The Germanicus Mosaic

by Rosemary Rowe

  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?’

  Junio said nothing.

  ‘I do not believe he wanted the pavement because of his librarium at all,’ I said, excitedly. ‘I believe he created the librarium as an excuse to have a pavement. People said that he bought manuscripts without caring what they were. “Laundry lists on vellum” would have served the purpose as well as any poet. Perhaps that was true. He sincerely did not care.’

  ‘He wanted a pavement,’ Junio was visibly working through the argument, ‘because he had buried something under it.’ He looked at me. ‘What do you think it is? Treasure? You said that Crassus’ treasure chest was bare.’

  ‘There is only one way to find out. We must go back to the villa,’ I said, ‘at once.’ It was my turn to say ‘we’, but Junio looked subdued.

  ‘We cannot go tonight,’ he protested. ‘It is dark and dangerous, and it has rained all day.’

  ‘Tomorrow then,’ I conceded. ‘At first light. See you wake me early. And while I am dressing you can go to the market and get some oatcakes for us to eat on the way. It is a fair walk to the villa, and Marcus will not provide his gig this time.’

  ‘Very well, master.’ It was not like Junio. I had tried to be breezy but he seemed cast down.

  Suddenly I realised what he was thinking. I reached out a clumsy hand to pat his arm. ‘I’m sorry about your pavement.’

  I was right. He grinned at me ruefully. ‘So am I,’ he said.

  Chapter Twenty
-two

  We did set out early. It was a damp, cold morning and I was glad of my woollen cloak and hood to keep me warm. I had opted to leave my toga at home this time. Pavements, I decided, were a professional affair. With Junio beside me, very similarly clad, we looked like a pair of local peasants heading to market to buy cows.

  Perhaps that was why a galloping imperial messenger ordered us curtly off the main roadway, and we were obliged to trudge for several miles on the miry track at the side. By the time we came to the back road to Crassus’ villa, we were both heartily glad to take it.

  There was little on the road at this hour. A flock of sheep and goats impeded our progress for a while; an old man, bent double under a stack of firewood, shuffled out of our way, and two men struggled past us with a wooden barrow laden with watercress – to sell in the stalls of Glevum, I assumed. Apart from that the countryside was empty; only the drip of the trees and the occasional scuffle of an animal broke the silence. Even the birds were hushed.

  The deserted roundhouse seemed more melancholy than ever. I kept a wary eye out for wolves and I noticed that Junio, too, kept one hand on his knife hilt.

  As we descended the hill, though, we caught the sounds of man. Somewhere, there was the rhythmic thud of an axe, an unseen cart rattled noisily over the stony track, and a distant labourer grunted as he worked. We reached the gravel farm track with relief and made our way along to the gate of the villa.

  Already there was a different air abroad. Marcus had left a guard, a pair of armed soldiers who stood, pikes at the ready, flanking the doorway. Aulus, peering through his aperture, seemed almost friendly in comparison. The guards, though, scarcely afforded us a glance. They were not there to prevent people entering the villa, they were there to prevent people leaving it. Without a master some slave might be tempted to run away – and that would be a serious loss of revenue.

  Aulus swaggered out to meet us, squaring his shoulders and trying to look suitably belligerent. He seemed to fill the whole gateway. When I pushed back my hood, however, and he saw who it was, he almost fell over his cudgel in his anxiety to let us in.

  ‘I did not recognise you, citizen. I shall send for Andretha at once.’ He motioned to a slave who was crossing the courtyard, and sent him scuttling, then bent towards me confidentially. ‘You have heard the news? Paulus is still missing, and Marcus has sent us those’ – he nodded towards the armoured guards – ‘to make sure no one follows his example.’ He smiled, leaning close to my face and exposing his discoloured teeth. He had been eating boiled cabbage again. There were times when I felt that I preferred Aulus in less friendly mood.

  I murmured something.

  ‘It was uncalled for,’ Aulus complained, gesturing towards the guards. ‘I could have done the job just as well.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ I said, ‘Marcus was afraid you would escape yourself.’

  Aulus gave me a reproachful glance, and moved away. I had insulted him, but at least it removed the cabbage fragments from my immediate vicinity.

  There was no time to say more. The little slave appeared again, with Andretha at his heels.

  ‘Citizen!’ Andretha looked at my tunic and cloak in dismay. ‘What brings you here? I thought your business at the villa was concluded. We are hardly in a condition to receive you. Rufus has been taken to Glevum in chains and the furniture is being prepared for removal and loaded onto the cart. Marcus sent us word last evening, and the slaves have worked all night.’

  ‘Rufus has been moved?’ I said, trying to adopt a businesslike tone. ‘Excellent, in that case I can work in the librarium. I wish to remove the pavement. I shall need help.’

  ‘Remove the pavement?’ He sounded incredulous. Then he added, piteously, ‘Oh, great Minerva! Does Marcus know of this?’

  I did not dare to answer him. Aulus was listening, for one thing, and I have always been a clumsy liar. Instead I favoured him with a pitying look. ‘Really, Andretha, do you need to ask? You know that I am working on Marcus’ behalf.’

