The Sign of the Eagle Read online

  “Demetrios is a bright boy, and not one given to fantasies. Watching his own father being clubbed to death was no figment of his imagination. Nicanor’s tunic wasn’t torn by a trampling horse.” Macha didn’t tell Bassus about the fragment of parchment with the names. For now, something told her to withhold that information. How do I know the Senator is not involved, she thought. This is madness, I'm allowing my imagination to play tricks with my mind.

  “But that isn’t all,” she continued, “This may have been coincidental, but my slave, Edain, saw Metrobius leave early yesterday morning and return about an hour before Nicanor’s murder. She and Nicanor never trusted him.” Macha also informed Bassus about Jason lurking in the shadows of her house after returning from Helena’s home.

  Bassus exhaled. “That certainly puts a different twist on the matter. I will question Edain, Metrobius, and Jason, thoroughly, as well as the rest of your slaves.”

  “Please promise me one thing,” Macha said.

  “If I can. What is it?”

  Macha clasped her slender hands together on the desk.

  “Demetrios mustn’t be involved in the investigation. I don’t want the child subjected to the horrors of the rack or hot irons—he’d never survive. You must find evidence another way.”

  “I make no promises, but I’ll do what I can. Bring the slaves here, one at a time. I’ll question them now, alone.”

  * * * * *

  When Bassus finished his investigation, he sent for Macha.

  She returned to the library and took her place behind the desk. “Did you have any luck?” she asked.

  “I have placed Metrobius under arrest. My retainers are taking him to the stockade as we speak.”

  “Metrobius? Is he one of the conspirators?”

  “That remains to be seen, but after questioning your slave woman, Edain, and the groom, I called your steward back for further questioning. His answers were too evasive, enough to have him held for further questioning. Although I didn't mention the scroll, I got the distinct impression he may know why Nicanor had it. I can't say more than that right now. I may be wrong.”

  “Then you don’t believe Jason had anything to do with the murder?”

  “No. He wasn’t anywhere near the scene. When I asked him about the other night when you arrived home, he swore he had been waiting for hours to see your slave, Edain. He’s a bit of a rake but not a traitor. He admitted to stalking nearly everyone of your slave women.”

  Macha shivered and considered selling Jason. “I find it hard to believe Metrobius would have plotted against my husband. He has been my steward for years.”

  “That may be why he is involved. Does he not have access to nearly every part of the house and farm?” Bassus motioned with both hands as if it were obvious.

  “Yes, but—“

  “All the more reason to question him further.”

  “But he’ll be tortured.” She shook her head, frowning.

  Bassus narrowed his large deep-set eyes and seemed to stare right through Macha. “We’ve been through this before. I regret that I must use my powers as Legate. Although Metrobius is your property, the treason laws allow the State to confiscate slaves who may have knowledge of crimes against the Emperor and question them by torture.”

  “Must you? I know he left yesterday without telling me where he was going, but is that enough to place him on the rack?”

  “It is and we will.”

  Speechless, gripping her hands tighter than before, Macha drew back in her chair. Even if Metrobius had betrayed her family, she found the idea of torture too revolting for words. It was as if Bassus had betrayed her, even if what he did was legal under Roman law. The Senator had been her family’s oldest and dearest friend since she and her parents arrived in Rome in chains twenty years before. A chill made the downy hair on her arms stand on end. Her hands perspired. She unlocked her fingers and, unladylike, wiped them on her green stola.

  “Will Demetrios suffer the same fate? You did not mention that he was arrested.”

  “No, he can stay here with you—I have no need to torture any child. Metrobius will be enough. He knows more than he told us.”

  Macha sighed. Thank Mother Goddess, Demetrios was safe for the time being.

  “I don’t enjoy extracting a confession by torture, Macha,” Bassus continued. “But the Emperor’s life is at stake, and so is your husband’s. I’m duty bound to learn the truth, whatever the source. Unfortunately, because Metrobius is a slave, his testimony is only valid when given under extreme duress.”

