John Roberts - Oracle of the Dead

“The entire staff of the Oracle, for certain. There must be at least a few outside partners, and maybe many. Although it would make sense to keep the outsiders to a minimum. Everybody knows that the more people involved in a crime, the greater the likelihood of being found out.”

We went back out to the temple area and everyone had questions which I refused to answer. About noon, the historian Cordus arrived. “Has the praetor a task for me?” he asked, smiling. These were probably the happiest days of his life, employing his lonely work at the behest of the powerful. He’d be dining out on this story for years to come.

“Indeed I have, Cordus my friend.” I took him by the arm and led him to a little table where, as before, I had laid out a generous repast. “Here, sit, refresh yourself. It’s very good of you to come at such short notice.” It never hurts to flatter the humble. They get it so seldom. “It’s very important work indeed. But please, have something first.”

For the sake of good manners he ate a little and drank some wine, but curiosity got the better of his appetite. “Please, Praetor, what can I do for you?”

“First,” I said, “there is the matter of the slave girl, Hypatia.”

“Is she the one that was murdered?”

“Precisely. She said that she was sold to the temple by an itinerant slave trader named Aulus Plantius. I am informed that he is a dealer in high-quality slaves and that he appears here once or twice a year. This would have been about three months ago. Can you find me a record of that sale?”

“I am sure that I can, providing all the legal forms were followed in the sale.”

I sighed. “Legality is about the last thing I expect to encounter in this Gordian knot of a case, but see what you can turn up.”

“I am at your service. Surely this is not all?”

“By no means. Would any records be kept around here concerning the priesthood of the Oracle? By this I mean names, the dates when each took office and left it, that sort of thing?”

“Naturally there should be records here at the sanctuary of Hecate. Have you looked for them?”

“I have. It seems there are no such records on the premises and the priesthood are not inclined to cooperate with me.”

“I see. If there are such records to be found, I will locate them.”

“Very good,” I commended. “If you can do these things for me, and do them as quickly as possible, I will be forever in your debt.”

“I shall do it at once, Praetor,” he said.

“No, stay here and finish your lunch. It will be two or three days before I am ready to make my presentation. Will that be sufficient time?”

“A day should be sufficient, Praetor. The matter of the slave’s sale should take little time. As for the priests, if such records are to be found at all, I should be able to turn them up quickly.”

“Excellent.” It was good to know that I could delegate a task to someone who knew his business and could be trusted to carry it out quickly and efficiently. I had often thought that it would be a good thing if the state could employ a permanent staff of such people to be at the disposal of the magistrates. Slaves could not be trusted to do the work. It would have to be done by free men, but who would pay them?

Shortly after the historian departed, Hermes rode in with the woman Floria, under heavy guard. She looked numbed with fright, not an uncommon thing in a powerless person who finds herself suddenly in the grip of the Roman legal system.

“I tried to tell her nothing is going to happen to her,” Hermes said, “but she wouldn’t believe me.”

“Come down, Floria,” I said. “You have nothing to fear. The guards are for your own protection. I just want you to repeat to a court what you told me.”

“I just have to talk?” she said in a weak voice.

“That is all. You’re free now, you can’t be tortured.”

“Of course she can’t be tortured!” Julia said, pushing me aside. “Come, my dear, you’re safe here. You will stay in our own quarters. Let me help you dismount.” Julia and one of her girls helped the woman down, and already she looked vastly relieved. Julia had that way with people. She could put a man about to be crucified at ease.

“Naturally there should be records here at the sanctuary of Hecate. Have you looked for them?”

“I have. It seems there are no such records on the premises and the priesthood are not inclined to cooperate with me.”

“I see. If there are such records to be found, I will locate them.”

“Very good,” I commended. “If you can do these things for me, and do them as quickly as possible, I will be forever in your debt.”

“I shall do it at once, Praetor,” he said.

“No, stay here and finish your lunch. It will be two or three days before I am ready to make my presentation. Will that be sufficient time?”

“A day should be sufficient, Praetor. The matter of the slave’s sale should take little time. As for the priests, if such records are to be found at all, I should be able to turn them up quickly.”

“Excellent.” It was good to know that I could delegate a task to someone who knew his business and could be trusted to carry it out quickly and efficiently. I had often thought that it would be a good thing if the state could employ a permanent staff of such people to be at the disposal of the magistrates. Slaves could not be trusted to do the work. It would have to be done by free men, but who would pay them?

Shortly after the historian departed, Hermes rode in with the woman Floria, under heavy guard. She looked numbed with fright, not an uncommon thing in a powerless person who finds herself suddenly in the grip of the Roman legal system.

“I tried to tell her nothing is going to happen to her,” Hermes said, “but she wouldn’t believe me.”

“Come down, Floria,” I said. “You have nothing to fear. The guards are for your own protection. I just want you to repeat to a court what you told me.”

“I just have to talk?” she said in a weak voice.

“That is all. You’re free now, you can’t be tortured.”

“Of course she can’t be tortured!” Julia said, pushing me aside. “Come, my dear, you’re safe here. You will stay in our own quarters. Let me help you dismount.” Julia and one of her girls helped the woman down, and already she looked vastly relieved. Julia had that way with people. She could put a man about to be crucified at ease.

So that was two tasks accomplished. I dictated a few letters to some people: to Belasus in Pompeii, asking him to come to my court and bring the letters and evidence we had found in the house of Elagabal the fence; and to Pompey, asking him to attend. I even gritted my teeth and sent one to Cato. Much as I disliked him, he had that horrible honesty. I was going to have to do things that might exceed my authority as praetor peregrinus, and I wanted someone I could trust to testify that I had done these things for good reasons, not because I was corrupt or tyrannical. My enemies in Rome would lying in wait for me as soon as I should step down from office and would charge me for what I did here. Cato was not afraid of them or of anybody else, and he would not lie about what he had witnessed.

When I had dispatched my messengers to their various destinations, I sat back, at loose ends for a little while. Things had been so hectic lately that this felt good. Then I got up and wandered out into the temple enclosure and thought, What were you up to, Eugaeon? Why were you murdered, along with your fellow priests? Were you just the last victims of this gang of murderers, or were you one of them?

These gloomy but important thoughts occupied me for a while, while I enjoyed my solitude. Not that I was perfectly alone. Several of my men hung off at a discreet distance, armed and bearing shields. Then there came a voice from behind me.