The Roman Heir

by Zara Altair

  He looked down at the parchment in his hand.

  “These men,” he continued, waving the list. “These men are not about affection. They are about power over other people.” He looked down at the list. “Almost all of them are married and have families. It’s not about sexual preference. They want the power of seduction and the influence of secrets. Yes. As humiliated as I was, I’m glad I left. Argolicus, if there’s a way I can help you find Pius’ murderer, I will. Titiana and Philo deserve to know.”

  “You are helping now,” Argolicus said. “I have today, and then I’m gone. Not everyone would do what you’ve done—swallow their pride to come here with us. The ordinary exterior appearing as abandoned shops tells me how Pius wanted to keep these parties a secret. Our next step is to examine the list. Add any names you remember to the list. Then, if you want to help more, any of you, help me with reasons any of these men would want to kill Pius.”

  All three of the young people agreed.

  “We’ve seen enough here. Let’s go back to Philo’s domus and study the list.”

  Philo and Titiana left to help Aemilia with funeral arrangements. Pacilus added in two names on the list and left for home. Argolicus sat in his makeshift study at the small table in his guest room as he reviewed the list.

  Between Titiana and Pacilus there were twelve names in total on the parchment scrap. Twelve names. Twelve men he didn’t know. In an unfamiliar town.

  He grabbed the parchment, stood up and called, “Nikolaos, quick. Catch Pacilus before he leaves the domus. We need him. I’ll be downstairs in the peristylum.”

  When Pacilus arrived in a few minutes, Argolicus said, “I need your help again. If we go to the forum, most of the men on the list will be there. It’s morning. Everyone is out conducting business, gossiping, and just being seen. I’m sure it’s the same here as the forum in any town.”

  “That’s what it’s like this time of day,” Pacilus said. “What do you need from me?”

  “I need your help to match names to faces. If you could point out the people on the list—discreetly—I’ll have a better idea of who they are. Can you help?”

  “Of course,” Pacilus said. “Any way I can help Titiana and Philo, I am ready.”

  Argolicus led them into the office where Philo, Titiana, Aemilia, and Sabinus gathered around the large table. The table was clear of trinkets as they four of them poured over papers. Old Ioses and Philo’s tutor Bion sat at one end of the table writing invitations to the funeral in elegant cursive.

  “I’m off to the forum with Pacilus,” Argolicus said.

  Chapter 7

  Not The Man

  The bright morning sun did little to ease the crisp air, but it brought what people were in Ostia to the forum. Wrapped in heavy cloaks over layers of clothing tradesmen hawked their wares beside empty stalls, barbers busied themselves with blades, and the patricians and politicians stood in groups in the center of the large plaza chatting and exchanging gossip. The empty shops marked only by the mosaic emblems set in the stones in front showed how much the town had dwindled to serve only the few patricians who still came to their country retreats.

  They passed groups of people and overheard snippets of conversation. Ostia will not be the same. A vicious murder I hear. Young Philo… Talk of Pius’ murder was the main topic of conversation.

  Argolicus knew he had made the right decision when he noticed the clusters of men talking in the large plaza. He turned to Pacilus.

  “If you see any of those men on the list, point them out discreetly. Tell me his name. Mention his position and anything else you know about him. Nikolaos will take notes.”

  “How will that help?” Pacilus asked.

  “I want to know them better. I want a sense of who they are and how they conduct themselves in public.” He pulled his cloak tighter as a quick gust came off the ocean. “Is it always this cold here?”

  Pacilus laughed. “In the winter.” Then his look sobered.

  “And there you see,” he gestured with his shoulder toward three men chatting, “in that group is one Numerius Mummius Paterculus. He has holdings here and a large family villa. He is often in Rome but here in Ostia enough, enough to be part of Pius’ circle.”

  Nikolaos scribbled on the list.

  “I recognize him from Rome,” Argolicus said. “He loves gossip of any kind.”

  Before Argolicus could move toward the group Paterculus called, “Your Sublimity, here you are in Ostia. Come, come. Join us.” He was a thin man with a rapacious look to his otherwise bland face.

