She smiled thinly. ‘Perhaps. The brew you’re sipping now could possibly kill a man. But not in the concentration I’ve given you,’ she added. ‘It’s mostly an extract of willow bark, mixed with just a touch of the stuff Homer called nepenthes, made from the Egyptian poppy. It will ease the pain in your head. Drink up.’
‘The poet says nepenthes brings surcease to sorrow.’ I gazed into the cup, searching for a glimpse of death in the swirling steam.
Iaia nodded. ‘Which is why the queen of Egypt gave it to Helen to cure her melancholy.’
‘Homer says also that it brings forgetfulness, Iaia, and what I have seen and learned I do not choose to forget.’
‘The amount I’ve given you will not set you to dreaming, only ease the throbbing.’ When I still hesitated, she frowned and shook her head in disappointment. ‘Really, Gordianus, if we had wanted to do you harm, I imagine Alexandros could have done away with you down in the sea cave or on the steep hillside. Even now, I imagine, we could somehow manage to send you plummeting from this terrace onto the rocks below, if we were determined to do so; you would be swept out to sea and vanish forever.’ She gazed at me intendy. ‘I’ve come to trust you, Gordianus. I didn’t trust you at first, I’ll admit, but I do now. Won’t you trust me?’
I looked into her eyes. She sat stiffly upright in a backless chair, dressed in a voluminous yellow stola. The sun had not yet risen above the roof of the house and the terrace was in shadow. Far below us, beyond the terrace wall, the sea pounded against the rocky coast. Olympias and Alexandros sat nearby, watching the two of us as if we were gladiators engaged in a duel.
I lifted the cup to my lips again, but set it down untouched. Iaia sighed. ‘If you would only drink, the pain would vanish. You’ll thank me for the gift.’
‘Dionysius is beyond all pain, but I don’t think he would be thankful if he could be here with us now.’
Her brow darkened. ‘What do you insinuate, Gordianus?’
‘You say you trust me, Iaia. Then at least admit to me what I already know. On the day when I came to see the Sibyl, I saw Dionysius following Olympias in secret. I think he knew about the sea cave and who was hidden there, or at least he guessed; that was why he insisted on telling the tale of Crassus hiding in the cave in Spain. I saw how you and Olympias reacted that night. Dionysius was very near to giving away your secret. The very next day, at the funeral feast, Dionysius was given poison in a cup. Tell me, Iaia, was it aconitum you used? That was my guess.’
She shrugged. ‘What were the precise symptoms?’ ‘His tongue was aflame. He began to choke and convulse, then to vomit; his bowels were loosened. It all happened very fast.’
She nodded. ‘I would say that you made an excellent guess. But I cannot say for sure. I did not poison the cup, and neither did Olympias.’
‘Who did?’
‘How can I say? I am not the Sibyl���’
‘Only the vessel and the voice of the Sibyl.’
She pursed her lips and sucked at her teeth. Her face became gaunt, and she looked as old as her years. ‘Sometimes, Gordianus. Sometimes. Do you really want to know the secrets behind the Sibyl? It is dangerous for any man to know them. Think of foolish Pentheus, torn apart by the Bacchae. Certain mysteries can be truly comprehended only by women; to a man, such knowledge is often quite useless, and it can be very dangerous.’
‘Would it be any less dangerous if I didn’t know? Unless some god decides to intervene, I begin to wonder if I shall ever get back to Rome alive.’
‘Stubborn,’ said Iaia, slowly shaking her head, ‘very stubborn. I see that you will not be satisfied until you know everything.’
‘It is my nature, Iaia. It is how the gods made me.’
‘So I see. Where shall we begin?’
‘With a simple question. Are you the Sibyl?’
She made a pained expression. ‘I will try to answer, though I doubt you’ll understand. No, I am not the Sibyl. No woman is. But there are those of us in whom the Sibyl sometimes manifests herself, just as the god manifests himself through the Sibyl. We are a circle of initiates. We maintain the temple, keep the hearth burning, explore the mysteries, pass on the secrets. Gelina is one of us. She is more dear to me than you can know, but she is too delicate a vessel to be used directly by the Sibyl; she has other duties. Olympias is also an initiate. She is as yet too young and inexperienced for the Sibyl to speak through her, but it will come to pass. There are others besides myself who act as vessels; some live here in Cumae, others come from as far as Puteoli and Neapolis and the far side of the Cup. Most are descendants of the Greek families who settled here even before Aeneas came; their understanding of these matters is passed on in the blood.’
‘Iaia, I cannot deny that an interview with the Sibyl is a most wondrous thing, no matter whose form she takes. I wonder, for example, what it was that you burned on the fire before you took us into the Sibyl’s cave. Could it be that the smoke had some effect on my senses?’
Iaia smiled faintly. ‘You miss very little, Gordianus. True, certain herbs and roots, used in certain ways, are conducive to a full apprehension of the Sibyl’s presence. The use of those substances is a part of the discipline which we learn and pass on.’
