The Germanicus Mosaic (22 page)

‘There was no manumission,’ I said. ‘He had no certificate of freedom, and he still wore his neckchain, identifying him as Crassus’ slave. If he had been manumitted his first act would have been to remove that. Do you know what the wager was?’

‘Crassus did not tell me. He knew I disliked his gambling. In fact, it would be true to say that Crassus told me very little. We had – how shall I put it – grown apart.’ The grey eyes seemed secretly amused.

‘Then he did not tell you, either,’ I said, dropping my voice instinctively, ‘of any plots concerning the army? There are rumours that he was seen talking to a soldier, more than once, in secret and at dusk.’

‘He was?’ Lucius seemed genuinely alarmed. ‘That could be serious. Who saw him? Aulus, I suppose.’

‘Yes. There are rumours of a possible army rebellion, or even an imperial plot. That could be serious, certainly. Serious enough to cause your brother’s death, if he were involved and one of the rival factions found out. Marcus was sure that was the explanation, until Rufus confessed. You knew your brother. What do you think?’

He thought about that. ‘But surely Marcus is right? If Rufus has confessed, it was no military murder. No, Rufus should be executed and the others sold. That would be best.’ He must have sounded harsh, even in his own ears, because he smiled. ‘It saves innocent lives, besides.’

‘And if Rufus did not kill your brother? You yourself do not believe he did.’

He paused at that, and then said, ‘No, I don’t altogether believe it. But if he confessed, perhaps it is true. Rufus prided himself on truthfulness. And the boy is offering himself as a sacrifice. You cannot expect me to condemn that.’

‘He genuinely believes he had a hand in Crassus’ death,’ I said. ‘I think he went to a temple and put a curse on his master.’

That startled Lucius into momentary sharpness. ‘Did he? Perhaps then he brought this on himself. I do not hold with worshipping false gods, that is sin enough, but calling down curses is an evil business.’ He seemed to reflect and his face and tone softened. ‘Although his sacrifice is a fine gesture; I will offer prayers for him.’

‘And what about the chief slave, Andretha? I believe Crassus bequeathed him freedom too. Should he have it?’

Lucius gave me a shrewd smile. ‘Only if he can balance the accounts. Crassus suspected the man was cheating the estate.’

‘You might effect a pardon,’ I put in. ‘As the nearest relative – and a Christian.’

He looked at me. ‘You would condone his stealing?’

That was an awkward question. ‘I might show mercy,’ I ventured finally.

He smiled. ‘You answer well. You might show mercy. So indeed might I. I might for instance, save that little concubine of Rufus’ . . . what is her name?’

‘Faustina?’

‘Faustina, yes. I might spare her the slave market, find her a private owner who will treat her well. And I will not denounce that little Druid to the authorities. That will save his life, too. If Aulus has not denounced him already, that is. He would sell his own father for a handful of copper coins.’ He smiled. ‘Very well. Tell Marcus I agree to all his terms. The sale of the villa, and a pardon for the other slaves, since Rufus has confessed. And now, if there is nothing more that I can do for you, it is the hour of prayer.’ He dusted the crumbs from his fingers and rose to his feet.

I stood up too. ‘There is just one thing more,’ I hazarded. ‘This woman, Regina; did you know her well?’

He looked astonished. ‘Regina? Yes, I knew her slightly. What of her? She was my brother’s camp-follower when he was young. She claimed marriage with him.’

‘Yes. There was talk she had some kind of secret hold on him – something she knew about him. Do you know what it was?’

He shrugged, a dismissive gesture. ‘It might have been a hundred things. She was – persistent. Perhaps he did promise to wed her.’

‘Much more than that, I think. She was a herbalist. Crassus’ senior officer died unexpectedly. You do not think she helped her lover to promotion?’

There was a silence. Then he said, ‘You think she poisoned the centurion?’

‘Or gave the drug to Crassus to do so. Was he capable of that? Of committing treachery to serve himself?’

Lucius turned away. When he turned back, I saw that he was gripped by emotion. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘Crassus is dead. I suppose it cannot hurt him now. But if I tell you – swear that you will tell no one else.’ He looked around wildly, as if seeking for something on which to seal the oath, and then offered me his ringed finger.

‘I am not a Christian,’ I demurred.