  “But what if he truly doesn’t know anything?”

  “Then he will be released.”

  “Yes, and you and your sadist rack-masters will send back a broken and crippled man. And we still won't know if the scroll the assassins killed him for was of any importance.” Macha realized the fragment found by Edain may be a part of that original document. If so, may prove to be invaluable.

  “Pray it does not come to that. However, I will do anything to protect the Emperor. Believe me, I take no pleasure in this task.”

  Macha sat mute, weighing the situation, thinking she had little choice in the matter. At least little Demetrios has been spared, she thought. I must trust Bassus no matter what reservations I have. He is the only one who has the power to gain Titus’s release.

  “Do what you must,” she said. “I only pray he tells you the real truth.”

  * * * * *

  Macha went into the courtyard with Bassus and stayed until he rode away with his Praetorian Guard retainers. Dust churned from the hooves of their departing mounts leaving a choking cloud in the noonday heat. Young Titus raced to his mother as she stepped from the covered walkway bordering the quad. His red hair fell over his forehead and half hid the streak of dirt beneath.

  “I saw the soldiers take away Metrobius, Mama. Why did they do that?”

  “He’s going to be questioned about the death of Demetrios’ father.”

  “But you were going to keep it a secret.”

  “No one except Senator Bassus knows what Demetrios saw. As long as you and Demetrios don’t tell anyone else, it will remain a secret, do you understand?”

  “Yes, Mama, but what about Metrobius?”

  “The Senator has other ways of questioning Metrobius without telling him Demetrios saw anything.”

  “Good, I’m glad it’s Metrobius—I don’t like him!”

  “Titus!”

  He darted down the corridor and into the house.

  Macha wasn’t ready to return. She viewed the empty, silent courtyard. It was siesta time, stifling heat sucking the life out of all activity. Even the noisy birds nesting in the poplar trees by one corner were hushed. She leaned against a narrow fluted pillar, the hard marble edges pushing into her back, and pondered the events surrounding Nicanor’s murder.

  She recalled how Pollia and her husband, Julius Pedius, had arrived in Mediolanum about a week before Titus’ arrest. He had been inspecting his estates in the Po Valley. But it seemed strange they were returning to Rome right after her husband’s incarceration. Did Pollia have anything to do with Titus' arrest or involvement? Doubtful. She and her husband seemed too wealthy to dabble in imperial intrigue. Macha had heard Pedius had the ear of the Emperor. Pedius said he was selling a portion of his lands to cover recent financial losses. Pollia said the trip was a good excuse to visit her dear friends in Mediolanum. Perhaps it was except for the hostility Pollia had shown Macha.

  As far as Macha was concerned, that didn’t explain who assassinated Nicanor, or where the murderers were hiding. Even if arrested, their confessions would probably reveal little. At best all she could get for proving the slave’s murder was a monetary settlement to replace his loss. Not only had the truth about the conspiracy been harder to prove but far more dangerous than she had expected. The truth lay somewhere deep within the tangled ball of lies.

  * * * * *

  The following morning Macha received a message to expect
Senator Bassus for an official visit later in the day. The courier provided no further details. His call was too soon after Metrobius’s arrest, and she was certain it concerned her steward.

  In the meantime, Macha went to the library, a simply furnished office, where she conducted all planning for the household’s daily activities. As husband, Titus was head of the family, but it was she who kept the villa running like a well-greased chariot wheel.

  She summoned Zeno, the assistant steward.

  The young slender Greek arrived, bowed and stood quietly waiting for Macha to speak.

  "I don't know how long Metrobius will be gone," Macha said, "but in the meantime, you are now in charge of overseeing all slaves of my household."

  "Thank you, Mistress, I shall do my best," he answered in a soft voice. "It is regrettable about Metrobius. I hope he returns; I have learned much from him."

  Macha nodded. She stood and came around the front of her desk. "Come with me, I'm going to make the rounds."

