white beard and a frail body. I had always hoped, if we ever had a son, that Zeno could be his first tutor. It is simply not conceivable that he could have murdered Lucius. The idea that he could murder anyone is preposterous.'
'And the other slave?'
'A young Thracian called Alexandros. We bought him four months ago at the market in Puteoli, to work in the stables. He has a marvellous way with horses. He could read and do simple sums, as well. Zeno used him sometimes in my husband's library, to add figures or copy letters. Alexandros is very quick to learn, very clever. He never showed any signs of discontent. On the contrary, it seemed to me that he was one of the happiest slaves in the household. I can't believe that he murdered Lucius.'
'And yet both these slaves disappeared on the night your husband was murdered?'
'Yes. I can't explain it.'
Mummius, who until then had been silent, cleared his throat. 'There is more to the story. The most damning evidence of all.' Gelina looked away, then nodded in resignation. She gestured for him to continue. 'On the floor at Lucius's feet, someone used a knife to carve out six letters. They're crude and shallow, hastily done, but you can read them clearly enough.'
'What do they spell?' I asked.
'The name of a famous village in Greece,' said Mummius grimly. 'Although someone as clever as you might presume that whoever did the scrawling simply didn't have the time to finish the job.'
'What village? I don't understand.'
Mummius dipped his finger into his goblet and wrote the letters in blood-red wine on the marble table, all straight lines and sharp points:
SPARTA
'Yes, I see,' I said. 'A village in Greece.' Either that, or a hurried, interrupted homage to the king of runaway slaves, the murderer of Roman slave owners, the escaped Thracian gladiator: Spartacus.
VI
'That night no one heard anything, saw anything?' 'No,' said Gelina.
'And yet, if the name Spartacus was left incomplete, that would seem to indicate that whoever carved it was disturbed and fled; very odd.'
'Perhaps they simply panicked,' said Mummius.
'Perhaps. The next morning, what else was discovered missing from the household, besides the two slaves?'
Gelina thought for a moment, then shook her head. 'Nothing.'
'Nothing? No coins? No weapons? Knives from the kitchen? I should think that escaping slaves would loot the house for silver and weapons.'
'Unless, as you say, they were disturbed,' said Mummius. 'What about horses?'
'Yes,' said Gelina, 'two horses were gone the next morning, but in the confusion no one even noticed until they both came wandering back that afternoon.'
'Without horses they couldn't have gone far,' I muttered.
Gelina shook her head. 'You're already assuming what everyone else assumes — that Zeno and Alexandros murdered Lucius and set out to join Spartacus.'
'What else can I assume? The head of the household is found murdered in the atrium of his home; two slaves are missing, having evidendy escaped on horseback. And one of the slaves is a young Thracian, like Spartacus — so proud of his infamous countryman he's insolently carved the name at his dead master's feet. You hardly need my skills to figure it out for yourself. It's a story that's been repeated all over Italy with many variations in the past months. What do you need me for? As I told Faustus Fabius earlier today, I don't track down escaped slaves. I regret the absurd efforts that were squandered on my coming here, but I cannot imagine what you want from me.'
'The truth!' said Gelina desperately. 'Cicero said you have a nose for it, like a boar for truffles.'
'Ah, now I understand why Cicero has treated me so shabbily over the years. I'm a menagerie, not a man!'
Gelina's eyes flashed. Mummius scowled darkly, and from the corner of my eye I saw Eco give a twitch. Unseen beneath the table I gave his foot a tap with mine to let him know that all was under control; he glanced at me and gave a conspiratorial sigh of relief. I have been through many interviews with wealthy clients, under many circumstances. Even those who most need and sincerely want my help are often maddeningly slow to come to the point. I much prefer conferring with common merchants or simple shopkeepers, men who will say right out what they want from you. The rich seem to think I should surmise their needs without being told. Sometimes abruptness or a feigned bit of rudeness will speed them along.
'You don't understand,' said Gelina hopelessly.
'No, I do not. What is it you want from me? Why did you have me brought here so mysteriously, and in such an extravagant manner? What is this strange game, Gelina?'
The animation left her face. Like a pliable mask, her serenity changed to simple resignation, dulled by a bit too much red wine. 'I've said all I can say. I don't have the strength to explain it all to you. But unless someone can uncover the truth-' She stopped short and bit her lip. 'They will all die, every one of them,' she whispered hoarsely. 'The suffering, the waste — I cannot bear it…'
'What do you mean? Who will die?'
'The slaves,' said Mummius. 'Every slave in the household.'
I felt a sudden chill. Eco shuddered, and I saw that he felt it as well, even though the air was mild and calm. 'Explain, Marcus Mummius.'
He drew himself up stiffly, like a commander briefing his lieutenant. 'You know that Marcus Licinius Crassus is the actual owner of this household?'
'So I gathered.'
'Very well. It so happens that on the night of the murder, Crassus and his retinue, including Fabius and myself, had just come down from Rome. We were busy setting up camp on the plain beside Lake Lucrinus, only a few miles up the road, along with our recruits.'
'Recruits?'
'Soldiers, many of them veterans who served under Crassus in the civil wars.'
'How many soldiers?' 'Six hundred.' 'A whole cohort?'
Mummius looked at me dubiously. 'You might as well know. Certain events are transpiring in Rome; Marcus Crassus has begun to lobby for a special commission from the Senate that will allow him to raise his own army and march against Spartacus.'
'But that's the job of praetors and consuls, elected officials-'
'The elected officials have failed, disgracefully. Crassus has the military skill and the financial means to dispose of the rebels once and for all. He came down from Rome to muster recruits and to consolidate his political and financial support here on the Cup. When he's ready, he'll prod the Senate in Rome to vote him the special commission.'
'Just what the Republic needs,' I said, 'another warlord with his own private army.'
'Exactly what Rome needs!' said Mummius. 'Or would you rather have slaves marauding across the countryside?'
'And what does this have to do with the murder of Crassus's cousin, or with my being here?'
'I'll tell you. On the night that Lucius Licinius was killed, we were camped at Lake Lucrinus. The next morning Crassus assembled his staff and we headed for Baiae. We arrived here at the villa only hours after Lucius had been found dead. Crassus was outraged, naturally. I myself organized teams of men to search for the missing slaves; in my absence the hunt has continued, but the escaped slaves are still missing.' He sighed. 'And now we come to the crux of the problem. The funeral of Lucius Licinius will take place on the seventh day of mourning — that's the day after tomorrow. On the day after that, Crassus has decreed there will be funeral games with gladiators, in keeping with ancient tradition. That will be the Ides of September, the date of the full moon; a propitious date for sacred
