The Gods Help Those

by Albert A. Bell

  “We can’t follow Simon, my lord,” Aurora said, “but Miriam will know where he is and what he’s planning. She’ll let us know when she can. She’ll be our spy.”

  “Can she just run away like that? Isn’t she a servant?”

  “No, my lord,” Naomi said. “She’s a free person.”

  “Isn’t she married?”

  “Yes, my lord, but her husband treats her badly. Very badly. And her baby died.”

  “Does she understand what it will mean to be with Simon?”

  “I doubt it, my lord. But when a woman loses a child and then is given the chance to be the mother of another one who needs her, it can feel like a gift from God.”

  I knew better than to look back at Aurora at that moment.

  XIV

  Simon’s note named a street that no one in my group had ever heard of. We asked the owner of the taberna, and all we got in reply was a shake of the head. We were on our way out the door when one of the serving girls called after us.

  “Sirs, wait, please.”

  “What do you want?” Tacitus asked. “We’re in a hurry. A woman’s life depends on it. We paid our bill, didn’t we?”

  “Yes, sir. It’s just that the street you want—”

  “Shut up, girl!” the owner barked.

  “No, I won’t. Somebody’s in trouble.”

  “He paid us to keep quiet, and you heard what he’ll do if we talk.”

  “He’s not coming back,” I said. “Where is this street? Quickly, please.”

  “It’s the one at the next corner.” She pointed to the right. “That fella had been sittin’ in here for almost a hour, watchin’ people.”

  I shook my head. Simon did not have magic powers after all. He had watched Tacitus and his men arrive and had seen exactly where they stationed themselves.

  “Is there an insula belonging to the freedman Lachyses on that street?”

  The girl nodded vigorously. “It’s the first one after you turn the corner.”

  We ran out of the taberna, picking up the rest of our entourage, and turned where the girl had indicated. There were three insulas on the street, each one three stories high. Being this far from the center of the city, they were not desirable places to live and the owner had not spent any money recently on upkeep. Simon must have used money he got from blackmailing Lucullus to rent a place. Tacitus started up one set of stairs, but I pulled him back.

  “We have no idea which apartment she’s in,” I said.

  “We have a key,” he said.

  “But Licinia’s in there. If we frighten her, she might harm my mother. Like Simon said, she’s mad enough to do anything. Let’s see if we can figure out where she might be.”

  Several shops occupied the ground floor of the building. Tacitus and I stepped into one—a sandal-maker’s—and I asked a man who was bent over his workbench, “Do you know Lachyses? I believe he’s the owner of this building.”

  “Yes, sir, he is.”

  “Where would I find him?”

  The man peered closely at his work for a moment, then looked up at me. “He doesn’t come around here much. You know how owners are.”

  I grabbed the front of the man’s tunic and pulled him up off his bench. “A life is at stake here, man. I need to find someone before it’s too late. Is there a manager of this building that I can talk to?”

  “You’re pulling on his very tunic, sir.” I let go and he stepped away from me. “There’s no need to get violent. Who are you looking for?”

  “A man named Simon. He has dark hair, possibly a beard. He’s Jewish. I believe he rented a room or an apartment here recently. He may have had an older woman with him.”

  The sandal-maker scratched his chin. “Let me think. We’ve got so many people living here.”

  Tacitus, who likes to carry his own money pouch, pulled out a couple of denarii and pressed them into the man’s hand. “Does that jog your memory?”

  The man smiled. “It’s not exactly a kick in the rear, but it is a helpful nudge. Yes, the man you’re looking for rented an apartment three days ago. It’s on the second floor, in the back. The door will be to your left at the top of the stairs. I haven’t seen an older woman with him. He left early this morning and hasn’t come back, as far as I know.”

  We thanked the man and Tacitus gave him a couple more coins.

  “I doubt you’ll be seeing him again,” I said.

  “He paid a month’s rent. I don’t need to see him until the next month’s is due.”

