The Roman Heir

by Zara Altair

“Yes, until she realized that finding the killer would lift the shadow over the family name.”

  “Since the other men Pacilus mentioned are out of town, that leaves only the boys for us. Is that your next pursuit?”

  “Something, something doesn’t ring true. I can’t imagine a boy of Philo’s age or even that of Pacilus hiring a man to threaten me. It’s possible. Money can buy anything. But it’s the act of a mature man, not a boy. That ruffian looked like a man who could go well beyond a mere threat and has done so in the past. If we pushed harder, I’m certain it could happen and in a less public way.”

  “So, do we forget the boys?”

  “No, not at all. I was ruminating. We’ll get Philo to tell us where we can find them. Bring that scrap. What were their names?”

  Nikolaos picked up the sheet. “Nobilier - naval officer. Macrinus - unknown. Arsenius - Promagistrate. Otho - silk merchant. Who knows, they may be out of town, too.”

  “The Promagistrate is back, so we know his son is here. If he’s as burly as his father…” Argolicus realized he was speculating and stopped. “A naval officer, he must be connected with Portus. If they live in Ostia, we’re in luck. We don’t have time to cross the river again. Otho may be our best hope. His father must serve the matrons here with silks at a cheaper price than in Rome. Let’s hope Philo knows Macrinus, and that he is here in Ostia.”

  “A strange place, this Ostia. It’s the center of nothing,” Nikolaos said. “The commerce here seems to survive by serving the patricians who still come here.”

  “I’ll be relieved to get home to the country far away from any of the tentacles of Rome and its undercurrents.” He sighed. “All this because of a favor to Boethius.”

  Nikolaos pocketed the vellum sheet. “Shall we find Philo, then?”

  Chapter 10

  Every Man Must Make His Own Decision

  Aemilia and Asina were talking in the entertainment room as Argolicus and his tutor passed through the peristylum on their way to the office. Sunlight fell in an afternoon slant from the open ceiling onto the plants and tiles of the big room. Servants passed carrying food and drink to the entertainment room. Sabinus and Philo were in the office, but they had ceased looking at accounts. Each of them sat in silence staring at the books on the table.

  Argolicus told them about the morning in the forum, his conversations with the men, and his disappointment in finding no clues to Pius’ murder except the encounter with the ruffian.

  “But you are describing Asina’s man, Altan. Everyone in Ostia knows him and stays clear of him.” Philo said, astonished. “When you see him on the street, you know trouble is about to happen. He’s not exactly a bodyguard, he’s more of a problem solver. He collects debts when they are overdue. I know little about these matters but I hear he settles accounts for brothels when someone hasn’t paid or is too rough with a girl. I’m not as naïve as everyone thinks.” He turned his young face now marked by dark circles under his eyes toward Argolicus.

  “Asina’s man?” Argolicus replied. “Philo, think. Is there any reason this man Altan, would come to see your father? He is strong.” He paused and paced in front of the table. “But he is a mercenary paid to do bidding. One quick stroke would be his way. He appears to know how to do violence, but efficiently. Whoever killed your father was angry… very angry. Those wounds suggest passion, not cold calculation.”

  Philo started to speak but Argolicus waved his hand to silence him. He continued pacing back and forth in front of the table. Then, stopped. “When did Asina return from the south?”

  “Yesterday, from what I hear,” Philo said.

  “If that ruffian, Altan, is his man, why would he caution me? Does he work for other people? Patricians in Ostia?”

  “Not that I know. But, now Asina will find someone for us. He is professional. The Promagistrate finds and arbitrates. His men are trained.”

  “Was he good friends with your father?”

  “He came here for dinners. They did some business together. I just saw here,” he pointed toward an account book, “that Father sold him some fabrics straight off the ship so Asina didn’t have to go through a fabric merchant.”

  “That’s exactly the way Pius did things,” Sabinus said. “He would tell me to pull certain items from the warehouse. And, that is how he cultivated friends. He gave favors and expected them in return. It’s how he grew and maintained his power.”

  Argolicus rubbed the sore spot on his chest, remembering the grab and the threatening warning. “Let’s go see him. He’s with your mother.”

  A tray of gustum snacks accompanied by honeyed wine now sat on a table in the entertainment room between Aemilia and Asina. Titiana sat by her mother’s side.

  “… and so you won’t have to be involved. These men will work to find…” Asina was saying but stopped when Argolicus, Philo, and Sabinus, trailed by Nikolaos appeared in the archway. The Promagistrate twisted with a questioning look at the group.

  “Ah, Asina. You haven’t left. I had a question,” Argolicus said.

  “Yes?” Asina’s face was blank of emotion.

  Aemilia glanced at Argolicus to caution him not to push.

  “I’m piecing together a chronology. When did your ship arrive?” Argolicus said, moving into the room. Aemilia frowned at him. The Promagistrate stood.

