Paul Doherty: The Song of the Gladiator

He opened his mouth to answer, only to sigh and glance away.

‘You told me yourself,’ Claudia continued, ‘how your duties were in the House of Mourning. What were you doing near that cellar? You were waiting, weren’t you? You helped take the stretcher in. You made sure that you stood on the sand, that the sword was hidden. Moreover, who would notice as poor Timothaeus was taken from the cellar that you picked up his walking stick and took it out for him? People were not looking for a walking stick, they were looking for a sword.’

‘And?’ Timothaeus asked, wiping the sweat from his brow.

‘Well, Burrus and his boys are quivering like saplings in a storm; they think the sword is sacred and your God has come to claim it. Gaius Tullius is a pagan and a cynic. He searches the cellar but finds nothing. He’s not really interested, is he? It’s not his responsibility — what is a Christian relic to him? A short while later Timothaeus, now much recovered, returns to the now unguarded cellar, takes the sword out and hides it away.’ Claudia paused, as if listening to the birds singing in the branches above her. ‘You were very clever,’ she added. ‘But it was Narcissus being so close to the cellar when it happened which made me curious; that and logic. I mean, the sword disappeared but no one saw it leave, so it must have been left in the cellar. The question was where.’

‘You suspected me?’ Narcissus asked.

‘Oh yes, you’re very suspect, Narcissus. Remember the night of the fire, when the House of Mourning was burned to the ground? You were actually asleep close by, under the shade of a sycamore tree. You said you had been drinking heavily. Now you are a free man, but then you were a slave. Every other servant in the Villa Pulchra, not to mention the slaves, only eats and drinks after the banquet. But you, by your own admission, were probably as drunk as any of Constantine’s guests. I made enquiries in the kitchens, but no one remembered serving you a drink.’

‘It was me,’ Timothaeus confessed.

‘Yes, it certainly was.’ Claudia smiled. ‘A small reward for Narcissus’s help. What did you give him? I found the bones — a nice fat piece of capon, a juicy slice of beef and a jug of the best Falernian. A suitable reward for a slave who’d helped you so much, who had to be bribed silent and, knowing you, Narcissus, who was grumbling about how nervous he felt. Timothaeus went down to the villa kitchen and brought you out certain delicacies and a nice deep-bowled goblet of wine. You’ve got a good appetite, Narcissus, I’ve seen you eat. You were nervous, agitated, and you ate quickly and drank just as swiftly. You fell asleep. When you woke up you must have thought you were in a nightmare. The House of Mourning was burning, enquiries might be made and questions asked — what was a slave in charge of the House of Mourning doing filling his belly and drinking the best wine?’

‘What will you do?’ Timothaeus took his hands away from his face.

‘What will I do?’ Claudia shrugged. ‘Look, Timothaeus, the best and safest place for this sword is with the Empress. You will make some excuse and go straight back to the Villa Pulchra, where you will hang the sword back on its hook. No, no, that’s too stupid!’ Claudia scratched her chin. ‘You’ll take it back to the villa and organise a search of the gardens. You will find it, hand it back to the Empress, and receive her thanks, as well as a lavish reward. This idle bugger,’ Claudia pointed a finger at Narcissus, ‘will help you. You’ll be the heroes of the hour.’

Both men sighed in relief. Timothaeus stood up, stretched to ease the cramp and crouched before Claudia. He took her face into his hands and kissed her gently on the brow.

‘I wondered,’ he pulled a face, ‘I really did wonder about you, Claudia. I could tell just by the way you were looking at me that you knew something was wrong. It is as you say. I used to see the sword hanging there. Sometimes I thought I could see the holy blood of Blessed Paul glistening on its blade. I realised how easy it would be to stand on one of those stools and take it. I used the stick to measure the sand. It’s very soft and very deep. Burrus and his Germans would never come in. So I persuaded Narcissus to help. I told him what I wanted, that I could make his life ever so comfortable, so he agreed. I didn’t plan,’ he added, glaring at his companion in crime, ‘to make him drunk, or imagine that the House of Mourning would be burned.’

‘What else can we do?’ Narcissus intoned mournfully.

‘Oh, I think you can help me with a number of things.’ Claudia smiled. ‘But first take this blessed sword back to the Villa Pulchra, and when you have found it, hasten back to the Palatine and show the Augusta what you have achieved. Tell her your sleep was racked by dreams.’

Both men got to their feet.

‘Oh, Narcissus, do something else for me. On your journey to and from the Villa Pulchra, ask yourself what you saw that night.’

‘Which night?’

‘The night the House of Mourning burned to the ground. Every single thing you saw! You must go to the villa with Timothaeus, but when I send Sorry for you, you are both to come here immediately.’

Claudia watched the two men leave. Timothaeus had wrapped up the sword carefully.

‘Ask Polybius for a bag,’ she called, ‘a leather sack. It’s up to you whether you walk or ride.’

Timothaeus raised his hand and disappeared into the tavern. Claudia lay down on the grass and stared up through the branches. Timothaeus would do what she asked, and as for Narcissus. .

‘I haven’t finished with you yet,’ Claudia whispered. She felt her eyes grow heavy and drifted into sleep, and when she woke she was aware of a figure, dark against the sunlight. She immediately lunged for her dagger.

‘Mistress, it’s only me!’

Sallust the Searcher crouched down on the grass. Claudia apologised, rubbing her face with her hands.

‘You’ve been asleep for at least two hours,’ Polybius shouted from the porch. ‘I didn’t want to disturb you, but if you slept too long. .’

Claudia raised her hand. She asked Sallust to make himself comfortable whilst she went across to the latrines and into the small wash house nearby. She bathed her hands and face, wiping the sleep from her eyes, and idly wondered how Timothaeus and Narcissus were faring at the Villa Pulchra. She went out and rejoined Sallust.

‘I’ve left the boys in the tavern.’ The searcher mopped a platter with a piece of bread, popped it into his mouth and started on the fruit which Timotheus and Narcissus had left. ‘So you got the Holy Sword back?’ He smiled. ‘It was so easy, you know. I kept the palace under watch! I have some friends there, so I could drift in and out. Timothaeus was acting like a scalded cat, he was highly nervous. He came sneaking out at the dead of night when he thought no one was watching, through a side gate, and by the time he had reached his sacred place, the tomb of that Christian — what’s his name? Ah yes, Paul — there were more people watching him than spectators do an actor in some play. The tomb stands off the road. Timothaeus went as close as he could, dug a hole and buried it.’

‘I didn’t ask him for the details,’ Claudia confessed. ‘He was just so relieved, he couldn’t get away fast enough. You’ll keep it quiet?’

Sallust raised his right hand.

‘Claudia, Claudia. If I told the police everything I knew, half of Rome would be arrested! Now, I’ve got news for you. You were correct. Spicerius was murdered. I don’t know how, but the bitch who poisoned him was certainly no friend.’