He drew himself up stiffly, like a commander briefing his lieutenant. 'You know that Marcus Licinius Crassus is the actual owner of this household?'

'So I gathered.'

'Very well. It so happens that on the night of the murder, Crassus and his retinue, including Fabius and myself, had just come down from Rome. We were busy setting up camp on the plain beside Lake Lucrinus, only a few miles up the road, along with our recruits.'

'Recruits?'

'Soldiers, many of them veterans who served under Crassus in the civil wars.'

'How many soldiers?' 'Six hundred.' 'A whole cohort?'

Mummius looked at me dubiously. 'You might as well know. Certain events are transpiring in Rome; Marcus Crassus has begun to lobby for a special commission from the Senate that will allow him to raise his own army and march against Spartacus.'

'But that's the job of praetors and consuls, elected officials-'

'The elected officials have failed, disgracefully. Crassus has the military skill and the financial means to dispose of the rebels once and for all. He came down from Rome to muster recruits and to consolidate his political and financial support here on the Cup. When he's ready, he'll prod the Senate in Rome to vote him the special commission.'

'Just what the Republic needs,' I said, 'another warlord with his own private army.'

'Exactly what Rome needs!' said Mummius. 'Or would you rather have slaves marauding across the countryside?'

'And what does this have to do with the murder of Crassus's cousin, or with my being here?'

'I'll tell you. On the night that Lucius Licinius was killed, we were camped at Lake Lucrinus. The next morning Crassus assembled his staff and we headed for Baiae. We arrived here at the villa only hours after Lucius had been found dead. Crassus was outraged, naturally. I myself organized teams of men to search for the missing slaves; in my absence the hunt has continued, but the escaped slaves are still missing.' He sighed. 'And now we come to the crux of the problem. The funeral of Lucius Licinius will take place on the seventh day of mourning – that's the day after tomorrow. On the day after that, Crassus has decreed there will be funeral games with gladiators, in keeping with ancient tradition. That will be the Ides of September, the date of the full moon; a propitious date for sacred games.'

'And after the gladiators have fought their matches?' I said, suspecting what the answer would be.

'Every slave in this household will be publicly executed.'

'Can you imagine?' murmured Gelina. 'Even the old and the innocent; all of them will be killed. Have you ever heard of such a law?'

'Oh, yes,' I said, 'a very ancient and venerated law, handed down by our forefathers: if a slave kills his master, all the slaves in the household must die. Such harsh measures keep slaves in their place, and there are those who would argue that having seen another slave murder their master, even the meekest slave is contaminated by the knowledge and can never be trusted again. These days the application of the law is a matter of discretion. The slaying of a master by a slave is a rare atrocity, or was, before Spartacus. Faced with a choice of killing every slave in a household or punishing only the miscreants, most heirs would choose to preserve their property. Crassus has a great reputation for greed; why would he choose to sacrifice every slave on the estate?'

'He wants to make a point,' said Mummius.

'But it means the death of children and old women,' protested Gelina.

'Let me explain it so that you will understand, Gordianus.' Mummius looked like a glum commander addressing his troops before a dubious battle. 'Crassus has come to Campania and the Cup gathering support for his bid to be awarded the military command against Spartacus. The Senate's campaign has been one long disaster – Roman armies defeated, generals humiliated and sent home in disgrace, consuls forced out of office by public outrage, the state left leaderless. So much havoc, wrought by a ragtag army of escaped criminals and slaves! All of Italy quakes with fear and outrage.

'Crassus is a fine commander; he proved that under Sulla. With his wealth – and the defeat of Spartacus to his credit – he's well on his way to the consulship. While lesser men are fleeing from the job, Crassus sees the command as an opportunity. The Roman who stops Spartacus will be a hero. Crassus intends to be that man.'

'Because otherwise that man will be Pompey.'

Mummius made a face. 'Probably. Half the Senators in Rome have run off to their villas to try to save their own property, while the other half bite their nails and wait for Pompey to return from Spain, praying the state can survive that long. As if Pompey were another Alexander! A qualified commander is all that's needed to put an end to Spartacus. Crassus can do it in a matter of months if the Senate will only give him the nod. He can gather up the remnants of the surviving legions here in Italy, add to them his own private army raised largely from his clients here in the south, and make himself the Saviour of the Republic overnight.'

I looked out at the bay and Vesuvius beyond. 'I see. That's why the murder of Lucius Licinius is more than just a tragedy.'

'It's an incredible embarrassment, that's what it is!' said Mummius. 'To have slaves murdering and running free from one of his own households, even as he's asking the Senate to hand him a sword to punish Spartacus – in the Forum, they'll laugh until they weep. That's why he feels compelled to exact the sternest judgment possible, to fell back on tradition and ancient law, the harsher the better.'

'To turn an embarrassment into a political boon, you mean.'

'Exactly. What might have been a disaster could turn into just the sort of propaganda victory he needs. "Crassus, soft on runaway slaves? Hardly! The man slew a whole household of them down in Baiae, men, women, and children, showed no mercy at all, made a public spectacle of it, a feast day – just the sort of man we can trust to take on Spartacus and his murderous rabble!" That's what people will say.'

'Yes. I see.'

'But Zeno and Alexandros are innocent,' said Gelina wearily.

'I know they are. Someone else must have murdered Lucius. None of the slaves should be punished, yet Crassus refuses to listen. Thank the gods for Marcus Mummius, who understands. Together we convinced Crassus to at least let me summon you from Rome. There was no other way to get you here in time, except to send the Fury; Crassus made a great show of his generosity in allowing me to use it. He offered to pay for your services as well, just to humour me. I can ask no more favours of him, no postponements. We have so little time. Only three days until the funeral games, and then-'

'How many slaves are there in all, not counting Zeno and Alexandros?' I asked.

'I lay awake last night counting them: ninety-nine. There were a hundred and one, counting Zeno and Alexandros.'

'So many, for a villa?'

'There are vineyards to the north and south,' she said vaguely, 'and of course the olive orchards, the stables, the boathouse…'

'Do the slaves know?' I asked.

Mummius looked at Gelina, who looked at me with her eyebrows raised high. 'Most of the slaves are being kept under guard in the annexe on the far side of the stables,' she said quietly. 'Crassus won't allow the field slaves to go out, and he's let me have only the essential slaves here in the house. They're in custody, they know that, but no one has told them the whole truth. Certainly you must not tell them. Who knows what might transpire if the slaves suspected

I nodded, but I saw no point in secrecy. Except for young Apollonius in the baths, I had hardly glimpsed the face of a single slave in the household, only a succession of bowed heads and averted eyes. Even if they had not been told, somehow they knew.