Roman Blood by Steven Saylor Page B
Authors: Steven Saylor
Tags: Fiction, Historical, 265-30 B.C., Mystery & Detective, Marcus Tullius Rome—History Republic, ISBN 0-312-06454-3 Cicero, Roma Sub Rosa Series 01 - Roman Blood
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stepped to the chair that had been set out for me. Tiro followed behind and slid it beneath me. I shook my head to clear it. Another look at the girl's father sobered me instantly.
"Where are your slaves, Sextus Roscius? Surely in your own home you would never think of asking your wife and daughters to fetch chairs for company."
The baleful eyes glittered. " W h y not? Do you think they're too good for it? It does a woman good to be reminded every so often of her place.
Especially women like mine, with a husband and father rich enough to let them sit about and do as they please all day long."
"Pardon, Sextus Roscius. I meant no offense. You speak wisely. Perhaps next time we should ask Caecilia Metella to fetch the chairs."
Rufus suppressed a laugh. Cicero winced at my impertinence.
"You're a real wise-mouth, aren't y o u ? " snapped Sextus Roscius. "A clever city man like these others. What is it you want?"
"Only the truth, Sextus Roscius. Because finding it is my j o b , and because the truth is the one thing that can save an innocent man—a man like you."
Roscius sank lower in his seat. In a test of brawn he would have been a match for any two of us, even in his weakened state, but he was an easy man to beat down with words.
"What is it you want to k n o w ? "
"Where are your slaves?"
He shrugged. " B a c k in Ameria, of course. On the estates."
"All of them? You brought no servants with you, to clean and cook, to take care of your daughters? I don't understand."
Tiro bent close to Cicero and whispered something in his ear. Cicero nodded and waved his hand. Tiro left the room.
"What a well-mannered little slave you've got." Roscius curled his lip.
"Asking his master's permission to take a piss. Have you seen the plumbing here? Like nowhere else I've ever seen. Running water right in the house. My father used to talk about it—you know how an old man hates 68
having to step outside to pass water in the night. Not here! T o o good a place for slaves to take a shit if you ask me. Usually doesn't smell this bad, except it's so damned h o t . "
" W e were talking about your slaves, Sextus Roscius. There are two in particular to whom I wish to speak. Your father's favorites, the ones who were with him the night he died. Felix and Chrestus. Are they in Ameria, too?"
" H o w would I k n o w ? " he snapped. "Probably run off by now. Or had their throats slit."
" A n d who would do that?"
"Slit their throats? The same men who murdered my father, of course."
" A n d w h y ? "
"Because the slaves saw it happen, you fool."
" A n d how do you know that?"
"Because they told m e . "
"Was that how you first learned of your father's death—from the slaves who were with him?"
Roscius paused. " Y e s . They sent a messenger from R o m e . "
" Y o u were in Ameria the night he was killed?"
" O f course. Twenty people could tell you that."
" A n d when did you learn he had been killed?"
Roscius paused again. " T h e messenger arrived two mornings after."
" A n d what did you do then?"
"I came into the city that day. A hard ride. You can make it in eight hours if you have a good horse. Started at dawn, arrived at sundown—
days are short in the autumn. The slaves showed me his body. The wounds . . ." His voice became a whisper.
" A n d did they show you the street where he was killed?"
Sextus Roscius stared at the floor. " Y e s . "
" T h e very spot?"
He shuddered. " Y e s . "
"I shall need to go there and see it for myself."
He shook his head. "I won't go there again."
"I understand. The two slaves can take me there, Felix and Chrestus."
I watched his face. A light glimmered in his eyes, and I was suddenly suspicious, though of what I couldn't say. " A h , " I said, "but the slaves are in Ameria, aren't they?"
69
"I already told you that." Roscius seemed to shiver, despite the heat.
"But I need to visit the scene of the crime as soon as possible. I can't wait for these slaves to be brought to
"Where are your slaves, Sextus Roscius? Surely in your own home you would never think of asking your wife and daughters to fetch chairs for company."
The baleful eyes glittered. " W h y not? Do you think they're too good for it? It does a woman good to be reminded every so often of her place.
Especially women like mine, with a husband and father rich enough to let them sit about and do as they please all day long."
"Pardon, Sextus Roscius. I meant no offense. You speak wisely. Perhaps next time we should ask Caecilia Metella to fetch the chairs."
Rufus suppressed a laugh. Cicero winced at my impertinence.
"You're a real wise-mouth, aren't y o u ? " snapped Sextus Roscius. "A clever city man like these others. What is it you want?"
"Only the truth, Sextus Roscius. Because finding it is my j o b , and because the truth is the one thing that can save an innocent man—a man like you."
Roscius sank lower in his seat. In a test of brawn he would have been a match for any two of us, even in his weakened state, but he was an easy man to beat down with words.
"What is it you want to k n o w ? "
"Where are your slaves?"
He shrugged. " B a c k in Ameria, of course. On the estates."
"All of them? You brought no servants with you, to clean and cook, to take care of your daughters? I don't understand."
Tiro bent close to Cicero and whispered something in his ear. Cicero nodded and waved his hand. Tiro left the room.
"What a well-mannered little slave you've got." Roscius curled his lip.
"Asking his master's permission to take a piss. Have you seen the plumbing here? Like nowhere else I've ever seen. Running water right in the house. My father used to talk about it—you know how an old man hates 68
having to step outside to pass water in the night. Not here! T o o good a place for slaves to take a shit if you ask me. Usually doesn't smell this bad, except it's so damned h o t . "
" W e were talking about your slaves, Sextus Roscius. There are two in particular to whom I wish to speak. Your father's favorites, the ones who were with him the night he died. Felix and Chrestus. Are they in Ameria, too?"
" H o w would I k n o w ? " he snapped. "Probably run off by now. Or had their throats slit."
" A n d who would do that?"
"Slit their throats? The same men who murdered my father, of course."
" A n d w h y ? "
"Because the slaves saw it happen, you fool."
" A n d how do you know that?"
"Because they told m e . "
"Was that how you first learned of your father's death—from the slaves who were with him?"
Roscius paused. " Y e s . They sent a messenger from R o m e . "
" Y o u were in Ameria the night he was killed?"
" O f course. Twenty people could tell you that."
" A n d when did you learn he had been killed?"
Roscius paused again. " T h e messenger arrived two mornings after."
" A n d what did you do then?"
"I came into the city that day. A hard ride. You can make it in eight hours if you have a good horse. Started at dawn, arrived at sundown—
days are short in the autumn. The slaves showed me his body. The wounds . . ." His voice became a whisper.
" A n d did they show you the street where he was killed?"
Sextus Roscius stared at the floor. " Y e s . "
" T h e very spot?"
He shuddered. " Y e s . "
"I shall need to go there and see it for myself."
He shook his head. "I won't go there again."
"I understand. The two slaves can take me there, Felix and Chrestus."
I watched his face. A light glimmered in his eyes, and I was suddenly suspicious, though of what I couldn't say. " A h , " I said, "but the slaves are in Ameria, aren't they?"
69
"I already told you that." Roscius seemed to shiver, despite the heat.
"But I need to visit the scene of the crime as soon as possible. I can't wait for these slaves to be brought to
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