  Argolicus joined the group, introduced Pacilus, and met the other two men.

  “Tell us, Argolicus, what brings you to Ostia. Are you avoiding the hoi polloi and madness of the Games as we are? Flavius Paulus is a good man, God bless him.” He crossed himself quickly but without reverence. “But you know how it is. He isn’t a rich as some, and I understand the Games are not a lavish this year…

  “I am returning home to Bruttia tomorrow.”

  A brief disdainful sneer crossed Paterculus’ face before he returned to his mask of avid interest.

  Argolicus continued, “On my way, I did a favor for Boethius. And now I’m doing a favor for young Servius Norbanus Philo.”

  “Oh, I heard. I heard.” Paterculus said, crossing himself three times as did his two companions. “Such a horror. Who would think it? How fortunate for Philo that you are a magistrate. I remember how you settled that dispute with Velusian’s sons. Something about the circus tower and the amphitheater.” He paused hoping Argolicus would fall for the bait and explain.

  Argolicus remembered the sons Marcian and Maximiums, how they had lost those items in a drunken gamble to him. He thought of that incident as his true entry into the adult world. The debt was not recorded. Argolicus had trusted their word, and the sons had petitioned King Theodoric to reclaim their ownership. The matter would haunt him for life. “I’m retiring from the Senate and returning home. Our ship leaves tomorrow. I’m not certain I can help Philo much in the time I’m here.”

  “Well, you can leave in peace. I hear Numerius Sulpicius Asina returns tomorrow. Although…”

  “Yes, it is a family matter,” Argolicus said, reading Paterculus’ thoughts. He decided to plumb the meddler’s knowledge. “Would he help the family even though it’s not a public matter?”

  “Oh, I know him well. In this case, he might. He and Pius were good friends.”

  “That’s good to hear. Philo and the family will receive support. The murder was quite violent.”

  Paterculus was all ears, ready for details, but Argolicus cut off his prurient pursuit. “I’m off to find some good vellum to take on my trip. It was good to see you again and meet your friends.” He nodded to the three and walked on, Pacilus at his side and Nikolaos trailing behind.

  Pacilus said, “What a man,” as his eyes followed Paterculus. “I wonder how I will be navigate gossips like that. You do it so well.”

  “I’m not so sure,” Argolicus said. “I find gossips trying. If you learn to observe and curb your responses, it gets easier. Do you see anyone else on the list?”

  Pacilus shook his head no.

  “Master, now that you mention it,” Nikolaos said, “more vellum at cheap prices is a good idea to take back to the country.”

  “We’ll do that,” Argolicus responded. “First, let’s see who else Pacilus knows so he can have the rest of the day to himself.”

  “Do you see those two men next to the big well? They are both on the list, I saw them that night,” Pacilus said. “Pansa and Rufus. Publius Hirtius Pansa and Servius Marius Rufus. Pansa’s family has been in Ostia for generations. He owns property here and in Portus. He was often at Philo’s domus. I saw him on my visits with Titiana.”

  Pansa was a big man, but it was difficult to tell how big because he was swathed in layers of bright silks—blue, green, red, and yellow—topped by a heavy fur against the chill. On his feet he wore court style, heavily embroid
ered soft shoes with crossed straps over the instep. The other man, Rufus, wore a embroidered tunic covered by a wool cape and sturdier shoes with wrappings up to his knees against the cold.

  “Rufus is another who lives in Rome but comes to a family villa here in Ostia,” Pacilus said. “I know little about him because he’s mostly in Rome.”

  Argolicus lowered his head, wondering how he would greet them without seeming obvious. He strolled among the crowds and this time heard snatches of conversation about himself. Praetor and then praefect of the city… He must be a friend of the family, I’ve never seen him here in Ostia… Is he leaving in disgrace…? Those young sycophants of the King…

  His dilemma resolved when Rufus called out as they neared the central well. “Your Sublimity, I see you, too, are avoiding the Games. We are honored to see you in Ostia.”

  Argolicus approached shaking his head, “No, I’m going home. I’ve left the public world.”

  “But I hear you are helping the family of Servius Norbanus Pius,” Pansa said, pulling his fur over the silk layers.

