Rosemary Rowe - The Fateful Day

It was not hard to see where all this blood had issued from. The heads were missing. Every one of them had clearly been hacked off at the neck. Some of the bodies had been cruelly stabbed as well (several in the back, I noticed), but some corpses appeared to bear no other mark. There must have been a dozen or so in all — surely the whole of the small staff that Marcus left behind: male and female, young and old, kitchen slaves and pages, even the amanuensis and the steward (easily distinguishable by their longer robes) all jumbled together in this macabre equality of death.

I turned to Minimus, still retching in the grass. He knelt up to greet me, ashen-faced and with an effort at a sickly smile. ‘Master! I’m sorry. I should have come to you …’

I held up a hand to silence him. ‘I’m not surprised this has affected you. It would take a man without a heart not to react to this …’

He gulped. ‘That boy there — the second smallest one — I knew him, I am sure. I helped to train him when he first arrived. He was going to be page, but in the end they made him kitchen-boy. His name’s Pauvrissimus. I recognise him from that scar there on his arm where he tripped and fell into the brazier one day.’ He seemed to feel that he was showing disrespect, so he put one still-shaking hand against the wall and pulled himself upright. ‘And that big, hulking one beside him, I am almost sure, is the second-ranking cook who used to do the baking for the house.’

I nodded. I had forgotten that these people would be personally known to my red-headed slave. ‘I’m sorry you had to find this on your own,’ I said. ‘What made you come into the orchard anyway?’

‘I’d already done as the young master said — looked into the slave quarters and all the other outbuildings and sheds. But there wasn’t anyone …’ he tailed off incoherently, gazing at me with a supplicating look upon his face.

I tried to help him. ‘So you decided to come and have a look round the estate?’

Another anguished glance. ‘Well, not exactly that. You see, I noticed that the egg basket was gone …’

I found that I was staring at him. So was Junio. ‘The egg basket?’ I echoed.

He nodded. ‘The basket that’s used for collecting the eggs. It hangs on the wall inside the servants’ sleeping-room — at least, that’s where it was kept when I belonged to Marcus.’ It was the first long utterance he had managed since we’d found him here.

‘It was clever of you to have noticed it was gone,’ I said gently. ‘I certainly hadn’t noticed it myself.’ Although, now he mentioned it, I had a recollection of an empty hook beside the door and a faint mark on the wall where something had once hung.

Minimus was still gasping, but I’d encouraged him. ‘Pauvrissimus used to take it out to get the eggs first thing in the morning.’ He glanced at the headless corpses, and glanced away again. ‘Well, I thought that’s what he’d done. You wouldn’t take the basket if you weren’t collecting eggs. And, since there wasn’t any poultry in the yard, I thought they must have been let out underneath the trees to scratch for worms and things — that’s what they always used to do when I was here — though it’s a bit early in the season. I know the chickens that you keep at home aren’t really laying yet. But Marcus breeds several var-ieties of hens, as well as ducks and geese — on purpose to get eggs as long as possible. So I came into the orchard …’ He shook his head again. ‘Poor Pauvrissimus! Who did this awful thing? And what’s happened to their heads?’

‘I don’t know,’ I told him. ‘But I’m anxious to find out. I’ll discover who did this to your friend, I promise you. And if you can bear to look again at the other bodies, it is even possible that you can help.’

‘Me?’ Minimus turned a chalk-white face to me. ‘If it will help to catch the killer, I’d do a great deal more than that.’

‘Then look at them and tell me — you know that Marcus only left a tiny indoor staff behind, just enough to keep the villa open while he was away. Apart from the steward and the amanuensis, whom I recognise myself, do you think that this is all of them?’

Minimus swallowed hard and forced himself to look at the pile of headless bodies that used to be his friends. ‘It is hard to tell exactly who is who — and there’s certain to be some people who were purchased when I’d left — but most of them I’m fairly certain of. That little boy beside Pauvrissimus was a trainee page, I think, here to open the door and deal with visitors. That one there’s the general messenger, and that’s the girl that used to mend the linen and do general sewing work. That couple with the cook will be the other kitchen slaves — someone has to feed the household and the land-slaves too — and that fat lad with them is the boy who fetches fuel to feed the cooking stoves and things.’ He considered for a moment. ‘The other general slaves I’m not really sure about. There’d be three or four to clean the villa, I suppose. It looks as though His Excellence has ordered an effort to do that while he’s away — someone has been scrubbing out the storage vats, I see, and there’ll be all the household cutlery and ornaments to clean, so he’ll have left sufficient staff to do it properly. I didn’t have a lot of contact with the more menial staff, so I would not necessarily know them anyway, especially now there is no face to recognise.’ He wrinkled up his nose. ‘The only thing I can’t see is a gatekeeper … I know that there were changes after I had gone, but there’s no one left who looks the build for that.’

I found myself exchanging glances with my son. There was a little silence.

‘Ah, the gatekeeper,’ Junio said, at last. ‘My father’s already found him, so he’s accounted for. It seems that he was in his cell, but dead, when we came in. That is why he didn’t answer us.’

Minimus was frowning. ‘But there should be two of them. One for the back gate as well as for the front.’

I glanced across at Junio, who raised his brows at me, ‘Even when the master is away?’ I asked my little slave.

He shrugged. ‘I don’t think Marcus would have gone and left the back gate unguarded, or permanently locked. All the land-slaves have to come and go that way — if only to deliver crops or tend the animals.’

I stared at him. Of course, the lad was right. In fact, while the owner of the villa was in Rome and few visitors of rank were liable to call, the rear entrance was probably the most important and frequented one. Marcus’s gatekeepers were invariably selected for their strength and their ability to frighten off unwelcome visitors, so one would expect to find some muscular he-bear of a slave, just like the keeper of the other gate. I knew that my patron had bought a new one, fairly recently. Yet Minimus was right again — there was no obvious candidate among the dead.

Junio was obviously thinking the same thing. ‘So there is someone missing?’ he observed to me. ‘Or we assume there is. It may be that his body is lying somewhere else — if he let in the killers inadvertently. But then, you’d think, the land-slaves would have known.’

I nodded. ‘I think I’d better go and have another word with them. They would know who was on duty at the rear gate — yesterday, I think it must have been. And perhaps they can explain how this could happen here while they remain oblivious of it.’

‘And I shall come with you,’ Junio declared. ‘Even if you’re riding on the mule and I’m obliged to walk. It isn’t wise for anyone to go down there alone in case the killer is still somewhere roaming the estate. Minimus can run back home and tell them what’s occurred and reassure them that you are safe and well. Mother will be really worrying by now.’