  They strolled outdoors and headed for the kitchen, part of the outbuilding complex, the villa rustica. Macha consulted with the chef about the daily menu, made some minor changes, and inspected the kitchen for cleanliness. Satisfied, she and Zeno departed and went to the spinning room next to the sheep pen.

  Waiting outside, three slave women arrived just ahead of Macha and the steward to spend the day spinning wool. The oldest of the women had brought a large basket of raw wool from the storage area. Macha took out a set of keys, hanging from a leather thong, from a pocket inside her long work tunic, and unlocked the door. Inside, she took a portable scale from a table in the corner and weighed the fleece. She told Zeno to write down the amount on his wax tablet. That evening she would return to make sure the spun yarn matched the original weight.

  From the spinning room, Macha and Zeno hiked to the granary and food storage rooms at the far end of the compound where another slave waited. Unlocking the door, the three entered and Macha inspected the large goat-skin sack from which wheat had been withdrawn the day before. She checked the amount listed in her scrolled ledger against the amount ground into flour the day before, and ordered Zeno to place the bag on a hanging scale. The weight still matched the amount withdrawn. Recent problems with slave thievery had forced her to double-check all withdrawals of wheat and other supplies.

  As Macha and Zeno left the granary, a slave hurried forward and announced that Senator Bassus had arrived. Macha told the slave she would see the Senator right away. It was an hour before noon.

  Macha entered the library and found Bassus waiting for her. She took a seat.

  “I have grave news, Macha,” Bassus said, as he sat across the desk from her. He avoided her piercing emerald eyes.

  “Don’t tell me Metrobius was killed under torture!”

  “Nothing of the sort happened.”

  Macha slumped in her chair, relieved for a second.

  “Unfortunately,” he resumed, “Metrobius died sometime last night from food poisoning.”

  “Food poisoning?” Exhaling, Macha leaned over the desk and slapped her palms on the hardened surface. “Great Mother Goddess, how could that be possible? Are you sure that caused his death?”

  “Absolutely, I regret to say.” Bassus eyes met hers and appeared full of sorrow. “He ate the same food as the other prisoners in the guardhouse—legionaries being punished. A couple of them also died, and another is near death.”

  “Oh, no, poor Metrobius.” Putting her hand to her face, Macha quietly began to weep. First Nicanor, and now her steward. She wondered whether this was an accident or something more sinister? His death seemed so senseless. Bassus patiently sat in silence.

  She had to bring herself under control. This was neither the time nor the place to grieve. Pulling out a silk cloth from the fold in her stola, she wiped her eyes. She knew the tears had smeared the silver antimony eye shadow, turning her face into a frightful mess, but it didn’t matter.

  “I’m sorry, Senator Bassus,” Macha said.

  “I understand,” he answered. “He was a faithful servant.”

  Was he? “Where did the food come from?” Macha asked.

  “The mess hall—it’s the same eaten by the troops.”

  “Did anyone else but the prisoners die?” Not Titus, she prayed. Surely, Senator Bassus would have told me first.

  “No.”

  Relieved, she asked, “Don’t you think it’s odd that no one in the mess hall suffered the same symptoms?”

  “Not especially,” Bassus replied. “The prisoners wait until after the troops eat before they’re fed. They get what’s left over. Perhaps the food spoiled before they ate. You know how common food poisoning is.”

  “Then why didn’t my husband die?”

  “Important prisoners, politicians, and officers like Titus receive their meals from the officer’s mess. The rations are of better quality, and they’re fed at the same time as the officers.”

  True, death by food poisoning was all too common. Macha recalled the year before when five members of a family she knew in Mediolanum died at the same time within a few hours after taking the evening meal. But she wasn’t convinced the food killed Metrobius. Somebody deliberately wanted him out of the way. Did he, in fact, have any connection with the conspirators? Did Nicanor and Metrobius know? If so, someone went out of the way to murder both of them. For good measure it was made to appear as accident with other prisoners dying in the process. Perhaps her husband had been meant to be murdered as well. Perhaps whoever did this had not known he would have been fed separately and at a different time. Thank goodness for that. She speculated the conspirators feared Metrobius would confess under torture and that was why he was poisoned.

