Free Death at Pompeia's Wedding by Rosemary Rowe Page A

mother-in-law had already organized the slaves and had them starting to clear the atrium. She had even sent the steward out to fetch the embalming women and arrange the bier – and of course she hadn’t consulted anyone at all. Her daughter-in-law was not best pleased, I fear, but Helena Domna insisted that she’d been forced to act because the household needed to begin the mourning rites as soon as possible, otherwise it was a dishonour to the corpse.’
    ‘That was really a rebuke to Livia, I suppose,’ I said, ‘because she was with me and wasn’t there to make the arrangements for herself?’
    ‘Exactly, master. But of course, it all needed to be done and there wasn’t much the poor lady could do except agree. Though she said to tell you that you’d be welcome to come back, once Honorius’s body is prepared for burial and laid out in the atrium in state.’
    I nodded. ‘A good many people will be calling then, no doubt, to pay their homage and help with the lament.’
    ‘Oh, and the chief steward will be starting that, and closing the eyes and calling on the soul. I had to promise that I would tell you that. She seemed to think that you would want to know.’
    ‘In the absence of a suitable male relative,’ I said thoughtfully. It was a confirmation that Redux had not been approached for the task.
    ‘But doesn’t Livia have a guardian under law?’ Minimus enquired. ‘You’d think Honorius would have named one in his will. She doesn’t have three children so I thought she needed one. And – come to think of it – since Pompeia hasn’t married after all, won’t she be requiring a legal guardian too, now that her father’s dead? But perhaps there is no will. I know there was talk that Honorius was going to call for witnesses and nominate Marcus as a beneficiary. I heard it talked about when I was serving them one night.’
    I picked up my silver platter. ‘Oh, there is a will, all right,’ I said, remembering suddenly what Marcus said to me. ‘Though whether it’s a new one, is another thing. Honorius was about to change the one that he had made, but I don’t know whether he’d had the new one witnessed and ratified or not. In fact, that might have a considerable bearing on the case. If he hadn’t, then he might have been murdered to prevent him doing so. If he had, then it would be interesting to know who would benefit by the later will, and therefore have a motive for removing him. And in that case, I suppose, as residuary heir, Marcus might even be the legal guardian . . .’ I went on, then trailed into silence as I realised the full force of this.
    Marcus was a senior magistrate, and to be legal guardian was scarcely onerous to him. It was usually a titular appointment anyway and generally regarded as a compliment. But Marcus was at this moment on his way to Rome, and I was officially his representative; I did not like where this was leading me.
    I was still thinking about this when Minimus piped up. ‘So do you wish me to lead you to this warehouse straight away, master? You can hardly talk to the family now, in any case, since they are preparing for the funeral.’
    I nodded. I had spoken to Livia anyway, I thought, and that was probably the best that I could hope. Helena Domna was unlikely to cooperate with me, and though I would have liked to have had a word with some of the household staff, it had been made fairly clear to me that it was not convenient and it was time for me to leave. A pity. I could have asked somebody about the will, perhaps.
    I sighed. It would have been quite different if Marcus had been here – he would simply have declared that they must talk to me – but as it was I had no proper authority. I turned to Minimus. ‘Since I am working on Gracchus’s account, I should have liked to have a moment with Pompeia if I could, but I don’t suppose it will be possible.’
    He shook his head. ‘I doubt it master. Her handmaidens have taken her into her sleeping