“Why would you trust unknown men that way?”
He yanked at his hair and made a funny growling noise in his throat. “It was a business deal. I paid enough, I thought, to buy their loyalty. Please help me. They’ll mutilate her, even kill her, if we don’t do something.”
We seemed to be aiming at the same goal, and neither of us felt any confidence in the government’s ability to help us. One question still bothered me, though. If I could get an answer to it, I might gauge the depth of Carolus’ commitment to getting Chryseis back.
“Why does this girl matter so much to you?” I asked.
With a quick motion of his head Carolus sent the two slaves out of the room. He sat on the bed and indicated that I should sit in the chair facing him.
“During the early days of the German uprisings against Nero, my sister, Helga, was among a group taken prisoner. Our village was attacked while most of the men were away. My mother and Helga and I ran into the forest to escape. Helga got separated from us and was captured. I swore to my mother that I’d find her and do anything I had to, to free her. My father had traded with the Romans and I knew a bit of Latin, so I crossed the Rhine. I managed to find out the name of the man who had my sister—Lucius Manilius Cornutus. But I couldn’t get close enough to him to do anything about it at that time. I did whatever it took to keep myself where I could watch him. In the process I became a successful merchant. I’ve traveled the empire since, tracking Cornutus. I’ve spent a great deal of money bribing his slaves to learn what he’s doing.”
I could appreciate his quandary. A Roman aristocrat is constantly surrounded by slaves and family dependents. It’s very difficult for a stranger to get close enough to have any contact, much less to attack him.
“What happened to your sister?”
“I learned that Helga died giving birth to a child.”
“And that child was Chryseis?”
He nodded. “She is my niece. I’m certain of it. One thing that has kept me going is the few glimpses I’ve had of her. She resembles her mother—and mine—more and more closely as she grows up.”
“Then you must know that it’s very likely that Cornutus was her father.”
“No! By the gods! That possibility hadn’t occurred to me. But it would explain Cornutus’ attitude. On this trip I offered to buy her from him, but he refused. He said he wouldn’t sell her for any price.”
“Is there any chance your sister could have been pregnant when she was captured?”
“No. Chryseis was born over a year after Helga was taken captive.”
I tensed as I prepared myself for what I needed to say next. “Carolus, I have to ask you another question. I’m not sure what I’ll do if your answer is yes, but I have to ask anyway. Did you kill Cornutus?”
“No. I swear by the shades of my mother and sister that I did not kill him.”
His oath meant nothing to me, since I don’t believe in the survival of the dead, but it obviously meant something to him. I decided to take him at his word.
“Do you have enough money to pay the ransom?” I asked.
“Certainly. That’s not the problem. What bothers me is whether these scum will keep their end of the bargain. I think if we pay them, we might end up with no money and no Chryseis.”
“Why wouldn’t they give her back?”
“They could sell her to someone else. Then they would have my money and more besides.”
“Perhaps we could arrange to follow them when you pay the money. If we can find out where they’re hiding, we can simply take Chryseis, maybe even get your money back.”
“I like the sound of that,” Carolus said. “Better to take action than put ourselves at their mercy.”
“All right. Tacitus and I will be at the taberna where you’re supposed to meet them. We won’t be with you, but we’ll follow them. I want to know who they are and I want them punished for what they did to Melissa.”
“How can they be punished? They raped a slave. She can’t take action against them because she’s a slave, and she’s not your slave, so you can’t take them to court.”
I mulled over his very good points. Just one more ludicrous feature of Rome’s judicial system. “But they also killed the witch’s dog. Don’t you think she might want to know who killed her sacred hound? She and her tri-form goddess might exact their own revenge if we point them in the right direction.”
Carolus smiled broadly. “Gaius Pliny, may I never find you numbered among my enemies.”
* * * *
Tacitus greeted my plan with something less than enthusiasm. “The governor is here now,” he said. “It’s up to him to conduct the investigation the way he sees fit. I thought you realized that after this morning.”
