She heard footsteps, and then the door swung open. Silvanus looked gaunt and exhausted, as if the last few days had aged him ten years. Despite herself, a twinge of sympathy pained her.
“What is it?” he said, his voice almost a snap.
“I just wanted to ask what you plan to do now. I’ll be returning to Rome after the funeral. You are welcome to join me.”
Silvanus shook his head. “Petronax has offered me a position here, with the provincial administration.”
“You’re staying in Narbo?”
He shrugged. “Where else would I go?”
Volusia recalled that Silvanus hailed from a rustic town in northern Italy and did not have much in the way of family. There was likely nothing for him there, or in Rome, so perhaps it made sense he’d stay here. “Very well. Speaking of Petronax…may I come in?”
He frowned at her for a moment, then stood back from the door and allowed her to enter the bedroom.
Volusia closed the door behind her and tried not to look at the bed where Avitus had died. “Did Avitus mention anything to you about Petronax? Any quarrel they might have had?”
Silvanus crossed the room and sat heavily in a chair by the wall. “What are you getting at?”
She bit her lip. To think such things was one matter, but to actually speak them aloud… “Do you not think it strange how he died?”
His gaze flicked up to her, as quick as an arrow, then slid away. “People get sick all the time. Some of them die.”
“I just…did the thought of foul play really never cross your mind?”
“I think you should be careful about throwing around accusations about the most powerful man in the province,” Silvanus said, lowering his voice.
“I’m not throwing around accusations. Just asking questions in the privacy of my own home.”
Silvanus let out a tight sigh through his teeth. “Of course the idea of foul play crossed my mind. But I can’t see how anyone could have accomplished it. The three of us ate the same food that night.”
“Did Avitus share anything with you that might point to a reason for someone to want to…” She couldn’t say the words:to kill him.
Silvanus shook his head slowly. “Not that I recall.” A flash of pain crossed his face, as if he were recalling every conversation he’d ever had with Avitus.
Impulsively, Volusia went to him and laid a hand on his shoulder. “I know how much you cared for him. And I’m grateful for everything you did for him, especially at the end.”
Silvanus pushed her hand away with surprising force. “It’s over, Volusia. We don’t have to pretend to be the best of friends anymore.”
“I-I wasn’t pretending—”
Silvanus rose to his feet, shoved past her, and left the room without a backward glance.
Volusia stared after him in shock for a moment, then gathered herself. Silvanus was entitled to his frustration, and he was clearly still reeling from Avitus’s death.
With a sigh, she left the bedroom and made her way to Avitus’s study. She wanted to make a start on clearing things out to determine what should remain here and what should be taken back to Rome. It felt strange to rifle through her husband’s things, and perhaps Silvanus was better suited for the task as his secretary, but she didn’t want to bother him right now.
She found a pile of wax tablets and sorted through them to separate blank ones from ones containing writing. Silvanus would have to advise on which of the filled ones needed to be kept. As she glanced over one blank tablet, something caught her eye. A slight indentation in the wax, revealing words not completely removed.
Curiosity took hold, and she tilted the tablet to find the best angle to read the letters. It appeared as if the tablet had once been full of writing, but only the barest trace of a few words remained. She squinted, moving a lamp nearer to better see.
…ax revenue…counting irregular…ruption….
These words made no sense. Ax revenue? She looked closer, trying to see the ghosts of missing letters.
It wasn’tax revenue, buttax revenue. Accounting irregularities. Corruption.
At the very bottom of the tablet, there was a hazy stroke and curve which might have formed a P.
