course she took no part.’
I managed not to growl at that. ‘Simplicius, it looks as if Aviola and Mucia were murdered by robbers, but if Aviola’s slaves attacked him as the vigiles suggest, I have to consider if the new will caused disgruntlement. There will have been talk about it, as you say.’
‘Unfounded rumours can influence staff,’ he agreed.
I said, ‘I am interested in two aspects. Were there any large bequests, ones that might make someone want Aviola dead in order to cash in? Don’t alarm yourself. This is something we always have to consider, when somebody dies in bad circumstances. Also, what does he have to say about his slaves? Who did he intend to liberate, for example?’
‘Or
not
!’ added Simplicius heavy-handedly, wafting more lotion scents in my direction. I smiled as if I thought him extremely astute.
Yes, I was ashamed of using flattery. But it is undeniably useful.
Valerius Aviola owned several hundred slaves, mostly of the rural type, working as agricultural labourers on his estates. He intended to free a hundred, the most he was allowed.
At this point, Sextus Simplicius finally had someone fetch the scroll and while I sat tantalised by its proximity, the scribe read out the hundred names. Juno, I had to listen to every one, even though most had no relevance because they worked on Aviola’s country estates. I chewed the end of my stylus, trying not to let my eyes glaze over.
None of the hundred manumissions were given reasons. A general heading stated briefly that all these slaves would be rewarded with their freedom ‘for their hard work and loyalty’. Of those on my list, only Libycus and Daphnus were to be freed.
‘Fascinating!’ I checked my note tablet. ‘I wonder how Aviola made his choices? Amethystus and Diomedes are a couple of old lags and won’t be surprised to be excluded. Libycus is an obvious candidate for freedom; he was the personal valet, so they had an intimate relationship. Daphnus not so, however. He’s bright, a go-getter, painfully ambitious, and may have caught Aviola’s eye as someone who deserved a chance. But he is only eighteen, and only a tray carrier. Sextus Simplicius, you must have been to the house often. Do you know Daphnus?’
Simplicius raised his heavy shoulders and looked shifty. He probably did not even know the names of his own tray carriers. Daphnus would have been a silent presence placing a drink in front of him, worthy of less notice than the drink.
‘Others won’t like him jumping the queue. Take Nicostratus, the door porter – a responsible position − he was nearly thirty, so may well have been hoping for his freedom soon. He has died of his injuries, so he won’t have to know …’
Some of Aviola’s deserving slaves had been freed in his lifetime, when they became eligible, the steward for one. Polycarpus and a few others were rewarded for past services with minor bequests.
‘Polycarpus!’ Simplicius recognised his name with enthusiasm. ‘He will be looking for a new position now my poor friend has passed on. To be truthful, I was already eyeing up the situation. There was a rumour that Mucia Lucilia wanted to kick him out and have her own steward take charge. Well, one way or the other, I am hoping to snaffle Polycarpus myself!’
There can be a scramble for good employees after a death, and apparently after a marriage, though I had met his own steward who seemed pleasant and efficient. When I asked what would happen to that man, Simplicius said cold-bloodedly that the fellow would have to accept being pushed aside and sold off. He actually joked that if
he
, Simplicius, was then found murdered, I would know who did it.
I replied that this would be most helpful.
I knew that four of the refugee slaves (the second porter Phaedrus, the attendant Amaranta, the musician Olympe and the philosopher Chrysodorus), plus at least one sent to Campania (the steward Onesimus), had belonged to Mucia Lucilia. I asked
I managed not to growl at that. ‘Simplicius, it looks as if Aviola and Mucia were murdered by robbers, but if Aviola’s slaves attacked him as the vigiles suggest, I have to consider if the new will caused disgruntlement. There will have been talk about it, as you say.’
‘Unfounded rumours can influence staff,’ he agreed.
I said, ‘I am interested in two aspects. Were there any large bequests, ones that might make someone want Aviola dead in order to cash in? Don’t alarm yourself. This is something we always have to consider, when somebody dies in bad circumstances. Also, what does he have to say about his slaves? Who did he intend to liberate, for example?’
‘Or
not
!’ added Simplicius heavy-handedly, wafting more lotion scents in my direction. I smiled as if I thought him extremely astute.
Yes, I was ashamed of using flattery. But it is undeniably useful.
Valerius Aviola owned several hundred slaves, mostly of the rural type, working as agricultural labourers on his estates. He intended to free a hundred, the most he was allowed.
At this point, Sextus Simplicius finally had someone fetch the scroll and while I sat tantalised by its proximity, the scribe read out the hundred names. Juno, I had to listen to every one, even though most had no relevance because they worked on Aviola’s country estates. I chewed the end of my stylus, trying not to let my eyes glaze over.
None of the hundred manumissions were given reasons. A general heading stated briefly that all these slaves would be rewarded with their freedom ‘for their hard work and loyalty’. Of those on my list, only Libycus and Daphnus were to be freed.
‘Fascinating!’ I checked my note tablet. ‘I wonder how Aviola made his choices? Amethystus and Diomedes are a couple of old lags and won’t be surprised to be excluded. Libycus is an obvious candidate for freedom; he was the personal valet, so they had an intimate relationship. Daphnus not so, however. He’s bright, a go-getter, painfully ambitious, and may have caught Aviola’s eye as someone who deserved a chance. But he is only eighteen, and only a tray carrier. Sextus Simplicius, you must have been to the house often. Do you know Daphnus?’
Simplicius raised his heavy shoulders and looked shifty. He probably did not even know the names of his own tray carriers. Daphnus would have been a silent presence placing a drink in front of him, worthy of less notice than the drink.
‘Others won’t like him jumping the queue. Take Nicostratus, the door porter – a responsible position − he was nearly thirty, so may well have been hoping for his freedom soon. He has died of his injuries, so he won’t have to know …’
Some of Aviola’s deserving slaves had been freed in his lifetime, when they became eligible, the steward for one. Polycarpus and a few others were rewarded for past services with minor bequests.
‘Polycarpus!’ Simplicius recognised his name with enthusiasm. ‘He will be looking for a new position now my poor friend has passed on. To be truthful, I was already eyeing up the situation. There was a rumour that Mucia Lucilia wanted to kick him out and have her own steward take charge. Well, one way or the other, I am hoping to snaffle Polycarpus myself!’
There can be a scramble for good employees after a death, and apparently after a marriage, though I had met his own steward who seemed pleasant and efficient. When I asked what would happen to that man, Simplicius said cold-bloodedly that the fellow would have to accept being pushed aside and sold off. He actually joked that if
he
, Simplicius, was then found murdered, I would know who did it.
I replied that this would be most helpful.
I knew that four of the refugee slaves (the second porter Phaedrus, the attendant Amaranta, the musician Olympe and the philosopher Chrysodorus), plus at least one sent to Campania (the steward Onesimus), had belonged to Mucia Lucilia. I asked
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