  He was not convinced, I saw it, but he was in a quandary. If he guessed wrong, whichever choice he made, there was likely to be trouble. And Andretha was in enough trouble already. Even if Rufus was thrown to the bears, it was not certain that Andretha would escape execution. There was still that question of household negligence. To say nothing of shortfalls in the accounts.

  In the end he chose the lesser of two evils. ‘I suppose, since you come from Marcus, you must be allowed to do as you please. But let it be on your own head if Marcus is displeased.’ His hands fluttered like butterflies.

  I nodded. It would be on my own head, with a vengeance, I thought, if we dug up the pavement and found nothing there. However, this was not a time to vacillate.

  ‘Let me have Aulus,’ I said, briskly. ‘He is strong. And two or three of the garden slaves. I need men who are handy with a spade.’

  Andretha rounded up the slaves and followed me to the librarium, the lump in his thin throat moving up and down so nervously that he reminded me of a gulping frog. Though if anyone had cause to be nervous, I reflected, it was me. Marcus was buying the villa, and he would be less than delighted to find his librarium mosaic dug up and spoiled before he had even taken possession.

  The door had been left unlocked after Rufus’ departure, and as I walked into the gloomy little room, my confidence returned. Why had it not occurred to me before? Without the door open, there was hardly enough light to see the mosaic, and with the door ajar the room was surely too chilly to sit in. No one, surely, would choose to have a pavement laid in a poky back room like this.

  I gave the sign to Aulus, and he lifted his adze. I saw Junio flinch.

  ‘First we spend a day digging the floor over to make it even, and then another bringing in barrows of earth to lay a good foundation for the pavement, and no sooner is it finished than we start digging it all up again,’ one of the land-slaves grumbled, under his breath. ‘What does he hope to find?’

  I did not answer him. If I was right, he would discover soon enough,

  In fact, the mosaic was easier to lift than I had feared. It had been laid on smooth cement-plaster, stuck to a piece of coarse linen, and because it had been in place only a few weeks, once the plaster was lifted it came away in large pieces, instead of our having to move it tile by tile. After an hour or two the waiting barrows in the courtyard were full of jagged sections of pavement, and the trodden earth floor was once again revealed.

  Even then we managed to start at the wrong end of the room. It was not until we had dug it over more than halfway, and I was beginning to fear that I had been mistaken, that Aulus’ spade suddenly hit something solid, but soft.

  He bent forward casually to see what he had struck, turned pale and rushed out into the courtyard, where I could see him making a sudden and unintentional libation before the little god by the sundial. A very personal oblation, with cabbage in it, I fancy.

  What he had glimpsed was not a pleasant sight, admittedly, even to those well acquainted with death. It had been a woman, we found when we disinterred it further. A tallish woman in a russet gown, that much was still clear, with her hands bound and her throat slit, almost severing her head from her body. She had been dead for weeks.

  It was Andretha who first recognised the ring. We slid it off the decomposing finger and I took it to the women’s quarters. Faustina, red-eyed and pale, glanced at it without interest.

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said dully, when I asked her whose it was. ‘I think it was Regina’s. Where did you find it?’

  ‘She was wearing it,’ I said softly. ‘We have found her, I think, under the librarium pavement.’ I was afraid I would distress her further, but Faustina had no tears left to shed for Crassus’ unhappy wife.

  ‘Have you seen Rufus?’ she implored.

  I shook my head.

  ‘What will become of him?’

  She did not really expect me to reply. She knew the answer better than I did. In her dreams she had witnessed hi
m being fed to the wild animals a dozen times already.

  ‘Is there any hope?’

  ‘Only,’ I said gently, ‘if I can find some connection with this earlier murder. Rufus has not confessed to that.’

  She dropped her head into her hands. ‘Then we are back where we began. We are all under suspicion. We shall all die.’

  ‘Not if I can find the killer. Are you willing to come and look? Tell me if this was Regina? You knew her better than anyone in the villa. I warn you, it will be an ordeal – especially if you were attached to the lady.’

  She looked up. ‘I was attached to her. Regina was kind to me.’

  ‘She has been dead a long time.’

  Faustina swallowed hard. ‘Poisoned?’

  I shook my head. ‘Her throat is cut.’

  She gulped. ‘Poor lady. That is a brutal death. I hope she did not suffer long. Aconite is quick, at least. She used to say it was the way to die. “A feeling of giddiness and heat, a dryness in the mouth, slurred speech – almost like being drunk. If you are unlucky, vomiting and bleeding from the mouth. But often, little time for pain. There are worse deaths.” Poor, poor Regina. She found a worse one, certainly.’

  ‘And a worse one to see,’ I said.

  She sighed. ‘I will come, all the same, for Rufus’ sake. At least you gave me a choice.’ She got to her feet and gave me a wan smile. ‘Willing or not, I would have had to come, if Crassus ordered me.’ She followed me resolutely out of the building, and back into the courtyard.

  They had moved the body by this time. I will spare you unnecessary horrors – the maggots, the smell, the decomposing flesh. Faustina, however, was spared none of them. I led her around to windward and she looked down at the corpse.