Read Online Murder in the Forum by Rosemary Rowe - Free Book Online Page A

witnesses to prove it, as some of the others would surely do. In any case the door-keeper, alerted by the sudden panicky exodus, realised that something unfortunate had happened and turned most of them back.
    The remaining dignitaries eyed each other doubtfully. Fortunately all the senior civil and judicial authorities of the town were present, so there was no possibility of one group being less politically implicated than another. And there
were
political implications. The death of the guest of honour at a banquet is always an embarrassment, but even supernatural visitations were downright unwise when they caused an accident like this to a visiting favourite of the Emperor’s, especially at a civil banquet in a province already suspected of being rebellious. Little knots of magistrates huddled together, muttering in low voices. Some gulped at their wine dazedly. One could see why.
    A dozen muted arguments broke out, but as tempers frayed with anxiety voices became shrill and raised. The topics seemed to be the same – what to do next, who should do it, and exactly which kind of funeral rites would be appropriate. Clearly no one wished to take responsibility (since, if the Emperor ever made enquiries, a wrong decision was likely to be much more dangerous than no decision at all) but everyone had an opinion. Some urged caution and delay, or even sending to the governor for advice, as though time would somehow soften the enormity of the event. Others seemed to feel the need for immediate action and were loudly demanding sacred herbs from the garden, calling for blankets from their litters, or sending bemused servants in all directions with contradictory messages.
    The poor acrobat, obviously terrified at the outcome of his performance, had edged the nut bowl surreptitiously onto a table, and tried to slide unnoticed back into the corner with the rest of the entertainers. The nubile dancing girl burst into tears and the musicians began whispering together, patting her on the arm and nodding knowingly towards Gaius as owner of the house.
    Gaius saw them. The danger of the situation was not lost upon him. He buried his head in his hands and let out a howl that would not have disgraced one of his dogs. Not surprisingly. The accident had occurred in his house. At the very least he would be personally responsible for the costly and time-consuming rituals of purification and mourning. At worst . . . well, choking on a nut might be an accident, or vengeance from the dead, but Commodus was not noted for either his leniency or his logic.
    As if summoned by the howl, two slaves came out of the kitchens with a salver of sugared fruits. News had evidently not spread to the neither regions, but when they saw what was happening they bolted back again, leaving the door open. Gaius’s dogs, taking advantage of the moment, bounded in and added to the confusion by rushing around the room yapping and barking, leaping up on their master and lapping up the food under the tables. One of them, horrifyingly, began sniffing at the corpse.
    It was at that point that Marcus finally took command. Whatever else, such indignity could not be tolerated. He strode over to the couch and pulled the dog away. At the same time he signalled to the musicians. The drums sounded and the lute-players touched their strings. Instantly the hubbub ceased and everyone looked towards Marcus. There was an almost visible ripple of relief. He was the most influential man present, and by stepping forward he had relieved others of the responsibility.
    ‘Citizens! This is a most unfortunate accident. Naturally, you are disturbed. But at all costs let us preserve decorum. Gaius, call your dogs to heel.’
    The old man gave a feeble whistle. The dogs ignored him but a pair of his slaves, obviously accustomed to the duty, seized the dogs by the iron collars round their necks and dragged them downstairs towards the cellars and kitchens.
    Marcus watched this performance in silence.