by Marilyn Todd
‘You said it yourself. He’s never been able to stand up to his father.’
‘No, but I’ll bet it’s not beyond him to go running to Daddy, still splattered with his lover’s blood, and blurting out what he’d done. That’s why Rex wants to keep the investigation local, Claudia. That way, he can slap a seal on this scandal that’s so watertight, it’ll probably mummify.’ Orbilio pulled on a clean tunic and belted it at the waist. ‘The very fact that Rex is threatening me suggests he’s far more rattled than he lets on, and frankly there’s only one reason I can think of why a wealthy, influential, retired war hero would be worried.’
Claudia pinned up her curls, fluffed her pleats into place and decided there was only one reason she could think of, too. ‘There was a witness.’
‘And guess who’s been missing since the night Lichas died?’
Marcus tossed three copper quadrants to a hovering attendant in exchange for two spiced apple buns. The buns were warm in the middle, and the taste of cinnamon and cloves exploded on Claudia’s tongue.
‘I’ve walked those water meadows between the yew tree and the river twice now,’ Orbilio said, ‘and Tages’ pastures overlook them in several places, plus there was a storm that night, remember? What if Tages was rounding up his sheep to prevent them from bolting when he heard Hadrian and Lichas shouting? His curiosity’s aroused. He watches. Sees Hadrian stab him.’
‘Pull the knife out, drag his lover still kicking and screaming into the river.’ She licked a dribble of soft apple from her finger. ‘Oh yes, I can just picture it.’
Hadrian might be capable of killing. We all are. He might well have tried to cover it up. We all would. But the boy was too weak to carry off something like murder. He’d have cracked at the very first grilling.
‘Let me tell you what I think happened that night.’ There was a distant look in Orbilio’s eyes as he polished off the last of his bun. ‘It’s dark. It’s raining. It’s thunder, it’s lightning, there’s a gale flattening trees to the ground. The sort of night when passions run wild. Hadrian meets with Lichas. He tells him he can’t go on with this terrible subterfuge, his father’s bound to find out if he keeps sneaking out and he won’t bring dishonour to Rome’s distinguished military champion. It’s over, he says. Now who knows, maybe Lichas is a lover scorned, maybe he simply sees the good life slipping away, but either way he vows to carry out this threat and go public with Hadrian’s sexuality. Hadrian panics. He probably doesn’t mean to stab Lichas. He just wants to scare him enough to back off. But somehow his blade ends up in his lover’s belly, so he runs back to Daddy and confesses the terrible thing he has done.’
‘And you think Tages witnessed that?’
‘I think he witnessed that and more,’ Marcus said quietly. ‘I think he saw Rex go down to the yew tree. I think he saw Rex pull the knife out and dispose of the body, something a battle-scarred warrior would have no qualms about doing.’
No need to waste effort in despatching a fatal blow. He’d have recognized instantly that his son’s thrust was fatal, and considering Lichas was no more than a piece of filth in his eyes, the boy’s screams would have cut no ice. For Rex, it was waste disposal pure and simple.
‘That’s why Hadrian’s in pain,’ Marcus said. ‘Whether he intended to kill Lichas or not, between him and dear old Uncle Rexie they murdered that boy, and I’m pretty sure Tages witnessed the whole thing.’
‘Then why hasn’t he come forward?’
Orbilio packed his comb back in his satchel and tightened the leather strap. ‘Rex is a senator with a glowing record in the field who has considerable influence in Mercurium. If a lowly shepherd boy suddenly accuses him of murder, what odds the accuser ends up with a knife in his ribs, the victim of bandits or thieves? It’s far more likely that Tages is biding his time in a bid to do a spot of blackmailing of his own.’
‘In which case, his ribs are in even more danger.’
‘Agreed. So in the interest of ribcage protection, it behoves me to find as many holes in father’s and son’s stories as possible in order to substantiate Tages’ testimony when he does eventually surface. Enjoy your mud bath!’
‘Wait! Don’t you want to hear how my investigations are going?’
‘Nope.’ He picked up his satchel and slung it over his shoulder. ‘Loverboy’s down for one of the spa’s famous cures in two minutes and guess who just happens to have his name down for a session alongside? I can’t afford to miss this chance. However…’
There it was again. That shifty look, his eyes darting this way and that, but never, not once, meeting hers. And what’s with the hopping from foot to foot all of a sudden?
