John Roberts - The Year of Confusion

“Anyway, some of the men got to thinking it’d been a long time since they’d had a chance to visit the whores ashore, and here was this woman who wasn’t a citizen protected by any laws that applied at sea. They had no idea what she looked like under all those veils but…” he spread his hands eloquently.

“Sailors are famously undiscriminating in such matters,” I said. “So, these sea-lawyers decided that rape was a good idea?”

“Right. But it turned out it wasn’t such a good idea after all. Somebody must’ve tipped the man what was afoot, because one morning they found three men dead on the deck, all with their necks broken. They were the ones who’d been doing the plotting.”

“Didn’t the surviving crew take any revenge?” I asked.

“I suspect the dead men weren’t the most popular aboard, and who wants to face up to a man like that? They were sure that he was in league with some god or demon. What kind of man can break the necks of three strong men without alerting the men on watch? Would you want to deal with such a man?”

“It looks like I may have to,” I said.

“Ah, Senator,” Ariston said, “would you like for me to accompany you for a while? I can leave my business to my freedmen for a few days.”

His offer was tempting. Ariston was a fighter of stupendous ferocity. I had once seen him kill a man in a manner I would have thought to be physically impossible. In sheer deadliness he was very close to my old friend Titus Milo. Hermes bristled a little at the suggestion that I might need a more accomplished bodyguard, but only a little. He had been present when Ariston had performed that feat with his broad, curved knife.

“I thank you, my friend,” I said, “but I think that this matter will take more cunning than muscle power.”

“Whatever you say, Senator, but don’t hesitate to call on me if you should feel the need of backup.”

“I won’t hesitate a moment,” I assured him.

Back outside Hermes and I conferred. “Sounds like we have our man,” Hermes noted. “If, that is, we had any idea who he might be.”

“We still have to determine his identity,” I concurred, “but this bit of information allows us to eliminate a few suspects. He boarded in Tyre and was traveling with only a single companion. That pretty well clears Archelaus of suspicion. Not entirely, of course. He could have hired the man here in Rome, but I no longer suspect that the assassin was a part of his retinue. He’s been here almost a year and Archelaus has been in Rome no more than a month or two.”

“Something doesn’t add up.”

“A great many things don’t add up. What particular anomaly strikes you?”

He frowned. “This man is a professional assassin, yet he only struck a few days ago. Why did he wait so long to exercise his skill?”

“A good point. I can think of a number of possibilities.” I loved this sort of thing. “One, he may use other methods of elimination, perhaps reserving the neck-breaking for special occasions. Two, he may have used it, but we never heard about it. Such a death can easily be made to look accidental, and not every killing in Rome comes to my attention. There may have been a number of such that we never heard of. I was only engaged to investigate these deaths because the murdered men were Caesar’s astronomers. And three, there are other places in Italy besides Rome. He may have been working elsewhere for a while.”

“I suppose we can cross Cleopatra off the suspect list, too,” Hermes said.

“Why?”

“Because Servilia is still alive.”

“You’re getting good at this. You’ve been paying attention. Of course, the two of them might be up to something together.”

“There is that possibility,” he agreed. “Is there some way we can find out if he has been active elsewhere in Italy?”

“None that I know of,” I admitted. “We hear of exceptional murders from time to time, but ordinarily they are none of Rome’s business and are handled by local authorities. Plus, remember this man can make his killings appear to be accidents. It’s a good thing he’s been in Rome such a short time.”

“Why is that?”

“A man so talented would never go long without employment in Rome. There would be entirely too much demand for his services.”

Julia displayed little sympathy for my plight.

“I think your hostility to Servilia is foolish. She isn’t a scandalous woman like Fulvia. She’s just ambitious for her son. She doesn’t frequent low haunts or have numerous love affairs.”

“Why is it,” I asked her, “that people pretend to be shocked by comparatively harmless transgressions like adultery and extravagance? I’ve seen far more people killed because of ambition and greed than for such trifles.”

“Far more husbands have died because of adultery than you would guess,” she said darkly. Meaning it as a warning, no doubt.

“Yes, well, matrimony is never without hazard.”

“Remember that. Servilia keeps popping up in this because she is now close to Caesar, and somehow this business is all about Caesar. It’s his astronomers being murdered. This is aimed at him.”

“I agree. It’s an uncommonly oblique way of attacking him, though.”

“Easterners are involved and that is how they work,” she asserted.

It was after dinner, our guests had gone home and we were enjoying a rather crisp evening by the pool, sitting with a brazier of glowing coals between us. The year had been uncommonly mild but a chill was creeping into the air. Julia was wrapped in a heavy woolen cloak, but I preferred to exhibit manly hardihood by wearing nothing over my tunic.

“This is complicated even for our usual eastern enemies,” I said. “Maybe these people come from even farther east. What’s that place where silk comes from? I think it’s about as far east as you can go.”

“Keep your thoughts closer to home,” she advised.

“I know, the king of Parthia is the most likely contender for foreign action, but somehow I don’t think so. I think we have an oriental assassin working for somebody right here in Rome.”

“There is still Sextus Pompey,” she reminded me.

“Last I heard he was in Spain and our suspects came from the opposite direction. Admittedly, he could have agents working here in Rome who might have hired the killer, but young Pompey has no more imagination than his father. This is beyond him. If we can’t figure it out, how could he have dreamed it up?”

“We’re missing something,” she said.

“Of course we are. That’s always how it is when people behave in such a deceitful manner. Later on, when you have all the pieces in your grasp, you wonder why you never noticed those obvious factors that were staring you in the face all along.”

“Callista says you should write all this down. Perhaps you could give a course of lectures on your methods.”

“I ought to. Future generations will thank me.”

“What if the grain swindle was just practice?” Julia said.

“Eh? Where did that come from?”

“It just seems to me that they may have had something bigger in mind. Polasser and Postumius discovered their mutual criminal inclinations. Polasser was intrigued by the chariot race swindle Postumius boasted about, and perhaps wanted to give it a try himself.”

I saw what she was getting at. “But Postumius cautioned him against it. Felix the Wise might find out and punish them. Polasser was undoubtedly the more intelligent and imaginative man. He saw that the same swindle could be used in other venues. He had traveled widely, lived some time in Alexandria where the world grain trade is centered. He knew that trading in grain futures can be as much of a gamble as betting on the races. But you think it might have been just practice?”