Under Vesuvius(38)
He had stopped before a door that opened off the impluvium, the most common location for bedrooms in Roman houses—and Gaeto seemed to have gone entirely Roman in his domestic habits, save his supernumerary spouse. Beside the door were two Egyptian slaves dressed in stiff, white linen kilts and formal wigs. They didn’t look like guards.
The steward swung the door open. I saw that it was fitted with a heavy bolt that could be fastened from the inside. One rarely sees lock-able doors within a house, except on storerooms and wine cellars. But this was a sensible precaution for a man who dealt in human livestock and dwelled in the midst of his merchandise.
Gaeto lay on the floor beside his bed, fully clothed. His eyes were open, his head drawn back as if he had been observing the heavens for omens when he died. There was no blood staining his clothing nor on the floor.
“How did he die?” I asked. I scanned the room. There were no displaced or broken furnishings, no sign of a struggle.
The steward summoned the two Egyptians and they entered. At his direction they lifted the body gently and turned it over. “These men are undertakers, Praetor,” said Archias. “Skilled Egyptians are much in demand in Italian funeral establishments.”
No wonder these two had no qualms about handling the dead. Unlike Roman libitinarii they did not wear masks or gloves, but men raised in an Egyptian House of the Dead are not likely to be squeamish. Their craft involves handling the internal organs as well.
“Ah, now I understand,” I said.
Protruding from the back of Gaeto’s neck, driven upward into the base of the skull, was a small dagger, buried hilt deep. It was an extremely clever method of assassination. Paralysis would have been instant, death following in mere seconds. The man would have been unable to cry out and no blood escaped.
“His hands show no sign that he tried to defend himself,” Hermes noted. “He must have been taken completely unawares.”
“So it would seem,” I agreed. “Archias, who was in here with your master last night?”
“Sir, last night, just after dinner, I was dismissed with the rest of the staff. We live in other houses within the compound. Only the immediate family and their personal body servants live in the great house.”
“Then who was with him last night?” I asked him.
“Nobody. The gate was secured and there were no callers until your man arrived this morning.”
“Then he was killed by someone already here,” I said, “and that could prove very bad for all of you.”
He went even paler. “Praetor, that could not have happened!”
“Then what did happen?” I demanded, indicating the corpse. “Does this look like suicide to you?”
He stammered, then said, “Someone must have come in over the wall.”
“I’ll want to talk to whoever guarded the gate last night,” I told him. I looked around the room and saw that there was nothing to be learned from it or from the body. I had rarely seen a murder site so devoid of usable evidence. Only inference was of any use. “Now give me a tour of the establishment.”
We followed the steward outside, and I drew young Marcus near me. “Marcus, ride back to the villa and find Regilius, the horse master. Tell him to ride here immediately and scout the ground around this estate, paying particular attention to the part of the outer wall nearest the main house. He’ll know what I want.” The boy was clearly mystified, but he did not waste my time with questions; he merely said, “At once, Praetor,” and ran for his horse. That boy had a promising future.
“From the wharf”—Archias indicated the jetty visible through the main gate—“the merchandise is brought within the walls and taken to the great compound. Please come this way.” He was talking like a tour guide, probably to help get over his jitters. I could sympathize. I had the feeling that he gave this tour often, probably to prospective investors and big-scale buyers. We went into a large courtyard faced by a quadrangle of two-story barracks. The severity of the design was relieved by bright paint, a shady portico, and many fine trees and shrubs planted in huge jars around the perimeter. Lest anyone be too allayed by the pleasant prospect, in the center was a frame to which a number of slaves could be triced for whipping.
Next to the main entrance was a huge signboard of white-painted wood. On it in large, black letters were written the rules of the establishment and a list of punishments for infractions. On the left it was written in Latin, then repeated in Greek, Punic, Aramaic, Syrian, and demotic Egyptian.
“Here,” Archias went on, “the new stock are separated by categories. Those destined for domestic service are assigned quarters in the north building, skilled craftsmen to the west building. Entertainers, masseurs, bath attendants, and so forth are housed in the south building; and the most highly skilled—architects, physicians, teachers, and such—live in the east building.”