The Mystery Megapack

heat, the roughness of the road.
    “Nevertheless, I think you should come,” I said.
    There was nothing he could do. He followed in his own carriage, driven by one of his burly slaves. And so the whole company, carriages, carts, the troop of mounted soldiers, would through the town and up into the hills, where, after a time, it was indeed cooler. A pleasant breeze blew. It was nearly sunset by the time we reached the villa. Under other circumstances, I might have appreciated the view or even written a poem about it.
    But not now. My mind was turning. The last pieces of the puzzle were coming into place. Pudens, Arpocras, and I had all sat in silence during the journey, each of us thinking. I exchanged glances with my colleagues, but none of us wanted to say anything in front of Theon.
    We burst into the house without formalities, leaving the porter and the household slaves fluttering, trying to make excuses to their master.
    “This is an imposition,” Licinius Aper protested. “After all my hospitality, all my kindnesses, is this how you repay me?”
    “I believe something which I hope is wrong,” I replied. “I sincerely hope I am misinformed. If I am, someone will pay, and I will give you my profoundest apologies.”
    “Well, then, let’s go back to the city and discuss this over dinner like gentlemen, shall we?”
    Instead I proceeded to a certain room. The door was locked.
    “There’s nothing in there.” said Aper. “That room is not in use.”
    I nodded, and some of the soldiers forced the door.
    It was a large, high-ceilinged room, with murals on the walls. It might have been an extra dining room, or even a bedroom, but there was no furniture in it now, and it was, indeed, not in use.
    The thousand-breasted Venus leaned against the back wall, propped up rather precariously, her arms reaching out toward us. Now that I saw it up close, it was, indeed, a deeply alien thing, a frightful image, really, of perhaps great antiquity. It had, indeed, no legs. Breasts like udders covered the whole body, front and back, but for the arms and the fierce, mask-like face. It was, I would guess, about ten feet tall.
    Some of those present let out cries of amazement. A couple of the Aper’s servants tried to run, but soldiers caught them. Pudens, Arpocras, and I all looked at one another, as if to say, it is as I thought , even if, very likely, some of our theories differed.
    But before any of us could congratulate one another, Licinius Aper put on the most amazing performance of his otherwise unconvincing career. He knelt before the goddess. He beseeched her forgiveness. For all he purported to despise barbaric images, I think he was afraid. I think he saw the workings of supernatural providence in this. I think that, far more than anyone else, he was utterly and genuinely astonished to find her here.
    All of my theories collapsed at that point. I was at a loss. But before I could say anything or do anything, the whole scene came to its dreadful climax. I don’t know if Licinius Aper had somehow bumped against the statue, or if his massive bulk dropping down before it had shaken it from its doubtful balance, or if there was another, less explicable cause, but so quickly that no one could react, stone began to grind and the goddess moved. She fell forward, her marble arms reaching out to embrace Licinius Aper, her awful face bending down to kiss him—or to devour him.
    The statue crashed to earth. There came more cries of amazement and horror. Several people ran from the room and no one stopped them. In the eyes of the Greeks, I am sure, the goddess had taken her vengeance. All I can say is that there was a lot of blood, both arms and the head broke off, and marble breasts scattered all over the floor.
    I too wanted to run away, but I remained steadfast. Even Arpocras looked on speechless, as did Pudens. I was the one who managed to tell the centurion to bring the informer Theon in to see what had happened, and when he did, as Theon reacted, the chain of events almost began to make sense again. Almost but not quite. There were still huge and mysterious gaps.
    Theon rejoiced. He laughed. He virtually danced for joy, and once more launched into a vast recital of the sins of Licinius Aper, which only stopped when I broke in and said, “I arrest you, Clodius Carus , on some charge or other. I am sure I will think of something.”
    He babbled in protest as the soldiers grabbed him. I turned from the horrible scene