his hands. Secundus walked to the table, drew the dagger from his waistband, cut himself a piece of bread and cheese and started chewing noisily. Claudia was about to return to her questioning when she heard a cry from below. She hurried to the door and stared down the wooden stairs. The tavern-keeper stood listening to a grimy-faced maid who was hysterically pointing to the half-open door. Claudia hastened down, followed by Murranus and the rest. The girl, gibbering with fright, led them out of the tavern and down to a small alleyway, a needle-thin passageway running between the houses. The tavern-keeper carried a lantern. At first Claudia thought the girl was pointing to a bundle of rubbish, old clothes -until the tavern-keeper placed the lantern on the ground. The light within strengthened, and the tavern-keeper swung away, one hand to his mouth.
Claudia slowly approached. She lifted the lantern and peered down. Stathylus lay wedged almost in the corner of the wall and the dirty rutted trackway, head tilted, his throat like a bloody gaping mouth, a terrible gash along his belly, his right hand thrown back holding what looked liked a piece of severed bloody meat. Claudia felt her gorge rise and hastily retreated. She leaned against the wall trying to control her stomach, half listening to the others' exclamations, the girl still whimpering, the tavern-keeper retching.
It was Murranus who imposed order. He returned to the tavern and came back carrying a large piece of sacking, shouting at Secundus and Crispus to help. Stathylus was lifted on to the piece of sacking, which was wrapped tightly about him, and taken across the tavern yard to an outhouse, where he was placed on an old trestle table. Lamps were brought. Claudia went out with the rest to study the corpse, but it was too much, the look of terror on Stathylus' face, those awful wounds to the throat and the belly, the great bloody mess between his legs. She could take no more and, hand to her mouth, hastened back to the tavern and its upper room. She sat for a while shivering. The lights before the Lares were now burning low; one was guttering. She stared at that bronze statue, the sinister helmeted figure, cloak billowing around the rearing horse.
'Now,' she muttered to herself, 'now they'll believe me.'
Chapter 4
Hoc volo, sic iubeo: sit pro ratione voluntas.
I will do this deed, so I order it done. Let my will stand for my reason.
Juvenal, Satires
Claudia hastily refilled her goblet of wine and drank it a little faster than she'd intended, half listening to the sounds from downstairs. She peered at the statue and recalled Murranus' question at the Temple of Hathor. If the truth be known, she believed in no religion. She could accept there might be a God, but all this bloodshed and horrid death, the sheer cheapness and brutality of life, how could Presbyter Sylvester explain all that? Noises on the stairs alerted her. Murranus, Secundus and Crispus came into the chamber, followed by the tavern-keeper bringing what he said was his best wine, along with four clean cups. He put the tray down and hastily retreated. Murranus filled the cups and raised his in the direction of the Lares.
'May his God look after him,' he toasted. 'May Stathylus be brought to a place of light. He deserved a better death.' He drank and refilled his goblet.
Claudia stared at the two veterans, men who had now had the fight knocked out of them. They seemed to have aged in such a short while; their unshaven faces had paled, cheeks almost sunken, their eyes held the haunted look of beaten slaves.
'So quickly!' Crispus murmured. 'He went out for a piss, that's all he did!'
Claudia, her stomach now settled, told Murranus and the others to wait and went downstairs. The tavern-keeper gave her his lantern and she returned to the alleyway and the place where Stathylus had died. She placed the lantern on the ground and searched carefully, gingerly picking her way around the congealing
Claudia slowly approached. She lifted the lantern and peered down. Stathylus lay wedged almost in the corner of the wall and the dirty rutted trackway, head tilted, his throat like a bloody gaping mouth, a terrible gash along his belly, his right hand thrown back holding what looked liked a piece of severed bloody meat. Claudia felt her gorge rise and hastily retreated. She leaned against the wall trying to control her stomach, half listening to the others' exclamations, the girl still whimpering, the tavern-keeper retching.
It was Murranus who imposed order. He returned to the tavern and came back carrying a large piece of sacking, shouting at Secundus and Crispus to help. Stathylus was lifted on to the piece of sacking, which was wrapped tightly about him, and taken across the tavern yard to an outhouse, where he was placed on an old trestle table. Lamps were brought. Claudia went out with the rest to study the corpse, but it was too much, the look of terror on Stathylus' face, those awful wounds to the throat and the belly, the great bloody mess between his legs. She could take no more and, hand to her mouth, hastened back to the tavern and its upper room. She sat for a while shivering. The lights before the Lares were now burning low; one was guttering. She stared at that bronze statue, the sinister helmeted figure, cloak billowing around the rearing horse.
'Now,' she muttered to herself, 'now they'll believe me.'
Chapter 4
Hoc volo, sic iubeo: sit pro ratione voluntas.
I will do this deed, so I order it done. Let my will stand for my reason.
Juvenal, Satires
Claudia hastily refilled her goblet of wine and drank it a little faster than she'd intended, half listening to the sounds from downstairs. She peered at the statue and recalled Murranus' question at the Temple of Hathor. If the truth be known, she believed in no religion. She could accept there might be a God, but all this bloodshed and horrid death, the sheer cheapness and brutality of life, how could Presbyter Sylvester explain all that? Noises on the stairs alerted her. Murranus, Secundus and Crispus came into the chamber, followed by the tavern-keeper bringing what he said was his best wine, along with four clean cups. He put the tray down and hastily retreated. Murranus filled the cups and raised his in the direction of the Lares.
'May his God look after him,' he toasted. 'May Stathylus be brought to a place of light. He deserved a better death.' He drank and refilled his goblet.
Claudia stared at the two veterans, men who had now had the fight knocked out of them. They seemed to have aged in such a short while; their unshaven faces had paled, cheeks almost sunken, their eyes held the haunted look of beaten slaves.
'So quickly!' Crispus murmured. 'He went out for a piss, that's all he did!'
Claudia, her stomach now settled, told Murranus and the others to wait and went downstairs. The tavern-keeper gave her his lantern and she returned to the alleyway and the place where Stathylus had died. She placed the lantern on the ground and searched carefully, gingerly picking her way around the congealing
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