  “My ship? My original ship was to arrive yesterday. But I tired of the provinces and returned three days early. Why do you ask?” Asina stood taller as Argolicus moved into the room.

  “And did you see Pius when you returned?”

  “Yes, yes, I did. I sent a messenger to set up a meeting, and he came to my house.” Asina paused as his eyebrows squeezed together. “We met, we talked. He…”

  “And your meeting was successful?”

  “We came to an agreement. We…” Asina paused again, pressed his lips together, and shook his head back and forth. “No, we disagreed.”

  “You disagreed about your son, Arsenius? You were upset.”

  Asina stood still. His enlarged pupils darkened his deep brown eyes. He sat down, then stood up again. Aemilia and Titiana leaned forward as Philo and Sabinus moved closer to Argolicus.

  “Arsenius?” Philo said startled. Titiana looked up with recognition as her eyes met Argolicus’ glance. Asina sat.

  “Yes, Arsenius,” Argolicus answered. “Your son, Asina. Your son told you something while you were away. He told you something that made you hurry back to Ostia.”

  “Arsenius,” Sabina said, shifting in his seat as his voice broke. “My son. Pius. My friend, Pius. Because of Pius my son lost…” His hands tightened into fists at his side. “My son, he seduced my son. Arsenius will never be the same. That is not friendship.” He put his head between his hands. “I came in behind the slave with the fish. There was a boy. I asked him to find Pius.”

  “What are you saying?” Philo asked, his young eyes gleaming out of the dark circles. “You came here to harm my father? You, the same man who tried to seduce Pacilus, Titiana’s friend? You hypocrite.”

  “I made a choice,” Asina said, his body losing its authoritative bearing. Everything that had been tight slackened. “Arsenius had no choice. He was beguiled, forced. Pius, your father, told him if he did… if he… Pius told him it was nothing, the physical act. He told Arsenius that he would sponsor him. That of all the young men in Ostia…” Asina’s eyes glistened with tears, his mouth turned down in sorrow. Then he took a breath, closed his eyes, and sat still.

  Then he leaped up, eyes on fire, blinking back the tears. “Yes. Yes, I killed him. That liar and seducer. I was there to confront him. Pius came out of his room and we met in the peristylum.” He gestured out toward the big room. “He made the same argument as you, Philo. But, my son, my son… had no choice. Every man must make his own decision. He said in time Arsenius would understand and that I would understand. I said it was rape. It was rape. Insidious mental rape first, then the physical act. That’s the way Pius dealt with everyo
ne. He twisted thoughts and made every bargain come out in his favor, even a young man’s virginity.”

  “And the knife?” Argolicus asked. “Romans are forbidden by law to carry weapons. Only the King’s people carry weapons. You must have come with thoughts of murder.”

  “It was night, I was on the streets alone. Who would notice?” Asina said. He sat down again. “We’re far from Ravenna. This is a Roman town. I don’t know if I set out to kill him. I wanted to confront him. Killing him could have been in the back of my mind. I was angry. I wanted amends. But when he started with his excuses of power…”

  Sabinus interrupted, “We will strip you of everything. We’ll take this to court and win unequivocally. Our family will have justice.” He pulled Philo next to him. “Look what you have done to this boy. He’s distraught with grief, overwhelmed with discoveries about his father.”

  Aemilia sat stock still, her face composed in Roman dignity, and said, “Asina could be anyone Pius touched.” She signaled to a slave, “Get N’Golo to show this man out.” She folded her hands in her lap and watched Asina crumble into his silks in front of her.

  Titiana rose and pulled the stunned Philo toward a bench. She wrapped him in sisterly arms as he stared out at the middle distance.

  Argolicus and Nikolaos readied for the ship to Squillace in southern Italy long before the family was up for the funeral. But a haggard Philo discovered them in the vestibule as N’Golo was removing the large bar on the door to let them out. Philo opened his mouth to speak but instead rushed to Argolicus, embracing him.

  Argolicus put his arms around the young man and then gently pushed him back.

  “Find the facts. Think about them first, putting your emotions aside. Use them to your advantage.”

  Philo nodded.

  “Know yourself and trust your sense of justice. You will be a man much different from your father and your own man.”

  Philo looked at him with trust in his eyes. “Thank you. Thank you. Without you… I’ve learned so much. You are welcome in our home always.”

  Argolicus picked up his bag and nodded to N’Golo. The big man pulled open the door. Nikolaos slipped out into the predawn gray. Argolicus said, “First say to yourself what you would be; and then do what you have to do. Epictetus said that. I’ll send you a book.”

  Afterword

  THANK YOU!

  Thanks for reading The Roman Heir.

  If you enjoyed The Roman Heir, please consider telling your friends or posting a short review. Word of mouth is an author’s best friend and much appreciated. Thank you.

  You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t like a good mystery and diving into another time.