  With our people following us quietly, we made our way to the staircase on the back of the building. I motioned for everyone else to wait on the sidewalk while Tacitus and I climbed the stairs, but Naomi and Aurora stayed a few steps behind us. I couldn’t say anything to them for fear of Licinia hearing my voice.

  I put the key in the lock and turned it. From inside, Licinia’s voice came toward us, “Simon! I’ve been getting anxious. Is everything—” She stood stock-still when I entered the room. “You again! What have you done with Simon?”

  She turned suddenly toward the room behind her. I lunged at her and knocked her to the floor. She kicked and swung her arms at me, cursing me the whole time, but I kept her down. Tacitus grabbed the belt off a tunic that was draped over a chair and we tied her hands.

  Naomi brushed past us and into the next room. “My lady, my dear lady!” she cried.

  I left Tacitus to deal with Licinia and bolted into the next room, dreading what horror I might see. But my mother was sitting in a chair, unharmed as far as I could tell, and Naomi was untying her hands and removing a gag from her mouth.

  “Oh, Gaius! Naomi! Thank the gods!” She threw her arms around Naomi and they embraced tightly, both weeping. Naomi looked up and said something, obviously a prayer, in Aramaic. I looked up, but all I saw was the ceiling. Mother released Naomi and grabbed me, kissing my cheeks.

  Gaius, Tacitus, and the men with them set out in search of Simon. They knew the direction he had taken when he passed through the Esquiline Gate—one of Agricola’s men stationed on the other side of the gate had spotted him before he got lost in the crowd—but after that the search would be largely guesswork. Now that Gaius’ mother was safe, there was no reason not to try to find Simon. Gaius was also concerned that the man might still plan to attack his own mother.

  Plinia, Naomi, and I took Licinia back to our house. With her hands still tied, we led her into Plinia’s room and locked the door. Naomi pushed her down on the bed, none too gently.

  “This isn’t fair!” Licinia squawked. “You’re ganging up on me. You can’t keep me prisoner. Untie me! I haven’t done anything. I didn’t hurt anybody.”

  “Not me, you didn’t,” Plinia said, “and I’m grateful for that. Now calm down. We’re not going to hurt you. We just want to talk to you.”

  “About what? I don’t want to talk to you.” Licinia struggled against the belt tying her hands. “Simon’s going to come get me, you know, and you’ll be sorry when he does.”

  “That’s what we need to talk about,” Plinia said. “Simon’s not going to come get you.”

  “He came here to get me. He got me from Tacitus’ house.” She laughed. “You should have seen the look on their faces when we walked right out the door. There was nothing they could do.”

  “When he came here,” Plinia said, “he intended to kill you—”

  “What? You’re insane. Why would he want to kill me? He loves me.”

  “No, he doesn’t, you silly child,” Naomi said. “He wanted to kill you so you couldn’t tell anyone what he had done and what he was planning to do.”

  Shock and disbelief showed in Licinia’s eyes. “No! He was trying to kill her”—she jerked her head in my direction—“but he missed because of the struggle. He needed me. He told me so.”

  “Oh, he needed you,” Plinia said. “He needed you to get him out of Lucullus’ house after he killed the poor man. And he needed you to watch me.”

  Licinia
shook her head vigorously. “You don’t understand. We planned it together. I was the one who lured my father into the latrina where Simon was waiting for him. It was my idea to stuff his body into the drain.”

  “Did you plan for him to kill your mother?” I asked.

  “What? He didn’t—”

  “I heard him tell Gaius Pliny. Your father told him to do it.”

  “He couldn’t have.… He wouldn’t—”

  Plinia took Licinia’s face firmly between her hands and tilted it upward. “Listen to me. He doesn’t need you anymore. He’s got his son and a wet nurse. He used you, and now he’s finished with you. You’ll never see him again.”

  Licinia began to cry. Since she couldn’t wipe her eyes, I sat down beside her and used the sleeve of my gown to dry her tears. I hugged her and felt a piece of cloth wrapped around her body under her gown, a strophium, I assumed. She didn’t seem so well-endowed that she needed a breast band, but some women are just more comfortable with everything held in place. And men consider overly large breasts more comic than erotic.

