'This man who saw the mine — has he been back since?'

The boy shrugged. 'I don't know. I never saw him. I was tending a flock on the far side of the mountain when he came.' He narrowed his eyes. 'They say there were others with him. Was it you?'

'I've managed so far not to answer any of your questions,' I said, smiling. 'I don't think I shall start now. The less you know, the better for you. You should forget that we were ever here.'

'Like lemures in the mist,' he said.

'If you wish.'

'There is one other question we should ask,' said Meto. 'When you put Forfex's body in this rocky place, what had become of his head?'

'Beaten to a pulp. I told you that,' said the slave, turning pale again. 'Yes, but was it still attached to his body?' 'Of course.'

'Not cut away? Being so badly mangled, perhaps—' 'The body was all in one piece!' protested the goatherd, his voice shaking.

'No need to press the matter,' I said to Meto, laying my hand on his arm. 'Tell us: was there another death among the goatherds, about a month ago?' I asked, thinking of Nemo.

The boy shook his head.

'Among your master's other slaves, then?'

'No. One of the kitchen slaves died of a fever, but that was well over a year ago. There's been only one death since then, and that was Forfex.'

We descended the tumbled rocks strewn with bones and crossed the stream. The young goatherd went on his way, while Meto and I rested for a bit before pressing on. The shady glen was a beautiful place, even if despoiled and made fearsome by the presence of so much death and suffering. Not a bad resting place, I thought, for the lemures of dead slaves, who must have been far more miserable in life, toiling beneath the hot sun or burrowing into the dank, stony earth.

XXVII

'We should confront him directly,' said Meto as we made our way down the mountain path. 'I agree.'

'We know now beyond any doubt that the body in the well was Forfex. We know that Gnaeus killed Forfex. And we know that he doesn't like us one bit. He thought he was going to inherit the farm from Lucius Claudius, didn't he? Therefore, motive: to spoil the well and try to drive us away.'

'There are a few gaps in your logic,' I observed wryly, negotiating a steep step and bending back a whiplike branch.

'Such as?'

'Why was the head of Forfex removed?'

'So that we wouldn't attribute the act to Gnaeus. He knew that we had met Forfex and might recognize him despite his injuries, and thus might surmise where he came from. Gnaeus is the worst kind of coward, skulking about and afraid to own up to his actions. He cut off the head so we wouldn't know where the anonymous body came from. He didn't count on my sharp eyes recognizing the birthmark on the back of Forfex's hand, did he?'

'No, the culprit did not. But why did Gnaeus order the slaves to dispose of the body at the waterfall if he intended to use it elsewhere?'

I looked over my shoulder. Meto shrugged. "The idea didn't occur to him until later. Obviously he didn't kill Forfex just so he could drop his body down our well; the murder wasn't premeditated, and neither was the outrage against us. But once he had the body at hand, it struck him that he could make use of it.'

'The young goatherd said nothing of being ordered to retrieve the body.'

"The goatherd didn't know anything about Catilina, either. Surely Gnaeus has other slaves more suitable for doing what was done with poor Forfex's corpse.'

'And what about Nemo?'

"That must have been Gnaeus's doing as well. He put Nemo in our stable to frighten us, but it didn't frighten us enough. So he tried the same cowardly trick again, only this time he did something truly dangerous, polluting the well. What a despicable man!'

'But where did Nemo come from? The goatherd told us that there have been no other deaths on the mountain.'

'Who knows? Perhaps Gnaeus waylaid a wandering freedman, or murdered a visitor from Rome.'

'A stranger, you mean. A stranger to us.'

'Yes.'

'Then why was Nemo's head removed? You postulate that the head of Forfex was removed to conceal his identity. That makes sense. But what of Nemo? Who was he and why was his head cut off?'

Meto was silent. For several moments the only sounds I heard were the crackling ofbranches, the scraping of our feet on the rough, uneven path, and my own laboured breathing. 'I don't have an answer for that,' Meto finally admitted. 'But does it matter about Nemo? We know now where Forfex came from, and that's the key. Gnaeus Claudius is the culprit He should be whipped. He should be tried for murder, if there were any justice. But there's no law against a man killing his own slave, is there? I suppose the best we can do is take legal action against him for polluting our well.'

'Hard to prove, since we have no witnesses.'

'But, Papa, the circumstances are obvious!'

'A court will require more than circumstantial evidence.'

' Then we'll have to find a witness. He could hardly have done it without the collusion of at least one of our own slaves, could he? Whichever of the slaves it was who turned on us, he must be made to talk!'

'How much force would you have me use against the slaves? I've already questioned them, and you saw the result. There are many masters who would use indiscriminate torture to obtain the truth. Aratus himself suggests I do so.'

‘I wouldn't have you do that, Papa.'

'Torture is inevitable where slaves and the law are concerned. Suppose we do find a witness among our slaves. A Roman court will not accept the testimony of any slave unless it's extracted under torture. Would you have me force such a thing on another man, even of a slave who plotted against us? And what if one of the slaves merely saw the act and is otherwise guiltless? Still, he would have to be tortured in order to bear witness. No wonder the slaves are so reluctant to speak. If they admit to being witnesses, it's like volunteering to be tortured.'

'I hadn't thought of that.'

'But they have, I assure you. Given your premise, the best witnesses would be the slaves of Gnaeus Claudius himself, such as our young goatherd friend. But there again the law defeats us. No man's slave can testify in court without his permission, and thus no slave can be made to testify against his master.'

'What if you could get Cicero to represent us? He's so clever and powerful, perhaps he could find a way—'

'Please, I want no more debts to Cicero. Besides, I don't imagine that our esteemed consul has time to trifle with such a matter now or for a long time to come.'

We reached the clearing behind the boulder. We untied our horses and led them through the narrow cleft between the old oak and the rock, onto the grassy, shaded verge. Over on the road a group of slaves trudged wearily past, linked neck to neck by a stout rope and driven along by a team of overseers on horseback. The slaves were either naked or covered with the merest scraps of cloth. For shoes they wore bits of leather tied to their feet. Neither slaves nor drivers took any notice of us. We stood in the shade, waiting for them to pass.

I turned to Meto and said in a whisper, 'Your argument against Gnaeus Claudius is clear enough, even if it does have lapses. Even so, my thoughts keep returning to Catilina.'

'You misjudge him, Papa!' whispered Meto, with surprising vehemence.

'Consider his connection with Forfex. Consider the coincidence of the headless corpses and his riddle of the headless body. Consider also that Nemo appeared just after Caelius first proposed that I play host to Catilina, as if to mtimidate me into agreeing. Now Caelius and Cicero have again insisted that I open my door to Catilina, I have protested, and Forfex appears in our well. Catilina is a desperate man—'