Rosemary Rowe - Requiem for a Slave

The attendant, a stolid man of middle years, whose scarlet tunic was almost as gorgeous as his owner’s, turned a sullen red and hurried back to proffer a supporting hand. Quintus Severus took it and picked his way fastidiously across the mud and grime.

‘Decurion,’ I burbled, dropping another bow. ‘A thousand pardons, distinguished citizen. I regret that I am not dressed to welcome you. Furthermore, I fear that I’m unable to invite you to my shop. But-’

He gestured me to silence and gazed at me, rather as a slave-master might assess substandard wares. ‘Unable to invite me? What exactly is going on?’ He took a deep, exasperated breath. ‘I understood I was expected here?’

‘Of course you were, distinguished citizen,’ I said, still gabbling with dismay. ‘But, you see, there’s been an accident.’

‘An accident?’ That clearly shocked him, and you could see a kind of light dawn in the cold blue eyes. ‘What sort of accident?’ He frowned, contriving to convey that accidents were unacceptable, and that this one was evidence of my bad management. He looked me up and down. ‘An accident to you?’

‘Not to me, decurion. To Lucius,’ I explained.

‘Lucius?’ The intonation suggested that this was even more absurd than permitting accidents. ‘And who is Lucius?’

‘A street-vendor,’ I murmured. ‘A pie-seller, in fact. I found him in my workshop just before you came.’ I took a deep breath and made a plunge for it. ‘I am afraid he’s dead — murdered. Someone’s throttled him.’

‘A pie-seller?’ Quintus echoed again, disbelievingly. He made it sound as if he thought that this was somehow all my fault and had been deliberately arranged to inconvenience him. ‘Murdered in your workshop? What was he doing there?’ When I was expected, his tone of voice implied.

‘I don’t believe that he was killed there, citizen. More likely set on in the street and robbed, and dumped there afterwards. I fear it may be bandits. .’ I outlined my reasoning.

‘I see.’ Quintus abruptly seemed to have lost interest in this. ‘Spare me all the explanation, citizen. I know that you are skilled at solving mysteries — Marcus was always boasting of your skill — but the death of a pie-seller is hardly my concern.’

‘But you understand that I can hardly ask you in the shop and show you patterns with him lying there.’

He cut me off with a dismissive gesture of his hand. ‘Naturally not. It seems I’ve had a wasted journey here this afternoon. Unfortunate, but I concede that it is unavoidable. One cannot conduct business in the presence of a corpse. It would be inauspicious to a remarkable degree. What will you do with the body, anyway? I don’t imagine that the pie-seller belonged to any guild?’

This was a problem that I hadn’t thought about — I had been too shocked at finding Lucius dead. But, of course, he would require some sort of burial. There were special societies, even among slaves, to which people paid a small sum every month to ensure they received a proper funeral and were not condemned to walk the earth as ghosts, but, as Quintus had remarked, it was unlikely that Lucius had ever joined such a guild. Seriously poor freemen very rarely did — money was needed for more pressing purposes. I said, ‘He has a mother — no doubt she would know.’

Quintus made a disapproving face. ‘Better to inform the garrison authorities, and they will come round with a cart and put the corpse in a communal grave. It is not a council matter, since we’re outside the gates. You will want to have the workshop ritually cleansed to get rid of evil omens as soon as possible, I suppose — and you can’t do that until the body has been moved. Though it may cost you a little to have them bury it — he is not strictly a vagrant or a criminal.’

I winced. I had seen them put bodies in the common pit before — tipped in without ceremony and covered up with lime. It was not what I would have chosen for Lucius at all, but it’s where he would have ended if he’d dropped dead in the street, and a proper funeral was an expensive thing and would mean a full two days of mourning closure for the shop. Besides, Quintus was right about the cleansing rites. No customer would come to a workshop where a murdered corpse had lain, for fear that it was cursed — only a proper ritual would dispel the fears. That would involve an expensive sacrifice at least, and probably a priest with incense, scattering water on the floor. This business was already likely to cost more than I could easily afford.

Quintus was looking questioningly at me. ‘I could alert the gatehouse as I go home, perhaps. Then they can send a party later on.’

‘Someone had better go and tell his mother, just in case,’ I said aloud. ‘Though I suppose that I will have to see to that myself. It’s not a task that I look forward to.’

He looked at me, astonished. ‘Get a slave to do it — you do have a slave, I suppose. Don’t I remember that Marcus lent you some?’

I nodded glumly. ‘Two little matching boys. And that’s another thing. One of them, who was attending me today, seems to have disappeared. I fear the killers may have kidnapped him.’

Quintus stared at me. His attendant made a stifled noise. ‘What is it, Hyperius?’ the decurion said.

‘If I might be permitted, citizen. .?’ The slave had a peculiarly unctuous tone of voice. ‘If the pavement-maker’s slave has disappeared, why should we suppose that bandits are involved? Surely it is likely that it was the slave who killed the pie-seller? Stole his purse and made a run for it?’

Quintus looked absurdly pleased at this remark. ‘Of course. Well done, Hyperius. Marcus is not the only one to have a clever man to help.’ He turned to me. ‘With your reputation, citizen, I am surprised you didn’t think of that explanation for yourself.’

‘I did, decurion, but I dismissed it instantly — and so would you, if you had known my slave.’ It sounded impertinent and I hurried on, ‘Anyway, there is evidence that there was a much stronger hand at work.’ I explained about the tracks. ‘You — or your slave — can come and see it for yourself-’

He cut me off with one impatient hand. ‘Of course, we shall do nothing so absurd. To come into your workshop is to invite a curse. We have already lingered here too long. I shall get in touch with the garrison and have them move the corpse, but I shall also tell them to look out for your page and hold him on suspicion of involvement in all this. Hyperius is right. It wouldn’t be the first time that a slave has stolen a purse and made a run for it.’

I shuddered. To be apprehended as a fugitive slave is a serious affair, unless the slave can prove that his master was unnaturally cruel and he had gone to seek protection from a kinder one. And it did not require the master himself to bring the charge. Quintus would doubtless do exactly what he said, and that would make three capital offences of which Minimus was accused — running from his master, theft and homicide.

‘I’m sure that Minimus has done nothing of the kind,’ I protested, ready to give my reasons, but Quintus was already bridling and he cut me off.

‘That is only your opinion, which you can state in court if we do happen to apprehend the boy.’ He gave an unpleasant little smile. ‘Of course, the magistrates may wish to talk to you as well. We have only your word for it that you did not kill the man yourself.’

I confess that stunned me. I realized that it would be difficult to prove that I had not — there was no one else to witness where I’d been and when.

But Quintus did not pursue that train of thought. ‘Hyperius! The litter!’ he said imperiously. He turned to me again. ‘I fear that we shall have to forget that pavement after all.’