  “Can we untie her, my lady?” I asked.

  “I suppose so,” Plinia said. “We do outnumber her.”

  “Thank you,” Licinia said as I loosened the belt on her hands. She stood up and flexed her arms, then said calmly, “Now I can kill all three of you.”

  She reached into the top of her gown and drew out a knife. She must have had it tucked into the strophium. Plinia and Naomi screamed as Licinia lunged toward Plinia. I grabbed the girl’s hand and twisted it so that the knife turned back toward her. The force of her attack carried her right onto the blade.

  I returned from a fruitless search for Simon to find my household in an uproar. My mother and Naomi kept interrupting one another as they tried to explain what had happened to Licinia, who lay seriously wounded in my mother’s bed, with Aurora standing guard over her.

  “That girl is out of her mind,” Mother snapped. “It would be just as well if she died.”

  Naomi patted Mother’s shoulder. “Now, my lady, we should never wish misfortune on others. It may rebound onto us.”

  “I’m only wishing her what she tried to do to us. She was going to kill us, Naomi. Both of us. And Aurora.”

  “Have you notified her stepmother?” I asked.

  “We sent a message,” Mother said. “There has been no reply except to thank us for letting her know. I hoped she would say we could take Licinia over there.”

  “Well, someone needs to take responsibility for her. I’ll not have her on my hands any longer. Sempronia is her father’s cousin. Doesn’t that give Licinia some claim on her and Regulus? They’re the ones who brought the family to Rome in the first place.”

  Voices at the front door of the house drew my attention in that direction. Demetrius was escorting Regulus and Sempronia into the atrium, with Jacob and several other servants accompanying them. One of the servants I recognized as Regulus’ doctor. They paraded over to where I was standing with my mother and Naomi.

  “I see your spies have saved me the trouble of sending a messenger,” I said.

  Regulus kept a stern demeanor. “Let’s forgo our usual exchange of insults, Gaius Pliny. I understand that the daughter of my wife’s cousin has been seriously injured in your house. I’m here to inquire about the incident and to see if we’ll need to bring charges.”

  “The young woman tried to kill me,” my mother said.

  “I may be the one bringing a charge,” I added.

  That stopped Regulus, but Sempronia said, “Where is Licinia? I’d like our physician to examine her.”

  I pointed to the room where we were keeping Licinia. “She was stabbed with her own knife when one of my servants was defending my mother.”

  Sempronia and her doctor went into the room and Aurora came out and stood beside the door. I motioned for her to come to me.

  “I hoped you would stay in there with them,” I said quietly.

  “Sempronia insisted that I leave, my lord.”

  “Has Licinia said anything?” I asked.

  “No, my lord. She’s bleeding badly and is very weak.”

  “Let’s hope Regulus’ doctor can do something for her.”

  I offered Regulus something to drink. He has never been known to turn down a cup of wine. We sat on a bench by the impluvium. I was trying to think of some way I could speak to Jacob—whom I respect and regard as a friend—without making Regulus more suspicious of him as my spy when Sempronia and her doctor came out of the bedroom where Licinia was.

  “She’s dead,” Sempronia said without emotion. “We’ll have her body taken to our house and will see to arrangements for her funeral. I’ll notify her stepmother.”

  I was sorry to hear that she was dead and yet relieved. I would not have any more responsibility for a tormented woman, but I had hoped to ask her a few more questions.

  “When you prepare her,” I told Sempronia, “you’ll notice that she is quite thin. Her stepmother says she ate very little and never any meat. I believe Lucullus probably…mistreated her when she was a child.”

  Regulus snorted, “Oh, come, a swat on the behind isn’t mistreatment.”

  I could tell that Sempronia grasped my meaning. “At any rate, that experience and the death of her mother may have disordered her mind more than anyone—herself included—realized.”

  “Why, Gaius Pliny,” Regulus chuckled, “I thought you were a student of crime, not of the psyché, as the Greeks say.”

  I drew myself up and straightened my shoulders to face Regulus. His bulk makes him an intimidating figure. “To understand why people commit crimes, Marcus Regulus, it is essential to understand how they think. That’s something our courts should take into consideration more than they do.”

