Last Rites (Marcus Corvinus Book 6)

by David Wishart

  ‘Of course, sir. I’m – oh-ha-ha-ha – I’m sorry. My sincere apologies.’ The foreman cleared his throat, wiped his eyes and straightened his face. Zosimus was still sniggering. ‘It’s quite straightforward. Your Athenian standard-day valve – ASD, that is, sir – is geared to the older six-hour day/night cycle instead of the Anaximandrian twelve. Accordingly it has a different thread ratio and input-output torque, so is not compatible with this machine, which was designed for the Roman market. Throws the whole delicate system out of kilter. Like one bit of the clock’s talking Greek while the rest speaks Latin. You understand?’

  ‘So all you have to do is change the valve?’ Perilla smiled. ‘Well, that is splendid!’

  ‘Er… I’m afraid it’s not that simple, madam.’

  Snigger from Zosimus.

  ‘Ah.’

  ‘We’re talking cutting-edge technology here. The valve will have to be made specially. Normally that would not present a problem, but unfortunately our horological engineer is indisposed at present and won’t be back at work until after the Winter Festival.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘A poke in the eye with a breadstick at a niece’s fifth birthday party, I understand.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘However I can do a patch job for the time being.’ He held out his hand. ‘Zosimus, the pliers.’

  Oh, hell.

  13.

  A message having arrived from Camillus to say he’d be free to see me first thing, next morning I grabbed a quick breakfast and headed across town to the chief priest’s residence.

  This was going to be a tough one. Young Marcus Lepidus might not be the murderer after all, but all the circumstantial evidence still pointed his way and the guy certainly had questions to answer. If he would answer them. That was the bummer. Not having any official standing, I couldn’t put any pressure on, especially since the kid was top-drawer patrician, but maybe Camillus could. He was a friend of the family, for a start, and the old-boy network has ways of dealing with scandals involving their own that have nothing to do with the due processes of law. They have to have. Over the last five hundred years they’ve had plenty of practice.

  The other problem was a nagging one that wouldn’t go away, and it wasn’t connected with the actual murder; at least, not directly. Lepidus was broad-striper class, like the victim and, presumably, Cornelia’s killer. We were moving in high circles here. Only, if so, there were parts of the case that didn’t square up because they didn’t belong in the broad-striper world at all. The knife, for a start. Like Perilla had said, in the context it didn’t make sense; a knife like that wasn’t a broad-striper tool, even as a once-off murder weapon. It was the sort of cheap rubbish you’d find in the belt of a punter from the Aventine slums who queued every day for his grain dole and used the thing for slicing cookshop sausage. If it had been brought specially to do the killing, which seemed more than likely, then squaring the whys and wherefores was a real bugger.

  Second was the whole fluteplayer business. For it to work, for Lepidus to be able to bluff his way into the Galba house, he needed an in with the fluteplayers’ guild at grass-roots level. He’d have to know how the booking system worked and which particular girls would be playing at the rites. More, even if he knew the names he’d have to have some sort of personal contact with the girl whose place he was taking because otherwise he couldn’t have squared it with her, especially if the thing had been arranged at such short notice. None of that was broad-striper country; yet it had to have been possible for the whole scam to work. All of which meant that even with the phantom flutegirl angle stitched up firm from the other end I still needed to talk to Thalia. Which was yet another bugger: where the hell was she? Fluteplayers can’t afford to pass up invitations from well-heeled clients, especially when they pay in advance, but it seemed that that was just what the girl was doing. And that smelled. After my visit to Camillus I’d have to drop in at the guildhouse for a third word with Celer.

  I knocked on Camillus’s door and the slave let me in, looking more Jupiter-like than ever. Camillus was in his study. The guy looked tired.

  ‘Good morning, Corvinus,’ he said. ‘You wanted to see me?’

  ‘Yeah.’ I pulled up a stool.

  ‘There have been developments, I take it.’

  ‘Yeah. I can put a name to our fluteplayer friend.’

  ‘Really?’ His eyes sharpened. ‘Who was he?’

  This was the tricky bit. ‘You’ve talked to Junia Torquata?’ I said.

  ‘No. Not since we last spoke. I’ve been very busy. So has she, arranging a repeat of the rites.’

