Requiem for a Slave (28 page)

I nodded and was about to tell him more, but he went on without a pause.

‘At all events, he said he would be late, and asked if I could pick him up outside the villa when I had finished for the day, because the road to my farm and his turnip field runs outside the gates . . .’

‘You live close together?’ My turn to interrupt.

He paused in his energetic efforts with the broom to give me a look of ill-disguised contempt. ‘His turnip field abuts my smallholding, of course. It was all one property in my father’s time, but it’s divided now. Each of the sons was left a part of it, though, as the eldest, I had the largest share. But we still cooperate. He grows the turnips and I sell some on the stall, as well as the ones he hawks around the streets, and in return on feast days he peddles my cheese and buttermilk for me. Of course, I don’t have room to bring him into town when the cart is full of produce early in the day, but I often take him home – even with his barrow . . .’ He faltered suddenly. ‘Or, at least, I did.’

‘And that is what you had arranged to do last night?’ I said. ‘I heard that an ox-cart had stopped outside the house.’

‘Well, it wasn’t mine,’ the man said bitterly. ‘I don’t have an ox. Only an old mule. I leave it with a hiring stables just outside the walls – I pay them to look after it and the cart as well – and I pick it up each evening when the market shuts. That’s what I did last night – as the hiring stables will no doubt tell you, if you care to ask – and I drove out to the villa, where he told me he would wait. I waited for a long time, till it was almost dark, but in the end I had to leave.’

Any chip of stone tile that wasn’t on a stockpile, neatly sorted out, had been swept into his heap, together with the dust of ages by the look of it, and he was looking round for somewhere to dispose of it. I gestured to a corner, where I’d roughly swept the debris from the shop before, ready to be gathered up and join the midden-heap.

He pushed his pile in that direction with his broom. ‘Naturally I was worried about where my brother was, and the man on the gate there had no news of him. I wondered if someone had already taken him – all the big villas have farm wagons they can use – so I went home to see. But he wasn’t there, of course. How could he be, since he was lying here?’

‘So perhaps the ox-wagon did take him to the town,’ I said.

‘He would not have done that, when my uncle was going to pick him up.’ The young man was splashing drops of water on my workbench as he spoke, and on the coloured stockpiles of assorted stone.

‘Or he’d have come straight to tell me if he had,’ the older man agreed. ‘Besides, if he’d come back to Glevum, I would certainly have heard. From the hiring stables, if from no one else. You can’t walk through the gates without someone seeing you.’

I had to acknowledge there was truth in this. But I was following a different train of thought. ‘Then I wonder if he was brought back to the town against his will?’
Or was already dead
, I added privately, although I did not voice that thought aloud. ‘These wagons from the villas – are there many on the roads?’ I hoped he would identify the one the gateman saw.

He disappointed me. ‘There are always lots of them. I saw half a dozen of them yesterday, queuing at the gate.’

‘Why would they go to Glevum at that time of day, if they came from country houses fairly close nearby?’

The nephew dispensed the last few drops of water from the jug. ‘I suppose they bring in fresh produce from the villa farms to supply the owners’ town houses, but it’s easier to bring things in on horseback if you can. Then you don’t have to wait till dusk to bring them in.’

His uncle nodded. ‘Like those hangings that decurion had brought in yesterday – the one who made the speech at the basilica today, congratulating Gaius Greybeard on capturing the vote. . . .’ He turned to his nephew, ‘Though, come to think of it, I saw his cart as well . . .’

But I had lost interest in wagons, suddenly.

‘Gaius Greybeard! That doddering old fool! Elected to the ordo?’ I shook my head in total disbelief. ‘I knew that he was standing as a candidate – he has done that for years – but there must be some mistake. Surely they cannot have elected him! I understood that Marcus Septimus had proposed a candidate.’

‘Well, so he did,’ the older man replied. ‘And that’s why Gaius won. He was the nominee. Of course, the whole election was a formality once it was known that His Excellence Marcus had endorsed him for the post.’

I could not believe my ears. I knew that Marcus had no patience with the man and his repeated efforts to become a councillor. Too easily influenced, my patron always said, too inclined to do anything for gold, and with no more judgement than the average fish. Marcus would not endorse him for a post as street-sweeper, let alone as town councillor in the curia.