He rummaged in the cupboard and produced a figurine. ‘Then swear on this. It represents the emperor, among other things.’ He saw my surprised look, and hastened to explain. ‘One of Crassus’ gifts. He meant to mock me, but I could not throw it away, that would be blasphemy and treason too. And so I hide it here. But now, it has its use.’

I swore, on the emperor’s life. Poor old Commodus, I thought. Judging by the whispers of conspiracy, that life was not worth a great deal.

It seemed to satisfy Lucius, however.

‘Then,’ he said, ‘I will tell you the truth. I think that Crassus did poison his officer – tricked someone into putting a fatal dose into the centurion’s wine. It was a clever move. He had a dozen witnesses to swear that he himself was miles away gambling. He used to boast to me of that.’

‘Regina knew this?’

‘You would have to ask her that.’

‘That is what I wished to ask you. Do you know where she is?’

He looked at me, startled, for a long moment. Then he said, ‘You think she killed my brother?’

My turn to shrug. ‘She had the means, and motive too. Killing an officer is a capital offence. If she provided the poison, she was a conspirator herself. Perhaps she even administered the fatal dose; a man will take a poisoned cup more trustingly from a woman’s hands. She risked her life for Crassus – and he rejected her. That would be hard to forgive.’

Lucius nodded. ‘I see. You may be right. Perhaps she came back and poisoned him. Crassus might arrange to meet her, secretly, if he thought to pay her off.’

‘There would have been food and wine, just like this,’ I said, biting into the soft flesh of an oatcake. It was as delicious as it smelt.

Lucius absently ate another. He was engrossed in his imaginings. ‘But Regina knew how to make a fatal infusion; she could slip it into his cup, and it would be easy to wash the containers in the stream and hide the traces afterwards.’ He was becoming animated as he spoke. ‘You must find her, Libertus. There is no time to lose. Proving this would reprieve young Rufus, too. Her home, though, is far away. Near Eboracum, where Crassus was serving when he met with her. Go now, take my message to Marcus, and find her, before it is too late. But there, your guide has come. I must to my prayers.’

I turned and saw the Dubonnai boy standing in the doorway, a pitcher of water in his hands, gazing at us with astonished eyes.

‘Lucius was pleased to see you,’ the boy said, as we wound our way down the hill again. ‘I thought when you first arrived that he seemed unwilling to speak to you. But you have revived him. Since the feast of Mars he has turned away visitors, and “cloaked himself in prayer and solitude” as my mother says. And he had almost ceased to eat. There was a time that he was always out on the hills, picking berries and mushrooms or collecting eggs and herbs to eat, but since his brother’s death he seemed to have lost all interest in food. But there he was talking earnestly to you, and breaking bread with you besides. Our neighbours will be pleased to hear it, they have been wanting him to come and pray for their sick daughter. I told you how he saved my brother’s life?’

I had to listen to the story all over again.

When we got back to the roundhouse, I found the envoy in a less communicative mood than ever. He had made himself queasy on unaccustomed ale and hot cakes and, having exhausted the family’s knowledge of Latin very quickly, had been obliged to endure a long afternoon of sitting silently like a statue, being peered and giggled at by the infants while the grandmother grinned gummily nearby. To crown it all, the smoke of the fire had made smuts on his tunic, and my intervention with Lucius had made his presence on this whole venture a complete waste of time. Having delivered himself, curtly, of this information he preserved a huffy silence all the way home.

I left him at the forum to make his report to Marcus – at least he would get the credit for the sale of the villa – and made my way home, quickly, before darkness fell and the streets became too dangerous for law-abiding citizens to walk alone. I had no money to hire myself a carrying-chair or a protective slave.

I arrived home, without interruption from marauding youths or drunken soldiery, to find Junio waiting for me. He had bought some cooked meat, and roasted a turnip for us in the embers of the fire. I stretched out on my stool, glad of my simple pleasures.

‘Cassius Didio was here to see you,’ Junio said, when he judged that I had relaxed sufficiently to receive this news.

I groaned. ‘Complaining about his pavement, I suppose. What did you tell him?’

Junio grinned. ‘That you had been called away by Marcus. Didio was most impressed, especially when I told him it was all a deadly secret, and I was forbidden to tell him more.’

I ran a weary hand through what was left of my hair. ‘Why did you tell him that? The story will be all over Glevum tomorrow.’

