‘Fined you,’ I supplied, remembering what Aulus had said, ‘each time you almost had the price?’
He nodded. ‘It was as if he knew. He always found something to fine me for — an insolent slave, a meal not to his satisfaction, a broken goblet. I was responsible, you see, for everything. I have even thought he did things purposely; there was a fine Samian dish once, I swear it was not cracked when I took it to him. It cost almost as much as I do, that one dish alone.’
Junio was looking at him, appalled. That kind of cruelty is outside his experience.
‘So,’ I said, ‘you started stealing from him? To take back what he owed you, was that it?’
‘It was not much, citizen. I did not dare. A few sesterces, no more. An extra as for hobnails, or to the pottery seller. I did not think it would be missed.’
‘It wouldn’t,’ I returned. These were trifling amounts, and easy to disguise. Hardly a shortfall in the books. ‘One extra dormouse invoiced for a feast — it would be impossible to trace.’
He blushed. ‘You are right, citizen. That was how I had intended it. And as I say, he had effectively stolen it from me. But. .’ He stopped.
‘It proved too easy? The temptation was too great?’
‘No, citizen. Not that!’ He was almost weeping now. ‘But Daedalus discovered it. I don’t know how. He threatened to tell Germanicus, to have me handed to the public torturers, unless — unless I stole for him as well. He wanted money, real money. A hundred denarii — and for the feast of Mars. He was to be freed, he said, if he won a wager. He would not tell me what it was, but he was confident. But he needed to raise the money as a stake. He was a personal slave, he never worked for others, and Crassus never gave gratuities. He had no money. Without me, that is.’
‘So you struck a bargain? The money in return for his silence. You trusted him?’
‘Not really, but what had I to lose? The torturer can only execute you once. Crassus would have had me killed just the same, whether I stole a hundred denarii or two. It is not as though a man can execute his own slave, now — Germanicus would have delighted in exacting “fitting” punishment, but one job is like another to the executioners. Besides, Daedalus promised that when he was free, he would try to buy me from Germanicus. It would mean changing one master for another, but Daedalus could not be worse than Crassus. He would let me earn my freedom honestly, he said.’
‘And you believed him?’
‘Daedalus has been good to others in the household. He tried to plead for Regina, and for Faustina’s child. It did no good, but at the least he tried. I thought he might have kept his word. But I was wrong, it seems. Daedalus has won his freedom and escaped, taking all my money with him.’
No wonder Andretha had been so anxious to find Daedalus. I shook my head. ‘He could not claim his freedom, if Crassus was dead.’
‘He did not need to,’ Andretha pointed out. ‘He has it anyway. Crassus gave him freedom in his will. Daedalus is a free man — as I would be, if I could render the accounts. I wish I had not stolen anything!’
‘At least,’ I said, ‘you have escaped with your life. Lucius surely will not have you killed. You will be sold, at worst.’
‘I will be sold,’ Andretha said, helplessly. ‘Lucius will show mercy, but he would not condone a theft. I will not gain my freedom. All the world will know the contents of that will, they will know I could not render the accounts — and who will buy me then? I will be worthless. I, who have been chief steward to a big estate, shall be lucky now to scrub the chamber pots or empty the vomitoria of some sick poverty-stricken master — until I catch his fever and die myself.’
There was truth in this. A dishonest slave is worse than a cracked cooking pot — useless to any buyer, and likely to be reserved for the basest tasks.
‘I thought that if I told you the truth about the chest,’ Andretha said bitterly, ‘I might have spared myself. But since you guessed about the stealing, I suppose you will hand me to Marcus just the same.’
I shook my head. ‘I am here to investigate a killing,’ I said. ‘Not thefts from Crassus. The shortfall in the accounts will come to light of its own accord. I see no reason to involve Marcus for the moment, unless the two things prove to be connected. Where, for instance, did you go during the procession? You were not there, or you would have noticed other people missing.’
He sighed. ‘You know about that too? Well, there is no point in denying it now. I went to the moneylenders.’ That was possible, there were dozens of them in the forum, and on public occasions they could do a roaring trade. ‘I was in their hands,’ he wailed helplessly. ‘Crassus fined me for the Samian dish and I had given Daedalus all the money that I had. Without him, how shall I ever pay them back?’ He plucked at my sleeve. ‘There is still hope, if you find Daedalus. Try to find him for me, citizen.’
‘I intend to,’ I said. ‘And you had best find Paulus, in your turn, if you wish to escape punishment. Marcus is still waiting for his shave.’
Chapter Sixteen
‘What now?’ Junio said, as Andretha scuttled off in search of the barber.
‘I want to go and look at this roundhouse I told you about,’ I said. ‘We have time to do so. Lunch will not be served early. Marcus has not breakfasted yet, if he is still awaiting his shave.’
Junio grinned. ‘He may regret having a shave, with a blunt novacula.’
‘All the same, it gives us an opportunity,’ I said. ‘We will try taking that little rear path to the lane, from the nymphaeum. I am interested to avoid Aulus, if I can.’
It seemed we had succeeded. The path down from the spring was more difficult than I had anticipated — steep, uneven and overgrown. It was obviously not much used, although from the broken twigs and grasses it appeared that someone else had used it, and very lately. At the bottom it was particularly treacherous, half-blocked by broken branches, as if they had been deliberately placed there. I needed Junio’s assistance to clamber over them. The path did, however, bring us down into the lane.
There was no sign of Aulus. Part of my intention was to see how easily a man could escape his attention, so, motioning to Junio to follow, I slipped into the trees on the opposite side of the lane, and made my way among them until I was sure we had safely passed the gates and were out of view down the main lane. There was no real path here. It was treacherous ground, damp and muddy, and we were forced to struggle among thick branches, roots and clawing undergrowth. I was thankful I was not wearing a toga. In full armour, I thought, this would be impossible. Another promising theory had to be abandoned.
A little further on, though, we crossed the lane and struck out again in the direction of the old road, up to the roundhouse. There were signs that someone else had been this way — and recently. Branches were broken, bracken trodden, and there was a faint parting of the grasses as if they had been bent aside as someone struggled through. Someone small and light, I thought. Even a girl perhaps.
‘I have been thinking,’ Junio said, rather breathlessly, when we had fought our way back on to the old lane again, ‘do you suppose that Andretha had a hand in this killing, after all? He is more scheming than I thought, and he had a lot to gain from Crassus’ death. At least he may have thought he did.’
I looked at Junio, thoughtfully. ‘Go on.’
‘Suppose he had a plan with Daedalus? Daedalus is to imitate Crassus in the procession. Crassus agrees, for a wager — the missing stake money may have been arranged between them — but during the march Andretha takes his master away and poisons him. He doesn’t visit the moneylenders at all. Maybe he met his master by appointment; Crassus would have to hide somewhere during the march. Once Crassus was dead, both slaves would have their freedom, provided that it was clearly impossible for anyone in the household to have killed him.’