“I found it amongst a lot of papers in my father’s desk. I am the man of the house now, the paterfamilias. I have a right to sit at his desk, look at his papers.” He spoke with a fierce insistence as though he expected contradiction.
“And so you do.” Pliny took the rolled sheet of parchment from his hands.
“It’s in Greek, I can’t read it,” Aulus said.
“Your education has been neglected.”
The boy gave a helpless shrug. “The tutors always run away when they see how—how I am. But I can make out the letters. There’s the word leon in it. That means lion, doesn’t it? And so I thought—”
Pliny held up a hand to silence him and quickly scanned the page. Then he read it again more slowly, translating it aloud to Aulus.
“From the Heliodromus—that’s an odd word. What would that be in Latin? Cursor Solis—Sun Runner? Something like that. From the Sun Runner to the Lion, Greetings.You say the Persian has refused to repay you the money he owes you. That is a serious charge, I understand your anger. You demand that we expel him from our worship. This is a drastic step, not to be taken lightly. I have questioned him and he denies your charge, though I made him swear by Lord Mithras, who sees into every heart. I beg you to reconcile with him. You are both too important to our enterprise. I have not brought this matter to the Father and hope that will not be necessary. Farewell.”
Pliny set the letter down. “I thank you for bringing me this. You can’t imagine how important it is. It is dated only a few days before your father disappeared.”
“Why? What does it mean?”
“I don’t know what it all means, but I begin to glimpse the outlines of what must have happened. This Persian murdered a man called Glaucon, who, we think, murdered your father together with the Persian. You had just lost consciousness, you never saw them, but they were there on the path, waiting to ambush him. The motive, I see now, was a quarrel about money. The Father is, or rather was, the leader of the Mithras cult. He could have named the Persian and the Sun-Runner and all the others had he not died, quite conveniently, last night. All these men, including your father I’m sorry to say, were involved in an illicit cult, as you know. A cult riven by discord, leading to murder. What united them in the first place—this ‘enterprise’ to which your father and the Persian are so important—I don’t yet know, although I have my suspicions. I’m afraid that when we find out it will not reflect well on your father. Are you prepared for that?”
Aulus attempted a smile. “I have no reputation to lose. It will be hard on mother, I suppose.”
“How is she? How are things at home?” Pliny put a comforting hand on the boy’s shoulder.
“Hard. She cries a lot. Drinks a lot. She claims now that she never really believed I could have done such a terrible thing, but she was afraid I would be accused anyway if it was known that I was with him and there was no other suspect. Now she’s tormented with money worries. My father made a second will not long ago. Someone from the treasury brought over a load of papers from his office after he died. She finally got around to looking through them and found it. I thought she’d go mad, raving and screaming. It leaves most of his estate to some woman.”
Pliny was suddenly alert. “The woman’s name?”
“I don’t know, but they fought about him seeing her. It started a couple of months ago when a strange man came to the house when father was out. Why do you look at me so strangely? Have I said something wrong? I don’t mean to spy but I couldn’t help—”
“Can you describe this man. It’s important.”
“I hid when he came in but I got a glimpse of him. About your age, I think. Thinning hair. He had a sharp nose and not much chin, he was red in the face—it made him look a little like a ferret. Do you know him?”
“I do,” Pliny frowned. “Aulus, do you know the game Latrunculi? I fear I’ve just been sent back to square one.”
Chapter Thirty
Aulus looked at him with puzzlement.
“What did this man and your mother talk about?” Pliny asked.