Three Hands In The Fountain

We had arrived at the point that he wanted us to see. The Aqua Claudia was passing the Marcia directly overhead not a thought for anyone who hated confined spaces. Bolanus told us there was a shaft let into the side of the Claudia's channel above us, controlled by a sluice-gate. He was showing us the shaft, about a yard square. Frontinus and I were peering up obediently into the gloom. We had lamps with us, but we couldn't see much at the top of the dark, narrow chimney.

`As you can see, down in the Marcia the flow is very feeble at present. We need to replenish it quickly because the Marcia supplies the Capitol. Ideally the channel ought to be at least a third full -'

It was a set up, of course. As we listened politely someone had been primed to pull up the sluice. We heard it creak faintly high above us. Then without warning a huge quantity of water was released from the Aqua Claudia and thundered straight down the shaft through the Marcia's roof. It poured towards us, falling over thirty feet and hitting bottom with a tremendous noise. The water in the Marcia surged with furious force, and its level rose alarmingly. Waves went careering down the channel. Spray soaked us and we were deafened.

We were in no danger. We were standing on a platform out of reach. Bolanus grabbed Frontinus in case the shock made him topple in. I stood my ground, having met jokers before, though I felt my legs quake. The tumbling water made a fantastic sight. Bolanus mouthed something that looked like `In the Caerulean Spring only this morning!' though it was; pointless even to try to speak.

As Bolanus said, any foreign bodies from the Aqua Claudia that dropped down in that, cascade would probably be pulverised. On the other hand, they just might go bobbing away in. the current of the replenished Aqua Marcia; to be found eventually in its reservoir, like the second hand which was produced by the public slave Cordus when he replied to Petro's Forum advertisement.

Frontinus was thrilled by this sightseeing. I would not have missed it myself, come to that. We learned nothing specific, so strictly it was a wasted day. But there seemed little to be discovered in Rome either.

`Tell me when you want a guided trip out to Tibur!' Bolanus offered with a grin as we were leaving. I do like a man who can stick with a theory.

There had been no further grim discoveries. Many people now bathed, drank water, and cooked their food with hardly a thought for the consequences.

Though the absence of limbs in the aqueducts was a relief in some ways, it did mean that a man called Caius Cicurrus was left suspended in misery. Just before the Games ended, I walked out to see him. I took Helena, in case a woman's presence was consoling. Anyway, I wanted to know what she thought of him. When, a wife is murdered the husband is inevitably the first suspect. Even if there have been scores of similar deaths before, it is wiser to consider that the man may have deliberately copied them.

We went at midday in, case Cicurrus was now back running, his chandlery. We did find him at home, though it looked as if he was spending; most of his time there now and letting the shop remain closed. The same slave as before let us in. `I'm sorry, Cicurrus, I have very little to tell you. This visit is just to let you know we are still looking, and we will look until we find something. But I cannot pretend we have achieved much yet.'

He sat meekly listening. He still seemed dreamy. When I asked if he wanted to know anything, or if Frontinus could do anything to help him ''officially”, he shook his head. Sudden death causes anger and recriminations usually; they would come. At some inconvenient time, when he had too much to do, poor Caius would find himself demanding endlessly: why her? Why had Asinia walked by the route she chose that night? Why had Pia left her alone? Why Asinia and not Pia, who courted trouble so openly? Why Cicurrus himself gone to the country that week? Why had Asinia been so beautiful? Why did the gods hate him?

Not yet. So far he had been granted no formal end to the nightmare. He was caught between knowing and not knowing the exact, horrendous details of his young wife's fate.

Cicurrus indicated a brown marble casket which he said contained her embalmed hand. Thank the gods he did not offer to open it. It looked too small, more like a pen case than a reliquary. Even to us it seemed an unreal symbol of the lost Asinia.

`We are still watching the Circus Maximus every night,' I said. `On the last night of the Games there will be saturation coverage

'She was a perfect wife,' he interrupted quietly. `I cannot believe she has gone.'

He did not want to hear what we were doing. All the man really needed was to be given his wife's body so that he could hold a funeral and grieve for her. I could not help him.