‘Not convincing, citizen,’ he said. ‘You’ve got a slave. He was a slave. Saw the rest of him.’ ‘His body was lying in the pit. I found it,’ Lercius interrupted eagerly. ‘When I found the beans and nuts. There were just some branches pulled back over him.’ ‘Had there been a struggle? Were there other wounds?’ ‘Not a scratch,’ Lercius replied. And then with a relish which I found difficult to tolerate, ‘I had a good look. There was a lot of blood. It must have come spurting from his neck. We found where it was done, as well. Blood all over one end of the hut and some on the axe. I thought at first that what was on the blade was only chicken blood, but when we found the two bits of slave we realised . . .’ Sosso gave him a look that silenced him, and said, ‘A slave. Slave brand, slave tunic, slave token round his neck.’ ‘A slave,’ I hastened to explain, ‘but not my own. He was my patron’s bucket-boy. He was afraid he would be taken in for questioning.’ I gave them a brief outline of how Golbo had run away to me, but did not mention that his testimony appeared to question Marcus’s innocence.
