Free The Fateful Day by Rosemary Rowe Page A

examined the arrangement silently a moment, and then said, ‘So someone strung him up. Yet gatekeepers like this are valuable things. I wonder that the robbers did not take him too, and sell him on.’
    I shook my head. ‘When they had finished in the villa and took the stuff away, I think they simply disposed of any servants who could inform on them.’
    ‘So if the staff had consisted solely of illiterate deaf-mutes, perhaps they would have lived?’ He raised that brow again. For a man who was looking at a colleague’s corpse, I thought, he seemed remarkably unmoved. ‘I suppose you may be right,’ he said at last.
    ‘But …?’ I prompted. ‘You do not sound convinced. You see some flaw in my theory, I presume.’
    He shrugged his powerful shoulders. ‘We all believed the movement of the goods was done at Marcus’s command. And slaves are merely objects, anyway, in law, simply part of the chattels belonging to the house.’ His tone was cynical. ‘If the villa was to be vacated and the furniture removed, no slave would think it strange if they were taken off and sold. I would not have questioned it if I were sold myself, vineyard or no vineyard. And most of this household were quite expensive slaves. So why did the thieves not take them to the slave-market, at least, and make a little extra profit on the side?’
    I shook my head. ‘I think they thought they couldn’t take the risk. The slaves were sure to talk about their former home. To their new masters or to tradesmen calling at the house.’
    ‘And who listens to a slave?’
    ‘No one at first, perhaps, but that would change when Marcus got back home. He’d be shouting in the forum that his slaves and goods were gone – and people would start listening then, I’m sure. Once it was clear that the letter was a fraud, there’d be an outcry in the town, and the slave could doubtless describe the culprits perfectly. They could not be permitted to survive.’
    ‘You think these thieves are local people, then, if such a description could lead to their arrest?’ Georgicus sounded frankly sceptical. ‘I would doubt that. If Marcus ever catches up with them, they would be lucky if their death was merciful.’
    ‘Yet they have to be people who know Marcus, don’t you think?’ I pointed out. ‘And fairly well at that. Well enough not only to know he is away, but also to be familiar with the contents of the house. Otherwise this robbery could not have arranged.’
    He thought for a moment. ‘You’re right. Though it only requires one person to have that knowledge, I suppose. The same might not be true of all of them.’ That concession to my viewpoint earned me a half-smile. ‘And I suppose we are agreed that there were several of these men? That no one person could have done all this alone?’
    I nodded. ‘Five or six of them at least. And very likely armed.’ I thought of the beheaded corpses in the orchard. ‘Swords and daggers, at the very least. And clubs as well, I shouldn’t be surprised.’
    ‘So how in the name of all the gods did they get in?’ He furrowed his weather-beaten brow again and nodded at the corpse. ‘There were keepers at the gates! Large men with weapons, like this unfortunate. I can see that he would let in people that he thought had come to work – carters and wagoners and that sort of thing – but he would never have admitted a gang of men with swords. Not without a struggle anyway. But look at him. There is no sign of wounds. He doesn’t even look as if he’s fought with anyone. And the household staff were to load the carts themselves. It isn’t as if they needed extra men for that.’ He shook his head again. ‘So perhaps the carters did it and then let the others in. Though how many carters do you think there must have been to overcome a household full of slaves? And they must have had weapons. Yet, that must be the solution. The gates have not been forced.’
    I let him work all through it before I