Oracle of the Dead(70)

“Praetor,” said one of the men, “what are these?” He had been on one knee sifting through the leaf mold and now he showed me what he had found: a handful of miniature arrows. We looked around and found many more, and plainly some of them had been down there for centuries. We found many more points than complete arrows, their shafts and fletching having rotted away over the centuries. Some of these were bronze and we found a few tiny points made of finely flaked flint or obsidian. Once again, I felt the tremendous age of the place.

“Some of these are from before iron came to Italy,” I said.

“When would that be?” Hermes asked.

“A thousand years ago, at least. Bronze was used for everything before that, which is why Homer’s heroes fight with weapons of bronze. But this mundus, like the tunnel, couldn’t have been carved without bronze tools. These stone points must date from a time when bronze was still too valuable to use for arrowheads, which are often lost. People still made arrowheads out of stone.” I took a certain pride in that bit of deduction.

“Maybe Porcia was right,” Hermes said. “You remember she said that the arrows might have been left by some hunter asking for luck in the hunt. Maybe in the old days that was what offers of arrows meant.”

“Either that or there has been a huge amount of vengeance-seeking in these parts,” I said. Just then, one more little piece clicked into place. It still wasn’t enough, though.

“I wish we had a ladder,” Hermes said. “Then we could climb out and go back by way of the road. It would spare us another tunnel trip and the people we left back at the temple wouldn’t know what to think.”

“Unfortunately,” I said, “we didn’t think to bring a ladder. So let’s go back. We should be there well before nightfall.”

So back we went. We extinguished the burning lamps as we passed them. We passed the litter where someone had lain speaking lying prophecies to doomed men. We came to the hole carved in the floor and lowered ourselves through it. We found ourselves out in the open air again just as evening was coming on. Perna and the workmen were sitting on the ground patiently.

“I’m afraid you men can’t go home tonight,” I told them. “I can’t have anyone talking about what has been going on here today. There are good quarters here in the temple complex. Make yourselves comfortable. I will pay you handsomely for your time.”

“It’s all the same to me and these men, Praetor,” Perna said. “As long as we get paid.”

“It will be late by the time we get back to the villa,” Hermes said.

“I’m not going back,” I told him. “You are going back. Tell Julia to join me here tomorrow, and bring my curule chair. Tomorrow, I also want you to bring several people: the woman Floria, for one. You remember how I told you to find her home?”

“I’ll find her,” he said.

“Find her and bring her here, under heavy guard. I don’t want her killed like poor Hypatia. Take as many men as you think you’ll need, and send me the historian, Cordus.”

“Done. Anyone else?”

“Not just yet. I will have you round up quite a few people when I settle things here.”

He grinned. “We’re getting down to serious business now, aren’t we?”

I nodded. “Now it gets very serious indeed.”





11





JULIA ARRIVED LATE THE NEXT MORNing. With her was Antonia, who had been off visiting some friends in Capua. Circe, it seemed, had returned to Rome. I had scarcely noticed their absence, so preoccupied had I been. With them were most of the entourage who had accompanied me south. Apparently Julia had decided that I was a praetor again, so she would see that I was properly attended.

“What has caused this sudden new enthusiasm?” she wanted to know.

“Come and let’s take a walk beneath these trees,” I said. “This is not for everybody’s ears just yet.” Antonia glared at being left out, but of all the women in the world I wanted to confide in, the very last would have been Antonia. She could no more keep a secret or resist gossiping than she could have sprouted wings and flown to the moon.

As we walked in the grove, I told Julia of what I had found, and of my suspicions, and how I intended to wrap things up so we could pack up for Sicily.

“Infamous!” she said. “Defrauding people with a false oracle, then robbing and murdering them!” She paused. “But they wouldn’t be able to do it very often, would they? How often would merchants going abroad carrying a lot of money have stopped by here?”

“More often than you’d think,” I said. “People about to travel abroad often visit oracles and seek the help of the gods. We don’t know how many confederates they had overseas, or whether they had men follow the victims and then choose a safe place out of Italy to kill them and dispose of their bodies. I also suspect that this was only one aspect of their depredations.”