Nick Brown - The Far Shore

‘Mistress Marta,’ Trogus explained. ‘The surgeon is with her but he’s been unable to calm her down.’

‘Your master’s wife?’ asked Cassius as they stepped inside.

‘No, sir. His youngest daughter.’

The big reception room was well lit by a square glass skylight. Subtle frescoes adorned two of the walls — one an exotic garden, the other the Seven Hills of Rome. There were also half a dozen mounted white busts. Cassius recognised four faces immediately: Caesar, Hadrian, Trajan and Domitian — founder of the Service. Excluding the entrance, doorways led off from the room in three directions. Several servants, male and female, were standing to the right, inspecting the new arrivals.

‘Are there other men in the family?’ Cassius asked Trogus.

‘Unfortunately not, sir. And Mistress Leonita — my master’s wife — is in ill health and confined to her bed. The surgeon has seen her too. I believe she’s sleeping now.’

Indavara caught Cassius’s eye and nodded down at the rug on which they were standing. Close to the doorway was a dark stain.

‘He was killed here?’ Cassius asked.

‘No, sir. The doorman — Ligur.’ Trogus lowered his voice. ‘His throat was cut.’

‘Where’s the body?’ Cassius asked, matching the steward’s hushed tones.

‘I had it taken to an outhouse this morning, sir. Master Memor too.’

‘And what-’

‘You! Who are you?’

The servants parted and a young woman appeared, striding towards Cassius. She was tall and long-limbed, her statuesque frame at odds with the delicate features of her face. Her skin was pale, similar in colour to her modest tunic and long, flowing stola. Her glossy brown hair had been hastily piled up on her head with several vicious-looking pins.

Marching along behind her were two big men, labourers by the looks of them.

‘Mistress Annia,’ Trogus said quietly. ‘My master’s eldest daughter.’

She stopped two yards from Cassius and fixed the steward with an imperious stare. ‘Why have you let these men into the house without consulting me?’

‘My apologies, Mistress,’ said Trogus with a bow. ‘This is Master Corbulo. He’s with the Service. He was coming to fetch some documents.’

Cassius held up the spearhead, turning it so that the young lady could see the badge.

She glanced at it, then at him. Unlike Trogus and many of the servants, there was no sign she had been crying. She looked past Cassius at Indavara, who was still standing in the doorway. ‘And him?’

‘My bodyguard,’ replied Cassius. ‘May I offer my condolences. This is-’

Annia wasn’t listening; she too had noted the bloodstained rug. Cassius was astonished by what happened next. She grabbed Trogus by the collar with one hand and pointed down at the rug with the other.

‘Look at that!’ she shrieked. ‘Look at it, you old fool. Do you intend to just leave that there for my sister to see every time she walks past? Take it away! Take it away and burn it.’

‘At once, Mistress.’

Annia let go of the steward. Before he could move away, she reached out and flattened the ruffled front of his tunic. Then she just stood there, shoulders hunched, head bowed.

Trogus waved the servants forward to help him with the rug.

‘Young lady, if I may.’

Annia shut her eyes for a moment, then turned to Cassius.

‘Yes?’ she said softly.

‘I would be very surprised indeed if the local magistrate wouldn’t be interested in seeing that.’ He pointed at the rug. ‘And anything else pertaining to what occurred here.’

‘Well we don’t know what the magistrate wants because he isn’t here, is he? Why don’t you make yourself useful and go and fetch him?’

Cassius bit his tongue and reminded himself that the girl had just lost her father. He took a breath before answering. ‘Where is he?’

‘We don’t know,’ Annia said bitterly.

‘I sent a messenger to the city this morning, sir,’ added Trogus. ‘Apparently he was in Lindos overnight. His office said he would come as soon as possible.’

Annia cast a despairing look out of the door. ‘The sun will be down soon. Will you help?’

‘I will do what I can, of course,’ Cassius replied. ‘Clearly we don’t have much time left today, but if Trogus here can tell me exactly what happened, I can perhaps consult with the magistrate in the morning. We might at least get the investigation moving.’

One of the female servants anxiously approached Annia.

‘What is it?’ she snapped.

‘Your mother, Mistress. She’s awake. She’s calling for you.’

Annia squeezed her eyes shut again, then looked up at Cassius.

‘What do you do with the Service?’

‘Generally whatever is required of me. I work for Aulus Celatus Abascantius. I am assigned to the office of the Governor-’

‘Of Syria. I know. I can read. I know that name — Abascantius. My father mentioned him.’

Annia came closer. ‘I want to know who did this. I want to know who did this and why and I want them found and I want them killed.’

Cassius held up his hands. ‘As I said, miss, I will do what I can.’

Annia examined Cassius’s face once more, then addressed Trogus.

‘Give him whatever he needs.’

As she left, Cassius put his helmet and the spearhead down on a nearby table.

‘Get rid of these people,’ he told Trogus.

With a couple of gestures, the steward cleared the room.

‘It is not sensible to have a woman in charge of a household at a time like this,’ Cassius told him. ‘They are not by nature suited to such demands. Are there no relatives or friends who can take over here?’

‘There is a cousin of Mistress Leonita but he lives in Ixia at the other end of the island. I’ve despatched a message but it will take him at least two days to get here. I’m afraid Mistress Annia has always been rather wilful, sir.’

‘Evidently.’

‘Without a male heir and with his wife so ill, Master Memor has treated her more like a son in some ways. He had so much work to occupy him and was often away. In practice Mistress Annia has run the household for several years.’

‘I see. How old is she?’

‘Nineteen.’

Cassius was surprised. She was old to still be living at home; had Memor married her off at a good young age there might at least have been a man around to help the family.

‘Well, she needs to calm herself down. Now, tell me what happened, Trogus.’

‘Yes, sir. Perhaps we should start in the study. That’s where … where Master Memor was killed.’

‘Very well.’

Trogus led them across the reception room and out through a portico with rooms to the left and a courtyard to the right. Several servants were gathered on the other side of the courtyard, outside what looked like the kitchen. A few barked orders from Trogus scattered them.

He stopped at the third room along. Unlike the other two, it was fitted with a wooden door and a lock. The steward pushed the door open and hesitantly entered, Cassius and Indavara behind him. In the middle of the little room was a hardwood desk facing a couch to the right. Next to the desk was a chair, the seat of which was dark with blood, as was the tasselled rug beneath. The desk had been cleared and cleaned. A stack of paper sheets and waxed tablets had been moved to the couch.

‘He was found here,’ said Trogus. ‘By one of the serving girls — just after dawn. Those screams. I thought the world was about to end.’

‘He was killed sitting down?’ Cassius asked.

‘Yes. The … the body was still … upright. But … without the head. Please excuse-’

The steward rushed past them and out into the courtyard, sucking in air.