I must have looked as startled as I felt. ‘Don’t look so disbelieving, citizen,’ the stallholder exclaimed. ‘I can assure you that it’s true – I heard the proclamation of the news myself. We were in the forum market together at my stall when the chief decurion came out on to the steps and made the announcement about the outcome of the vote. He actually mentioned that it was His Excellence’s wish.’ He gave a rather peculiar sort of grin. ‘The bystanders were a bit surprised at first, I must agree, but most of them decided that he’d been well paid for his support.’

I looked across at Junio who had been listening to all this.

‘Are you thinking what I am thinking?’ I enquired.

Junio nodded slowly. ‘Marcus would never have nominated Gaius for that seat. Unless he was coerced. Certainly he’d never stoop to take a bribe. He’s always been scrupulous in avoiding any hint of that. There has been some mistake. Or someone tampered with the message on the way . . .’

‘There was no mistake.’ Radixrapum’s brother was peremptory. ‘And how could anyone have tampered with the scroll? It had his seal on it. I saw it come myself. It was brought to the forum yesterday by that official messenger in the fancy clothes – Virulus or Virilis, or whatever he is called . . .’

But I was no longer listening. His words had struck a sudden echo in my brain. I felt my jaw drop open and my mind began to whirl. ‘Dear gods,’ I said. ‘Of course! That is the solution! How could I be so blind? The answer has been here in my workshop all along.’

‘What is it, Father?’ Junio was instantly alert and at my side. ‘You have thought of something? Something related to the murderer?’

I was quite excited. ‘I believe so, Junio. It all fits into place. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before. It was Radixrapum’s brother who gave me the idea. You heard what he just said?’

‘That he was in the forum when the message came?’

That had not been my meaning, but it sparked another thought. ‘And that was in the morning!’ I exclaimed. ‘I should have seen that it was odd. I am even more stupid than Gaius Greybeard is, if that is possible.’ I turned to the two mourners. ‘I am sorry, gentlemen. I shall have to ask you to move the bier as soon as possible. Junio and I must go to the garrison at once. People are in danger and the killer must be stopped. I only hope that we will be in time.’

‘But who is it that we’re stopping?’ Junio enquired in a tone of anguish.

For the first time since the bulla feast, I allowed myself to smile. ‘Why, the green man, of course. Glypto is deaf! Have you not understood?’

Radixrapum’s son sidled up to Junio. ‘Who on earth is Glypto?’ he enquired, as though he was talking to the only person still sane. ‘And what has a green man got to do with it? Does this mean your father thinks he knows who strangled mine?’

‘I think so,’ Junio answered in an undertone. ‘And Glypto is the latest victim of the same murderer. Though I don’t understand what Father thinks he knows.’

‘Then let me show you something.’ I bent to the stockpile of assorted tesserae and picked up a little sliver of green stone. ‘What is this, Junio?’

They were all looking at me now as though I’d lost my wits, but Junio humoured me. ‘It looks like a piece of lapis viridis,’ he said.

‘Exactly,’ I couldn’t keep the triumph from my voice. ‘Lapis is the word for the material, and viridis . . .’

‘You mean . . . the colour?’ Junio always thought in Latin – he had no other tongue – but the connection had just occurred to him.

‘Precisely! We thought when Glypto said the man was green, he was giving a description of him in some way. It never occurred to me that he thought it was his name. He told me that he knew the man was green, because he heard them talk. The other speaker – the urchin – must have used the word. And Glypto misheard it. Virilis and viridis – the sounds are very close. And once you have seen that, a lot of things make sense. Who – except the tanner and ourselves – knew that Glypto was going to meet me at the pile and tell me what he knew about the murders here? Only Virilis – I told him so myself. It troubles me. I didn’t see the danger at the time, and half an hour later Glypto was found dead.’ I sighed. ‘The tanner’s wife is right. I might as well have slipped the dagger in his ribs.’

‘But Virilis had set off to meet Marcus by that time!’ Junio protested.

