Rosemary Rowe - A Pattern of Blood

‘Maximilian would have to pay damages to his victim’s estate. But most of that estate is now Maximilian’s own, which he could presumably use to pay with. That anomaly would bring the whole question of the will before the praetor , and once that happened, the entire testament could be declared invalid. I’m sure you can deduce what that would mean.’

Anyone could. Once a querela was entered against a will, no one was likely to profit except the imperial coffers. Better for the sake of Julia, Sollers, debtors and even pavement-makers to leave matters exactly as they were.

He smiled grimly. ‘Of course, I do not intend to let Maximilian escape entirely. I shall make sure he knows that I am aware of his guilt, and might raise a prosecution at any time. That should ensure that he is properly grateful towards me. A loyal ally in Corinium would be a useful tool.’

‘You do not feel, Excellence, that he may be dangerous? He might have killed Quintus. A man who hatches one plot against his father might well propose another.’

‘I might have thought so myself if it were not for what I heard this afternoon. But here is the man himself.’ He gestured towards the door, where Junio had just reappeared, accompanying an elegant figure.

It was Mutuus, although for a moment I hardly recognised him. Gone were the ochre tunic and the thonged sandals. The secretary was dazzling in red leather shoes and a fine woollen robe which put my toga to shame. Of course he had now regained his status. He would resume his full Roman name, too, though I would never think of him as anything but Mutuus.

‘So,’ I said, when the formalities were over, ‘you have resumed your former status?’

‘Not precisely my former status, citizen.’ The pedantic Latin sounded better coming from a young man who dressed to match it. Mutuus had somehow acquired an air of intellectual distinction. No wonder Julia had found him attractive. Even Marcus was looking at him appreciatively, although my patron’s taste, unlike that of many Romans, had always been almost exclusively for females. Like Julia, for instance.

I was so wrapped up in my thoughts that it took me a few moments to recognise the force of what Mutuus said next. ‘I have not returned to my father’s power. When a man is freed from bondage, he is not obliged to. He is able to operate — make contracts and decisions — on his own responsibility. He becomes legally a man.’

I groaned inwardly. This was obviously my afternoon for having lectures on the legal system.

‘I have gone further than that. I have called seven witnesses and repudiated my adoption altogether, just as I once repudiated my natural father’s estate. I shall go back to writing letters in the forum and wash my hands of Lupus and his affairs. It is no great loss: all Lupus’s estate will be forfeit, if this crime is proved against him. I would inherit nothing but his dishonour.’

‘But the crime is not proved,’ I said. ‘Flavius still has questions to answer, and there were suspicious stains on Maximilian’s clothes — and on other people’s too. I saw them at the fuller’s.’ Somehow, I could not bring myself to mention Julia by name.

Marcus was looking at me indulgently, as if I were a dancing bear at a street market. This visible condescension made me more vehement than ever.

‘Lupus could not have struck Rollo,’ I went on, ‘and it is hard to see how he could have stabbed Quintus either, without someone seeing him go into the reception room.’

‘But that is just the point,’ Marcus said. ‘Someone did see him. Mutuus did.’

I looked at the young man. ‘But when you were asked, you said. .’

He looked calmly back at me, his shrewd gaze untroubled. ‘I told you no lies, citizen. I did not deny seeing my father yesterday morning.’

I nodded. I had noticed the evasion at the time. ‘I recall that I asked if you had seen your father and you replied that it was impossible to see through the window glass.’

He had the grace to colour. ‘And that is true.’

‘But,’ I said, ‘you were not looking through the window glass. What a pity that you are too young to seek office. You could make a fortune as a magistrate. You juggle words like a Greek.’ I did not add that without the inheritance from Lupus, he stood little chance of election even if he were twenty-five. There is a property qualification for public office.

He regarded me stonily. ‘I was under obligation then to my adoptive father. I did not know what Lupus had said to you. It was possible that he had told you about the events himself, but I did not wish to bring unnecessary trouble on him if he had not done so. He is vain, foolish and a bore, but he has been good to me in his way.’

There was some truth in this, I thought. There was no way in which Mutuus could know how much Lupus had said — I did not know exactly, myself, since I had not been present either. However, I maintained my hostile demeanour. ‘So you said nothing to help us, even though your master had been murdered?’

He looked uncomfortable. ‘I didn’t volunteer unnecessary information. Besides, I did not believe then that Lupus could commit a murder, especially with a knife. Lupus was not a robust man, and he preferred words to weapons. Later, when I heard about the bloodstains, I wondered if he might have struck in self-defence: Quintus appeared to resent Lupus much more than Lupus hated him. Last night I debated with myself, and this morning after Rollo was found I felt I must say something. Especially since I was no longer legally under Lupus’s tutelage.’

I said, ‘But Lupus could not possibly have attacked Rollo.’

‘If it was indeed the blow that killed him. You heard what Sollers said. It might possibly have been poison, and even an enfeebled old man can administer that. And Lupus would have had the opportunity to give Rollo something poisoned, after Quintus was murdered, when the page was ordered to the study to help prepare it for you.’

I nodded. I could follow that. ‘Lupus was still in the front garden then. In fact, when I went looking for him and Flavius, I met Rollo coming out of the study.’

‘But Rollo was alive long after that,’ Marcus interrupted.

Mutuus looked at me, and said nothing. I knew what he meant. A man does not necessarily eat food the minute he receives it, particularly not if he is a slave and is called upon, for instance, to clear a study or to pour out wine.

Marcus had come to the same conclusion. ‘Of course! I see. Lupus gave him a treat, perhaps, which Rollo might have saved to eat later. And of course, if he was poisoned he would go to the latrine. That would explain everything. It is possible that no one else was even involved.’ My patron looked extremely pleased with himself for that deduction, so I forbore to mention that in that case, Rollo’s corpse must have picked itself up and forced itself into the cavity behind the seats.

‘It is a possibility at least,’ Mutuus said. ‘Rollo was in the study when Lupus was in the garden. He must have seen him. That was where I was, when I saw Lupus.’ He glanced at Marcus.

‘Tell him the story,’ Marcus said, ‘just as you told it to me earlier.’

Mutuus nodded. ‘Well, citizen, I was standing at the study door. I had been in the librarium for some time: Sollers sent me away earlier, when he came to bleed Quintus — he always insisted that my master should rest and recover a little after the treatment. Quintus had been hot and flushed all morning, his earlier wound was paining him, and Sollers felt that he needed cupping before seeing Lupus and Flavius. Quintus disliked them both, and Sollers said their presence would make his blood run hotter and increase the fever.’