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'Like a butcher's yard,' he murmured. 'Blood everywhere. Such hideous deaths, mistress!'
Claudia didn't reply, and the steward led her out. Once outside, she paused, closed her eyes and sighed deeply, drawing in the freshness and fragrance of the gardens.
'I need to see Murranus,' she murmured. 'I need to see him now.'
They returned to the villa. Murranus' chamber stood at the side of the house, overlooking one of the lawns; its shutters were open. Murranus lay stretched out on the cot bed, a linen sheet pulled up to his chin, his head resting on folded drapes. A physician with two attendants was dressing the wound on the side of the gladiator's head. Claudia pressed her hand against Murranus' cheek.
'How is he?' she whispered.
The physician's red-rimmed eyes held hers.
'In no physical danger,' he replied. 'There are some bruises.' He pulled back the sheet.
Claudia gasped. Murranus lay naked except for a loincloth. All along both his arms were angry welts and bruises, and the same on his belly and thighs. The physician pulled the sheet back up.
'They're nothing,' he whispered, 'they'll soon fade. We must concentrate on this.' He turned Murranus' head slightly and Claudia glimpsed the wound and contusions; the gladiator's wiry red hair was stiffened with blood. 'This again is nothing.' The physician picked up a swab and gently pressed it against the wound. 'What I am concerned about is any injury within. If his skull is thick, then he is safe. He is still unconscious; we'll know possibly in the next hour or so. There is nothing you can do here.'
Claudia leaned over the bed, kissed Murranus on the brow, lips and cheek, then left. She stood for a while in the passageway, as if fascinated by the mosaic on the wall celebrating the legend of Sleep, the Brother of Death, the Son of Night, who lived in a mysterious cave on the isle of Lemnos near the land of the fabulous Cimmerians. The artist had conjured all this up, conveying a dark, misty picture of the waters of Lethe, the river of forgetfulness, flowing through the cavern where Sleep stretched on a feather-soft couch surrounded by an infinite number of his sons, the Dreams. The entire painting had been executed in sombre colours with the occasional flash of brilliance, vivid spots like bursts of sunlight on a dark day. The painting reflected Claudia's own mood. In truth, she was confused. The news, the sights she had seen, had dulled her wits. She had difficulty concentrating on anything. Murranus was injured. Aurelian's son Alexander was murdered; would Murranus be blamed? Four servants had died, not to mention those two veterans. How could all this happen in or near this beautiful villa surrounded by open countryside? How could the abductors have known that Alexander was being escorted into Rome? That must have been where Murranus was taking him, perhaps to one of the gladiatorial schools, the exercise gyms or even the baths. Only Murranus would be able to tell her for certain.
Claudia was about to return to the garden to sit and reflect when the villa was rent by more hideous screams and cries which drowned out the lamentations of mourning. She remained rooted to the spot as the heart-rending sounds echoed from the back of the house. Servants, slaves and freedmen, shocked from their own grief, hurried towards the fresh crisis. A short while later the steward returned, accompanied by Leartus; the expression on both their faces a
'It's General Aurelian,' Leartus gasped. 'He's been found dead of a stroke or heart attack. He'd retreated to the library to mourn. Come…'
Claudia followed them along the exquisitely furnished galleries to the library. In the pool of light pouring through a window at the far end sprawled General Aurelian. Urbana and Cassia knelt close by, rocking themselves backwards and forwards, so distracted by their grief that neither woman protested as Claudia pushed through the servants standing helplessly by and crouched beside the General. His face was whiteish-blue, his eyes open, mouth gaping in all the horror of sudden death. Claudia glanced quickly around. She could see no wine cup, no food, nothing except a manuscript open on the table. Urbana was sobbing uncontrollably. Cassia knelt close by her, one arm across her shoulder, staring fixedly down at the corpse. Claudia felt the dead man's face; it was cold. She leaned closer and smelled his mouth: nothing but wine. She moved aside as the physician who'd been tending Murranus hurried in with a satchel across his shoulder. He felt Aurelian's throat and wrist; he pressed on the stomach and chest, staring into the glassy dead eyes. Claudia was impressed by the man's quiet skill and reserved ma
'A sudden seizure of the heart,' he declared. 'General Aurelian came in here to grieve,- the pain and shock must have been too much for him.'
'Did he have a weak heart?' Claudia spoke over the sobs of the two women.
The physician gestured with his head towards the door before ordering the servants not to move the corpse until he returned.
'Did General Aurelian have a weak heart?' Claudia repeated the question once they'd left the library.
The physician stared up at the ceiling as if fascinated by the carvings. Claudia could see the man was deeply agitated, uncomfortable.
'You know who I am,' she said. 'I am Claudia, servant of the-'
'I know who you are, Claudia.' The physician stared at her, his light green eyes watchful. He was a handsome man, high-cheekboned and thin-lipped. He struck Claudia as sharp, a man who observed closely, said little and kept his own counsel. 'I know who you are,' he repeated. 'General Aurelian told me about you. I am British by birth; my name is Casca. I have studied at the schools of Rhodes, Salerno and here in Rome. I've served the General ever since he retired. I was not only his physician but a close friend, his adviser; someone would even say a personal steward.' The physician chose his words carefully. 'Now, mistress,' he stepped forward, 'to answer your question. General Aurelian was a very good man; beneath his crusty ways he had a kind heart, but it was also a weak one. He'd served long and hard in the army both in Britain and elsewhere. Alexander, his son by his first wife, was his pride and joy, and his death meant the death of Aurelian's world, the end of his own life. I suspect, mistress, he did not wish to live any longer, but wanted to join his son in whatever life exists after death.'
The physician walked away, then came back, standing so close Claudia could smell the sweet crushed herbs in which his robes had been washed. He tapped the side of his head, i'm a physician, Claudia, I can observe and perhaps tell you what is wrong, but what goes on in the mind, in what they call the soul, I do not know. General Aurelian was devastated by the murder of Alexander,- such a hideous death, to be ambushed on a country road and cut down-'
Claudia held her hand up to stop him.
'What's the matter, mistress?'
She tugged at the man's tunic and they walked away from the doorway to stand by an open window overlooking a small courtyard. i may be wrong,' she declared. 'I had a suspicion that those who attacked Murranus and Alexander intended to kidnap the young man, but if that was the case, why did they kill him? Is this attack by the same gang who carried out those other crimes in Rome? Or was it just outlaws? No, no!' She paused. 'That's not logical. If it was a gang of robbers, they would choose much easier prey, not a young man armed and protected by the likes of Murranus, not to mention four servants walking with them. I can't understand that! Why was he killed? Murranus might be able to answer that question. Tell me, Casca.' Claudia held the physician's gaze. 'From the little I know,' she continued, 'Murranus, Alexander and their escort left this villa before dawn. They took the road leading to Rome, so they were bound for the city.'