To see the previous entries, click on the following links: #1, #2, #3, #4

The murmurs of the servants had become distant whispers, like the echo of an ancient tragedy, one that none of them wished to fully comprehend. At the back of the peristyle, on the threshold of a barely ajar door, a muffled cry had been the only thing to interrupt the ominous stillness.

The arrival of the Duoviri was imminent. They, whose duty it was to uncover the truth, would find the stage set, but uncertainty and fear still lingered. Marcus Varius, imposing as ever, but with a face carved by worry, held his bearing with the firmness the situation demanded, hoping that his honour and that of his family would be cleared of suspicion.

The scene, though still, vibrated with a palpable tension, as if the very walls of the peristyle whispered secrets as yet unrevealed. The body lay inert on the floor, but there was something strange about it, a detail that began to intrigue the few who had dared to look closely. His hand, stained with blood, seemed to have been dragged along the ground, drawing irregular lines on the garden tiles. They were not just random smudges; there was intent in those trembling movements....

To be continued

Header Image:

Image of the peristyle of the Vettii house in Pompeii. Source: Wikipedia