‘You think so? We saw him leave, of course – he made quite sure that we did – but it would have been quite easy for him to double back and wait in the rear lane for Glypto to appear, then stab him and hide his body in the pile. It was raining by then and few people were about, so even if he had to leave his horse tied up somewhere again, there was nobody lingering around to notice it.’

‘But how did he lure Glypto to the far side of the midden-heap? Or did he simply toss the corpse across the pile?’

‘I’ve thought of that,’ I said. ‘But Glypto would naturally go that side of the heap – it was nearest to the back door of the tannery – but though (as Glypto said) the midden-pile was big enough to hide a child from view, it’s not so high that you can’t see over it. So when he came out with his bucket, for the umpteenth time today, and saw me talking to someone on the street, he came around this way to try to speak to me. But when he got here, Virilis was there, and Glypto recognized him somehow as the man he’d seen before. It may have been the military cloak or perhaps the voice, but he knew who it was and tried to send me warning as soon as possible. But it was too late by then. Virilis had noticed him, and I had sealed his fate.’

Junio whistled. ‘So when he said the green man was here again, he didn’t mean he’d heard him here the night before? Or is it possible he heard him then as well? I suppose we’ll never know.’

Radixrapum’s family had been listening to all this, but, in accordance with my earlier request, they had put on their cloaks and hurried to secure the corpse a little more firmly to the makeshift bier. Now, as they moved into position to lift each end of it, the younger man said thoughtfully, ‘So you think the cursor was the strangler, but he stabbed the slave?’

‘Indeed I do,’ I said. ‘Using that dagger he carried at his chest, though normally, I think, he preferred to use his sash – thin plaited silk would make an excellent strangulation cord.’

Junio was reluctant to accept all this. ‘But you can’t still think his real intention was to strangle you. What motive would he have? He hadn’t even met you until the naming day.’

‘That’s quite true, of course. And that’s how he came to murder the wrong man, twice before. Not because he attacked them from behind, as we supposed (although in fact he did), but because he didn’t know what I looked like anyway – only what my work was and where I was most likely to be found.’ They were looking doubtful and I spelled it out for them. ‘Lucius was in my workshop: Virilis thought that it was me. Hardly surprising when you think of it. And the same with our poor turnip-seller here. He was wheeling a mosaic pavement round the streets, to a place where I was known to work. The cursor had no way of knowing who I was – not till he met me at the bulla feast today.’

‘But you think he was trying to kill you all the same?’ Radixrapum’s brother was incredulous. He looked at his nephew. ‘I can’t believe that’s true. What kind of person murders a complete stranger in cold blood, just because some other person asks them to?’

‘Apart from an executioner, you mean?’ I said.

I heard Junio’s sharp intake of breath. ‘You think that’s how he saw it?’

It was a relief to say it openly. ‘I am quite sure he did. He was acting on instructions. Someone told him where I lived and what I did, and where I was likely to be that afternoon. Someone of importance, that he was working for. I don’t imagine that his services are free.’

‘But Marcus sent him here,’ Junio observed. ‘You can’t think it was your patron who ordered him to strangle you?’ He shook his head decisively. ‘I don’t believe it.’

‘Nor do I,’ I answered. ‘But I think I know who did.’

Radixrapum’s son had left the bier by now and had come round to confront me, arms folded on his chest. ‘Tell me his name and I will strangle him with these bare hands’ – he made them into fists – ‘and that Virilis too.’ He shook his head. ‘What did he hope to gain? How does he profit by my father’s death? Or yours?’ he added, as an afterthought.

‘Preferment in his chosen occupation, I should think,’ I said. ‘I knew he was ambitious – even my wife Gwellia saw as much and commented that he probably had powerful friends somewhere. Indeed, he was already very highly placed – already an official cursor, at his age, and he told me that he’d worked for the governor before, and even been to Glevum with a message once or twice. What kind of promotion could such a youth expect? Not to be commander of a troop of horse – that would require too much experience. But to join the
speculatores
– that is different.’

The mention of speculatores brought a sudden hush. The very name was feared throughout the Empire. The speculatores had begun as simply mounted scouts, but under successive emperors their powers had evolved, and now they were known not merely as paid spies, but as ruthless killers of imperial enemies. And, as Virilis himself had warned us earlier, Commodus saw plots and treason everywhere.