To see the previous installments, click on the following links: #1, #2 , #3, #4, #5, #6, #7, #8, #9, #10, #11, #12, #13, #14, #15, #16

When I returned to Marcus Varius' house, it was the merchant's wife who was to be questioned. The woman who greeted me was not the same woman I had seen the first time. In her eyes there was a reflection of more than sadness: it was the look of someone who has witnessed something dark and who holds within her a guilt she did not know how to unravel.

We sat in the tablinum, where just a few hours earlier the fate of her husband and his family had been unleashed. The silence between us was thick, almost suffocating, and I knew that every question I asked would open new wounds. When I finally spoke, I spoke as gently as I could, for I understood that her emotional state was on the verge of collapse.

"My lady," I began, "I need you to tell me what happened after you left the triclinium. Your version is important to clarify the facts."

She nodded slowly, her eyes lowered, as if recalling that moment was a burden she wasn't sure she could bear. It was several seconds before she began to speak, but when she did, her words flowed like a long-contained torrent.

"I went to my room," she said, her voice heavy with bitterness. "I couldn't stand it any longer. My husband, always so preoccupied with his business... even on a day like that I couldn't stop thinking about his stupid garum and his clients. It's all work for him! So I withdrew... angry, full of rage, I couldn't hold back the tears. I cried for what my life has become, an empty existence, always in the shadow of his business."

I could see she was losing himself in her emotions, in her accumulated pain. But I had to go on, I had to get to the heart of what had happened.

"And then?", I asked quietly, trying to guide her back to the story.

She closed her eyes, as if by doing so she could push the horror of what she was about to say from her mind. "Lucius... he came into my room. He didn't say anything, he just... came towards me. He looked at me in a way I'd never seen before. He tried to kiss me. I pushed him away. We argued. I told him to leave, that he had no right to be there. But he wouldn't listen to me. He insisted, and I... I felt trapped, time became endless, a tightness in my chest."

The anguish in her voice was palpable, as if each word brought her closer to the abyss she was trying to avoid. My mind was racing to put the pieces together, but the crucial part was still missing.

"What about your stepson," I asked, knowing that her answer would hold the key to the mystery.

"My stepson... he heard the argument. He knocked on the door several times, he came into the room, he seemed nervous, more nervous than usual. He is so upset these days... he thinks that everyone is spying on him, that there are those who want to kill him. Hearing the commotion, he couldn't stop himself. He stopped at the door and looked at me, his eyes full of distrust.... And then it happened. Lucius, seeing that my stepson was coming in, hid behind a curtain."

Her voice trembled, and I saw that she was reaching the most painful point in his story. She tried to control the trembling in her hands, but she couldn't help it.

"My stepson... he saw a movement in the curtain. He thought someone was hiding there, someone coming to kill me or to kill him. He went to the corner where his father keeps his sword and without a word, without even pausing to think... he attacked. He slashed through the curtain with the sword. It was all so quick... an instant of silence and then, suddenly, Lucius staggered out, wounded, his hand on his chest."

There was a heavy silence as she struggled to continue and I didn't press her. I knew she had to take the next step herself.

"Lucius left the room," she finally said, her voice barely a whisper. "He headed for the peristyle. And there... he collapsed. I saw it all, but I could do nothing. My stepson was paralysed, as if he didn't understand what he had done. I looked at the blood on the sword, the expression on his face... it was not that of a murderer, but of a child who had just made a terrible mistake."

The woman sank back in her chair, her face pale as death itself. The weight of her confession was crushing her. She didn't know if she was guilty for failing to control Lucius, for failing to prevent the tragedy, or for her inability to protect her stepson from the madness that consumed him.

"My stepson... he thinks he's guilty. He believes he killed him intentionally, but... it was an accident. He couldn't have known Lucius was behind the curtain. It was all a misunderstanding, a chain of mistakes that led to that young man's death. But now... I don't know what to do. It's all fallen apart."

I looked at her, trying to understand not only her words, but the deep pain that accompanied them. The scene she was describing was one of inevitable tragedy, born of the tensions that had been building up in that house. There was no hatred, no murderous intent. Only the fear of a disturbed young man and the ill-controlled passions of those who lived under the same roof.

I left Marcus Varius' house with the knowledge that what had happened that night was not simple, nor could it be reduced to a single culprit. Tragedy had ensnared them all, and now I had to unravel the truth before it was too late.

To be continued

Header Image:

Gladius. Source: lacasadelrecreador.com