The Germanicus Mosaic (17 page)

‘The bulk of the mosaic was already done,’ I reminded him. ‘And Crassus had his own slaves prepare the ground for the mortar. I only had to roll and lay it.’

He grinned at me. ‘A real pavement. My first. Well, I’m glad to see it. It seems a pity it will never now be used. I hope Lucius appreciated it.’ We walked back out into the courtyard, blinking in the light. ‘Perhaps the new owner will have a studious bent. Though if he does, I expect he’ll choose a more convenient room.’

Andretha was waiting outside anxiously with the keys. I waited for him to lock the librarium door, before I said casually, ‘Which key is missing, then, Andretha? The key to that chest you were examining?’

He flashed me a look of such unexpected ferocity that I stepped backwards sharply.

‘I thought as chief steward you held all the keys?’ I said, attempting to repair the damage a little. Life at the villa had proved dangerous enough, without deliberately attracting enemies. ‘Or did Crassus entrust that one to his favourite? To Daedalus?’

It seemed to be the mention of Daedalus that did it. Or perhaps it was the fact that we had caught him in the act. All at once, it seemed, he decided to gamble on the truth. The old self-important, obsequious Andretha vanished and I saw the frightened man within, desperate, vulnerable and urgent. He sat down abruptly in the arbour, under the statue of Minerva. ‘No, citizen, not even that. Crassus kept that key himself. That box was his treasure chest. I knew he had it. He kept it in his bedroom, under the floor, where he kept the cashbox too. You saw me with that the other day. I held a key to that. But this was different. It held, not coins, but all his jewels and gold, and little silver figurines. He had a ring-key to it, which he always wore, on his little finger.’

‘I did not see it, when I examined the body.’

He look at me helplessly. ‘No, citizen, nor did I. I looked for it, but it was gone.’

‘You did not tell me that at the time,’ I said.

He shook his head. ‘The fact is, citizen . . .’ He dropped his head into his hands. ‘You will soon know anyway. There is a . . . a shortfall in the accounts. I am sure that there was gold in that chest, the way Crassus kept it locked. It was heavy too. I hoped, perhaps, I could make good the loss.’

‘You meant to steal some of his gold, in fact?’

He did not deny it. ‘But I did not do it, citizen.’ He raised his head, and lifted his hands like a Vestal Virgin making sacrifice. ‘I could not find the key. Imaginary theft is not a crime. But who would believe me?’

‘You have the chest now,’ I said. ‘What were you doing? Prising it open?’

He sighed, defeated. ‘It would do me no good, citizen, if I tried. The chest is empty. It is still locked, but you have only to shake it to know that. That is why I moved the chest from his bedroom. I thought if it was discovered there, with nothing in it, suspicion would fall on me at once.’

I confess, I had not expected this. ‘But you do not have the key?’ I said. ‘Or know where it is?’

He looked at me, and I saw that ferocious despair in his face again, but not directed against me this time. I have seen that look before, in the arena; the furious terror of a man who has staked his life and lost.

‘I think I know where it is,’ he said at last. ‘I have been foolish, citizen. Foolish and tricked. Daedalus must have it. Find Daedalus and you will find the key.’ He hunched his shoulders hopelessly. ‘I suppose you will take me before Marcus now?’

‘I should,’ I said. ‘You say imagined theft is not a crime, but this is not imagined theft. There is a shortfall in the accounts. You have been stealing from your master for some time, haven’t you? I suspected as much, earlier.’

He havered. ‘No, citizen, I . . . Yes. Yes, it is true. I wanted my slave price. A man in my position acquires, you know, an
as
or two here and there, sometimes as much as a sestercius. I was saving them. Tradition has it that a slave may keep such gifts, and even buy his freedom, if he can. But Crassus—’

‘Fined you,’ I supplied, remembering what Aulus had said, ‘each time you almost had the price?’

He nodded. ‘It was as if he knew. He always found something to fine me for – an insolent slave, a meal not to his satisfaction, a broken goblet. I was responsible, you see, for everything. I have even thought he did things purposely; there was a fine Samian dish once, I swear it was not cracked when I took it to him. It cost almost as much as I do, that one dish alone.’

Junio was looking at him, appalled. That kind of cruelty is outside his experience.