‘About getting round the Darius thing…I, er, have a solution you might want to think about.’
Now he was rubbing his forehead and chewing his lip.
‘No hurry,’ he said. ‘Take your time, but…well, have you considered a marriage of convenience?’
‘According to a trawl through the fortune-tellers’ tents, I’ll be marrying an ambassador/banker/merchant from Rome/Athens/Spain any day, who will bestow upon me wealth and happiness beyond measure, not to mention three/six/eight children, all destined to live to a healthy old age.’
And to think there were still some cynics who claimed astrology wasn’t a science.
‘I’m sure you’ll lead a wonderful life with all three handsome husbands,’ he replied, only instead of laughing as she’d expected, it looked like he’d swallowed a rat that was gnawing away at his entrails. ‘But until they come along, think about what I’ve said, Claudia.’ He shot her a tortured look. ‘You could do a lot worse, you know.’
Fourteen
The hell she could.
Claudia marched across the precinct of the Temple of Fufluns the following morning with her skirts billowing like a merchantman in full sail. Grey clouds had snuggled over the hilltops like a dirty blanket, while out across the valley—and a reminder that the temple sat in the middle of Terrence’s land—armies of slaves pruned Terrence’s willow hedges, dipped Terrence’s protesting sheep in a bath full of dip and waged war on weeds and caterpillars that threatened to undo months of Terrence’s careful nurturing. Thankfully, though, it was not the pitchy smell of Terrence’s sheep dip that prevailed in the windless air, just the exotic aroma of incense.
Dammit, Claudia thought, skirting the sacred pool rimmed with pomegranate trees beneath which vividly painted marble satyrs cavorted with intoxicated marble nymphs. I haven’t come this far to toss everything away on some wet drip of a husband, and how very convenient for the Security Police to have her frauds, forgeries and tax evasions wrapped up at the same time! Another laurel crown to lay on the head of an ambitious young investigator. Another step closer to the Senate! As oblivious to the tall smoking tripods that lined the plaza as she was to the host of temple kittens chasing each other, Claudia thought come into my parlour, said the spider to the fly. She rolled her eyes. Honestly, Marcus Cornelius. Do I look like I have wings?
On the other hand, watching Larentia and Darius laughing and joking at the hot springs (and what is it with the old battle-axe cackling away these days?), Claudia didn’t think it would be long before her mother-in-law set a date—and June was traditionally an auspicious month. That gave Claudia six weeks at best, three at worst, to discredit that smarmy horse-breeder, so where better to start than by searching his room at the villa while he was ensconced at the hot springs?
‘Are you sure you have to go back so soon?’ he’d asked over a breakfast of rhubarb, fennel and lightly boiled chicory. ‘We only arrived yesterday.’
‘And already I’m feeling too healthy for my own good,’ she retorted. ‘Tempting though that yarrow tea is, Darius, duty calls.’
He rose from the couch. ‘Then at least let me help.’
Why? So you can pick up some tips about viticulture to help you take over my business more smoothly? ‘No, no, you keep up the good work with those cowslip and horseradish syrups.’
‘That rattle wasn’t my lungs, Ren, it was the crowd of doctors you had swarming all over me.’ Darius sucked on a dark-green pastille that smelled as foul as it looked. ‘It won’t be any cough that kills me,’ he told Claudia, with a rueful shake of the head. ‘It’ll be the crush of physicians that woman has set on me. At least let me escort you back to the villa.’
Taking control already, are we?
‘I’ll give you a ride if you like,’ Lars said, striding into the dining hall and resting a hand on Eunice’s shoulder. ‘Sorry, pumpkin, but business calls me back to Mercurium.’
‘You’ll regret it,’ Eunice warned, patting his hand, and even at breakfast she smelled of roses and wine. ‘You’ll come back from your trip, you two, frowning and frazzled—and I warn you, those of us who’ve been pampered to within an inch of our lives will have absolutely no sympathy.’
I can see you working out how Candace did it, what Darius’s game is, what’s behind the run of bad luck and why Lars married Eunice before the moon combs her lovely red hair…
Could she? Could she solve all four in as many days?
