'Only since the estate changed hands — is that what you mean? In other words, you came with the house.'
'That's correct. But please, perhaps I should tell my master1—'
'No, tell me this: there were two slaves who served your old master's father in Rome, named Felix and Chrestus. Do you know the ones I mean?'
‘Yes.' He nodded doubtfully and seemed to find great fascination in my feet.
'They were with him in Rome when the old man was killed. Where are they now?'
They are ...' 'Yes?'
'They were here for a while, in this house. They served my former master Sextus Roscius while he was still here as a guest of my new master Capito.'
'And after Sextus Roscius left? Did he take the slaves with him?'
'Oh, no. They remained here, for a while.' 'And then?'
'I believe - of course I don't really know—'
'What's that? Speak up.'
'Perhaps you should talk to my master Capito.'
'I don't think your master would care speak to me, at least not for long. What is your name?'
'Carus.' He gave a small start andpricked up his ears, as ifhe heard something within the house, but the sound came from outside. In the quiet twilight I could distinctly hear Capito's ranting from the back of the house, joined now by a coarse female voice. It could only be the mistress of the house. They seemed to be shouting at each other in front of the slaves.
'Tell me, Carus. Was Sextus Roscius a better master than Capito?'
He looked uncomfortable, like a man with a full bladder. He made an almost imperceptible nod.
'Then perhaps you will help me when I tell you that I am Sextus Roscius's friend. The best friend he has left in the world. I need to know this very badly: where are Felix and Chrestus?'
His expression became more pained, until I thought he would tell me that they were dead. Instead he glanced over his shoulder, then back at my feet. 'In Rome,' he said. 'My master traded them to his partner in the city, that other one who came into all of Sextus Roscius's wealth.'
'You mean Magnus.'
'No, the other one.' He lowered his voice. 'The golden one. Felix and Chrestus are in Rome, in the household of a man called Chrysogonus.'
Chrysogonus, a Greek word: golden-born. For an instant the name floated shapeless in my mind, then all at once it seemed to explode in my ears like a thunderclap. In my mind the word became a key, pressed into my hand by the unwitting slave, a shiny golden key to unlock the mystery of Sextus Roscius's murder.
From the garden I could still hear Capito ranting and his wife screaming in response. 'Say nothing to your master’ I hissed at the slave. 'Do you understand? Nothing.' I turned to the post and mounted Vespa. Thinking we had finally come to our destination, she snorted in rebellion and shook her head; I coaxed her on. I rode with one eye over my shoulder, careful now that I should not be seen by Capito. No one must know I had been here; no one must know where I slept. Chrysogonus, I thought, shaking my head at the magnitude of it. I shuddered at the danger. Of course it had always been there, but now I had eyes to see it.
I came to the main road and headed back towards the branch that would lead me to the house of Titus Megarus. Above the trees, in the fading light, I saw the rising plume of smoke with its promise of comfort and rest. I mounted a small rise and abruptly saw two riders approaching from the Flaminian Way. Their mounts proceeded at a slow pace, as weary as Vespa. The men seemed almost to be dozing, as if tired from a long day of riding, then one after the other they looked up and I saw their faces.
They were both big, broad-shouldered men, dressed in light summer tunics that left their muscular arms bare. Both were clean-shaven. The man on the right had shaggy black hair, glowering eyes, and a cruel mouth, and held the rein in his left hand. His friend had coarse, straw-coloured hair and the look of a brute, ugly and slow; he was so big that his horse looked like an overburdened pony, and across one cheek were three slender, parallel red scabs, the unmistakable mark of a cat's claw.
My heart pounded so fiercely that I thought they must surely hear it. They stared at me coldly as I passed. I managed a nod and a feeble greeting. They said nothing and turned their eyes to the road. I quickened Vespa's pace and after a moment dared to look over my shoulder. Above the shallow rise I saw them turn onto the road that led to Capito's house.
18
'The dark-haired one,' said my host, 'yes, that would be Magnus. Yes, he limps on the left, and has for years; no one knows exactly why. He tells different stories. Sometimes says it was done to him by a crazy whore in Rome, sometimes claims it was a jealous husband, or then again, a gladiator on a drunken rampage. Always claims he killed the one who did it to him, and he probably did.'
'And the other, the big ugly blond?'
'Mallius Glaucia, I have no doubt. Magnus's ex-slave and now his right-hand man. Magnus spends a lot of time in Rome these days, while his cousin Capito is busy remaking the Roscius villa; Glaucia runs back and forth between them like a dog fetching bones.'
The world was dark and full of stars. Moonlight played over the low, rolling hills, turning them to silver. I sat with Titus Megarus on the rooftop of his house, situated so that we had a wide view to the south and west. On the horizon ran a line of high hills that marked the farther edge of the valley; somewhere beyond lay the course of the Tiber. Close by, a few scattered lights and moonlit roofs marked the sleeping town of Ameria, and to the left, obscured by the intervening trees, I could just make out the upper storey, no bigger than my thumbnail, of the house where Capito and Magnus and Mallius Glaucia were all gathered for the night. A single window was lit, sending out a pale ochre light.