  “I am. I was there hours after it happened on an errand for Boethius, and Philo asked for my help when I delivered Boethius’ gift, a book.”

  Pansa continued, “Pius was such an important man here. So many of us respected him. Young Philo must be devastated. Book, you say. You brought a book?”

  “Yes, one Boethius wrote himself.”

  Both men looked at him again. He could see their reappraisal at the mention of Boethius, one of the richest men in Rome. Argolicus had a sense of why they had come under Pius’ sway. Riches impressed them.

  “Yes, well… an outsider wouldn’t be able to help much, but it is a cordial gesture,” Rufus said. “Murders are so difficult to trace if done in private. I suppose the family has no recourse but to depend on a kind gesture from someone like you. A man from the provinces. And I hear your mother is one of the King’s People. Your father…” He left the sentence unfinished.

  Argolicus heard the intended slur and ignored it. He was here to discover what he could about these men. He saw Pansa give Rufus a warning glance. Argolicus felt Pacilus tense.

  “Rome has changed,” Pansa said, bringing neutrality to the conversation. “We have a King in Ravenna and are left to ourselves here. He doesn’t visit Rome. I’ve been to Ravenna several times. It’s full of pomp and regal splendor. The entire palace is a copy of the palace in Constantinople. We Romans have to acknowledge that Rome is not Rome. The Emperor is in Constantinople and the King is in Ravenna. Most of the goods that pass through Portus go to Ravenna and the north, not Rome. I’ve heard the great orator Cassiodorus. Isn’t he a friend of yours?”

  “He is,” said Argolicus. “A gifted speaker. We’re childhood friends.”

  Rufus said under his breath, “Aha.”

  Pansa went on ignoring Rufus. “His laws are fair. He’s left Roman law in place for citizens. That doesn’t help Pius’ family though. The King’s People, have a penalty for killing. Even though it is money or something else of value, we Roman citizens must deal with killings on our own. I’ve heard of your decisions. Often just and usually fair. If you find the killer, I know your recommendations to the family will be honorable.”

  “Thank you,” Argolicus said. “I wonder if you could help me? Do you know anyone who held a grudge against Pius? Any unfair dealings?”

  “He was a rich man involved in many transactions,” Pansa said. “Too many for me to know. I’m afraid I knew him only as a patrician. I’ve heard no grumbling about his business dealings.”

  “He exacted full… he traded in favors,” Rufus said. “I won’t deny it. In personal business he’s not the man many admire. In business there was always a personal favor as well as the transaction. Some became uneasy with his favors. Pius always seemed to come out ahead. But grumbling is not a cause for murder.”

  He had touched on the truth about Pius.

  Argolicus agreed. “You are right. Being disgruntled does not lead to murder. Can you think of anyone who had a more powerful resentment?”

  Both men shook their heads. Rufus looked up and glanced at Pacilus. “I know you. You’re Lucius Mummius Pacilus, yes? You are a friend of the daughter, Titiana. I feel as though we’ve met.”

  Pacilus shook his head as his body tensed. “No. I mean, yes, I am a friend of the family. But, as far as I know, we haven’t met.”

  Argolicus knew it was time to go. Pacilus was fragile about the party. Much more prying and the young man might fall into tears or break down in some other way.

  “You’ve been helpful,” he said to the two men. “I’m staying at the family villa. If you think of something, anything that might help, send a message. I can meet with you. A visit to the household now is not right. The entire family is distraught.”

  Argolicus left the two patricians of Ostia and walked toward the market stalls that surrounded the large plaza. Pacilus was silent, lost in his thoughts.

  “Pacilus, do you see any more of the men on that list?” Argolicus asked.

  Pacilus lifted his head and glanced around the plaza. “No. The others may have gone to Rome for the Counselor Games or they’re just not here today.” He turned his head to look at Argolicus. “I need to leave. That meeting with Pansa. I was at that party such a short time. He recognized my face.”

