John Roberts - Under Vesuvius

'"Laid out'?"

"Yes, Praetor. She was found exactly as you saw her in the libitinarium , arranged just as she would have been if she were on a funeral bier."

"But naked?"

"Yes, sir."

"Who found her?"

"Some slave women from the house of Apronius Viba. His house is just against the city wall by the gate, and they were the first to come here this morning."

I went over the ground, but the springy turf and short-trimmed grass held no prints. I saw nothing that might have been lost or discarded by the killer. At the edge of the little clearing a stone stair led up the slope, away from the watercourse. Curious, I climbed it. Everyone else followed dutifully.

The stair traced a curving path beneath low-hanging branches and ended at a broad pavement flooring on a notch cut into the hillside. A retaining wall perhaps ten feet high covered the vertical face of the cut, and it was pierced by at least thirty low, square doorways. I had never seen such a structure before.

"What is this?" I asked.

"Why, Praetor," said Silva, "these are ice caves."

"Oh, yes. You told me about these a few days ago. Who owns them?"

"The ice company leases them to various men of the city," said the guard captain.

"I want a list of all the lessees," I said.

"Why, Praetor?" Norbanus demanded. "One of them is mine, I freely admit. But why do you want to know this?"

"Because they strike me as a good place for a runaway slave to hide," I said, but that was only part of my reason.

He shrugged. "Very well. I can get you the list. There are several of these facilities around the city."

"This is the one that interests me," I said. "It will do."

I saw no more profit to be had in this place, so we returned to the city. By this time my new house was prepared. I sent the rest on about their business but I asked Cicero to tarry. He was clearly bored with life away from Rome and was following my progress out of curiosity.

"Join me for lunch, Marcus Tullius," I asked him. "I have no kitchen staff here yet but we can send out for some food.",

"Gladly," he said.

"Thank you for backing me up with these plutocrats," I said as we took chairs in the house's excellent impluvium collonade." In fact, I was not at all sure about my constitutional powers in this matter. It's not the sort of thing you get taught studying law."

"You're on quite solid ground in a municipality like this," he assured me. "Your imperium overrides all local authority, and your authority to use military force is unquestionable. Of course, that won't stop these people from suing you as soon as you step down from office."

"I'm not worried about that," I told him. "These men are so terrified at having their dealings investigated, they'll never go to Rome to haul me into court."

He grinned. "Isn't guilt a wonderful thing? Even when it has nothing to do with your investigation, it can get people to see things your way. By the way, it was very decent of you to arrange the rites for that poor girl."

"You mean very un-Roman of me?"

He frowned. "Not at all. The humane treatment of slaves is a bedrock of Roman custom. It is one of the things that distinguishes us from barbarians." He was dreaming, but I didn't mention it. "But there could be complications. I hear you've confiscated two of the priest's slave girls. He will construe your taking charge of this one's body as further unauthorized appropriation of his property. He will have grounds for suit."

"I took them to keep him from killing them. And they are evidence. Besides, he's as dirty as the rest of them-I can feel it. He's hiding something and I mean to find out what it is."

A short while later, Hermes returned from the market, trailed by a boy carrying a large basket crammed with goodies. I'd sent Marcus and the rest back to the villa for rest, doctoring, and to tell Julia what was going on. Over a humble but delicious lunch of sausage, seed cakes, fruit, and wine we discussed the latest twists.

"What sort of killer," I said, "goes to the trouble of murdering a slave girl, then lays her out with all possible dignity, as if she were a beloved relative, in one of the most beautiful sites the town has to offer?"

"A pervert," Cicero said without hesitation. "We've seen them in court often enough. The mad ones who kill repeatedly and perform little rites every time: perform unspeakable acts, take body parts, or else dress their victims in beautiful clothes or pose the bodies in grotesque ways or perform ceremonies of their own sick devising. It happens all too commonly."

"She was killed near water, like Gorgo," Hermes noted.

"Yes, that could be a connection," I agreed. "The mad killers Marcus Tullius referred to often employ such ritualistic repetitions. But why take such care with a victim, then strip her naked?"

We thought about this for a while, and it was Hermes who had the inspired answer. "When she ran, she must have had to stop frequently in the fields to rest. By the time she arrived at her protector's house, her clothes would have been filthy with dirt and blood. This friend must have given her new clothing."

"But why take it off-" Then I saw what he was driving at. "Of course! She was given slave livery. Many of the great houses here dress their slaves in distinctive uniforms. The killer couldn't afford to have her found in the livery of his own household."

"Very astute," Cicero approved. "You may have the answer."

"That leaves us the motive for her murder," I said.

"She may have simply known too much," Cicero said. "There has been a groat deal of bloodshed around here lately. Plenty of reason to eliminate an inconvenient slave witness."

"Would she have fled to Gorgo's murderer?" I asked.

"She ran to someone she thought had reason to protect her," Hermes said. "She may have been wrong about that."

"If so," Cicero said, "she wouldn't be the first to learn, too late, that a friend can be treacherous."

A short time after this, a messenger came from Norbanus with the list I had requested. The ice company had leased caves to a number of familiar names: Norbanus, Silva, Diogenes the scent merchant; even Gaeto himself was among them.

"This doesn't narrow the search down any," I said disgustedly. "The only one missing is Diocles the priest. He isn't rich enough to afford such an exotic property and probably doesn't entertain enough to need one."

"You don't suspect him of killing his own daughter, do you?" Cicero said, shocked.

"Men have done it before," I pointed out. "Even Agamemnon killed a daughter when it seemed necessary. Diocles was conveniently 'away' that night. He had the opportunity and he may have felt she had dishonored him with her multiple liaisons."

Cicero laughed drily. "Decius, I do not envy you. It's hard enough to get a conviction when you prosecute one man you know to be guilty. But to sort out one or more guilty parties from such a crowd, that is a labor worthy of Hercules!"

A little later Julia and the rest of my party arrived. She greeted Cicero courteously but coolly. Cicero was known for his opposition in the Senate to Caesar's ambitions. Cicero took his leave and I brought Julia up to date on the day's happenings.

"I've brought Leto and Gaia. They can be the mourners at Charmian's funeral."

"Are they up to it?" I asked.

"Gaia is much recovered. Germans are tough. And Leto is greatly heartened."

"Heartened? Why?"

"They were concerned that Diocles might seize them. They were not entirely sure that a praetor peregrinus would be competent to protect them. I told them that they were in my personal charge, that I am a Caesar, and that anyone who dared to interfere with them must answer personally to Julius Caesar."

"Ah, that should do the trick," I said. A mere Metellus holding the second-highest office of the Republic was no bargain as a guardian, but Julius Caesar himself, that was another matter entirely.