“I did not take your command to remain indoors to mean we should not eat,” Cassia said as she serenely ladled stew into bowls. “I went only to the baker’s and the popina.”
I hung up my cloak without a word and plunked myself down on my stool, reaching for a hunk of bread. I had known Cassia wouldn’t cower here obediently, but I also knew she was—usually—sensible.
I tore off a hunk of bread and chewed, enjoying the airy texture and slightly sour taste. Cassia always managed to procure fine loaves, mostly because the baker was afraid of her. He was afraid of me too, but mostly of Cassia.
As I chewed, I told her what Marcianus had found from examining Rufus’s body. While Cassia duly noted this down, I added, “Chryseis is married. Or is getting married. Today.”
“What?” Cassia blinked wide eyes, her stylus halting. “To whom?”
“A witless man called Daphnus. Father is a wealthy freedman.” I related the conversation I’d had with him.
“Did he tell you the name of his father?” Cassia asked when I’d finished. “I wonder how wealthy he truly is. Though I imagine Chryseis knows exactly how much the young man is worth.”
“He said his father has cut him off.” I slurped stew, sopping it with bread. Rushing around Rome and interviewing people, coupled with the sadness of the reason, had made me hungry.
“Marrying a wealthy and comely wife might restore him to his father’s graces,” Cassia said. “Chryseis no doubt hopes for this—or maybe she knows that she can talk his father around. From how you describe her, she does not strike me as a woman who would marry for the sentiment of it.”
“No affection in her,” I agreed. “Daphnus is dazzled by her, and I imagine Rufus was too.”
“Rufus was a freedman, is that correct?”
I nodded as I stuffed stew and bread into my mouth. My stomach kept growling, even as I filled it. “He came to Aemil voluntarily. He was in much debt and sold himself to Aemil to pay off his creditors. Then he earned enough in prize money to buy back his freedom but negotiated with Aemil to stay on even after that. He liked being famous.”
“That fame attracted Chryseis to him, no doubt. Not to mention the prize money.”
I shrugged. “Rufus could never have made as much as a freedman’s son whose father owns a large silk importing business.”
Silk was costly. It was brought in from lands far to the east that no one had ever seen, as pale, rather thick cloth. Importers had the cloth unwoven into silk threads, then rewoven and dyed into colors Romans preferred—red, gold, deep blues, and greens. Only the very wealthy, like Domitiana, could afford to wear silk.
“Chryseis must have discovered too late that Rufus didn’t have as much as she believed,” Cassia said. “He probably exaggerated his worth.” Rufus had been a braggart, so that was entirely possible. “Even if she didn’t need his money, having much herself, she likely wanted to add to her coffers. Perhaps she simply craves wealth.”
“She is a cold-hearted woman,” I said when my mouth was finally clear again.
“But very beautiful.” Cassia watched me, her eyes still.
I considered this. “She is like a statue, perfectly sculpted and painted. I enjoy looking at statuary in gardens, but once I walk away from them, I forget all about them. Chryseis is like that, except with a sharp tongue. The young woman I spoke with in the lupinarius was not pretty at all, but I was far happier talking to her than Chryseis. She felt sorry for Ajax—did even before he died. He was homesick, she said.”
Having stated my views, I returned to my stew.
After a moment, I realized that Cassia had gone very silent. I glanced up to find her regarding me with soft eyes, a smile on her lips.
“You are a good man, Leonidas.”
So she’d said before. I did not find much remarkable in myself, so I continued my meal without comment.
When we were finished, Cassia cleared the plates, taking them to the balcony to wash them. I never saw the point in this as we’d just use them again, but I did not argue.
She brought the plates inside and stacked them on the cabinet. “Perhaps we should have a peep at Chryseis’s warehouse,” she said. “A warehouse would be an excellent place to hide a corpse.”
“But Chryseis did not murder Rufus, we agreed.”
“Yes, but what if she killed Ajax?” Cassia traced the cover of one of her tablets in thought. “Or had him killed by men she hired? Suppose she didn’t pay the men, or she angered them. She’s a demanding and unpleasant woman. What if they decided to take their revenge by killing her husband in the same fashion as they killed her first victim? As a warning? It would explain why she was so horrified, as all facts show she never cared for Rufus.”
“A cruel thing for Rufus,” I said feelingly. “We still have the same problem—how did the killers strike him down? Rufus was an even better fighter than Ajax.”
Cassia’s gaze went remote as she thought. “Suppose Rufus took part in the murder of Ajax. The ruffians would not only use Rufus’s death to terrify Chryseis but also to rid themselves of a witness.”
“Possible. But then we come back to why Chryseis should want to kill Ajax.”
