pitched outside the village, listening to Zosimus recite something to pass the time. Pliny only half paid attention; his mind was out in the deep woods with his troopers and the young men from the village as they searched in widening circles from the spot where the horses had been found. The men could move faster through this rough country without an old man like him slowing them down. He had sent back to Nicomedia yesterday to requisition Balbus’ hounds, who knew their master’s scent, and to ask his physician, Marinus, to ride up and join him. The search had gone on until nightfall yesterday and resumed at dawn. If they had no success today he was resolved to return to the city.
“Sir!” A breathless trooper ducked under the tent flap. “We’ve found something.”
“Stir your old bones, Marinus, mount up!” Pliny shouted, feeling suddenly no longer old.
Their way led upwards, farther into the hills. The rain had stopped overnight and now sunlight sifted through the branches. Overhead, squadrons of migrating storks filled the sky. Looking up, Pliny noticed for the first time that distant ridge that was said to resemble a woman’s profile. It had been shrouded in mist when they first arrived. As they rode, the forest gave way to towering outcroppings of rock cut by deep crevasses and they were forced to dismount and proceed on foot, just as Balbus and his nameless companion must have done.
If it was Balbus.
They had traveled a good half hour when they heard the baying of the dogs and smelled the sweet, pungent, gagging stench of putrefaction.
“Over here, sir. Cover your nose, it’s pretty bad.”
Suetonius held out a hand to steady him as Pliny half slid down the steep side of a bramble-choked gully. There, two soldiers leaned on their shovels, their neck cloths tied around their faces like highwaymen. The dogs jumped and strained at their leashes, scratching the ground and nearly pulling their handlers into the pit. Marinus followed him down. The body lay in a shallow grave, bloated and blackened and crawling with maggots, an obscene intrusion in that pleasant autumnal setting—but, unmistakably, Balbus.
“How long do you think he’s been here?” Pliny asked.
The physician shrugged. “He’s been missing, what, twelve days or so? Still plenty of flesh left. But it’s cooler up here in the hills and the body was covered, that makes a difference. The question is, What killed him. Get these damned dogs out of my way.” Marinus squatted beside the corpse and studied it silently while Pliny stood back, trying not to breathe.
“Hard to be sure, of course, the state he’s in, but I don’t see a wound anywhere, and I’ve looked at plenty of wounds in my time.” Marinus had begun his career as physician in the Ludus Magnus, invaluable training for a doctor. “Let’s roll him over.”
No one moved.
“Come, come,” he snapped. “It’s a body. You call yourselves soldiers?”
They turned the corpse, using their spades and Marinus bent to his work again. “Ah!” he murmured after a moment. “Come and look, Governor.” This vertebra is crushed.” He touched it with a finger where the flesh had come away. “Our friend the procurator has had his neck broken.”
Pliny led his staff away to a spot where the smell was bearable. They sat on the damp ground and talked.
“Not robbers, that’s plain,” Nymphidius said. “He’s still got his clothes and rings.”
“Then why?” demanded Pliny. “And what on earth was he doing out here in the middle of nowhere? And who rode the other horse?”
Suetonius shook his head. “Balbus was a big man, an ex-soldier. There won’t be many who could have broken his neck like that.”
“Well, it was no riding accident,” said Marinus. “The body’s a good half mile from where they left the horses. And why would his companion, whoever it was, just bury him and leave him?”
“They must have been out here looking for something,” Pliny mused. “Your men have been all over here, Aquila, is there anything?”
“There’s a bit of a path that runs along nearby. Easy to miss. The lads followed it up that way.” He pointed toward a stony hillside above them. “It just petered out. They poked around, didn’t find anything. According to the villagers, no one lives out this way.”
“Right.” Pliny stood up. “Aquila, get the body wrapped up and loaded on the wagon, we’re taking Balbus home. I particularly want to see Fabia’s face when I deliver it. And for the time being, all of you, it was