To see the previous installments, click on the following links: #1, #2 , #3, #4, #5, #6, #7, #8, #9, #10, #11, #12, #13, #14

When Hispanus returned to Marcus Varius' house, the atmosphere seemed even more charged with grief and confusion than on the first occasion. Family disgrace was being spread in every corner of the city. This time, he was to question Marcus' daughter, a young woman who had lost her love in the midst of that bloody event. As I crossed the threshold of the house, I sensed the tense, heavy air, and when I reached the triclinium, I found her sitting in a corner, her eyes red from crying, her expression downcast. She was the picture of suffering, not only for Lucius's death, but also for the burden of secrets and repressed emotions that beat in every corner of that house.

"My lady," I began in a calm voice, trying not to add to the torment that already surrounded her. "I know it is difficult, but I need you to help me. You must tell me what happened, only then can we get justice for what happened."

She pursed her lips and lowered her head, as if the words she had to utter cost her an almost inhuman effort. Finally, she spoke softly, broken with grief. "Lucius... I loved him. From the moment I met him, I knew he was the one for me. My heart... never belonged to another. Even though he never...never looked at me the same way, I still loved him. My brother, I know, I looked at him with suspicion. And my mother... my mother never approved.She was always cold to me ever since she married my father, never really cared about me. But Lucius... I did care about him. I knew Lucius's friend wanted me too, but that didn't matter. My heart...my heart was always Lucius'. I loved him like I've never loved anyone, and now... now he's dead."

"And what can you tell me about your brother and your mother?" I asked cautiously.

"My brother..." She paused, hesitantly. "He was always... different. I don't know what goes through his mind, but he's never been like the others. Sometimes he's sweet, sometimes... violent, unpredictable. My mother... she's not the same since she married my father. She's his second wife, you know? My real mother died giving birth to my brother, and this woman came after. I never felt she was really part of this family. She married my father because her family needed the money, but she never loved him, or us."

Tears streamed down her face again, and for a moment I thought I couldn't go on. But I knew I had to get more answers, even if it meant opening up the wounds even more.

"And did you talk about this with your brother?" I asked, shifting the focus. The young woman nodded, though hesitantly. "My brother didn't understand love, not like me. But he knew that Lucius loved me, even if it was only a little. And that... it troubled him. It always disturbed him."

"What happened in the triclinium that afternoon," I asked gently. "You must remember every detail, no matter how insignificant it may seem to you."

She pursed her lips, wiping away tears with a trembling hand, and took a deep breath before answering. "We were all at the table, my father, my mother, my brother, Lucius and his friend. Everything seemed fine until a slave approached my father and informed him that a merchant from Hispania had arrived. He was important, a regular customer, and my father... as always, rose to meet him at the tablinum. He respects nothing. Everything for him is work, work, always work..." His voice cracked, but he continued.

"My mother... she got very angry. She can't take it anymore, you know? She got up from the table and went to her room without saying a word. I understand her. She is always alone, my father is always absorbed in his garum business, not caring about what is going on around him. He doesn't even respect the moments we should be sharing as a family."

The anguish on her face reflected more than just the anger of a ruined lunch. There was a pent-up resentment, one that was not just hers, but that of the entire household.

"And after your mother left," I urged her to continue.

"Lucius followed her," he said in a whisper, his gaze lowered, almost as if he was afraid to say it out loud. "I don't know what he said to her, but I heard them arguing. I couldn't quite hear the words, but something wasn't right? After a while, my brother came out too, as if he was upset about something. And I... I went to my room. I was angry, you know? Everything was ruined. The lunch, the celebration... everything fell apart. My father in the tablinum, my mother in her room, Lucius and my brother... Why did all this have to happen?"

His words were full of frustration and confusion, but they also hinted at a series of events that had escaped his control. Something had happened between his mother and Lucius, something that caused his brother, whose behaviour had always been erratic, to intervene as well.

"Lucius's friend?" I asked.

She waved her hand vaguely. "He was asleep in the triclinium. He didn't care about anything, just drifted off with the wine. I don't know when he fell asleep, but when I left, he was still there, snoring... oblivious to what was going on around him."

The triclinium, which only hours ago had been a place of celebration, now seemed full of echoes of arguments, of secrets whispered in the shadows, and of accumulated grudges. Everything that young woman, broken by grief, told me gave me clues, but I still felt that something was missing. Someone in that house knew more than they let on.

I said goodbye to her with words of comfort, but in my mind, the pieces of the puzzle were beginning to come together. The Hispanic merchant, the mother's anger, Lucius' argument, and the strange calm that had pervaded the house in the moments after the murder, all pointed to a simmering conflict between the people closest to the victim.

To be continued

Header Image:

Ignis Amoris: Psyche revived by the kiss of love, a work by Antonio Canova, on display in the Louvre Museum, Paris.