‘So,’ I said, ‘you started stealing from him? To take back what he owed you, was that it?’

‘It was not much, citizen. I did not dare. A few sesterces, no more. An extra
as
for hobnails, or to the pottery seller. I did not think it would be missed.’

‘It wouldn’t,’ I returned. These were trifling amounts, and easy to disguise. Hardly a shortfall in the books. ‘One extra dormouse invoiced for a feast – it would be impossible to trace.’

He blushed. ‘You are right, citizen. That was how I had intended it. And as I say, he had effectively stolen it from me. But . . .’ He stopped.

‘It proved too easy? The temptation was too great?’

‘No, citizen. Not that!’ He was almost weeping now. ‘But Daedalus discovered it. I don’t know how. He threatened to tell Germanicus, to have me handed to the public torturers, unless – unless I stole for him as well. He wanted money, real money. A hundred denarii – and for the feast of Mars. He was to be freed, he said, if he won a wager. He would not tell me what it was, but he was confident. But he needed to raise the money as a stake. He was a personal slave, he never worked for others, and Crassus never gave gratuities. He had no money. Without me, that is.’

‘So you struck a bargain? The money in return for his silence. You trusted him?’

‘Not really, but what had I to lose? The torturer can only execute you once. Crassus would have had me killed just the same, whether I stole a hundred denarii or two. It is not as though a man can execute his own slave, now – Germanicus would have delighted in exacting “fitting” punishment, but one job is like another to the executioners. Besides, Daedalus promised that when he was free, he would try to buy me from Germanicus. It would mean changing one master for another, but Daedalus could not be worse than Crassus. He would let me earn my freedom honestly, he said.’

‘And you believed him?’

‘Daedalus has been good to others in the household. He tried to plead for Regina, and for Faustina’s child. It did no good, but at the least he tried. I thought he might have kept his word. But I was wrong, it seems. Daedalus has won his freedom and escaped, taking all my money with him.’

No wonder Andretha had been so anxious to find Daedalus. I shook my head. ‘He could not claim his freedom, if Crassus was dead.’

‘He did not need to,’ Andretha pointed out. ‘He has it anyway. Crassus gave him freedom in his will. Daedalus is a free man – as I would be, if I could render the accounts. I wish I had not stolen anything!’

‘At least,’ I said, ‘you have escaped with your life. Lucius surely will not have you killed. You will be sold, at worst.’

‘I will be sold,’ Andretha said, helplessly. ‘Lucius will show mercy, but he would not condone a theft. I will not gain my freedom. All the world will know the contents of that will, they will know I could not render the accounts – and who will buy me then? I will be worthless. I, who have been chief steward to a big estate, shall be lucky now to scrub the chamber pots or empty the vomitoria of some sick poverty-stricken master – until I catch his fever and die myself.’

There was truth in this. A dishonest slave is worse than a cracked cooking pot – useless to any buyer, and likely to be reserved for the basest tasks.

‘I thought that if I told you the truth about the chest,’ Andretha said bitterly, ‘I might have spared myself. But since you guessed about the stealing, I suppose you will hand me to Marcus just the same.’

I shook my head. ‘I am here to investigate a killing,’ I said. ‘Not thefts from Crassus. The shortfall in the accounts will come to light of its own accord. I see no reason to involve Marcus for the moment, unless the two things prove to be connected. Where, for instance, did you go during the procession? You were not there, or you would have noticed other people missing.’

He sighed. ‘You know about that too? Well, there is no point in denying it now. I went to the moneylenders.’ That was possible, there were dozens of them in the forum, and on public occasions they could do a roaring trade. ‘I was in their hands,’ he wailed helplessly. ‘Crassus fined me for the Samian dish and I had given Daedalus all the money that I had. Without him, how shall I ever pay them back?’ He plucked at my sleeve. ‘There is still hope, if you find Daedalus. Try to find him for me, citizen.’

‘I intend to,’ I said. ‘And you had best find Paulus, in your turn, if you wish to escape punishment. Marcus is still waiting for his shave.’

‘What now?’ Junio said, as Andretha scuttled off in search of the barber.

‘I want to go and look at this roundhouse I told you about,’ I said. ‘We have time to do so. Lunch will not be served early. Marcus has not breakfasted yet, if he is still awaiting his shave.’

