Cassia closed the last tablet. “There is no mention of Rufus at all. Chryseis does own properties throughout the city—the warehouse and part of the ship Merope mentioned, two more insulae, and a few shops in the Subura.”
I studied the shabby room with the cracks in its walls and no sign of comfortable furnishings. “Rufus must have thought he’d landed in luxury with her. A horrible disappointment for him.”
“He might not be hiding from Aemil or a murderer, but from Chryseis herself,” Cassia said. “If she is not a warm woman, as you say.”
I suppressed a shudder. “Not warm in the least. But if he hid from her, why not seek out Merope and Martolia?”
“Because Chryseis would know how to find him there. She told you she knew where they lived.” Cassia began to lift the box of scrolls, but I took it from her and lugged it back to the cabinet myself. “Or perhaps Rufus does not care. He might be happy that his lady has looks and money, assuming that one day he will inherit that fortune.”
I shoved the box where Cassia indicated and reached for the tablets she handed me. I opened one on impulse and studied the lines in the wax that appeared as random scratches to me.
“Could you teach me how to read?” I asked abruptly.
Cassia started, the hem of her tunic moving with her misstep. “You wish to learn to read?”
By her tone, I might have told her I wanted to flap my arms and fly.
“Why not? If Gnaeus Gallus ever requests me to work for him, it might be useful.”
Gallus had been impressed that a gladiator had known so much about building sites. I’d been trained by a master builder long ago, before that master had been killed.
Cassia lost her shock, her eyes lighting. “I would be happy to, Leonidas. I hadn’t thought you keen, but if you truly wish to learn …” She trailed off as though musing on the possibilities. “Certainly. You leave it to me.”
I tucked away the tablets and rose as I lowered the curtain.
“Let’s call on Marcianus,” I said. The way Cassia studied me was unnerving, and I began to regret my impulsive request. “He might have more to tell us.”
I doubted it, but speaking to Marcianus was always soothing. He could put a reasonable and clear-thinking perspective on most events.
We left the insula and made our way to his home past the fountain of the three fishes. Marcianus was not in, but Marcia was there.
She admitted us, though she’d been locking up for the night. “He’s still at the ludus with poor Ajax,” Marcia told us. “Aemil and the gladiators will give him a funeral—no one else to do it. If Ajax had family, they are far from here.”
“Did Marcianus discover anything else about how Ajax was killed?” I asked.
Marcia shook her head. “Marcianus says you are suspecting a highborn woman of luring him in and killing him, but Ajax didn’t like highborn women. I remember him from when I worked in the Subura. He preferred plebs or slaves, he said. He didn’t want to be involved with senator’s wives—too dangerous.”
“None of the lupinari he visited in the last days could have given him such a meal,” I pointed out.
“No, but a highbornmancould have,” Marcia said. “Ajax did like patricians—or rather, patrician’s sons.”
“Do you know which ones?” I thought of the many domii and villas that marched up Rome’s hills. Difficult to search them all, if we even could.
“He never mentioned names—he didn’t want to land them in scandal. More likely to keep himself from punishment than to spare the young men dishonor.”
The information did help, I supposed, if only to tell us we needed to look beyond women like Domitiana and her daughter.
“If you hear of anyone who favored him, please tell us,” I said.
“Of course.” Marcia spoke with conviction, a strength she’d grown into.
“But be careful,” I warned. “This person is ruthless.”
Marcia flashed me one of her rare smiles. “I am no fool, Leonidas.”
True, she had proved competent and calm. I comforted myself that Marcianus would keep her from harm and left it for now. We departed after Cassia bade her a gracious good night.
The sky was darkening, residents of the neighborhood heading indoors. The cloud bank began to devour the sinking sun, plunging the street into gloom.
