Death at Pompeia's Wedding by Rosemary Rowe Read Free Book Online Page A

house. I caught his eye and motioned that he should sound the gong, which he did with such effect that it almost deafened us. It made the very rafters of the passage ring.
    It did, however, quieten the crowd. The shouting and singing died uncertainly away, and when I banged the drum again the whole assembly turned and looked at me. People were standing on tiptoe in the atrium to see.
    ‘Citizens, members of the household and honoured guests,’ I said. ‘I fear that I have dismal news for all of you. Within the last few moments – so recently that news of it has not reached all the household yet – your host Honorius has taken ill and died. This has become a house of mourning, suddenly, and therefore the planned marriage cannot go ahead.’

Five
    There was, not surprisingly, a little stir at this: first a universal gasp of disbelief, and then people huddled into groups and started whispering.
    The bridegroom, who was standing at my feet, turned to his chief attendant, and above the general murmur of dismay, I heard him mutter in a plaintive tone, ‘So what do we do now? All that dowry – I was going to pay my debts. We had a contract . . .’
    ‘And doubtless will again,’ the man hissed back at him, ‘once the period of due mourning has been properly observed. Honorius will certainly have left a will, and no doubt has specified a legal guardian for the girl – you can make representations to him later on. They can hardly turn you down, since her father made the match, and you know that her grandmother approved. In the meantime, Gracchus, try to look decently distressed. The fellow would have been your father-in-law, if he’d lived.’
    Gracchus sighed and nodded and, glancing up and seeing that I was observing him, instantly put on a mournful face. He turned to his companion and muttered something else, but this time he made certain that no one else could hear.
    I had not time to think any more of that, because my attention was drawn by the reappearance of the steward. He came from his errand to the kitchen and storage area, stopped to have a brief word with Livia, and had now started waving frantically at me. I saw him weave his way towards me through the crowded passageway, which was now more thronged than ever with shocked, muttering groups of guests. No one was showing any tendency to leave.
    For an instant I lost sight of his tunic amongst the crush – there was little attempt to clear a path for him – until then he suddenly bobbed up by the table at my side, red-faced and panting with his tunic all askew, as if he had been jostling among the milling legs. He beckoned me closer, as if for secrecy and I stooped to listen to what he had to say.
    ‘The mistress says . . .’ he murmured breathlessly, ‘to tell them there will shortly be some wine. Vinerius had tasted one of the new amphorae before I got to him, and up till now he’s suffered no mishaps. She says to offer that one to the guests, and then we can decently ask them to go back to their homes.’
    I glanced at Livia and she confirmed this with a nod, and made a motion with her hands as if shooing geese away. Clearly she wanted me to disperse the crowd.
    I held up my hand for silence and banged my drum again. This time the hubbub died down instantly. ‘If you will move into the atrium, a light memorial refreshment will be served,’ I said. ‘Then we must ask you to respect the family’s grief and leave the house as soon as possible.’
    I had no sooner spoken those words, than I regretted them. If everybody left, how would I find who Antoninus was or even discover exactly what had happened here? I made a swift revision. ‘Though I would ask for your assistance in one matter, citizens. Everyone who was present when Honorius left the room, and anyone who went into the rear part of the house would oblige me very much by coming here, and speaking to me very briefly before they leave, to help me piece together what his last movements