“All right,” I said, “let’s go see Florus and ask what kind of help he might give us.”
We found Florus just outside the inn. I explained to him that I thought we could recover Cornutus’ other slave and how important I believed she was to understanding what had happened, although I didn’t mention the possibility that she might be his daughter. He appeared to be listening attentively, but when I finished he shook his head.
“Pliny, my friend, you’re on the wrong trail. I have taken your lesson from earlier today to heart and have thrown myself into the questioning of Cornutus’ slaves, not merely leaving it to my soldiers. I think we’ll get a confession out of one of them in short order. Come, I’ll show you.”
He led us around to the back of the inn, to the stable. As soon as we turned the corner we heard a woman scream. I stopped, but Florus took my elbow and pulled me through the door. The place that had smelled so sweetly of hay and horses the last time I was in here now reeked of sweat, of human effluence—of fear.
“It’s not so different from plunging into that cold water,” Florus said. “You may be shocked at first, but I think you’ll be impressed by the results we’re getting.”
In the center of the stable the soldiers had set up a device which I had heard of but never seen in use. Called the wooden horse, it consisted of a board, about as long as a man is tall, set sideways in braces that raised it off the ground to the height of a man’s chest. The top side of the board had been planed until it had an edge on it. Phoebe was straddling that board, nude. Her feet, which could not touch the ground, had weights attached to them. Blood was running down her thighs. Her hands were tied and raised over her head by a rope which ran over a beam and was held by two soldiers. On a signal from a third soldier, they pulled her up a distance of about a man’s pace, then released the rope. I cringed when she hit the board.
I heard a whimper and noticed three of Cornutus’ male slaves standing beside one of the stalls, under guard by more of Florus’ soldiers. They were all nude with their hands tied in front of them and all bore the marks of the whip, but none as severe as Melissa’s beating.
Florus walked up to Phoebe, showing pride in his new direct approach. To think that I was responsible! Had any teacher ever been so badly misunderstood by his first pupil? Phoebe’s eyes were open, but they were rolling back under the lids.
“Just tell me what happened the night your master was murdered,” Florus said. “You were on the roof. You’ve admitted that. What did you do? What did you see?”
Phoebe’s head lolled forward and she said something which I couldn’t hear from that distance. Florus turned and glared at the male slaves.
“Gyges,” he said. “Which of you is Gyges?”
One of the slaves fell to his knees. “Please, my lord! I’ve done nothing. I was locked up all night with the rest—”
Florus gestured and two of the soldiers grabbed Gyges by the arms, dragged him forward, and threw him down at the governor’s feet.
“That’s what this one claimed at first,” Florus said. “But we got some truth out of her. I’ll bet you have something more to say after your ride on the horse.”
The soldiers began removing Phoebe from the torture device and fastening the weights on
Gyges’ ankles. “But, my lord,” the slave cried, “Phoebe and I were lovers. That’s the only reason she called my name!”
I pulled Tacitus back toward the door. “Do you think we’re going to get any help from him?”
He shook his head and we left the stable. “When should I be ready to go with you?” he asked.
* * * *
The note demanded that Carolus meet the kidnappers in a place called Miriam’s taberna at the eleventh hour. That gave me time to make some inquiries. I went first to Philyra’s shop, even though I didn’t think it would be open during the midday rest. The heavy wooden door was closed, but I knocked on it until the old crone’s head and long, skinny neck appeared in a window above me. I had the eerie sensation I was the prey being eyed by a vulture.
“Go away!” she croaked. “I’m sleeping. Come back later.”
“I need something right away. Open up! I’ll pay you handsomely.”
She stumbled down the stairs and opened the door but wouldn’t let me in at first. I didn’t want to discuss this business on the sidewalk. I slipped a coin in her hand. “Just let me in, please.”
Philyra squinted at the coin. When she realized it was a tetradrachma, she sobered up a bit and stepped back to let me come in. “What kin I he’p ye with, m’ lord? Somethin’ to make a lady more eager?”
