Steven Saylor - A murder on the Appian way

How had I described to Bethesda the new acquisitions for the household? "Two high-spirited boys, and very clever. They'll put new life in the house." That was before I realized that new life was already on the way, thanks to Diana and Davus. And I had assumed that the woman who tamed Pompey's bodyguards would have no trouble controlling two boys; now I began to wonder.

Davus seemed finally to relax a bit. I realized that he felt safer with Mopsus and Androcles along; surely I would not try to murder him in front of two laughing boys.

It was late in the afternoon when we returned to Bovillae. I wanted nothing more than some of the hostess's excellent cooking and a reasonably clean place to sleep. We would make an early bed and be up and ready to leave before dawn.

At first I thought that our hostess had lost weight and changed her hair somehow, then I realized it was a different woman behind the counter. She had the same eyes but was thinner and prettier, or would have been except for her drawn expression. I told her we needed accommodation for the night.

"You're early for that," she said, smiling wanly. "The first of the day. So you can have first pick." "Is there much choice?"

"Not really. It's all one room, but some folks prefer to be against the wall instead of out in the middle, or closer to the stairs or the window. Come up, and I’ll show you. Then you can bring up your things to mark your places."

I followed her up the stairs. The upper floor of the inn was much as I expected — a single room with a few small windows and some pallets for sleeping. "This will do," I said. "Davus, take the boys and see that the horses are properly tended to at the stable up the way."

"Yes, Master." He clomped heavily down the stairs. Mopsus and Androcles slipped past him and flew down the steps as if they were all in a race.

The woman moved to the head of the stain and smiled wistfully after them. "I have a little boy myself," she said. "Only a baby. Well, if you're satisfied, then I'll be — "

"This must have been the window where you stood and watched," I said, walking to the open shutters and gazing out

"What do you mean?"

"After the battle was over, and you dared to come out from under the bedding. Your sister told me that you went to the window to have a look, and saw that everyone had already left, except for Sextus Tedius, who must have just arrived." I peered out the window, imagining the scene: dead bodies and pools of blood scattered about, the litter and its attendants, Sextus Tedius and his daughter discovering Clodius's body.

"Who are you?" There was a tremor in her voice.

"My name is Gordianus. I came this way on a mission from the widow Fulvia, in Februarius. I spoke to your sister. She told me what she had learned from you, about the battle between Milo and Clodius. You are the innkeeper's widow, aren't you?"

She relaxed a little. "Yes. My sister told me about you. And about your handsome young bodyguard — that must have been him with you just now."

I smiled. "Yes, I remember she took a liking to Davus. It seems she's not the only one…" "What's that?"

"Never mind. Tell me, did you really go all the way to Rhegium to stay with an aunt?"

The woman looked at me cautiously. "No. That's just what we decided to tell people."

"Then your sister wasn't completely candid when I asked if I could talk to you."

"I was out of my head for a long time. My sister wanted to protect me. If she told you that you couldn't see me, that was the truth."

"I wanted very much to ask you about what you saw that day.": "So did others. My sister kept them all away. She wasn't afraid to testify to the court herself. Someone would have to come forward, she said. But she protected me."

"And now the trial is over, and here you are again. Back from Rhegium, so to speak."

"Yes. Back from Rhegium." She gave me a weak smile. "It feels good to be here, to be working again. I always loved it before. Working with Marcus…"

"What you saw that day — "

She shook her head. "I still can't talk about it."

"Not at all?"

She gripped the stair railing and drew several quick breaths. "I never talk about it. I only told my sister about it once, right after it happened. After that, neither of us could bear to talk about it again."

"I understand." Her sister's judgment had been correct; the woman would have been useless to the court as a witness. She was shaking now. It was hard to imagine her giving testimony in the heated atmosphere that had stifled even Cicero's tongue.

She looked down the stairway. "Even now, every time I go down

these stairs, I think I’ll find him, as I found him that day "

"Your husband?"

"Yes! All bloody and still…"

"Do you need my help, to walk down the stairs?"

"Perhaps. But not yet. I don't want to move."

"Shall I go find your sister, or her husband?"

"No! They must be sick of me by now, but not half as sick of me as I am of them," she said with sudden vehemence. "The way they moved in and took over this place — all for the sake of my little boy, they say, keeping it in trust for him. But they act as if it's their tavern now. As if Marcus never existed. They won't even say his name, for fear of upsetting me. Oh, if only everything could be as it was before! Curse Milo and Clodius both! Curse the gods."

I thought she would weep, but her eyes remained dry. She steadied herself and breathed deeply. "What was it you wanted to know?"

I wrinkled my brow. "Can you speak about that day, or not?"

"Why don't you ask me and find out?"

I looked out the window. Up the road, Davus and the boys had finished stabling the hones and were playing some sort of game with a leather ball, all three of them laughing like children. What sort of father would Davus make?

I looked back to the widow. What was left to ask her? It seemed that all the missing details had been supplied. The events of that day had been discovered, one by one, and put in order. The incident on the Appian Way had been fully documented and justice had been dispensed. Her testimony had not been needed after all. Still…

"What did you see when you looked out this window, after the battle?"

She lowered her eyes. "Bodies. Blood. The senator and his daughter, and their retinue. The senator's litter."

"Eudamus and Birria? Milo's men?"

"No. They were all gone. I don't know where."

"They were off chasing a fellow called Philemon and some friends of his who had the bad fortune to stumble upon the scene."

"Oh? I never heard about that."

"Your sister didn't tell you? Philemon testified, on the same day she did."

The widow shook her head. "She was afraid of upsetting me, I suppose. Go on. What else do you want to know?" She had a grim, determined look on her face.

'You looked out this window. You saw Tedius and his daughter, the litter, the retinue. And Clodius?"

"Yes. They were leaning over him."

"And you knew it was Clodius?"

"Yes."

"How?"

She shrugged. "By his face."

"You could see his face? He must have been lying on his back, then."

"Yes, he was. On his back, looking up at them."

The skin prickled at the base of my skull. "What did you say?"

"Clodius was on his back, looking up at the senator and his daughter."

"You mean his eyes were open and staring in death?"

"No. I mean what I say. He was looking at them, and they were looking at him." She frowned, trying to remember. "They talked a bit, back and forth. Then Tedius and his daughter helped Clodius stand up and get into the litter."

I looked down at the road, picturing the scene, then turned to the widow. It was possible, of course, that grief had made her mad. "Are you saying that Clodius was alive?"