Poor Forfex, I thought. If only Catilina had not bribed you into going where your deepest fears warned you not to go.

'The Master isn't very patient. He was always beating Forfex for being stupid, anyway, but after the accident he was often really furious with him. He blamed Forfex for hurting himself, saying that he should never have taken it on himself to show the mine to strangers in the first place — but then, you must be…' He peered at us with a dawning awareness in his eyes.

'Never mind, go on!' I snapped.

'A few days ago the Master ordered Forfex to slaughter one of the goats, but Forfex slaughtered the wrong one, or so the Master insisted. The Master flew into such a rage — terrible to see, like lightning when it strikes the mountain. He beat Forfex across the back with his whip so hard he ripped his tunic. There was blood on the whip. Then there was a terrible change in the Master's face. I was standing close enough to see. The sight of it turned me to water. It was as if he had made up his mind that Forfex was ruined and not worth keeping, like a cracked clay bottle that a man might smash just for the thrill of it That's what he did to Forfex. He turned the whip about in his hand and began to strike him with the handle — it's made of leather wrapped around iron, with hard iron studs. He began to strike Forfex all about his head. He laughed and said, "Since it's your head to blame, I'll take it out on your head!" And all the time Forfex bleated and moaned and then started making other noises. Oh, please—'

The memory had turned his face the colour of chalk. His eyes were red and moist. He blinked and staggered uncertainly. The kid across his shoulders bleated at the sudden jostling and began to kick, so violently that the boy lost his grip and the animal went flying through the air, landing with a clatter of hooves on a flat stone. It bounded into the water and then out again and went running through the underbrush towards the path, shaking itself and sending beads of water flying from its snowy fleece.

The young goatherd staggered back against a wall of rock and slid downward until he sat on a stony bench, holding his hands to his stomach. 'It makes me sick to remember,' he said weakly.

'I'm sure it does,' I said earnestly. How much sicker would it make him to see Forfex now? 'When did this happen?'

'Five days ago.’

'Are you sure?'

'Yes. It was just after the Ides. The Master was gone for a few days, down to Rome for the election. He came back as soon as it was over. They say the voting went as he wanted, but he was in a terrible mood anyway. Perhaps something else went wrong for him down in Rome besides the election. I think he would have found fault with Forfex no matter what.'

'Five days ago,'I said, exchanging a glance with Meto. 'And last night Clementus told us he heard the splash from the well three or four nights before — that would fit exactly. What was done with Forfex's body?'

'Brought here,' said the boy dully. 'When it was over, when Forfex lay upon the floor, not moving, the blood and gore from his head all—' He broke off and swallowed hard.

'Go on.'

'The Master's face changed again. I don't think he quite knew what he had done until he had done it, if you know what I mean. His face, the look in his eyes — I've never seen such a look, except in a slave's eyes. As if he were frightened of what he had done. They say there's a goddess who punishes men, even free men, if they go too far. There's a Greek word—' He wrinkled his brow.

'Hubris,' I said. 'Insolence that borders on madness; arrogance that flouts all sense of decency. Hubris is punished by the goddess Nemesis, who brings retribution against the wicked.'

'Perhaps in some places,' said the boy, 'but I don't think that goddess ever comes to this mountain. Even so, for just a moment I think the Master knew he had gone too far. He dropped the whip and trembled. But then he hardened his jaw. He clenched his fists to stop them from shaking. He looked around the room, bunking as if it were too dark for him to see, though the sun was still up. His eyes fell on me, just because I happened to be closest, I think. "Clean it up!" he said, as if it were a mess left on the floor by the goats. "Clean it up and take what's left of him to the waterfall. Throw him off the cliff and let him join the rest of the bones!" '

'And is that what you did?'

'Yes, only we didn't cast him off" the cliff. We carried him down here, to the pond. One of the older slaves said we should strip his body and clean the blood off him, to make him fit to enter Hades. The old slave said a few words over the body, a prayer to some god or other. Even slaves have gods, you know, though I don't think any of them live on this mountain, and certainly not your Nemesis. We carried him across the stream, over to that jumble of boulders there, and laid him in a narrow place between the stones. We covered him with a few large rocks, and then we left. It was beginning to grow dark. No one comes here after dark.'

'Poor Forfex!' I said. 'To be left among the lemures he dreaded so much. To join their number.'

'That's why no one wanted to come here today to search for the bleating kid. They've always been afraid of the old spirits that dwell here, and now there's Forfex as well. How can his lemur rest after such a horrible death? He could never take revenge on the Master; the Master is too powerful. But on another slave, alone and helpless…' The boy's voice trailed to a whisper, and he looked across the water at the tumbled boulders and the deep shadows among them. 'It must be here now, watching us.'

'I think not, if his lemur follows his mortal remains. Come, show us where you put the body.'

The boy blanched.

'Come!’ I said.'If I'm right—

Meto cleared his throat.

'If my son is right, the body is long gone. Come, show us!' It was a testament to Gnaeus Claudius's cruelty that the boy could be controlled by a harsh voice alone. A less cowed slave would have required a few blows, or at least the threat of violence, to be prodded to his feet by a man who was not his master and then sent skipping across the stones in the stream to revisit a gravesite he believed to be haunted. The young goatherd obeyed, though he began to tremble violently as we climbed the tumbled rocks.

'Just on the other side of that big stone,' he said, his voice quavering. He pointed the way, but would go no farther.

Meto and I climbed past him and stood atop the jagged stones. We looked down into the narrow cleft and saw what there was to see.

'The body is gone,' I said.

'Gone?' The young goatherd climbed reluctantly after us. He stared down into the empty cleft with a look of superstitious dread on his face.

'Not the work of gods or lemures,' I assured him. 'Men put him here, and it must have been men who took him from this place.'

'The same man who killed him!' declared Meto.

I turned my face away from the goatherd and frowned at Meto. We had no proof yet of what he said. More than that, it is unfair to a slave to gossip about his master in his hearing, for he may repeat what you say, to his regret.

Meto scowled back at me. He had been right about Forfex, after all, despite my doubts. Just to be certain, he asked the slave, 'Was there a marking of some sort on one of Forfex's hands?'

'A marking? — You mean the little purple birthmark on the back of his left hand?'

Meto's face was suffused with triumph.

'But where has the body gone?' said the slave.

'You needn't know, at least not now,' I said. 'You shouldn't know.

You've braved enough danger already, simply talking to us and telling us how Forfex met his end. I should reward you, but I have nothing to give you.'

'There's nothing you could give me,' he said. "The Master lets us keep nothing for ourselves. The man who wanted to see the mine gave Forfex a few coins, but the Master found them and took them all away.'