“I want to buy a cup. A kantharos.”
“As ye kin see, m’ lord, I doesn’t sell cups of any kind, just herbs and potions. Ye’d be lookin’ fer a potter or a silversmith.”
“But I’m looking for a special kind of cup.”
“I’m sure a potter or silversmith could make ye anythin’ ye’d be wantin’, m’lord. Their shops is north of the agora.”
I slipped another tetradrachma into her hand, which closed around the coin like a crow’s foot. “What I need is a cup that someone could drink from and still be thirsty.”
“Now ye be talkin’ in riddles, m’ lord.” But her expression gave her away.
“I’m not going to poison anyone,” I assured her. “I just want to figure out how someone else might have been poisoned.”
“No one’s bought any cups or poisons from me!” the crone squawked. “I swear it.”
“I’m not saying that anyone did. And I’m not trying to get you in trouble. I promise I’ll not tell anyone we’ve done business together.” I slipped another tetradrachma into her hand. She seemed to be calculating how much wine it would buy.
“And ye’d be wantin’ a kantharos? Is that what ye said, my lord?”
I nodded. “On the large side.”
“I ain’t promisin’, but let me look in the back.”
After a few minutes she returned, carrying exactly the kind of cup I wanted. It was made of silver, with embossed figures showing Socrates, surrounded by several students and drinking the hemlock on one side, and conversing alone with one of his students on the other side. I was in no mood to bargain, so we quickly agreed on a price.
As I turned to leave, Philyra said, “Ain’t ye fergettin’ somethin’, m’ lord?”
“What would that be?”
“The secret. That cup don’t do ye no good without the secret.”
I examined the cup carefully but found nothing to distinguish it from any ordinary kantharos. “All right. So what is the secret?”
She held out her hand for another tetradrachma.
* * * *
Elated by the quick success at my first stop, I returned to the inn and turned my prize over to Trophimus, my steward, for safe-keeping. Then it took me longer to find Luke—my second task—than it had to purchase the cup. Damon finally brought him to me. Luke was carrying a freshly polished scroll, which he held out to me.
“This is the copy of my book about Jesus which I promised you. Apelles’ scribe just finished it.”
I took the scroll distrustfully. Having a Christian book in my possession might put me in a compromising position, but I didn’t want to be rude to a man who had proved very helpful in a difficult matter. I unrolled the book enough to take a polite glance at the first page. It began with some gibberish about an elderly Jewish priest and an angel. Not the sort of thing I would want read at my next dinner party. I handed it to Damon.
“Thank you, doctor. I’m sure it will make interesting reading. Damon, please ask Glaucon to put that with my other papers and take good care of it.”
“May I read it first, my lord?” Receiving my consent, he hurried off toward the stairs.
“And now, doctor,” I said, “I need to talk to Melissa. Since you are the only one with permission to visit her, I wonder if I could accompany you when you go again.”
“Certainly. Let’s do it now. I need to check on her anyway. I had to sew up a few of the worst lash marks on her back.”
“Is she going to live?”
He nodded. “I think she’s past the crisis. She’s a strong woman, and her concern for Chryseis is a powerful incentive to keep her alive.”
“Will she be able to travel back to Rome?” Back to a probable execution.
“It would be better if she had some time to rest here. I don’t know if there will be some way to arrange that.”
“If we don’t find Chryseis and solve Cornutus’ murder, we’ll have little say over what happens to her. I hope Melissa can help us do that.”
“By the way,” Luke said, “how is your eye and your cheek?” He stopped me and stepped in front of me, peering at my face and touching the area under my eye.
“It feels a lot better,” I said. Then I jerked back when he touched a particular spot on my cheek.
“You may have a cracked bone under there,” he said.
“Is that going to cause me a problem?”
“No. It will heal in its own time. But it will be very sensitive until it does.”
When we got to Melissa’s room the guards stood aside. “It’s good to see you, doctor,” the bigger one said. “Maybe you can get her quieted down.”
