“What else do you think they’ve been up to?”
“Campania, with all its attractions, its Sibyl of Cumae and so forth, is always full of transients. The overseas killing must have been unwieldy and difficult to set up. I suspect that it was done only when local people were to be robbed. If they were killed here, they would be missed immediately and suspicion would naturally fall on people living in the district. It wouldn’t be long before someone noticed that the last place they were seen was here at Hecate’s Oracle. No, murder of locals could only be risked when they were away from Campania, preferably out of Italy altogether.
“But a great many people from other parts of Italy and from foreign lands come here to consult with the Oracle. They are far from home, they wouldn’t be missed for a long time; without friends or relatives here, who would notice that the last place they were seen alive was here?”
She thought about this for a while. “But how would the killers know that these people had no local connections who might show up asking embarrassing questions?”
“They had slaves walking among the people as they waited to consult with the Oracle. People would let crucial information slip without noticing it. I’m not saying they did it every day. For one thing, the conditions would have to be perfect. It would be impossible if many people were present, but we know that sometimes there might only be one or two people here on a given day. When conditions were perfect, they might be given a false prophecy like Floria’s master, or they might just be killed down there in the chamber of the Oracle. Knocked on the head or strangled, I would imagine. Blood is hard to scrub from coarse stone.”
“But how would they dispose of the bodies?” Julia wondered. “That was the great convenience of killing a victim overseas. Or at sea. No corpse to explain away.”
“Easily,” I said. “A few days ago I almost got disposed of down there by accident.”
“The river? What a hideous way to die, your body swept down beneath the earth without the proper rites.” She shuddered at the horror of it.
“They were sent down—clothes, possessions, the lot. In an instant, there was nothing to connect their disappearance with the priests and priestesses of Hecate. Only sometimes they were not thorough enough. In our search we found a stylus, a sandal, a bone hairpin, and a necklace of Egyptian beads. They were lost when the bodies of victims were thrust under the water to be swept away by the current.”
“How long has this been going on?” Julia asked. “The Oracle has been here for centuries.”
“Not for that long, I think. I suspect that the operation has been running only in recent years. There was scarcely any soot on the ceiling of the ventilation tunnel.”
“Very observant. But why, and how, were the priests of Apollo murdered?”
“That is the most difficult question, and I think that if we can put together just a few more facts, we’ll have the answer to that, too, and we’ll bag the lot of them. But I can’t let anyone outside know how close we are to doing it. That would mean fleeings and undoubtedly more murder attempts. I personally don’t want to be the recipient of a successful murder attempt. The bungled one was bad enough.”
“How many people do you think are involved?”
“The entire staff of the Oracle, for certain. There must be at least a few outside partners, and maybe many. Although it would make sense to keep the outsiders to a minimum. Everybody knows that the more people involved in a crime, the greater the likelihood of being found out.”
We went back out to the temple area and everyone had questions which I refused to answer. About noon, the historian Cordus arrived. “Has the praetor a task for me?” he asked, smiling. These were probably the happiest days of his life, employing his lonely work at the behest of the powerful. He’d be dining out on this story for years to come.
“Indeed I have, Cordus my friend.” I took him by the arm and led him to a little table where, as before, I had laid out a generous repast. “Here, sit, refresh yourself. It’s very good of you to come at such short notice.” It never hurts to flatter the humble. They get it so seldom. “It’s very important work indeed. But please, have something first.”
For the sake of good manners he ate a little and drank some wine, but curiosity got the better of his appetite. “Please, Praetor, what can I do for you?”
“First,” I said, “there is the matter of the slave girl, Hypatia.”
“Is she the one that was murdered?”
“Precisely. She said that she was sold to the temple by an itinerant slave trader named Aulus Plantius. I am informed that he is a dealer in high-quality slaves and that he appears here once or twice a year. This would have been about three months ago. Can you find me a record of that sale?”