John Roberts - Oracle of the Dead

“Praetor, why aren’t you with your suite? You shouldn’t be wandering about alone out here in the dark.” I turned to see that it was Sabinilla.

“Why, what brings you here? I thought you’d be plotting your next party, the one that’s going to top even the one you gave for us.”

“Oh, never fear, I’m putting together another. Word reached me that something has been happening here today and I yield to no one in my mastery of local gossip. I had to come see what was happening. I rejoice to see you are fully recovered from your wound. You are fully recovered, aren’t you?”

“I am touched by your concern. Yes, I am as good as new, strength restored; the wound no longer even pains me.” This was not quite true but it was beneath my dignity as a praetor to admit to pain from minor causes.

We walked back toward the terraces of the temple, where torches were ablaze. I saw that her wig was blue this time. Odd-colored wigs were just coming into fashion, and I didn’t doubt she had one for every day of the year.

She stopped and turned to me. “Praetor, I-”

In that instant I heard a sound I had become all too familiar with. It was the whiz of an arrow, like the sound of a fast-moving insect. It went right past my ear and suddenly Sabinilla was standing there with an astonished expression, trying to say something, but nothing came from her mouth but a great gush of blood.

I wasted not an instant gaping. I hit the ground rolling, and the second arrow whizzed through the air where I had been standing and buried itself in Sabinilla, halfway between navel and sternum. It would have gone into my spine if I hadn’t dived when I did. She was still upright, now trying to pull out the arrow that had gone through her throat. An arrow will not drop a person instantly to the ground the way a javelin or spear will. They don’t have enough force. They pierce organs and cut blood vessels. I kept moving, and Sabinilla finally fell, as if she had just learned that she was dead.

I was shouting without being aware of it. My men were running toward me and I was still rolling, changing speed and direction constantly to keep from being an easy target. I had lost all interest in dignity. I was not going to catch another arrow if I could help it. In moments my men were all around me, shields up. I heard a final arrow glance from a shield, then quiet.

“Bring torches over here!” I yelled at the top of my lungs as I got to my feet. “Bring lots of them! I want you to fan out and find that archer. Bring him to me, alive if possible, but don’t let him get away under any circumstances!” I am afraid that I lost my temper. Ordinarily I let little disturb me, but this was just too much. I railed at my men even as they went to search for the assassin.

“What is wrong with you?” I shouted at them. “Is it so difficult to keep a murderer armed with a bow away from here? Do all of my guests have to be killed before you bestir yourselves enough to notice that there is a man with a bow somewhere on the premises?”

Julia came running. “Come away from here now!” she ordered. “You’re lit up like a statue at Saturnalia and the bowman is out there in the dark somewhere. Come inside immediately. Hermes has already taken charge of the search.”

“But Sabinilla-” I began, gesturing toward the recumbent, bloody figure on the grass.

“She’s dead. She’ll be just as dead an hour from now. I’ll have her body brought in, but first you have to be less of a target. Come along.”

The rage went out of me. She was right, of course. We walked back to the temple with four men surrounding me with shields. Once inside, I sent them out to join the hunt. Then I poured myself a large cup of unwatered wine. This night, I felt I didn’t need to observe my new regimen. Julia had wooden screens erected before all the windows.

“The assassin missed me with his first shot and hit Sabinilla instead,” I told Julia. “I was moving by the time he drew his second arrow. It struck her too. The poor woman. She picked the wrong time to come visiting.”

“Unless she was the target. The bowman may have tried to kill both of you with two arrows.”

“Eh? Why?” The shock of the events had made me slow.

“She came here without sending word ahead and arrived unfashionably late. That woman was nothing if not fashionable. When she got here, she never came to the quarters to find me. She went straight out to where you were foolishly walking about in the dark. Perhaps she wanted to tell you something and the killer wanted to silence her.”

“Yes, that could be how it was,” I admitted. “I’ve said before that everyone is a suspect in this business. She may have been involved somehow. When she is brought in, I want her clothing searched. She may have brought something in writing. Who came with her? She wouldn’t have come alone and she wouldn’t have walked.”

“I’ll send to find out,” Julia said. She went out and began to give orders. When Julia gave orders, they were obeyed quickly. A short while later she came back.

“She came in a litter carried by some of those Gauls of hers. She was accompanied by a bodyguard of her Gallic gladiators as well. The only other member of the party was this man.” She snapped her fingers and a gray-haired man came in, carrying a small chest.

“Who are you?” I demanded.

“I am Eteocles, my lady’s steward,” he said. I vaguely remembered him from the party. “Praetor, is it true that my lady is dead?”

“I am afraid so. She was murdered in an assassination attempt on me.” I saw no reason to burden him with my suspicions just yet. He gasped and turned pale. I allowed him to collect himself.

“Eteocles, your lady was traveling light when she came here. Did she usually travel with so few servants?”

“Why, no, sir. Ordinarily she traveled in considerable state, as befitted her wealth and position. Today she was in a great hurry and called for her swiftest team of bearers and a few guards and me.”

“Why you?” Julia asked.

“Well, she told me to get this together”-here he raised the box in his hands-“and come with her and not allow it out of my possession. It was all very puzzling and she said nothing all the way here.”

“What is it?” I asked.

In answer, he placed it on a table. It seemed so heavy he could barely hold it. Then he threw back the lid. The chest was perhaps a foot on a side and a foot deep. It was packed with gold coins, a considerable fortune.

“Leave us,” Julia said peremptorily. The man bowed and backed out of the room. When he was well away, Julia turned to me and said, “What is this?”

I picked up a coin and looked at it. It was a beautifully struck Alexandrian piece with the profile of Ptolemy Auletes on its front. I tossed it back into the box. “This, my dear, is a bribe. The woman came here to strike a deal with me. She learned that something was happening here and figured out that everything was about to come to light. She decided to get to me before anyone else could and bribe me to keep her out of it somehow.”

“She must have had a low opinion of Roman praetors.”

“For that much money, most praetors would have accepted gladly. I, however, am incorruptible. She merely got killed for her pains.”

One of the servants stuck her head in the door and informed us that Sabinilla’s body had been brought in. “Let’s have a look at her,” I said resignedly.

She had been lain on a table and nothing had yet been done to clean her up. The first arrow had gone through her windpipe and a jugular. In dying, she had lost almost all her blood. It covered the front of her gown as if it had been recently dyed red. The second arrow was no more than a gesture. She was dead within seconds of the first strike. Julia ordered two of her female slaves to search the woman’s clothing. Reluctantly, they complied. They found nothing. Julia told them to go wash the blood off their hands and they ran out, gagging.