Visiting it, however, was not as easy as it sounded. All of the other main rooms of the villa had been designed as such, and were either interconnecting or led off the handsome verandah-corridor across the front of the house; spacious rooms with handsome plastered walls and latticed glass in the windows. The librarium had, of course, begun as an ante-room for the slavegirls, and although its situation was surprisingly pleasant, given its purpose, it was not a convenient room to reach.
It led directly off the back left-hand side of the courtyard garden, reached by a colonnaded walk between the draughty flowerbeds, arbours and statues. While most of the walls bordering the garden were whitewashed and decorated with optimistic designs of colourful flowers and birds, the librarium’s façade, half-obscured by a bush, was dominated by a heavy door. This, being an outer door, was a wooden one and (unlike most in the villa) secured with a key.
It was locked, though presumably not now to save the slavegirls from unwanted attentions. Junio looked at me helplessly.
‘Andretha should have the key,’ I said. ‘Wherever he is. In the kitchen, I would judge, arranging refreshments for Marcus’ breakfast.’
Junio scampered off to ask, while I admired the murals and counted the drooping herbs in the borders: rosemary, sage, leeks, parsley, thyme. Germanicus had planned his garden less for his eyes than for his stomach. I was just gazing at the statue of Minerva which stood in an arbour, when Junio returned.
‘He went to the slaves’ quarters,’ he reported, breathlessly. ‘He’s looking for Paulus, Marcus is calling for a shave.’
And the barber was missing again, I thought sympathetically. He would pay for that, especially if the chief slave had to search for him in person. Andretha was already smarting from being sent to fetch Aulus. Senior slaves do not expect to have to chase after menials.
I had no such difficulties myself. ‘We’ll go to him, then,’ I said and led the way out of the courtyard to the slaves’ quarters at the rear.
I had not been in the building since I was attacked, and I was uncomfortably aware of a little shiver of nervousness as I went in. However, this time I had Junio with me, I reminded myself, and I strode down the aisled centre with a fair imitation of boldness, glancing from side to side into the sleeping areas as I went. There was no sign of Andretha, until we came to the partitioned room at the end. I called his name.
There was no answer, but I thought I heard a faint scrabbling sound within. I pulled back the screen, and there was the chief slave, kneeling on the floor, in the act of pushing a wooden chest hastily under the mattress. He abandoned it immediately as I came in and scrambled to his feet, in a parody of agitation and self-abasement.
‘Citizen! I did not hear you call.’ How then, did he know that I had? ‘I am sorry that you should have to search for me! What brings you here?’
‘I think you have a key, Andretha.’
He turned visibly faint. ‘A key? What key? I swear, citizen-’
Junio looked to me, but when I said nothing, he supplied the answer himself. ‘To the librarium. My master wishes to see the pavement.’
‘Ahh!’ Andretha busied himself with dusting down his tunic. ‘That key. Let me see. I should have it here.’ He fished inside his tunic and fetched out a cluster of keys on a chain around his neck. ‘Come with me, and we shall see.’
It was a clumsy lock, one of those that operates outwards, but he opened it in the end and pulled the door ajar. The librarium looked darker and pokier than ever, musty, echoing and bare, a tiny windowless square of a room with its painted plaster and its mosaic floor and those lonely manuscript pots on a shelf, in their solitary alcove. Junio, however, was enthralled.
‘Ars longa,’ he said, pushing open the door to read the amended inscription on the pavement. ‘You did that cleverly. And the border too. In so little time! It looks very well.’
‘The bulk of the mosaic was already done,’ I reminded him. ‘And Crassus had his own slaves prepare the ground for the mortar. I only had to roll and lay it.’
He grinned at me. ‘A real pavement. My first. Well, I’m glad to see it. It seems a pity it will never now be used. I hope Lucius appreciated it.’ We walked back out into the courtyard, blinking in the light. ‘Perhaps the new owner will have a studious bent. Though if he does, I expect he’ll choose a more convenient room.’
Andretha was waiting outside anxiously with the keys. I waited for him to lock the librarium door, before I said casually, ‘Which key is missing, then, Andretha? The key to that chest you were examining?’
He flashed me a look of such unexpected ferocity that I stepped backwards sharply.
‘I thought as chief steward you held all the keys?’ I said, attempting to repair the damage a little. Life at the villa had proved dangerous enough, without deliberately attracting enemies. ‘Or did Crassus entrust that one to his favourite? To Daedalus?’
It seemed to be the mention of Daedalus that did it. Or perhaps it was the fact that we had caught him in the act. All at once, it seemed, he decided to gamble on the truth. The old self-important, obsequious Andretha vanished and I saw the frightened man within, desperate, vulnerable and urgent. He sat down abruptly in the arbour, under the statue of Minerva. ‘No, citizen, not even that. Crassus kept that key himself. That box was his treasure chest. I knew he had it. He kept it in his bedroom, under the floor, where he kept the cashbox too. You saw me with that the other day. I held a key to that. But this was different. It held, not coins, but all his jewels and gold, and little silver figurines. He had a ring-key to it, which he always wore, on his little finger.’
‘I did not see it, when I examined the body.’
He look at me helplessly. ‘No, citizen, nor did I. I looked for it, but it was gone.’
‘You did not tell me that at the time,’ I said.
He shook his head. ‘The fact is, citizen. .’ He dropped his head into his hands. ‘You will soon know anyway. There is a. . a shortfall in the accounts. I am sure that there was gold in that chest, the way Crassus kept it locked. It was heavy too. I hoped, perhaps, I could make good the loss.’
‘You meant to steal some of his gold, in fact?’
He did not deny it. ‘But I did not do it, citizen.’ He raised his head, and lifted his hands like a Vestal Virgin making sacrifice. ‘I could not find the key. Imaginary theft is not a crime. But who would believe me?’
‘You have the chest now,’ I said. ‘What were you doing? Prising it open?’
He sighed, defeated. ‘It would do me no good, citizen, if I tried. The chest is empty. It is still locked, but you have only to shake it to know that. That is why I moved the chest from his bedroom. I thought if it was discovered there, with nothing in it, suspicion would fall on me at once.’
I confess, I had not expected this. ‘But you do not have the key?’ I said. ‘Or know where it is?’
He looked at me, and I saw that ferocious despair in his face again, but not directed against me this time. I have seen that look before, in the arena; the furious terror of a man who has staked his life and lost.
‘I think I know where it is,’ he said at last. ‘I have been foolish, citizen. Foolish and tricked. Daedalus must have it. Find Daedalus and you will find the key.’ He hunched his shoulders hopelessly. ‘I suppose you will take me before Marcus now?’
‘I should,’ I said. ‘You say imagined theft is not a crime, but this is not imagined theft. There is a shortfall in the accounts. You have been stealing from your master for some time, haven’t you? I suspected as much, earlier.’
He havered. ‘No, citizen, I. . Yes. Yes, it is true. I wanted my slave price. A man in my position acquires, you know, an as or two here and there, sometimes as much as a sestercius. I was saving them. Tradition has it that a slave may keep such gifts, and even buy his freedom, if he can. But Crassus-’