pretence at heartiness, and pushed the gates open as I had done before. ‘We’ll start with the gatehouse, I suggest.’

But Georgicus, behind me, had halted in his tracks. ‘Dear gods and all the spirits of the underworld! This is how you found the gates? Unbolted and unbarred?’ He saw my nod and made a little grimace of astonishment. ‘Of course – you told me you’d got in without the assistance of the gatekeeper. But I’d not imagined this. Not even really latched! You did not tell me that.’ He pursed his lips. ‘Marcus would have had somebody flayed for less!’

‘I know!’ I murmured. ‘It seems whoever came here simply pulled them shut, so a casual passer-by would not see anything amiss.’

‘And that tells you something, does it, citizen?’ It was a challenge, though perfectly polite.

‘Unfortunately not. Except that they had the leisure to do so as they left. Obviously they could not bolt them from outside. Although,’ I added, as a thought occurred to me, ‘it might give us grounds to hope that they have not come back. If they were here now, they would doubtless have relocked them from within.’

But he was hardly listening. He was bending over, examining the gates. ‘These bars and bolts aren’t damaged. You see what that must mean? They did not force an entry. Someone let them in.’

I nodded. ‘I had come to that conclusion, anyway,’ I said. ‘I think they came here, as the letter said they would, and loaded up their wagons with items from the house. No doubt assisted by the steward and the domestic staff.’

He raised an eyebrow at me. ‘By Mercury, they must be clever – if you’re right! And no doubt dangerous. Be careful, citizen before you get involved.’

There was that curious timbre in his voice again. Was he mocking me? I glanced at him sharply. ‘And what about yourself? Aren’t you planning to be “involved” in this, as well?’

He shrugged. ‘I have no option. I’m a slave of Marcus’s and in the absence of the household steward, I suppose I’m senior now. It is my duty to discover what’s happened to my owner’s property, including the murdered servants. They were valuable things. But it’s not the same for you. No one could blame you if you simply left me here and went and reported this to the authorities.’

‘I’m involved already,’ I told him. ‘I’ve promised Minimus I’ll find out who it was that killed Pauvrissimus, and I have a duty to my patron too. So it looks as if we’re working together over this, my friend.’

‘Friend?’ He sketched an imitation bow. ‘I’m honoured that you think to call me so. But I am hardly that. We are of different ranks. I know my place, I hope. However, it is my duty to help you if I can, though no doubt you are quite capable of solving this yourself. My master has often boasted of your skills with problems of this kind. You can provide the intellect, perhaps, and I’ll provide the brawn.’

There was that touch of mockery again. ‘There’s nothing the matter with your intellect,’ I murmured guardedly, pulling the gates closed behind us as I spoke, ‘you’re obviously observant. You noticed instantly that the locks had not been forced.’ It sounded patronising, so I added hurriedly, ‘So come into the gatehouse cell and tell me what you think.’

This time I stood back and let him lead the way inside while I watched him carefully. It had not escaped me that he might know more about this than he would have me think. He would have unquestioned access to the house and grounds and there was something in his manner which I found disquieting.

But perhaps I was wrong to be suspicious. His reactions in the gatehouse seemed genuine enough. There was already a faint, unpleasant odour in the air and I saw Georgicus hesitate as he caught a whiff of it and when he pressed on to the interior his shock appeared unfeigned.

‘Dear gods!’ He whirled to face me. ‘I think you’re right about him being dead a day. You said you found him hanging. This is exactly as he was when you first got here earlier?’

I nodded. It hadn’t occurred to me that it might be otherwise, until Georgicus turned to me and said, ‘Well, it seems my missing land-slaves haven’t been here, anyway. I wondered if they might have wandered up here after all, since we didn’t get our usual warm meal yesterday. The first day we were down there, they sent us a stew to heat, but last night there was no sign of anyone. There were some grumblings, as you might expect, but we had sufficient bread and cheese in any case, and since we had the hens there, we ate some eggs as well.’

‘The kitchens sent no food down, and you didn’t question that?’

He raised an eyebrow at me. ‘Citizen, we’re land-slaves. It’s not our place to ask. We’d been warned that it might happen, because even the kitchen staff were being asked to help to load the carts. So, though we didn’t like it, we were stuck with it. We’re always the last ones to be fed in any case, and we’d had our strict instructions and we adhered to them. Mind you, I am not saying that I would not have come and made a fuss if nothing had arrived for us today. That’s why I wondered if my missing slaves had been here – but obviously not.’

‘Surely, they would have come and told you what they’d found.’ I glanced up at the corpse.

‘I suspect they would have cut him down first and taken him away – if only to prevent his spirit haunting them.’

‘Taken him – where to?’ I was surprised at that.