  So far no one knew what little Demetrios had witnessed, and Macha was hopeful no one would discover the truth. If that happened, his life would be in grave danger, and perhaps even the life of her son.

  She had no proof and only a fragmented parchment with a few names and the picture of an eagle, and five black splinters removed from Apollo’s hoof and Nicanor’s skull. They were meaningless without corroborating proof. But she had to tell Bassus, even if it meant her remarks were considered the rantings of a hysterical woman—something men were all too ready to believe.

  “Senator Bassus, I have something to show you.” She pulled from within her stola the fragment of parchment and handed to him.

  Chapter 10

  A Revelation?

  Bassus scanned the document, his face expressionless, except for a split second when he flinched.

  “I wonder if these names are in the scroll taken from Nicanor?” Macha said. She explained that Edain discovered the torn parchment, hidden in Nicanor’s clothing while preparing the body for burial. But where did he get them and from whom?

  Frowning, Bassus said, “Your slave could have obtained these names anywhere.”

  Macha’s heart sunk. “What about the picture of the eagle—symbol of the legions?”

  “There are thirty legions—it could be any of them.” He crinkled his bushy eye-brows together as he studied Macha.

  “But the First Italica is the only one based in Italy. Wouldn’t that be the most likely?” she asked.

  “Perhaps, but the symbol of the eagle in itself is not enough proof. Remember, it’s also the symbol of Rome’s power. More investigation is required to confirm that, one way or another.”

  “But without the backing of the legions, no emperor has power. Perhaps this will convince you,” Macha said. She pulled out of the fold in her stola a couple of black splinters she had found on Nicanor’s body. She held back the rest. Something told her she might need them later. “Do you remember the black clubs Demetrios said were used by the assassins to kill his father? I found these splinters on his skull.” She handed them to the Senator.

  Bassus carefully examined the pieces and touched the ends, nicking a finger tip. He looked back at Macha. “This wood is very hard. It’s either ebony or walnut. A club made
of this is expensive. To leave these splinters behind, I’m surprised the assailants did not literally smash in your slave’s head.”

  “It was horrible enough.”

  “The chance of finding the weapon or weapons matching these splinters is remote, but it’s enough to warrant further investigation. I was planning to return to Rome; now, I will leave sooner than later. My suspicions tell me that’s where I’ll find the answers.”

  “Then I’m going to Rome, too,” Macha said. “I’ll not stay here.”

  “No, you cannot go.”

  “But you’ll need my help.”

  Bassus narrowed his eyes. “I could place you under house arrest.”

  “You wouldn’t!” Macha couldn’t believe her ears. "What kind of man are you? How can deny me passage when my husband could die!" Did Bassus know more than he was telling?

  The Senator frowned. For a moment he seemed to ponder Macha's words before arriving at a decision. He snorted. “Knowing you as I do, you would escape and follow anyway and get killed in the process.”

  “Honestly, do you really believe that would happen?” Macha shuddered.

  “Indeed. Whoever is behind this plot will attempt to keep you from interfering, even if you stayed here. The only way I can protect you is take you with me to Genua. From there we’ll take ship for Ostia and barge up the Tiber to Rome,” Bassus said. “Word would get out soon enough that you’ve gone to Rome, but under my protection you’ll be safe.”

  Her fingers touched her cheek. “What about my son and Demetrios? Won’t they be in danger?”

  “Take them to your sister-in-law, Helena. They’ll be in no danger there.”

  “Thank you, Senator Bassus,” Macha answered with a sigh of relief.

  “However,” Bassus growled. He squared his aging but still powerful shoulders and motioned with a big leathery hand. “You will leave the investigation to me. Rome is too dangerous for a woman to make inquiries on her own. If you interfere, I will be forced to place you under arrest for your own safety. Is that understood?”