The Song of the Gladiator by Paul Doherty Page A

change sides,’ Claudia continued remorselessly. ‘I have seen a letter dictated to you, Athanasius, in which Dionysius denounces his own beliefs and accepts the orthodox position, which, I believe,’ Claudia closed her eyes, ‘is that your Jesus Christ is of the same substance as the Father.’
    The smoke made Claudia cough. She felt the phlegm at the back of her throat so she turned and spat, a gesture she knew would offend these men.
    ‘You say I’m a spy, the Empress’s messenger, so let me take a message to her from you.’
    ‘Which is?’
    ‘Where were you when Dionysius was killed?’
    ‘We were gathered in council,’ Athanasius blustered. ‘Sharing ideas. You cannot place his death at our door.’
    Claudia glared at these philosophers so passionately righteous about themselves. Athanasius returned her stare but looked away as Justin came over. He was acting the role of the professional mourner.
    ‘Even in death,’ he wailed, ‘they will not leave us alone.’
    Athanasius immediately asked what he meant by ‘they’ and an argument ensued. Claudia, bored, walked away. The flames were dying, the front wall had now buckled completely and all she could see were a few charred timbers. She crouched in the grass and plucked at a wild flower. She was sure the fire was arson, and certainly started by the same person who had killed Dionysius. The motive could have been to insult the dead man’s corpse, though Claudia wasn’t so sure about that. Arson took time to plan and posed risks for the perpetrator. She recalled the alarm being raised, hurrying across with Gaius. By the time they arrived, the fire had caught hold, so it must have started when they had been sitting near the fountain. The inside would have been soaked with oil and a fire brand thrown in, but why?
    She rose to her feet and stared around. The spectators were now drifting away. She noticed Gaius talking with some of his soldiers near the entrance to the palace. She walked over and waited until she caught the Captain’s eye. Gaius excused himself and strode across.
    ‘Claudia, you should go to bed. There’s been enough excitement for one day.’ He waved a hand to waft away a gust of smoke. ‘Undoubtedly arson.’
    ‘Were any guards here?’ Claudia asked.
    ‘Outside the far wall, yes, but I didn’t think two corpses needed to be protected. Apparently a servant smelt smoke and came running out. By then the flames were licking through the door, so the alarm was raised.’
    ‘Why burn two corpses?’ Claudia asked.
    Gauis pulled a face.
    ‘When you took Dionysius’s corpse to the Death House,’ Claudia continued, ‘how exactly was it done?’
    Gaius glanced back towards his men and ran a thumbnail around his lips.
    ‘I found the corpse,’ he began slowly. ‘I was with a patrol. We were going for a pleasant walk rather than anything else. The Empress was called, and the villa physician, a garrulous old man with watery eyes.’ Gaius smiled. ‘I remember him because he made me laugh. He inspected the corpse very carefully and then pronounced, “Yes, your Excellency, the man is dead.” Even Helena smiled. One of my men tried to cut the ropes, but there was very little slack between the dead man’s wrist and the peg, so we pulled the pegs out. A stretcher was brought, and the corpse was loaded on.’
    ‘With the ropes and pegs still around wrists and ankles?’
    ‘Yes, yes, I’m sure! It was then taken to the House of Mourning. There are slabs around the walls, and the place stank from the old beggar who had been found earlier that morning. Anyway, we placed Dionysius on a slab and left him.’
    ‘What would have happened then?’
    ‘I’ll make enquiries, but I suppose a slave was sent to strip the corpse and wash it.’
    ‘So what would have happened to Dionysius’s clothes, and the ropes and pegs?’
    ‘They would probably have been left in the Death House,’ Gaius replied, ‘unless the slave took them to the rubbish