Cassia had already started leading Duilia away from the gruesome scene, restoring her to her parents, who were holding each other in relief. Scaevola planted hands on his hips and gazed down at the corpse then up at me.
“Any idea who he is?” His voice held fading hope.
“None.”
The man could be anyone, from any class. Though the rags he wore had been a freedman’s or slave’s tunic, there was nothing to say a patrician’s son hadn’t donned it to go slumming, or that his own clothes hadn’t been stolen. His hair had been neatly trimmed, as had his nails, which meant he hadn’t done much manual labor.
“That will be a bother.” Scaevola’s words were an understatement. He heaved another sigh from the bottom of his boots. “Take the ladies home, Leonidas. Sorry to have distressed them for nothing.”
I gave him a nod, not envying him the task of finding the man’s true family and breaking the news of this death.
Duilius had ushered his wife away, the two bent together as they melted into the crowd. Duilia and Cassia moved more slowly after them, making their way to the street that led around the Forum Bovarium.
“… then where is he?” I heard Duilia ask as I fell into step behind them.
“He is safe,” I stated.
Cassia and Duilia halted and turned to me, Duilia’s eyes widening. “You know where he is,” Duilia said accusingly.
“If he obeyed me, he is safe.”
“You sound very certain,” Duilia said.
I wasn’t certain at all, so I did not answer. Duilia’s parents had already disappeared into the mist and crowds, which I was glad of. I did not want to assure Camille her son was well until I saw him for myself.
“Where is he, then?” Duilia demanded.
She looked inquiringly at Cassia, but Cassia shook her head. I kept silent—I could not explain while we were in the Forum Bovarium, which teemed with people, the stench of the cattle market intense.
“Do you think whoever killed that poor man intended to murder Laurentius?” Duilia asked me.
I nodded. During my first perusal of the body, I’d been sure it was Laurentius. I imagined his killer had been as well.
Why Laurentius had been the murderer’s target was a puzzle. Because Vibius had failed to fetch the ring for him? Or because Laurentius was no longer useful?
I had no idea what to think anymore. A young man was dead either because of the supposed play, or the supposed conspiracy Nero feared. This killer must know we’d taken the ring to Nero and perhaps had decided to protect himself from exposure. He was so worried that he hadn’t taken the time to ensure he’d murdered the right man.
The killer might be watching us now. He’d know I wasn’t satisfied that Laurentius was dead and might wait for me to lead him to the correct target.
“We will eat our breakfast,” I announced.
Cassia sent me a puzzled glance but said nothing. She knew well enough by now that when I gave arbitrary orders, I had a plan in mind.
I led both women into the nearest open popina, sat us down at a table, and told the harried landlord to bring us bread. The bread was stale, but the three of us munched it in silence.
I kept an eye on the street, watching every person who passed. I saw none but free and slave women hurrying by, and men either shuffling along with the gaunt stare of the hungry or striding purposefully on whatever business took them to and from the cattle market.
When I finished the last of my bread, I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. “You should go to the baths,” I said to my two companions.
Cassia’s bewildered stare landed on me, but I’d have to explain later. Duilia was as frustrated, but she was a clever young woman and had realized we were evading Laurentius’s would-be killer.
“A bathhouse,” Cassia said. “A fine idea.”
I paid the popina’s landlord a few ases. The man took the coins without a change of his surly expression, and we departed.
I walked with the two women to a small bathhouse in the Carinae. Cassia must have deduced what I meant to do, because the pucker between her brow eased as we went inside.
I left them at their changing room, then wandered from chamber to chamber, making certain no one menacing lingered. I found only a few dispirited young men in the caldarium, possibly new lawyers who had no cases in the basilicas today. The frigidarium, tepidarium, and gymnasium were empty except a slave attendant in the exercise room. He looked at me in displeasure when I entered and relief when I stepped out again.