Seated beside him in the gig, Claudia became conscious of the Etruscan’s musky scent as the mule clip-clopped up the hill, and noticed the way his muscles bulged as he fought with the reins on the tight turns.
‘You have to wonder whether there’s any part of the Empire Terrence looks out on from his windows that doesn’t belong to him,’ he observed cheerfully. ‘With what he makes from Lavernium, he’ll be minting his own bloody coins soon.’
‘Terrence owns the hot springs as well?’
‘That and every other hill you can see, and talking of the big man, whose side are you on? Are you in the Rexie and Terrence camp—and don’t think I don’t know they call me the Red Gigolo behind my back? Or do you agree with your mother-in-law that we’re made for each other, my lady and me?’
As a matter of fact, Claudia wasn’t in either.
‘One can’t deny Eunice looks well on marriage,’ she said, oh and how tactful was that?
‘As well she might,’ he said. ‘I picked up a whole batch of health tips when I worked at the hot springs. Is any man better placed to dose his wife with extra minerals of a day?’
Why Lars married Eunice…
‘You…administer them yourself?’
‘It’s no great science,’ he laughed. ‘You pulverise herbs, turnips, lettuce and broccoli until you’re left with the juice. Oh, don’t twist your face, woman. With a pinch of mustard, it’s practically palatable.’
‘That’s what they say about hemlock.’ She smiled back, and by coincidence the poison was exactly the same consistency and colour. No doubt as Eunice sipped, she’d thank her husband for making her feel soothed and relaxed—until the point where she tried to move and found every muscle in her body was paralysed… ‘I’m guessing it wasn’t your love potion that fired Cupid’s arrow?’
‘A legionary would blush at the names Eunice calls me when I make her swallow the vile brew, but strange how I’m instantly forgiven when she looks in the mirror and sees clear skin shining back, or bends down to adjust her sandal strap and realizes there’s no stiffness in any of her joints. As for Cupid…’ He broke off to pull the cart over and allow a wagon to pass. ‘I’d give her regular massages at the springs… Look, will you stop spraining your face like you’re a prude. We’re Etruscans, girl. We’re free spirits.’
‘Who evidently don’t believe in single-sex bath houses.’
‘Men have bigger hands, stronger muscles. Oh, you can visit your fancy bath house in Rome and it’ll smell grand, sure, and you’ll enjoy your rub down well enough, but once a man’s worked on those tension knots of yours, woman, you’ll not know you’re born.’
Eunice might be in danger in the longer term, she reflected, but she was surely in heaven while she was waiting.
‘My lady lived in Rome in those days,’ Lars said, ‘so we’d not see each other that often. Then she rented a house here for the whole of the summer, invited me over to dinner and the friendship grew. To be honest, neither of us gave it a second thought until I went to kiss her goodnight on the cheek and caught her on the lips by mistake.’
‘And that’s it?’
‘Aye.’ He jiggled the reins and, when that didn’t work, gave the mule a quick flick on the rump with the switch. ‘I stayed the night and in the morning I realized that one man is no man, for one is no number. Never went home.’
Cue harps and rose petals… But did Darius put Lars up to it, or vice versa? And where the devil did Candace fit in?
‘Thanks for the lift. Can I offer you wine and possibly a more substantial breakfast?’
‘You’re forgetting I spent two decades in that bloody spa,’ he laughed, patting his stomach. ‘Luckily for me, the head cook still has fond memories of my time there, for I swear it’s the only place in the Empire where servant eats better than master.’
It probably was, but what kind of business would Lars have in Mercurium that was so urgent that it took him away from the hot springs almost before he’d arrived?
Inside her villa, slaves were industriously taking heather brooms to the floors, feather dusters to the ceilings and leather cloths to the marble. In the flurry of water being fetched from the well, oil lamps topped up, cushions plumped, furniture waxed, geese plucked, rugs beaten and vegetables peeled, no one noticed the mistress slip inside Master Darius’s room.
Compared to the big house in Rome, the villa was cramped. Of course, to the average citizen it was a palace, and quite frankly the entire apartment in the slums where Claudia grew up could have fitted inside the atrium and have room to spare. But the point was, space was at a premium in Gaius’s villa. There were far fewer guest bedrooms for one thing, and by the time things like couches, tables, chairs and clothes chests had been added, there was very little floor space to spare. All the more surprising, then, that Darius’s room made the average Spartan appear profligate.
