'Go on,' I said, through with clever banter.
'Do you know why everyone despises the slaver? Because he reminds us that we are all slavers. Where would our empire be without slaves?'
'We wouldn't have an empire,' I answered. 'We wouldn't have a civilization.'
'Exactly. They grow our food, and then they cook it and serve it to us and clean up afterward. They build our houses and tend our baths. They provide us with fornication and when we tire of them, we can sell them off. They race chariots for our amusement and die in our arenas for the same purpose. They teach our children and tend us in our illnesses.'
'It's hard to imagine a decent life without them,' I agreed.
She sat back with a depraved smile. 'We consume them, Praetor, just as surely as if we were cannibals eating their flesh. We dangle before them the prospect of freedom to keep them pacified and ensure more willing service, but the whip and the cross are always there just in case kind treatment and prospective freedom aren't enough.'
'It's the price of losing wars and choosing the wrong parents,' I said. 'Been that way since Deucalion's Flood. What is your point?'
'That we all know it's true and it shames us. So we've singled out the slaver, the man who buys and sells the flesh, to bear the brunt of social disdain while we all merrily profit from his business. If it came out that some of our most revered public figures were silent partners with our richest but most despised resident, certain reputations would be sullied for-ever.
This tickled my memory, suggested some question that had eluded me or that I had failed to ask. But she went relentlessly on and the moment passed.
'There are worse things than being a slave, Praetor, and I've been some of them. Luckily, it was only temporary and now I'm a great lady again. Some things can be covered over and forgotten. Others can't. Bear that in mind while you look into these killings.'
'I shall do so,' I assured her.
Abruptly she dropped the serious discussion and resumed the gossipy banter more suitable to the situation. A few minutes later her litter arrived and she made her good-byes.
'Well,' I said to Hermes as we resumed our lunch, 'what do you make of that?'
'Another woman muddying the waters. Probably trying to throw you off her husband's scent and onto someone else.'
'What she said about slaves-what do you think?'
He shrugged. 'She didn't say much I can argue with. But it's the way of the world, isn't it? Short of the gods coming down from Olympus and taking a hand in things, how are you going to change anything?'
'How, indeed?'
9
'Why can't things ever be simple?' I lamented.
'Because people are involved,' Julia informed me. 'I think natural phenomena are relatively simple and predictable. When people with their passions and hatreds and ambitions are involved, things get complicated.'
We were sitting in one of the lovely outer gardens of the villa. The bees buzzed pleasantly among the blossoms, the fish splashed vigorously in the ponds, the birds sang prettily in the trees, the mountain smoked ominously in the distance.
'I wish
'As far as I know, volcanoes are as unpredictable as the whims of the gods,' Julia said.
'Do you think all the most prominent people here were in league
with the late Gaeto? Have they all been making illicit profits from the slave trade?'
'The day I believe a word one of those women says, you have my permission to bury me alive like a promiscuous Vestal.'
'I thought so. At least we know now that Gaeto gave her the necklace.'
'We know that Gaeto bought the necklace from the jeweler,' she corrected me. 'It might have been through other hands in the interim.'
'Your logic, as always, is better than mine,' I admitted.
'What are we going to do about Gelon?' she asked.
'I have to allow him to see to his father's funeral,' I told her. 'It would be inhumane to do otherwise.'
'I agree, but he will have to be kept under close watch.'
'Hermes and Marcus and some of the others can ride escort. I doubt the boy will try to escape. Where can a Numidian hide in Italy? And he couldn't get to a ship in time to elude me.'
'I hope that is true. It would be a great embarrassment if he were to get away.' She added, 'And you are going to have to set a trial date soon. It won't look good if you stall much longer and duty calls you elsewhere.'
'Bruttium,' I muttered.
Reluctantly, I rose and went to the wing where we were keeping Gelon. He had borne the news of his father's death stoically. Of course, I had no idea what their relationship might have been, except that Gaeto had been generous with his son in terms of money. Not every son is saddened by the passing of a father. He had turned pale when I described the circumstances of his father's murder, but that was to be expected. To be murdered in your own bedroom by someone you trust is always an unsettling prospect.
When I arrived at his quarters, I found Antonia already there. Wanting to console the boy in his grief, no doubt. From the look of things, she was succeeding.
'Gelon,' I said, pretending not to notice his guilty expression, 'today you may ride to your father's house to see to his obsequies.'
'That is very good of you, Praetor,' he said.
'Before leaving, you will be required to swear oaths before the gods and witnesses that you will not try to flee custody.'
'Certainly.'
'You will also be escorted by my men. This is more for your protection than from any concern I might have that you will try to escape. There is probably a good deal of hostility toward you among the local populace, especially the Greeks.'
'I have no objection,' he said.
'May I come along?' Antonia asked.
'You may not,' I said.
Thus it was that, a little past noon, we rode from the villa down the Baiae road. As we passed the temple I saw the last smoke rising from the embers of the morning sacrifice. This caused me to wonder how Diocles was coping with his personnel shortage. As we went on to the main road I chanced to look back and I saw the old man standing before the altar, looking at us. The distance was too great to read his expression.
By the time we approached Gaeto's residence and slave compound, the bright day had turned gloomy, with lowering clouds promising rain. It seemed fitting. Not because of the solemn occasion but because the days had been all too bright and pure since my arrival. When things go too well for too long, the gods have something nasty in store for you, and weather is no exception. A break in the fine weather might be a good thing.
We arrived at Gaeto's compound to find preparations well advanced. Jocasta and the steward had arranged what I was informed was a traditional Numidian chieftain's funeral, with certain Greek and Roman embellishments.
On the beach had been erected an imposing funeral pyre, made of seasoned wood with abundant frankincense stuffed into every available cranny. Gaeto lay atop it on splendid cushions, clothed in equally magnificent raiment. He looked startlingly lifelike, almost as if he would rise from the bier and join the obsequies. This was the advantage of having your own Egyptian undertakers.
