‘You know, the world we live in, Murranus, the deeper you go, the filthier it gets. I like my women, especially the rich, plump ones, but some things, well, they’re like streets you just don’t go down. The man who attacked your Claudia, I expect he was one of those. After we met last time I could see she was deeply upset, so I made a few enquiries. It’s the sort of thing that is well hidden, the type of house frequented by quite wealthy men, be they gladiators or senators.’ He shook his head. ‘This is all I know.’
‘And the incident?’ Murranus asked. ‘The poisoning?’
‘I am not sure,’ Spicerius replied. ‘That wine wasn’t poisoned, even though it was later found tainted. I’m sure I was poisoned before I drank it. Anyway, you’ve heard the rumours, Murranus? They’re betting this time for you to win against me but not against Meleager.’
Murranus could see his friend was on the verge of sinking into another black mood. He asked him again about the purple chalice tattoo, but Spicerius declared he had told him everything he could, so Murranus changed the subject. Spicerius ate well but drank sparingly, and when Murranus questioned him, he laughed and explained he was saving himself for the evening, when Agrippina had promised to join him for their own special celebrations. Polybius, who had come to collect the platters and overheard this, now acted like a conspirator, tipping his nose, winking at Spicerius and declaring that the room was ready when he was.
The afternoon wore on. Spicerius began to doze, so he took his wine and went up to what Polybius dramatically described as the ‘Venus Chamber’. Intrigued, Murranus decided to follow him. The room was on the second floor, overlooking the garden, and boasted a large bed with stout ends, a thick mattress and a bolster all covered in pink and gold. A rather blotched mirror stood on a decorated square chest. The floor was of polished wood, a rare form of timber. Polybius explained that he had discovered it when he first bought the place and decided to polish it up. The walls were lime-washed, and Murranus had to stifle a laugh as he stared at the crude paintings which Polybius was so proud of. A fat, bloated Venus cavorted in a garden surrounded by even plumper cherubs, who looked so heavy they would find it impossible to fly.
Spicerius went and sat on the bed, and Murranus returned to the garden and sat in the shade. He soon felt the effects of the wine and the lazy summer heat, and drifted off to sleep, his eyes growing heavy as he watched a resplendent butterfly flutter amongst the flowers. He started awake sometime later. He realised it must be late afternoon, for the breeze had strengthened and the shadows grown longer. Yes, he had felt something else: his hair had been tugged! He whirled around.
‘Claudia!’ He jumped to his feet, left the stone chair and grabbed her up. ‘When did you. .’
‘Let me breathe!’ she gasped.
He released her, and she sat down on the grass, plucking at the blades, quickly describing what had happened at the Villa Pulchra and how she had asked the Empress’s permission to leave.
‘They are all coming back anyway.’ She smiled back. ‘In four days’ time you meet Spicerius. Oh, by the way, where is he?’
‘Fast asleep, I think. Anyway, tell me again what happened.’
Claudia repeated everything about the murders, the fire and the assault. She vaguely referred to meeting Meleager, but made no mention of who he really was and the hideous damage he had wrought in her life. She decided that would wait. She wanted to be careful; after all, there were other problems to address. For a while they discussed the doings at the Villa Pulchra and the events at Capua. Murranus explained how he knew the town boasted a large Christian community, many of whom had suffered under Diocletian. The people she described he had also met, but they were merely passing acquaintances, though he was intrigued when Claudia made her final revelation about the pattern of the betting, and how Chrysis had wagered thousands of sestercii on him.
‘It’s all a mystery.’ Murranus rubbed his face. ‘It always happens with the games. This gladiator is a favourite, this one isn’t, and interference, to help the money on its way, is common enough. But listen to my news.’ He described the visit of the Dacians, Spicerius’s forebodings and his own anxieties.
‘Will it be a fight to the death?’ Claudia asked.
‘I doubt it,’ Murranus replied. ‘On a good day Spicerius and I are equally matched. We’ll put up a good show. If either of us goes down, the crowd will not demand our deaths; the same goes for Meleager. We are not in this for blood but for the Crown of Victory.’ He caressed Claudia’s face. ‘And don’t worry about the betting. You tell your uncle, not to mention Chrysis, to put everything they have on me; they won’t be disappointed. Now,’ he cupped her face in his hands, ‘why have you really come back?’
‘Well, the court was returning.’
‘No, the real reason.’
‘To see you.’ She grinned. ‘I also want to talk to Sallust the Searcher. It’s time I had a little help. Oh, by the way,’ she pointed back to the tavern, ‘Uncle has a new helper. He’s called Narcissus the Neat. He’s the man I described to you. There’s nothing for him at the Villa Pulchra and he knows no one in Rome, so I-’
‘Murranus!’
The woman’s voice carried across the garden. The gladiator groaned as Agrippina came tripping over in a beautiful white linen gown, a multicoloured stole across her shoulders. Once again every item of jewellery, be it bracelet or earring, glowed a deep red.
‘Murranus!’ She flounced her long dressed hair, gingerly touching her exquisitely painted face, her perfume drowning every other smell. ‘Murranus.’ She held her hands on her hips, totally ignoring Claudia. ‘Tell that oaf Polybius I want to see Spicerius.’
‘He’s in his chamber, fast asleep,’ Murranus replied. ‘I left him there, he’s expecting you.’
‘Well, I’m rather late. I’ve been up there, but the door’s locked, there’s no answer. That oaf is too busy laughing with his customers about waxing people’s bottoms.’
‘That oaf,’ Claudia replied, springing to her feet, ‘is my uncle. We are very particular who visits our tavern, so you’d better follow me.’
They went into the eating hall, where Polybius, leaning against one of the wooden pillars, was offering Petronius the opportunity to wax his arse. Claudia grabbed her uncle by the arm and whispered in his ear; he sighed, mopped his brow and led her up the stairs. They stood outside the Venus Chamber, knocking and hammering. Claudia glanced along the passageway. Narcissus was standing at the top of the landing, looking rather frightened. Claudia realised how unused he must be to the noise of a tavern. Oceanus came up, pushing people aside. Claudia felt a tingle of excitement in her stomach. Something was wrong, she could tell that from Murranus’s face, whilst Oceanus shook his head in disbelief, claiming he was sure Spicerius hadn’t left.
The door was tried again, and eventually Polybius ordered Oceanus and Murranus to break it down. They first used their shoulders, until Polybius intervened, warning Murranus not to injure himself, so a log was brought up from the cellar. The door was hammered until it sprang back on its leather hinges. Claudia made sure she was first into the room. Spicerius lay sprawled on the bed, the wine goblet beside him. He was half sitting up against the bolsters, face to one side, mouth gaping, eyes staring.
‘By the balls of a pig,’ Polybius groaned. ‘Oh no, not here.’
Claudia climbed on to the bed. Spicerius had lost all his warrior’s elegance and grandeur; he had the grey, lined face of an old man, and a white dribble of dried saliva stained the corner of his mouth. She felt his arm. The flesh was cold. Agrippina was screaming. Other customers were coming up. Claudia got off the bed wiping her hands, then picked up the goblet and sniffed the bittersweet tang. Taking advantage of the upset and chaos, she quickly searched the bed and the floor around but could detect nothing except a square piece of parchment with love symbols on it. It was yellowing and wrinkled, caught amongst the folds of the mattress.