The Bull Slayer

CHAPTER Thirty

Aulus looked at him with puzzlement.

“What did this man and your mother talk about?” Pliny asked.

“I couldn’t understand them, they spoke in Greek. Mother always says she doesn’t know but six words of Greek but she seemed to understand him well enough. And after he left she was furious, and when my father came home that night she attacked him, screaming and crying. He hit her across the head with his vitis. He did that when he was angry. After that they seldom spoke. The tension made me very nervous. What would I do without my parents, who would care for me? My fits started getting worse. That’s when my father decided to take me to the cave.” Aulus’ hands writhed and twisted in his lap.

Pliny’s brain was in a whirl. Argyrus and Fabia! Is it them after all? Did they plan the murder together, each for their own reason fearing Balbus’ marriage to Sophronia? Was it Fabia’s burly slave who was waiting for Balbus in the woods? Do Glaucon and the Persian actually have nothing to do with it? But surely she wouldn’t have arranged her husband’s murder for the very day that Aulus would be there to witness it? But what about Argyrus? Could he have been out there with Glaucon? Do those two know each other? Is Argyrus in the cult?

“This man—did you ever see him at the house again?

The boy nodded. “The day of my father’s funeral, after everyone else had left. I wasn’t allowed to attend the funeral; mother was afraid I’d have a fit in front of everyone. I came out of hiding after everyone had gone, but then he came. Mother sent me to my room. A little while later, he left.”

Pliny gazed at the boy—too hard and too long. Aulus looked away, wrapping his thin arms around his body, hooking one foot behind the other, the knees twisting. “Have I—have I told something I shouldn’t?”

The boy looked ill, Pliny was afraid he might have a fit then and there. “No, of course you haven’t.” He would not tell Aulus his suspicions, the boy was too fragile. “You won’t tell your mother you came to see me, will you? I’d rather you didn’t. Not just yet.”

“Keep a secret from her? I…” The words died in his throat.

For an instant, Pliny was tempted to take the boy home and confront Fabia on the spot. But what would that do to Aulus? This sad, damaged, brave boy, struggling toward manhood, fighting for his place in a world that literally spat at him. No, he wouldn’t risk it. There would have to be another way.

“How will you get home, Aulus? I can send you back in a carriage if you like.”

“No.” He lifted his eyes and met Pliny’s. “I can go by myself. I won’t tell mother where I’ve been.”

Pliny’s heart went out to the boy. “Aulus, have you thought what you might do when you’re older? I’d like to help if I can.”

“You’ll think I’m being stupid.”

“Tell me.”

“Well, a physician? Like—”

“Like Marinus, of course. I understand completely. I’ll speak to him about you. He’s often said to me that he needs an assistant. Would you like that?”

Aulus’ eyes filled with eager hope.

And inside Pliny a small voice asked, How much of this is kindness and how much calculation, to win the boy away from his mother?

He didn’t like to contemplate the answer.

***

After Aulus had gone, Pliny conferred with Suetonius.

“You must have it out with Fabia, there’s no other way. And the sooner the better.”

“So I keep telling myself. But she’ll deny everything, as she already has, and I can’t compel her. And to use her son as a witness against her? I can’t tell you how reluctant I am to do that.”

“Then go after Argyrus. I remember we decided he didn’t look like he had it in him to kill Balbus, but maybe we were wrong. And this time don’t just threaten to torture him, do it. I know you’re squeamish but the man’s a weakling, it won’t take much. Maybe it is him and Glaucon. Maybe Fabia’s innocent, after all.”

“For the boy’s sake I hope so. What will become of him if I have to execute her?”

***

For the second time, Argyrus sat on a stool in the palace dungeon, his hands tied behind his back. Pliny and Suetonius watched him tremble and sweat while a jailer heated a pair of iron tongs over a fire until the metal glowed dull red. A shorthand writer sat behind them.

“Show him the tongs,” said Pliny, grim-faced.

The jailer held the instrument up to Argyrus’ face and opened its jaws—ready to tear off his nose at a word from the governor.

Argyrus twisted away from the heat. “Please—I’m begging you. I’ll tell you anything.” Tears streamed down his face.

“Let’s start with your sister. You told us you didn’t believe Sophronia would marry Balbus but that was a lie, wasn’t it.”

“Yes. Make him take that thing away from my face!”

Pliny nodded to the jailer. “And so you approached Fabia, his wife. Don’t lie, we have a witness. What did you talk about? Did you plan how you would murder her husband?”

“Yes, all right, yes. We made a plan. She said how on a certain day each month he rode out to the woods on some secret business or other. I would follow him and she would send her slave too, a regular brute, and we’d—we’d kill him and hide the body. And then she’d have his money and go back to Rome or someplace with her pitiful son, and I’d still have power over Sophronia, the bitch. And I was going to do it, too. But, when the day got closer and closer I began to get pains in my stomach and I couldn’t sleep. And finally, I—I just couldn’t. And on that day I stayed at home, in bed. I couldn’t even get out of bed. You have to believe me.”

Suetonius said, “Why did you go back there on the day of the funeral?”

“I don’t know. I couldn’t stay away. I was curious to know how she had managed to kill him. She told me she hadn’t. But why would she admit it to me? I think she did do it.”

Pliny and Suetonius exchanged glances.

“This secret business of Balbus’. You know what it is, don’t you?” said Pliny. “The cult, the cave of Mithras.” It was his last try.

“The what?”

“The cult that you and Glaucon and the Persian belong to.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I swear.”

“But you know Glaucon, don’t you?”

“No!”

“The tongs, jailer.”

“Please! What can I tell you? I don’t know what you mean!” Argyrus was shrieking, blubbering.

Pliny lifted a finger and waved the jailer away. He drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. He wanted to get out of this vile place nearly as much as Argyrus did.

“Lock him up.”

“Well, that’s gotten us nowhere.” Pliny pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. His head hurt.

“What now?” said Suetonius.

“Question Fabia. I’ll go out there tomorrow. I’m not looking forward to it. For that boy’s sake I hope she’s innocent.”

***

A fine drizzle was falling as Pliny’s coach turned into the driveway that led up to Balbus’ mansion. Almost at once he saw that something was wrong. The gate hung open. There was no sign of the slave who ordinarily guarded it. In fact, there was no sign of anyone on the grounds. He jumped down from the coach and ran up the steps and through the open front door. He stood in the entrance hall and called her name. Only his own echoing voice answered him.