‘Twenty thousand sesterces?’ I said in amazement. Pertinax had spoken of a ‘substantial sum’, but I had not imagined a small fortune like this. Even carrying away such a quantity of coins would be quite a feat in itself. ‘Did Monnius regularly keep such large amounts in the house?’
Fulvia laughed. ‘Oh yes, citizen. And larger sums than that. He had safe hiding places built especially — under the floorboards in his room, in his study, even in the walls. If you were to search this house from roof to soil I dare say you would find ten times that quantity in gold and silver, even now.’
‘And could you lead me to these hiding places?’
She dazzled me with a smile ‘Not I, citizen. I was never told his secrets. My husband did not trust females with money. Not even his mother. Of course, where I was concerned there was no problem. If I wished for anything, I had merely to ask. Monnius was always’ — she smiled — ‘a susceptible man.’
I let it pass, for the moment — though naturally there were questions I would want to ask her later. I said, ‘And the documents?’
‘Documents?’ She sounded astonished.
‘I understand some scrolls have also disappeared.’
‘Scrolls? I do not think so, citizen.’ She frowned. ‘At least. . I had not heard of this. Documents? You are certain of that?’
‘I report only what I heard,’ I said. ‘A sum of money and at least one document-scroll. Your husband would have had such things, I presume?’
‘Indeed, citizen. His writing desk was always littered with them. I saw him take delivery of some new ones yesterday. Though they are only business contracts and copies of the imperial corn decrees, I think. Why should a sneak thief make away with those?’
‘You have the advantage of me, lady. You have seen his “documents”. Perhaps you could suggest a reason.’
Her pale cheeks coloured faintly. ‘Perhaps I could have done, citizen, except that my father had firm views on educating women. He believed that girls should learn what he called “useful arts”. Hence, I can play three types of instrument, sing you songs in Latin and in Greek, dance you most kinds of dance and tell you a hundred legends. I can dye wool, weave a length of cloth, mix you a remedy and oversee a household to perfection. But, though I can scratch my name on a wax tablet when required, in general reading is not among my skills. And I did not know that any scrolls were missing.’
She spoke with a kind of bitterness and I could only nod. Celtic girls have always received the same education as their brothers, so that these days, when so many richer Celtic men read Latin, one expects their educated womenfolk to do the same. I am inclined to forget that Roman families sometimes see matters differently. I changed the subject hastily. ‘But, even if you could not read the scrolls, you can tell me something about what happened here last night?’
She had been waiting for that question, one could see it in her eyes. Proud of her skill at storytelling, perhaps, because she gestured me to a stool beside her, waved away the slave with the bowl, and, leaning up on her undamaged arm, arranged herself more carefully on the bed. It was a kind of art form, I could see that — every fold of drapery contrived to emphasise the muscular perfection of her form.
I dragged my thoughts back to what she was saying. ‘. . I woke to hear a noise, in the next room. At least, I did not exactly waken, I was half awake already. I opened my eyes and there was a shadow beside the bed.’ She was acting out the story as she spoke, and said the words with such feeling that I felt my own heart skip a beat.
‘Go on.’
‘There was a movement — I knew it was a knife, and I flung up my arm, like this, to shield my face.’ She lifted her unbandaged limb to demonstrate. ‘Next moment the knife was slicing my skin. Strange, I was aware of little pain — just something warm and sticky running down my arm.’ She looked down at her fingers now, breathing hard.
‘And then?’ I prompted. She had closed her eyes and lapsed into silence, as if she were reliving the moment.
‘I was terrified. I found myself screaming. . screaming.’ She paused. ‘That must have frightened him, because he seemed to hesitate. I thought he was going to stab me again, but then there was a noise upstairs — thanks be to Mercury — and he rushed out of the room. I heard the knife clatter down — I think I’d closed my eyes again — and when I opened them. . he was gone.’ She opened them now and gave me that fluttering, uneven smile again. ‘I am sorry, citizen, but that is all I know.’
‘It was a man, however?’
‘I am sure of that, citizen. A big, heavy man too, by the look of him — although of course I did not see his face.’
‘But agile,’ I said, ‘since he seems to have escaped through the window-space in no time and scaled that ladder over the wall.’
She seemed to sense a challenge in that. She flushed. ‘I may be mistaken, citizen. After all, it was very dark.’
I glanced at her. ‘Of course. No doubt our murderer relied on that. And no one else in the household saw or heard anything?’
She shrugged. ‘Annia Augusta and Lydia and her son have rooms in the other wing. As to the slaves who should have been on watch, I believe they were drugged. Given a sleeping potion to ensure that they did hear nothing. My old nurse thinks so, don’t you, Prisca?’
The elderly slave-woman who had been folding garments ceased her task and nodded agreement. ‘The mistress is right, citizen. There was something peculiar in the servants’ wine last night, I knew it as soon as ever I tasted it. I said so to that pageboy at the master’s door, but he wouldn’t listen to me. He was half asleep before his head even touched the floor.’
Fulvia added helpfully, ‘It would not be difficult to do it, citizen. Warmed water and strong herbs are added to the dregs of wine each evening, and the mixture is left in a large bowl at the kitchen door for the night-slaves, to warm them and help them keep awake. The whole household must know about it. If someone added a sleeping draught to that. .’
‘Perhaps,’ I said. ‘But would outsiders know about the wine? Or did the “shadow”, whoever he might be, have someone in the household helping him? Someone who knew about that wine, for instance, and that there were thousands of sesterces in Monnius’ study that night.’
Fulvia was staring at me aghast. ‘But who. .?’
‘Oh,’ I said, with careful carelessness, ‘someone with a friend or lover in the household. Someone like. .’ I paused, watching her intently, ‘Lividius Fortunatus, for example?’
Chapter Seven
I had hoped for some reaction from Fulvia, but it was Prisca, the ageing slave-woman, who gave herself away. She turned the colour of a terracotta vase and dropped the folded garments in a fluster.
‘Don’t answer him, mistress!’ she cried, before Fulvia’s warning look could stop her. ‘He can’t know anything about Fortunatus. None of us would ever have said a word.’
That was as good as a confession. I looked at Fulvia. ‘So I take it that Annia Augusta was correct? The name of Fortunatus does mean something to you?’
She looked from me to the maidservant and back again, then gave a helpless shrug. ‘I see that it is useless to deny it now. Very well, citizen, I admit the truth. The name does mean something to me, and the owner of the name still more.’
‘Good mistress. .’ The slave-woman stepped forward, twisting her hands in her tunic girdle and looking anguished. ‘Don’t tell him. Have a care. .’
‘Be silent, Prisca!’ Fulvia motioned away her would-be counsellor. ‘You have said too much already. However, since the truth is out, thanks to your runaway tongue, there is no longer any point in dissembling. Do not look so stricken. Perhaps it is as well the facts are known, and I should prefer the citizen to learn the story from my own lips, rather than hear a distorted version from someone else. Besides, Monnius is dead, and finding the man who killed him is of more importance now than my reputation.’