‘I know, master. But it stopped him being angry over his pavement, and your name will be on everyone’s lips. Linked with Marcus, too. Anyone who wants a mosaic will be agog for your services.’

I could not help smiling at his reasoning. He was probably right about the gossip too. Curiosity draws customers as surely as oxen drag the plough. I picked up my spiced mead.

‘Marcus was not with me,’ I said. ‘I had a much more exquisite companion.’ I told Junio about my day.

He appeared fascinated, asking endless questions about the roundhouse until I realised he was humouring me. I moved the subject swiftly to Lucius.

‘So, will you go to Eboracum?’ he asked when I had finished.

I shook my head. ‘I could not afford such a trip, even if Marcus would pay for the travel, which he will not. And Didio is waiting for his mosaic border. It would be too late to save Rufus, in any case, even supposing I could find Regina there.’

‘Which you doubt?’

‘Which I doubt. Anyway, I do not believe she poisoned him. If she had come back to the villa someone would have seen her. And she didn’t stay at an inn. You remember the aediles asked at all the inns, after the murder, and there were no unexplained strangers in the vicinity. And a woman travelling alone would be very noteworthy.’

‘She had a male slave travelling with her, and a maid.’

‘No. She dismissed the girl, and Paulus told us that the custos died. He shaved the corpse before they buried it.’

‘You think Regina poisoned her custos too?’

‘She might have done.’ I took a gulp of mead. ‘But what about Daedalus? Surely she could not have murdered him?’

‘Perhaps that was unconnected, a simple robbery. That seems likely. Daedalus was waiting for Crassus by the river, but he would have had a long wait. Germanicus was already dead. It is dangerous by the river after dark, particularly to a slave impersonating a soldier. He would very likely have hidden in dark places.’ Junio looked at me, seeking approval for his reasoning powers. ‘One lurking thief, one sharp stab, that is all it takes. Daedalus loses his purse and he is dumped in the water.’

‘Then why not take his armour? His helmet at least? It is worth many denarii, even now.’

Junio shrugged. ‘It is hard to smuggle such things within the city, unless you come prepared. No, I am sure Lucius is right. The answer lies with tracing Regina. A pity we cannot go to her home town, but it is a long way – days and days of travelling.’

He said ‘we’ I noticed, as though he and I were working as a team.

‘Perhaps,’ I said.

He looked at me intently. ‘There is something else?’ It is impossible to hide anything from Junio.

I sighed. ‘There is something that escapes me, I don’t know what. Something I half-noticed at the time. I feel there is some important information I have missed. Something that Lucius said or did.’

‘Something he told you about Regina?’

‘No,’ I said, trying to capture that elusive thought. ‘I feel it was something about oatcakes.’

Junio laughed. ‘You and your oatcakes! You are obsessed with Celtic food. I am sorry I did not buy some for you from the market.’

I thought of that delicious childhood taste. ‘No market oatcakes ever tasted like these,’ I said. ‘And it does not take a Celt to think so. Lucius enjoyed them too.’

‘What sort of man is Lucius? I never met Crassus, but from what you say the two men were as different as charcoal and cheese.’

I tried to describe the man. ‘Shrewd, serious, solitary and very softly spoken,’ I finished, rather proud of my oratorical flourish.

‘A hermit,’ Junio said, ‘living a humble life. Not at all the sort of person to be impressed with my poor librarium mosaic. I wonder why Crassus bothered.’

‘Crassus did not know that his brother had changed so much,’ I said. ‘He was disappointed. He had hoped for all kinds of orgies and entertainments, so Paulus says.’

Junio laughed. ‘Poor old Crassus. That is the first time I ever felt sorry for him. Although you would have thought that in that case Lucius was even less likely to be impressed by a librarium.’

I took a sip of my delicious mead, and then stopped, my drinking cup still in my hand. ‘What did you say?’

He goggled at me. ‘I said, “I wonder that Germanicus hoped to impress his brother with a pavement.” Why are you staring at me like that?’

I put down my beaker carefully. ‘Because,’ I said, ‘I should have asked myself the same question. When Lucius loved feasts and orgies he did not care for libraria – he would think the money better spent on women and wine. Once he converted to the new religion, he did not care for mortal show. So, if it was not for his brother as he said it was, why did Crassus want the mosaic in such a hurry?’