  “Pacilus, you did nothing at that event. You left before anything happened. We all have a moment when we leave the naïvete of youth. Yours was quick with no real dire consequences.” He thought about the Roman brothers and their gambling trick. “Mine came much later. Many would have called me a man at twenty-eight, but in some ways I was more naïve than you. And I had unpleasant consequences. Friends like Philo and Titiana support you. You have the rest of your life. You handled that brief situation well. And, you were right. You hadn’t met Pansa. It’s just that you saw him at the party.”

  “You think I handled myself well?”

  “Yes. Yes, I do. You will serve your ambition to be in politics. It takes practice. That was practice.”

  Pacilus smiled. Argolicus nodded and returned the smile.

  “Thank you for your help, Pacilus. Nikolaos, let’s find that vellum.”

  Chapter 8

  The Price Of Nobility

  Nikolaos clutched the wrapped pack of vellum sheets under his arm. Argolicus strode in thought along the main road of Ostia, Decumanus Maximus. When the road angled toward the town wall, he continued walking headed for the main gate and the shore of the ocean. They passed the baths and the guild house and working people on the street who served the needs of the lingering patricians. Argolicus was the only patrician on the street as they walked between shops, workshops, bars, and restaurants, interspersed by empty buildings, toward the city gate.

  Argolicus spoke. “There was snow in Rome but it seems colder here, even with the sun almost at midday.”

  “No complaining,” Nikolaos chided.

  “I’m stating a fact. I feel as though it’s the only fact I know at the moment. My head is swimming with possibilities about Pius, his family, and his cohorts.” He stopped walking and tradesmen, slaves, workers flowed around him some giving a fleeting look at his finery, others ignoring the patrician and his slave.

  “Master, would you like to stop at a restaurant for a light meal? Perhaps that would clear your head.”

  Argolicus glanced at the street ahead. Small bars and restaurants sat between shops at regular intervals. “A good idea.”

  “That one looks quiet,” Nikolaos said pointing to an open door ahead.

  Argolicus nodded. They found a table inside, and he said, “Whatever looks good.”

  He sat while Nikolaos left to place an order. A young peasant couple sat at a corner table gazing into each other’s eyes. Four workers chatted amiably before the midday break. The rest of the room sat in empty gloom. He mulled over his lack of progress. His offer of help to Philo was coming to no conclusion. He had a better picture of Pius and his manipulati
ons but had met no one who seemed angry enough for a vicious attack in the man’s own home. How had they made it inside? It had to be the side door. The big doorkeeper would have known any other entrance.

  Nikolaos returned and placed flatbread, an egg, a bowl of steaming lamb stew, and a cup of wine in front of Argolicus.

  “I keep thinking it was someone Pius knew well,” Argolicus said. “Otherwise, they would not have access to the house, even the side entrance. The slaves coming and going would have noticed. Aemilia is cold and bitter, but she seems resigned and not angry. Titiana hated her father. But those stab wounds, I don’t see her doing that.”

  “What about Pacilus?” Nikolaos ventured. “We have only Titiana’s word that he was more wounded than angry.”

  “We spent the morning with him. He’s more worried about how to pursue a career than hatred. After all, nothing happened. I don’t see him like that, full of vengeful anger. I thought about him briefly when Titiana visited, but spending the morning with him, no.”

  He dipped a piece of flatbread in the stew.

  “And those men at the forum. Whatever hold Pius had on them, they were all sycophants at heart. Pansa with his courtier ways without a court. Rufus with his disdain, ready to belittle anyone. Paterculus and his gossip-mongering. None of them particularly admirable men.”

  The tangy odors of the stew made Argolicus realize he was hungry. He ate in earnest. As he savored the stew and rich spices he tempered the spices with pieces of bread and went back over the morning. The visit to the party site, the people Pacilus had seen there, Philo’s shock, the conversations in the forum. Nothing stood out. He was overlooking something important someone had said but did not understand what it was.

  “Could it be one of the other boys?” Nikolaos asked. He pulled out a note and glanced at it. “Nobilier - naval officer. Macrinus - unknown. Arsenius - Promagistrate. Otho - silk merchant. Perhaps one of them was actually seduced. Didn’t escape like Pacilus. And afterward blamed Pius and his decadent gatherings.”