  Damn, I was hoping Torquata might’ve softened the old guy up. Lepidus was a big name, and, like I say, Camillus and the kid’s father were friends. I had to take this slowly. ‘Seemingly Cornelia was seeing someone on a regular basis.’

  He stiffened. ‘“Seeing” someone?’

  ‘Not in the sexual sense. Or at least I don’t think so. But there was definitely a… friendship. Going back a long way. The man took the place of one of the flutegirls at the ceremony so he could talk to her.’

  Camillus’s mouth was a hard line. ‘Go on.’

  ‘I’m not sure what happened next. Sure, the guy could be the killer, but I’ve talked to him and I think profaning the rites is all he’s really guilty of.’

  ‘That is bad enough, Corvinus. His name, please.’

  I hesitated. ‘If you don’t mind, sir, I won’t tell you that yet. Bear with me, okay?’

  His brows came down. I thought he was going to object but he just said, ‘Very well. Cornelia knew that this man was in the house? During the ceremony?’

  ‘No. At least, again I don’t think so. The whole idea was his, and like I say he only wanted to talk. When she left the room he followed her, using the outside route to the back hall.’

  ‘Talk about what?’

  ‘That’s what I don’t know, sir, and what I’m hoping you can find out for me because you know the man’s family. In the event, the conversation never happened. When he found her Cornelia was already dead and the murderer had left by the back door. I think then he probably panicked and slipped out himself.’

  ‘I see.’ There was a wax tablet on the desk beside Camillus’s hand. His fingers played with the laces. He wasn’t looking at me. ‘Now. The man’s name, please.’

  There wasn’t any reason not to tell him. Not now the preliminary spadework was finished. ‘Marcus Aemilius Lepidus,’ I said.

  I’d been expecting a reaction, but Camillus just grunted and nodded. He stood up, slowly and painfully, like he was closer to seventy than sixty.

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I thought that might be who you meant. You truly, honestly believe he did not commit the murder?’

  ‘Like I say, it’s possible, but I doubt it.’ I felt uneasy; there was something screwy here, and I didn’t know what it was. The guy was taking this far too well. Or, no, that wasn’t it; he’d gone… quiet was the right word. Quiet and gentle. ‘Lepidus was fond of Cornelia. More than fond. He had no reason to murder her.’

  Another nod; Camillus had his back to me. He was inspecting the titles of the books on the rack behind the desk. ‘No,’ he said. ‘Marcus Lepidus wouldn’t have harmed the girl. That’s only my personal belief, of course, but I’m glad to hear you confirm it.’

  I cleared my throat. ‘He won’t talk to me,’ I said. ‘All the same, I think he knows who the killer is. Or if not at least whatever the secret he shared with Cornelia was it’d give us a lead. If you can get him to tell you we might be able to wrap this thing up. Sure, he’ll be in trouble over the sacrilege, but –’

  ‘The sacrilege is academic now, Corvinus.’ Camillus spoke very softly. ‘And I’m afraid I can’t help you with the secret, and nor can he. You see, yesterday evening Marcus Lepidus killed himself.’

  Oh, gods. Sweet, immortal gods.

  Bad time or not, bad form or not, it had to be the Quirinal next. The front of the Aemilius Lepidu
s house had as many cypress branches hung up on it as would’ve equipped a decent-sized forest, but I knocked on the door anyway. It was opened by the same slave as before, only this time he had a chunk of his forelock missing.

  ‘Uh, I’m sorry for the intrusion,’ I said, ‘but would it be possible to have a word with Marcus Aemilius Lepidus? Senior, that is.’ I bit my tongue as soon as the words were out. Gods, how crass can you get?

  The guy just looked at me. I had the distinct impression that he wanted to spit in my face, but instead he turned and went back inside without a word, leaving the door open. I kicked my heels by the marble pillars for a good five minutes before he came back.

  ‘The master will see you, Valerius Corvinus,’ he said. ‘He’s in his study. Follow me, please.’

  The atrium was a shock. I should’ve expected it, sure – the Aemilii Lepidi do these things properly, in the traditional way – but it was still a shock. They’d put him on a couch with his feet to the door, covered with an embroidered cloth to the chin so there was no sign of how he’d died. The slave stopped and handed me a pair of shears, then waited while I cut off the obligatory lock of hair, laid it in the basket beside the corpse and burned a pinch of incense on the brazier. Then he went on.

