The Legatus Mystery by Rosemary Rowe

ring to confirm his authority.’ For a moment his face cleared, and then he frowned again. ‘But it still does not explain how he got here unobserved, still less where in Dis the body’s got to now.’
    I was still thinking. ‘Suppose that he was acting on instructions. He turns up at the temple – by appointment, do you think? Perhaps he did not put on his ring or show anyone his warrant until he got there,’ I said slowly. ‘Those may even have been his orders. It would make sense, if there was secrecy. An ordinary merchant, with a bag, would attract no more attention than any other wealthy traveller.’
    Marcus leaned forward on his cushions. ‘So . . . he took his documents and ring this morning, in particular, and presented himself at the temple? Why there, do you suppose? Perhaps to give a message to one of the priests? It seems an obvious conclusion.’ He smiled at the cleverness of his own deduction. ‘Thank you, Libertus, I knew that I could rely on you to make sense of the mystery.’
    Of course, I had done nothing of the kind. And even if this was the truth, it was not a comforting explanation. Certainly, the death of the legate’s representative (if that was indeed what had happened here) was much less of a civic catastrophe than the murder of the ambassador himself, but it was no trifle, all the same. The man had still been carrying an imperial warrant, and any affront to that was a capital offence.
    With some diffidence, I pointed this out to Marcus.
    I had spoiled his moment of relief and he was impatient. ‘So someone will have to pay for it. And quickly too. I’ll leave that to you, Libertus. Obviously someone with access to the temple. Find out a little bit about the priests. And discover who knew Fabius Marcellus – since this was apparently to be a private meeting. I’ll send to the ambassador again, and find out who it was he sent and why – he won’t be best pleased, I’m afraid.’ Marcus had seized on this interpretation, I noticed, and was now ignoring the uncomfortable possibility that the dead man was really someone of consequence, or a direct emissary from Rome.
    I tried again. ‘But Excellence, suppose the Emperor
had
sent an informer here—’
    He cut me off. ‘Libertus, you have never travelled here from Rome. I have. If Commodus had despatched a spy the minute after he sent that letter, the man could never have reached us in this time. The imperial post has fresh horses every few miles, and fresh riders when the others tire. And this murdered man certainly was not the messenger who brought the letter to me earlier. For one thing that rider was hardly more than a boy – I saw him myself: a great horseman, but no one would ever have taken him for a legate – and for another thing he stayed here overnight. I have just despatched him, with my messenger, back to Fabius Marcellus. So it wasn’t him.’
    ‘But did you ask . . .?’
    ‘If the
legatus
had sent another messenger? Of course I did. You’re not the only one with intelligence, Libertus. I questioned him most carefully. But he knew nothing about it.’
    I hoped that ‘careful questioning’ did not include the whip. Probably not. One cannot casually mistreat a legate’s messenger. Which brought us back to that mysterious corpse. I frowned. ‘But in that case . . .’
    ‘You think Commodus might have sent a spy
before
he wrote to me? I suppose that’s so. But why should the man wait till this moment to reveal himself?’ My patron shook his head. ‘Much more likely that the dead man was some secret messenger that Fabius sent. I’ll write to him again, and see what he says. But, whoever it turns out to be, the same thing still applies, Libertus my old friend. You will have to make enquiries at the temple and see if you can find out why he went there today, and who it was that he was hoping to see.’
    How in the name of Cunomaglus was I to do that, I wondered? ‘But Excellence, this is a priestly matter. I can