  I love to hear from readers. Send me a message at zara@zaraaltair.com

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  Want to know when the next story is out? Join the Fans of Argolicus. I’ll personally let you know what’s going on with new books and share some information about the world of Argolicus.

  Now that you’ve discovered Argolicus, we bet you can’t wait for another exciting puzzle. To satisfy your craving, turn the page and read the first chapter of THE VELLUM SCRIBE . . . .

  THE NEXT ARGOLICUS MYSTERY

  THE VELLUM SCRIBE

  An Argolicus Mystery

  by Zara Altair

  Arrival

  Argolicus pulled back from the hit. How his older, smaller tutor Nikolaos was able to best him at swordsmanship mystified him. He grabbed his left side under the ribcage.

  “Ah, Master, you must keep your defenses both up and down,” Nikolaos said. “However much you cannot carry a weapon in public, knowing how to fight, and fight well, is mandatory.”

  Argolicus nodded. He’d been hearing this since he was a boy. And practicing since he was a boy, he was never as skilled as Nikolaos no matter how well they trained.

  “You are right, Nikolaos,” he put down his sword and walked toward the water barrel lifting out the ladle and sipping greedily. The exercise yard was between the main villa and the outbuildings of the estate where animals and slaves lived. To the south, Argolicus could see the sea sparkling in the early morning light. Below the estate, a road ran up from the port and town to the residences, like his, situated in the hills.

  “Enough,” he said, rescuing his pride. “Let’s eat.”

  He heard a squeal and then laughter from his mother on the other side of the villa. He dropped his sword and ran. Nikolaos ran behind him still carrying his practice sword.

  In the entry, his mother was lost in the hug of a huge man draped in brown robes. Behind him, a carter was unloading several wooden boxes, placing each one carefully on the ground.

  “Uncle,” Argolicus cried in Their Language. His face broke out in a spontaneous smile.

  The big man turned. “Argolicus. The Father and the Son together!”

  “Worship and glorify,” Argolicus responded. “Uncle Wiliarit, where have you been this time?” He embraced his uncle who reciprocated in a hearty hug, squeezing him into the large chest.

  Wiliarit continued in the language of The People, “I’ve been in Constantinople working on a commission. But now I’m here to finish and I’m hoping Nikolaos will help.”

  Nikolaos heard his name and came closer, still clutching the practice sword. Beside keeping Argolicus in practice with arms, he was an excellent grammarian and had taught Argolicus Greek since childhood. But, his language skills stopped at the tongue of King Theodoric and his people.

  “Nikolaos?” Argolicus replied.

  “Yes, he knows much about plants and herbs. I’m hoping he can point out some live specimens for illustrations. What I have now as a source are drawings in another manuscript. I want this one to be as excellent as possible. It is quite a large commission.”

  Argolicus put down his pen and knife and looked up from his calligraphy of The People’s language when he heard Nikolaos calling his name from outside the villa. Wiliarit, his uncle, had chastised him for not practicing writing and set him to calligraphy work with the Ostrogothic language. He glanced down at his work and frowned at his lack of skill. Wiliarit was right. Neglect was obvious.

  But now, Nikolaos was closer and his calls were urgent. “Master! Master!” He arrived panting in the study.

  “What is it? I thought you were looking for flowers.” Argolicus said, standing up from his table.

  “We are. We were. But down in the Angel’s Meadow there’s a body. Come quickly.”

  “A body? Do you mean someone is dead? A dead body?” Argolicus shook his head.

  “Yes, yes. A young man, just like you. His face is blue. You must come and see.”

  Argolicus nodded, found his cloak against the cool late March air, and followed Nikolaos along a maze of animal trails over a hill to a verdant meadow. Here and there wildflower colors - yellow, purple, blue, red - protruded among the green of early grasses.

  Wiliarit stood in his dark brown robe in the middle of the meadow ignoring his unopened box of paints and vellum sheets beside him. His head was bowed and his arms uplifed in prayer.

  Also by Zara Altair

  The Used Virgin

  The Peach Widow

  The Vellum Scribe - Coming Soon

  About the Author

  Zara Altair is an emerging author of historical mystery. This is Zara’s third book in the Argolicus Mystery Series.

  Zara Altair combines mystery with a bit of adventure in the Argolicus mysteries. The Roman Heir is another story in the series of mysteries based in southern Italy at the time of the Ostrogoth rule of Italy under Theodoric the Great. Italians (Romans) and Goths live under one king while the Roman Empire is ruled from Constantinople. At times the cultures clash, but Argolicus uses his wit, sometimes with help from his tutor Nikolaos, to provide justice in a province far from the King’s court.

  Zara Altair lives in Beaverton, Oregon. She is a fiction author writing in the historical mystery genre. Her approach to writing is to
present the puzzle and let Argolicus and Nikolaos find the solution encountering a bit of adventure and some humor in their search. Her stories are rich in historical detail based on years of research.

  Stay in Touch

  www.zaraaltair.com

  zara@zaraaltair.com