  “Would that be your defense,” Regulus asked, “if I brought a charge of murder against you?”

  Behind me I heard my mother gasp.

  “Murder? I didn’t touch Licinia.”

  “Oh, not her. The equestrian Julius Berenicianus was found stabbed to death in your warehouse. He and his family have been close allies of Rome for a long time. We can’t let his killer go unpunished.”

  “I had nothing to do with his death. His brother, Julius Hyrcanus or Simon, killed him.”

  “Can you prove that?”

  “Licinia saw it happen. She told me about it in great detail.”

  Regulus feigned a look of confusion. “Licinia? Do you mean the girl who’s lying dead in that room right now?”

  Tacitus and I walked in the garden as I tried to quell my rage. I had notified him of what happened to Licinia after we got her back to my house and he and Julia had come over immediately. Julia, sitting with Aurora on the bench in my arbor, was comforting Aurora about the loss of Joshua. I could hear Aurora crying.

  “The nerve of those two!” I fumed. “They come down here like concerned relatives of Licinia’s. But all the time they’re planning to make sure she was dead, even kill her themselves if necessary.”

  “Now, Gaius, you said the girl was seriously injured. She may have simply died as a result of her wound.”

  “Granted, but I saw scratches on Sempronia’s arms when she came out of the room.”

  Tacitus stopped and looked at me. “Scratches? I don’t understand.”

  “My uncle made note of this in his unpublished work. If someone tries to smother or choke a person, the victim will instinctively fight back.” Without any warning I put my hands tightly on Tacitus’ throat for a moment and he raised his hands to grab my arms. “He or she will grab the hands or arms of the attacker, as you just did, and leave scratch marks if the struggle is violent enough. That’s exactly what I saw on Sempronia’s arms, right above her wrists. She killed that girl herself. She didn’t even leave it to her doctor. That’s why they insisted Aurora leave the room.”

  “But why? She barely knew Licinia, and the girl was her cousin’s daughter. That’s hardly motive for murdering her.”

 
“They wanted to remove any witness who might testify that I did not kill Berenicianus. Regulus is planning to bring a charge against me for Berenicianus’ death.”

  Tacitus rolled his eyes. He thinks I’m overly suspicious of Regulus. Even as my friend for several years now, he still doesn’t appreciate how deep the enmity between Regulus and my family has run, first toward my uncle and now toward me. Regulus and my uncle were bitter enemies back in Nero’s day, twenty-five years ago. Regulus had the upper hand then, because Nero was as big a scoundrel as Regulus and listened to his lies eagerly. Vespasian and Titus were sane enough to listen to my uncle and keep Regulus at a distance. But now Domitian relishes every bit of scandal Regulus whispers in his ear.

  “How do you think Regulus plans to accuse you?” Tacitus asked. “What could he know about Berenicianus’ death? How could he know anything?”

  “He must have a spy in my house.” I tried to remember which of my men had actually carried Berenicianus into the house. And Felix had seen us remove the coins from the man’s mouth. But, if I couldn’t trust Felix, whom could I trust?

  “That goes without saying. He has at least one in my house. I believe I know who it is, so I’m always careful about what I say around him. Sometimes I say things that aren’t true, just to mislead Regulus.”

  “That may not be enough. Sempronia says she has her own spies. Nobody notices them because they’re women. I now suspect every woman in this house except Aurora, Naomi, and my mother. My mother is careless enough about what she says that she may aid a spy without meaning to do so.”

  I snuggled up close to Gaius as we finished our love-making. Ovid says that a woman should pretend she has reached the point of satisfaction, even if she hasn’t, but tonight I just couldn’t reach it or pretend. I could still feel Gaius ripping Joshua out of my arms to give him to Simon.

  “Are you angry at me?” he asked softly.

  “No, of course not.” I laid a hand on his chest, which was still rising and falling as though he had been running hard. “It was the only way to save your mother.” I knew that, and really believed it, but it didn’t make me feel any better.