It wasn’t unusual among the very rich, Claudia reflected, and actually it was one of the first things she’d noticed. In the same way that Orbilio, whose lineage traced back to Apollo himself, wore his clothes in the manner of a man born to affluence but without any need to advertise the fact, Darius also draped himself in expensive linens with the same casual neglect and kept jewellery down to the essential seal ring. Quality and minimalism often went hand in hand with breeding. But to have no personal possessions at all beyond the essentials…?
‘Have you lost something?’ an irritatingly familiar little voice piped up as it clambered on to the bed. ‘Indigo thinks Darius must have stolen something from you and that’s why you’re poking around in his chest. Is it?’
Claudia was desperately trying to think of a better explanation for being up to her elbows in an honoured guest’s underwear when Amanda saved her the bother.
‘Indigo says she hopes it’s a ring or a necklace or maybe a gold brooch set with amethysts and rubies and pearls. Something really expensive that means soldiers will have to come and arrest him.’
‘Indigo would like that, would she?’
‘Very much.’ Amanda yanked back the coverlet and embarked upon a forensic search of her own. ‘I overheard Darius telling Mummy that Indigo was bad for me and Mummy should stop moving round and that would get rid of her, but I told Indigo not to worry, no one’s going to get rid of her, because why should Mummy listen to what Darius tells her? She’ll be moving on soon, we always do, but this time it won’t matter, because Indigo and me are running away after the Animals Holiday to go live with my father in Rome, only you promise not to tell Mummy, won’t you?’
‘Cross my heart.’
Comb, razor, scissors, but not so much as a painted cameo to remind Darius o
f his late wife. In fact, no personal mementoes full stop.
‘He hasn’t stashed his loot in the bed,’ Amanda said miserably, and Claudia thought whirlwinds couldn’t have made a worse job of that coverlet. ‘But Indigo says Darius is clever.’
‘Indigo’s right.’
‘She says he hides things.’ Little hands stuffed themselves between the mattress and the bed frame and began prodding. ‘Ooh, is this your brooch?’
Claudia took the box from her, lifted the lid and sniffed the unmistakeable balm of Gilead.
‘Lemme see, lemme see.’ Amanda scrabbled across the bed on her knees, craning her head for a better look. ‘Ooh, yummy, are they sweeties?’
‘No, they’re buds.’ Dried buds to be precise. The most expensive dried buds in the world.
‘Bo-r-ing.’ Amanda slid off the bed and picked up Darius’s razor. ‘Why does Darius shave his head?’ she asked, peering closely.
Claudia snatched it away and placed it out of her reach. ‘He shaves his face, not his head.’
‘He does so, too, and he rubs ointment from that jar on his chest.’
‘That’s oil of frankincense for his cough,’ Claudia explained, replacing the box of buds in exactly the same place that Amanda had found it and straightening the coverlet. When she looked up, Amanda was happily gouging a lump out of the table with Darius’s scissors.
‘Can I sleep in your bed tonight?’ she asked, as the scissors were whisked out of her hand.
‘No.’
‘I could play with your cat.’
‘We’re still finding body parts from the last person who tried.’
Amanda giggled. ‘If I can’t find my father in Rome, I’ll come and live with you. You’re funny, and you won’t make me move on all the time.’
Claudia made a mental note to have a word with Mummy and find out what the hell Mummy was playing at, condemning her six-year old daughter to constant upheaval when the only thing children need at that age is stability. Didn’t the woman realize that, in creating an imaginary friend, Amanda wasn’t just lonely, she was deeply unhappy? For heaven’s sake, what kind of mother can’t see that her daughter’s invisible friend is nothing more than an embodiment of the girl’s confidence? That the minute Amanda becomes absorbed and able to state her own mind, Indigo vanishes? Unfortunately, Mummy would have to wait, and as much as Claudia would have liked to poke around Candace’s quarters, she’d need to hold off until inquisitive little eyes and loquacious little tongues weren’t around to betray her. Plus the Hebrew twins mightn’t mix, but news of the mistress snooping around in the slave quarters would certainly make it to their well-attuned ears.