  We walked along a different maze of corridors from last time until we came to a cedar-panelled door with brass hinges. The guy knocked, opened it, then stepped back to let me through and closed it behind me. Not a word throughout, but I reckoned if he’d had to go through the same routine with a cockroach as far as being shown due friendliness and respect went the bastard with the feelers would’ve had the edge, easy. Obviously as far as the Aemilius Lepidus household was concerned Corvinus was not flavour of the month, or even in the last five. Mind you, I didn’t blame him; when a visitor leaves the young master ready to commit suicide the family aren’t exactly going to put out the welcome mat a second time round.

  If it was suicide, of course…

  Marcus Lepidus Senior was sitting at his desk. He looked haggard as hell, sure, but even in that condition he was an impressive man, poker-backed, crag-faced and silver-haired, with a nose you could’ve fitted to a fighting trireme and skipped the extra bronze plating. And on the reading couch to his right lay one of the most stunning women I’d ever set eyes on.

  ‘Marcus Valerius Corvinus,’ he said. Just that. Not hostile, but a long way from friendly. And no ‘Please sit down’ tacked on, either.

  I went into my prepared speech. ‘I’m sorry to intrude, sir, I know how you’ll be feeling, but I –’

  He cut through me. ‘This is my daughter Lepida.’ The woman didn’t even nod. Jupiter! Curves like that shouldn’t be allowed! ‘Now. What can we do for you, Corvinus? Don’t bother with the politenesses, but I would ask you to be brief. If it’s of any help, I know your business. And what crime you suspect my late son of.’

  I swallowed. Maybe I shouldn’t’ve come; I could’ve done this through Camillus. Still, it was too late now. ‘Very well, sir,’ I said. ‘Could you tell me what happened? Exactly?’

  ‘Exactly.’ Lepidus rolled the word around in his mouth like a sour grape. ‘Exactly, Marcus killed himself. Last night, just after sunset, with his own sword. He had come previously to tell me that such was his intention.’

  I stared at him. Sweet holy gods! ‘And you didn’t try to stop him?’

  ‘No.’ I don’t think I’ve ever seen a face more lacking in expression. ‘Of course not. The decision was his, consciously made and logically reached. I tried to change his mind, naturally, but it was his right and in the end I accepted it as such. He died with great bravery, as I would have expected a son of mine to do.’

  I glanced at the woman. She didn’t say anything, but her lip curled. I remembered what young Lepidus had said about her. ‘Did he tell you why?’ I asked.

  ‘He felt responsible for my niece Cornelia’s death.’

  ‘Uh-huh.’

  ‘Also, he had a message for you.’

  ‘For me?’

  ‘“Tell Valerius Corvinus that there are worse crimes than murder.”’

  My brain had gone numb. ‘What?’

  He repeated it. ‘That, Corvinus, is all I know. He said nothing else, either about the events of that night or his involvement in them.’

  ‘Nothing? Nothing at all?’

  ‘Nothing whatsoever.’ Lepidus Senior’s mouth set. ‘I will swear to that, by the way. If you require it.’

  ‘No.’ My brain was whirling. Worse crimes than murder… ‘No, that won’t be necessary. Uh… I don’t suppose your son confided in you about anything that’d been worrying him recently? Something he’d heard or seen, maybe, that was preying on his mind?’

  ‘Marcus and I were not close.’ His eyes rested on the woman, then shifted back to me. She didn’t react in any way. In fact, apart from that one lip-curl I doubt if her expression had changed since I’d come into the room. I might as well not have existed, or her father either. ‘Neither of my children has ever been close, to me or to each other. Certainly not close enough to take me into their confidence. That may sound odd to you, Corvinus, but I ask you to accept it as I accept it. As a simple fact. The situation has worsened in recent years, with Marcus leading a life that I –’ He stopped. ‘Well, shall I merely say that it was one I did not approve of, although unfortunately I was not in a position to forbid the associations he entered into. The same goes for my daughter here. This is a large house, easily big enough for all of us to lead our separate existences without impinging on one another. Which is what we have done for some time now.’ The mouth twisted into something that wasn’t quite a smile. In fact, I wondered if Lepidus Senior could smile. ‘I trust that I do not shock you too much.’