Titus Megarus was not a worldly man, but he was an excellent host. He met me himself at his door and immediately saw that Vespa was given a place in his stables. He declined to converse about anything controversial at his dinner table, saying it caused indigestion. Instead, over the course of the meal, each of his five children took turns singing a song. The food was plentiful and fresh; the wine was excellent. Slowly I relaxed and shed my fear until I found myself half-reclining on a divan on the roof garden of his house. In the open peristyle below, the women and children of the house were gathered. One of Titus's daughters sang while another played the lyre. The sound rose sweet and low on the warm evening air with a vague echo, as if it came from a well. At his father's invitation the boy Lucius sat near us, listening but not speaking.
I was so weary and saddle sore I could hardly move, and so comfortable I didn't want to. I lay on the divan with a cup of warm wine in one hand, struggling against sleep, gazing out over the utter peacefulness of the valley and wondering at the murderous secrets hidden there.
'It was this Mallius Glaucia who came to my house last night,' I said, 'along with some other assassin. I'm sure of it — the claw marks leave no doubt. The same man who rode like a demon all night to get the news of Sextus Roscius's murder to Capito here in Ameria. Surely he was sent on both errands by the same master.'
'Glaucia does nothing without a command from Magnus; he's like one of those shadow puppets at carnivals.'
Titus stared up at the stars. I closed my eyes and imagined Bethesda beside me on the divan, warmer than the evening breeze, softer than the pale, translucent clouds that scudded across the waxing moon. There was a burst of feminine laughter from the peristyle below, and I thought how naturally she would fit in with the simple manners of the countryside.
Titus sipped his wine. 'So Sextus has gone and got himself charged with the old man's murder. That's news to me; I suppose I should go to trade gossip at the tavern in Narnia more often. And you're here to sniff out the truth. Good luck. You'll need it.' He shook his head and leaned forwards, scrutinizing the lights from his new neighbour's villa. 'Capito and Magnus want him out of the way for good. They won't rest until the man is dead.'
I glanced towards Capito's villa, then upward at the stars. All
I wanted was sleep. But who could say if my host would be in such a talkative mood in the morning?
'Tell me, Titus Megarus . .’ Between the wine and weariness my voice deserted me.
'Tell you what, Gordianus of Rome?' His speech was slurred. He seemed such a naturally sober man, so moderate in all other things, that I thought he must be the sort that indulged in wine only when there was company to entertain.
'Tell me everything. All you know about the death of old Sextus Roscius, and his feud with Capito and Magnus, and all that came after.'
'All a rotten scandal,' he scowled. 'Everyone knows there's something smelly about the whole business, but no one does anything about it. I tried, but it got me nowhere.'
'Begin at the beginning. This feud between the late Sextus Roscius and his cousins Magnus and Capito - how far back does it go?'
'It was a feud they inherited at birth. All three had the same grandfather; Sextus's father was the oldest of three sons, Capito and Magnus were sons of the younger sons. When the grandfather died, virtually all the estate went to the oldest son, naturally -to the father of old Sextus Roscius. Well, you know how that goes, sometimes there's a gracious settlement with the rest of the family, sometimes there's an ugly break. Who knows all the petty details? All I know is that it carried into the cousins of the second generation, with Capito and Magnus always against old Sextus, always conniving for some way to get a bigger share of the family fortune. Somehow or other they've succeeded. A few gullible souls in Ameria think they were simply blessed by Fortune. Anyone with a brain in his head can see they must have got blood on their hands, though they've been clever enough to wash it off.'
'Very well; the father of the elder Sextus Roscius inherits the family estates, leaving the rest with a pittance. The elder Sextus is his prime heir - I assume he was the oldest son in the family?'
'The only male child; the Roscii are not prolific breeders.'
'Very well, the elder Sextus inherits, much to the ongoing chagrin of his impoverished cousins Capito and Magnus. How impoverished were they?'
'Capito's father always held on to one of the farms down by the Nar, enough for a modest living. It was Magnus who had the worst of it. His father lost the one farm he inherited and finally killed himself That's why Magnus left for the city, to make his way there.'
'Bitter men. And if Magnus went to Rome to learn about life, murder is a lesson easily picked up. Now correct me if my memory fails: old Sextus marries twice. The first union produces Sextus filius. The wife dies, and Sextus pater remarries. A second son is born, Gaius, and the beloved young wife dies in childbirth. Young Sextus gets the run of the farms, while his father and Gaius go off to Rome. But then, three years ago, on the eve of Sulla's triumph, young Sextus summons his father and brother home to Ameria, and while they're here Gaius dies from something he ate. Tell me, Titus, what did the gossips in Ameria say about that?'