“I don’t hear anything,” Luke said.
“I guess she has been quiet for a little while now, but she’s been crying most of the afternoon.”
His companion nodded in agreement. “When she wasn’t crying, she was cursing like a Fury in some strange language.”
“It’s called Hebrew,” Luke said. “And she was probably praying.” Then he turned to me. “Let me check on her first.”
When he emerged from the room he said, “She’s asleep now. I think she’s completely exhausted from the pain. I don’t want to wake her up. Let’s talk to her later.”
“All right. I’ll use the time to try to find Tiberius Saturninus. It worries me that no one has seen him all day.”
XV
ANDROCLES JUMPED BACK when Tacitus, Carolus, and I met him coming around a corner near his kitchen. As big as Carolus was and as beaten up as I looked, we must have given the appearance of a band of thugs to someone who came upon us unexpectedly.
“What can I do for you gentlemen?” he asked when he had recovered himself. “Incidentally, do you know yet how long you’re going to be staying?”
“We pray to the gods each day,” Carolus said, “that it will be our last here.”
“Are we hurting your business?” I asked.
“Oh, no! Quite the opposite. The excitement surrounding your stay has drawn good crowds to my dining room.”
“Are you suggesting,” Tacitus said, “that if you had realized how well it paid, you might have murdered one of your guests long before now?”
“What? I . . . ? Whatever makes you think . . . ?”
“He doesn’t think,” I said. “Sometimes he just talks. We do need to ask you something. How do we get to the taberna of Miriam?”
Androcles sighed and pursed his lips. “I doubt I could give you directions that you could actually follow. Her place is located in the Jewish quarter, near their synagogue. You have to make a number of turns to find it. It would be simpler if I let one of my slaves guide you there.”
“Have you grown tired of my cooking?”
“Yes,” Tacitus said.
“But,” I put in, “that’s not the reason we’re going to Miriam’s. We have to meet someone there.”
“They certainly won’t have any trouble spotting you.”
“What do you mean?”
“The big blond fellow here can’t do anything about his appearance, of course. But it takes a brave man indeed to wear the stripe in that part of town. Since the war, reminders of Rome are not taken kindly by some Jews. I’ll get a slave to guide you.”
While he went to find the slave, Tacitus, Carolus, and I put our heads together.
“I think Androcles is right,” I said. “If we’re going to follow this Matthias, we need to be as inconspicuous as possible. If we frighten him off, he could hurt Chryseis.”
“I don’t have any tunics that don’t have the stripe on them,” Tacitus said. “Do you?”
“No. But my slaves do. And so do yours.”
Damon looked up from the scroll he was reading and could barely suppress a smile when I asked him to lend me one of his tunics. “Forgive me, my lord, but do you think a change of clothes will really disguise you?”
“Why shouldn’t it?”
“Since you were a child, you’ve been taught to carry yourself like a nobleman. Have you ever tried to force your way down a crowded street without your clients and slaves around you? What will you do when some tradesman pushes you out of his way? Or runs over your foot with his cart?”
“Saving my life from those dogs has made you impertinent, Damon.”
“I mean no disrespect, my lord. Perhaps I should come with you, to show you how a slave or a freedman acts. How to breathe without a scented handkerchief over your nose.”
* * * *
We decided to let Androcles’ slave guide Carolus to Miriam’s taberna. Tacitus, Damon, and I hung back, following Carolus’ blond head like ships keeping a beacon light in sight. Removing the stripe from my chest seemed to have rendered me invisible. The streets of any city of any size are crowded, especially in the late afternoon, as people resume their activities after the midday rest. I had never been shoved and pummeled in this fashion. Did all these people somehow recognize that I was a nobleman without my clients and decide to get a bit of vengeance for all the times they—or those like them—had been pushed out of my way? I marveled at Damon’s ability to anticipate people’s moves and evade them. He looked like a dancer in a pantomime play.
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