Junio grinned. ‘He may regret having a shave, with a blunt novacula.’

‘All the same, it gives us an opportunity,’ I said. ‘We will try taking that little rear path to the lane, from the nymphaeum. I am interested to avoid Aulus, if I can.’

It seemed we had succeeded. The path down from the spring was more difficult than I had anticipated – steep, uneven and overgrown. It was obviously not much used, although from the broken twigs and grasses it appeared that someone else
had
used it, and very lately. At the bottom it was particularly treacherous, half-blocked by broken branches, as if they had been deliberately placed there. I needed Junio’s assistance to clamber over them. The path did, however, bring us down into the lane.

There was no sign of Aulus. Part of my intention was to see how easily a man could escape his attention, so, motioning to Junio to follow, I slipped into the trees on the opposite side of the lane, and made my way among them until I was sure we had safely passed the gates and were out of view down the main lane. There was no real path here. It was treacherous ground, damp and muddy, and we were forced to struggle among thick branches, roots and clawing undergrowth. I was thankful I was not wearing a toga. In full armour, I thought, this would be impossible. Another promising theory had to be abandoned.

A little further on, though, we crossed the lane and struck out again in the direction of the old road, up to the roundhouse. There were signs that someone else had been this way – and recently. Branches were broken, bracken trodden, and there was a faint parting of the grasses as if they had been bent aside as someone struggled through. Someone small and light, I thought. Even a girl perhaps.

‘I have been thinking,’ Junio said, rather breathlessly, when we had fought our way back on to the old lane again, ‘do you suppose that Andretha had a hand in this killing, after all? He is more scheming than I thought, and he had a lot to gain from Crassus’ death. At least he may have thought he did.’

I looked at Junio, thoughtfully. ‘Go on.’

‘Suppose he had a plan with Daedalus? Daedalus is to imitate Crassus in the procession. Crassus agrees, for a wager – the missing stake money may have been arranged between them – but during the march Andretha takes his master away and poisons him. He doesn’t visit the moneylenders at all. Maybe he met his master by appointment; Crassus would have to hide somewhere during the march. Once Crassus was dead, both slaves would have their freedom, provided that it was clearly impossible for anyone in the household to have killed him.’

‘And how did the body get to the villa?’

‘I have thought of that. We know no horses were hired after the procession, but during the procession – no one has asked about that. On a horse a man would have time to return here, hide the body in the hypocaust and get back to Glevum before the rites were over. But suppose Daedalus cheated him, or simply took fright and ran? That leaves Andretha with a hundred denarii missing, and no chance of his own freedom. Andretha cannot do more than report a missing slave; that would draw too much suspicion to himself. But certainly he is anxious to find Daedalus.’

I nodded. ‘That is possible,’ I said. ‘Yes, certainly it is possible.’

‘But . . .?’ Junio said, looking crestfallen.

‘It might be a little conspicuous, galloping across the country with a dead centurion across your saddle,’ I pointed out.

‘Then perhaps they both came here alive, but only Crassus rode. That would make sense. If Andretha walked here and rode the horse back, he would not have to pay for the hire, either. Crassus would have done it.’ He stopped. ‘Though I suppose there would be scarcely time, especially if he had to return the horse. He had to be there in time to shepherd the others onto the cart.’

He sounded so disappointed that I felt moved to say, ‘All the same, you reason well. That is why I wanted you to look at this roundhouse. Here it is.’ I added the last words as we turned the corner and Junio saw it for the first time.

It looked more ruinous than ever. I saw it suddenly through Junio’s eyes: a collapsing, pathetic old straw hut, hardly more than a hovel. No wonder Crassus had kept his pigs in it.

Junio looked at it thoughtfully. ‘That was someone’s home,’ he said.

There are times when I recognise why I love that boy.

I told him all I knew about the place, and showed him the piece of scale-armour from my pouch. ‘I found this here,’ I said.

He took it from me and turned it between his fingers. ‘It must have come from Crassus’ shirt. See how the hole has broken away where it was sewn or riveted to the cloth? That proves that Crassus came in here before he died.’ He caught my eye and amended himself. ‘It proves that Crassus came in here. Or at any rate that his armour did.’ He grinned. ‘Is that better reasoning?’

‘Somebody’s armour did, at any rate,’ I said, and his grin broadened.