To see the previous installments, click on the following links: #1, #2 , #3, #4, #5, #6, #7, #8, #9, #10, #11

Hispanus' questioning that midday was, to say the least, meticulous and sombre, for though Marcus Varius was cooperative, it was evident that his understanding of what went on within his own household was sketchy to say the least. He knew of his business dealings, his transactions with the East and the demands of the garum that gave him a prosperous life, but as for the dynamics of his family, he seemed to be at the mercy of shadows that he could not decipher.

After examining the peristyle, I returned with Marcus to the tablinum. The sun cast the same shadows, but the atmosphere seemed to have become charged with a tension that at times became unbearable. The investigation was just beginning, and I felt that in every word, in every pause, lurked truths darker than Marcus was willing to admit, or perhaps than even he himself could comprehend.

“Marcus,” I began, with the calm that an interrogation demands, “I want you to tell me about the people who were present at the celebration. I must understand the circumstances and the people present if I am to discover the truth. Tell me, first, about your wife.”

Marcus frowned, as if the question made him uncomfortable somehow. “My wife... yes, she's my second wife. The first one died giving birth to my son. Julia, the current one, is of patrician origin. Her family had good ties to other old houses, but they lost their fortune over the years, and so she married me. For them it was an opportunity to secure their future.”

Hispanus, ever attentive to detail, noticed a slight disdain in Marcus' voice. “And how is your relationship?” I inquired, staring at the merchant, who hesitated.

“It's... a proper relationship,” he replied, in a tone that struck me as more evasive than clear. “She's a young woman, certainly younger than me, but she does her duty. Of course, we don't always share the same interests; she keeps closer to domestic matters.”

It was clear that Marcus did not wish to discuss his wife's attitude. I wondered to what extent this marriage was more a pact of convenience than a real emotional bond.

“Tell me about your daughter,” I continued, leaning forward slightly so that Marcus knew his words had to be more than just a formality.

“My daughter, Livia,” he said with a twinkle in his eye, “is sixteen. She's... well, she's young and still has a lot to learn. She has taken a shine to Lucius Flavius, as you imagine. She wanted to marry him, but Lucius seemed hesitant. I always thought it was because of Livia's youth, that perhaps he was waiting for her to mature. I never saw it as a problem.”

Marcus spoke with the disconnectedness of a man accustomed to settling tangible matters, such as the price of garum or trade accounts, and who barely understood the emotional tangle that enveloped his own daughter. His voice was firm but distant, as if he didn't know, or didn't want to know, of the young woman's deep concerns.

“And Lucius,” I asked, trying not to make too much of the name, but knowing full well that the mention of the murdered patrician was at the centre of the drama. “He seemed interested in your daughter. Did you notice anything strange in his behaviour towards her or towards... your wife?”

The merchant was silent for a moment. His gaze wandered around the tablinum before answering. “Lucius was... a man of good family, close to the emperor though a supporter of Domitian in the succession to Vespasian. He could not have found a better match for my daughter. Yes, it is true that there was something about his attitude that sometimes puzzled me. He was a man... ambitious. Perhaps his interest was not as clear as I would have wished. But I never thought ill of him.”

Hispanus kept his cool, though a shadow of suspicion crossed his mind. Not only was Lucius‘ attitude towards Livia diffuse; something in Marcus’ words indicated the young patrician had had other motivations.

“And your son,” I asked, knowing full well that this question would be even more delicate.

Marcus hesitated, “My son... he's fourteen. He's a complicated boy. Since birth, he's been... different. Sometimes he talks to people who aren't present, he has violent outbursts, and he's not always... he's not always easy to deal with. I've given him everything a father can give him, I've taught him how to handle weapons... but his mind... his mind sometimes seems to be somewhere else.”

“Did he behave strangely at the celebration?” I asked, measuring every word.

“He's always a little out of place, but nothing out of the ordinary that afternoon. As usual, I caught his eye a couple of times.... You know, I try to keep order in my house, even if it's sometimes hard on him.”

Hispanus nodded. There was a mixture of pride and resignation, of paternal love and frustration in Marcus. There was no doubt that the son could be a crucial piece in this dark puzzle.

“Finally,” I said, “I want you to tell me about Lucius’ friend, the young man who was always with him. Why was he here?”

“Ah, that boy... I don't remember his name now. He was a good friend of Lucius, I knew that much. He seemed to accompany him often. I thought he was simply a young man loyal to his companion. I never paid much attention to his motives for coming.”

Hispanus watched Marcus carefully. Though he spoke with an apparent sincerity, there was a haze, a distance in his account. His view of events seemed superficial, as if his mind was always occupied with other matters. He did not see what was going on in his own house, he did not see the passions, the rivalries, the unrequited loves that were woven around him.

And as he continued to recount the events of that night, Hispanus knew he would have to scratch the surface to get to the bottom of the truth.

To be continued

Header Image:

Garum sauce. Source: diariovasco.com