He nodded. ‘There’s a hut out in the courtyard where dead slaves are always laid until someone can make contact with the Guild of Slaves who will arrange a decent funeral for them. The master sees to that. He pays the subscription dues for all of us. I thought you would have known that, citizen.’

‘I had forgotten,’ I told him truthfully. ‘Though Marcus did tell me that he always paid the dues, so no one’s ghost would have to walk the earth because their body has no proper resting place.’ I sounded sanctimonious, even to myself.

Georgicus glanced at the gently swaying body on the rope. ‘That would not apply to suicides, of course. But this is not a suicide, you think?’

‘I am sure of it,’ I told him ‘You will see the hands are chained.’ I was childishly pleased to have the chance to point out something he had not observed himself.

He had to go around the back to check that I was right. He examined the arrangement silently a moment, and then said, ‘So someone strung him up. Yet gatekeepers like this are valuable things. I wonder that the robbers did not take him too, and sell him on.’

I shook my head. ‘When they had finished in the villa and took the stuff away, I think they simply disposed of any servants who could inform on them.’

‘So if the staff had consisted solely of illiterate deaf-mutes, perhaps they would have lived?’ He raised that brow again. For a man who was looking at a colleague’s corpse, I thought, he seemed remarkably unmoved. ‘I suppose you may be right,’ he said at last.

‘But …?’ I prompted. ‘You do not sound convinced. You see some flaw in my theory, I presume.’

He shrugged his powerful shoulders. ‘We all believed the movement of the goods was done at Marcus’s command. And slaves are merely objects, anyway, in law, simply part of the chattels belonging to the house.’ His tone was cynical. ‘If the villa was to be vacated and the furniture removed, no slave would think it strange if they were taken off and sold. I would not have questioned it if I were sold myself, vineyard or no vineyard. And most of this household were quite expensive slaves. So why did the thieves not take them to the slave-market, at least, and make a little extra profit on the side?’

I shook my head. ‘I think they thought they couldn’t take the risk. The slaves were sure to talk about their former home. To their new masters or to tradesmen calling at the house.’

‘And who listens to a slave?’

‘No one at first, perhaps, but that would change when Marcus got back home. He’d be shouting in the forum that his slaves and goods were gone – and people would start listening then, I’m sure. Once it was clear that the letter was a fraud, there’d be an outcry in the town, and the slave could doubtless describe the culprits perfectly. They could not be permitted to survive.’

‘You think these thieves are local people, then, if such a description could lead to their arrest?’ Georgicus sounded frankly sceptical. ‘I would doubt that. If Marcus ever catches up with them, they would be lucky if their death was merciful.’

‘Yet they have to be people who know Marcus, don’t you think?’ I pointed out. ‘And fairly well at that. Well enough not only to know he is away, but also to be familiar with the contents of the house. Otherwise this robbery could not have arranged.’

He thought for a moment. ‘You’re right. Though it only requires one person to have that knowledge, I suppose. The same might not be true of all of them.’ That concession to my viewpoint earned me a half-smile. ‘And I suppose we are agreed that there were several of these men? That no one person could have done all this alone?’

I nodded. ‘Five or six of them at least. And very likely armed.’ I thought of the beheaded corpses in the orchard. ‘Swords and daggers, at the very least. And clubs as well, I shouldn’t be surprised.’

‘So how in the name of all the gods did they get in?’ He furrowed his weather-beaten brow again and nodded at the corpse. ‘There were keepers at the gates! Large men with weapons, like this unfortunate. I can see that he would let in people that he thought had come to work – carters and wagoners and that sort of thing – but he would never have admitted a gang of men with swords. Not without a struggle anyway. But look at him. There is no sign of wounds. He doesn’t even look as if he’s fought with anyone. And the household staff were to load the carts themselves. It isn’t as if they needed extra men for that.’ He shook his head again. ‘So perhaps the carters did it and then let the others in. Though how many carters do you think there must have been to overcome a household full of slaves? And they must have had weapons. Yet, that must be the solution. The gates have not been forced.’

I let him work all through it before I intervened. ‘But, Georgicus,’ I said patiently, though not unwilling to demonstrate he hadn’t thought it fully out, ‘no one sends wagon-loads of treasure on the road without a guard. The servants – including the gatekeepers, of course – would have expected Marcus to arrange an escort for the trip. So the arrival of armed guards would not come as a surprise. In fact, it’s just what you’d anticipate.’

He made a reluctant gesture of acknowledgement. ‘So the gatekeepers would let them in! And once inside … I see!’ He gave me a long, appraising look, as though reassessing my abilities. Then with a grimace he shook his head. ‘By Dis, these men were clever. I like this less and less.’

‘You’ll like it less still when you see what’s lying in the orchard field,’ I said. ‘Come and I’ll show you.’ And I began to lead the way around the back.