  Holy gods! I turned to the woman. She’d sat through that spiel with a face like a bored cat’s. ‘How about you, lady?’ I said. ‘Did your brother mention anything – anything at all – that he seemed concerned about?’ Going through the motions, sure, but this was the only chance at the family I’d get. If you could call them family.

  ‘Marcus and I didn’t talk,’ she said. She had a long patrician drawl that set my teeth on edge.

  I waited, but it seemed that that monolithic statement was all I was going to get. Yeah. Right. Well, scratch that angle for a non-starter. ‘Uh-huh,’ I said. ‘What about the Vestal who died? Cornelia?’

  ‘What about her?’

  ‘Did you know her well? As an adult, I mean?’

  ‘I’d met her. Here and there, at parties and dinners.’

  ‘But you hadn’t kept up the relationship?’

  ‘What relationship? We never liked each other, Valerius Corvinus. Even as children. She was born a virgin and she died one, and I don’t just mean physically. I have no time for bred-in-the-bone virgins. The way my brother mooned after her was positively sickening. And if he expected to get anywhere by doing a Clodius Pulcher on the night of the rite then he knew women even less well than I thought he did. Which was not at all, the sad little pathic.’

  I winced, and I noticed that Lepidus Senior did too, although he didn’t say anything. What had happened to ‘Of the dead, nothing but good’? Especially with the corpse still lying out there in the atrium. ‘Did he know the Galba house, incidentally?’ I said.

  ‘He took me there once, to see Aemilia.’ I looked at her. ‘Corvinus, Rome may be the capital of the world, but it’s still in many ways a small provincial town. Unmarried ladies are more smiled on if they do their visiting decently chaperoned.’

  ‘Aemilia’s a friend of yours?’

  The corner of her beautiful mouth lifted. ‘Hardly a friend. She’s a distant cousin, of course, from another branch of the family. More of a twig, really. Her father was a consular but poor as a Suburan sparrow. Oh, and she thinks she’s the gods’ gift to men, which may be why she cultivates me. That sort are always so grateful for a tip or two.’

  Well, I supposed if you ignored the size of the lady’s ego it was a fair comment. Ev
en in a mourning mantle Lepida had every competitor in Rome beat six ways from nothing, and she oozed sex like a pedigree cat in heat. ‘You were at the rites yourself, of course, lady,’ I said. ‘You didn’t notice anything unusual?’

  Her eyes opened wide. ‘Actually,’ she said, ‘I wasn’t. I had other commitments that evening and I find the rites of the Good Goddess so boring. All that all-girls-together nonsense, chanting and dancing around waving bits of greenery, really it’s –’

  ‘Lepida!’ Marcus Lepidus Senior snapped.

  She turned to him with a dazzling smile. ‘Oh, Father, I am so sorry!’ she said. ‘Have I offended you, darling?’

  But Lepidus hadn’t even glanced at her. He was still watching me. ‘If you’ve asked all your questions, Corvinus,’ he said, his voice level again, ‘then perhaps you would go. I wish I could help you more but I am afraid I cannot. And that is cannot, young man, not will not; please understand that very clearly. Venustus will show you out.’

  So that was that; all I was getting, seemingly, from either of these two beauties. Gods! What a family!

  Skin crawling, I made my goodbyes and left.

  14.

  I went back via the fluteplayers’ guildhouse. Thalia hadn’t been in.

  ‘It’s most provoking.’ Celer was shuffling wax tablets in his office. ‘She missed her engagement two nights ago, the day you were in last. Not a word, sir, not a dicky-bird, and with all these bookings to fill I’m short-handed as it is. Luckily I managed to get Aegle to cover, but the client was most disappointed. One of the Domitii, too; I mean the Domitii, you understand. Good paying customers, and you can’t afford to offend them. I shall be having very strong words with that young lady, sir, you may be assured.’

  I was beginning to get a bad feeling about this. A very bad feeling. ‘You, uh, don’t think something might have happened to her?’ I said.

  ‘What, Thalia?’ Celer chuckled. ‘Why should anything happen to Thalia? She’s as strong as a horse, she can take care of herself and anyone after her virtue would have a hard time finding it. She certainly wouldn’t bother putting up a struggle. No, sir, rest assured she’s hooked herself a fancy boyfriend and he’s waltzed her off somewhere for the Winter Festival.’