‘In my own travels I’ve encountered such herbs, or heard of them. Ophiusa, thalassaegle, theangelis, gelotophyllis, mesa���’
She shook her head and grimaced. ‘Ophiusa comes from distant Ethiopia, where they call it the snake plant; it is said to be as horrible to look at as the visions it conjures up. The Sibyl has no use for such horrors. Thalassaegle is likewise exotic and harsh; I hear it grows only along the river Indus. Alexander’s men called it ‘sea-glimmer’ and found that it caused them to rave and suffer blinding visions. Theangelis I know of. It grows in the high places of Syria and Crete and in Persia; the Magi call it ‘the gods’ messenger’ and drink it to divine the future. Gelotophyllis grows in Bacteria where the locals call it laughter-leaves; it merely intoxicates and brings no wisdom. Believe me, it was none of these that you inhaled.’
‘What about the other I named, mesa? A kind of hemp, I understand, with a strong aroma���’
‘You exasperate me, Gordianus. Will you waste time and breath merely to satisfy your idle curiosity?’
‘You’re right, Iaia. Then perhaps you can tell me why you placed that ugly statuette in my bed on my first night in the villa.’
She lowered her eyes. ‘It was a test. Only an initiate could understand.’
‘But whatever the test was, I passed it?’
‘Yes.’
‘And then you left another message, advising me to consult the Sibyl.’ ‘Yes.’ ‘But why?’
‘The Sibyl was ready to guide you to Zeno’s body.’ ‘Because the Sibyl thought I might assume that the same fate that befell Zeno had befallen Alexandros as well, and that his body had been consumed in the lake? That possibility did cross my mind; after all, two horses returned riderless to the stable. I might have returned and told Crassus as much, advising him to call off his search for Alexandros.’ ‘And why didn’t you?’
‘Because I had seen Dionysius following Olympias, and I had seen Olympias bringing an empty basket up from the sea cave. It occurred to me then that Alexandros was hidden here in Cumae. But tell me, Iaia, did you lead me to Zeno’s body to throw me off the scent?’
Iaia spread her hands. ‘One cannot always discern the Sibyl’s methods; even when the god grants a supplicant’s desires, he doesn’t always use the means expected to accomplish his end. You might have assumed Alexandros was dead and proceeded from that assumption. Instead, here you sit, in the same house with Alexandros. Who can say this is not what the Sibyl intended, even if it is not what I expected?’
I nodded. ‘You knew, then, of Zeno’s fate, and where he could be found. Did Olympias know?’
‘Yes.’
‘And yet Olympias seemed genuinely shocked when we discovered Zeno’s remains.’
‘Olympias kne
w of Zeno’s fate, but she had not seen his body, as I had. I never intended for her to see it; I intended for you to visit Lake Avernus without her. Instead she went with you, and in horror she cast his remains into the pit. I have no doubt that this, too, was the will of the god.’
‘And I suppose it was the will of the god that brought Alexandros to your door in the first place, on the night of the murder?’
‘Perhaps we should let Alexandros speak for himself,’ said Iaia, who cast a sidelong look at the young Thracian. ‘Tell Gordianus what transpired on the night of your master’s murder.’
Alexandros reddened, either because he was unused to speaking to strangers or because of the memory of that night. Olympias drew closer to him and laid her hand on his forearm. I wondered at the casual way she displayed her intimacy with a slave in the presence of a Roman citizen. In the sea cave I had caught them unaware in the middle of coitus, and she had been unembarrassed, but fear and surprise had ruled her then and might have overridden her normal judgment. I was more impressed by the public affection and tenderness she willingly gave Alexandros before Iaia and myself. I marvelled at her devotion, and at the same time despaired for her; how could such an ill-begotten love end in anything but misery?
“That night,’ Alexandros began, his harsh Thracian accent overshadowed by the intensity with which he spoke, ‘we knew that Crassus was on his way. I had never seen him, I was new in the household, but I had heard much of him, of course. Old Zeno told me that the visit was unexpected and had come about on very short notice, and that the master was unprepared, very nervous and very unhappy.’
‘Did you know why Lucius was unhappy?’
‘Some irregularity in the accounts. I didn’t really understand.’
‘Even though you helped Zeno sometimes with the ledgers?’
He shrugged. ‘I can add figures and make the proper marks, but I seldom knew what it was that I was adding. But Zeno knew, or thought he did. He said that the master had been busy with some very secret business, something very bad. Zeno said the master had done things behind Crassus’s back and that Crassus would be angry. That afternoon we were all three busy in the library, going through the accounts. At last the master sent me from the room; I could tell he wanted to say things to Zeno that I shouldn’t overhear. Later he sent Zeno away as well. In the stables I asked Zeno what was happening, but he only brooded and wouldn’t talk. It began to grow dark. I ate and helped the other stablemen to look after the horses. Finally I went to sleep.’
‘In the stables?’
‘Yes.’
‘Was that where you normally slept?’
Olympias cleared her throat. ‘Alexandros usually slept in my room,’ she said, ‘next to Iaia’s, in the house. But that night Iaia and I were here in Cumae.’
‘I see. Go on, Alexandros; you were sleeping in the stables.’
‘Yes, and then Zeno came to wake me. He carried a lamp and poked at my nose. I told him it couldn’t be morning yet; he said it was the middle of the night. I asked him what he wanted. He said that a man had ridden up from nowhere and tethered his horse by the front door, then had gone in to see the master. He said they were both in the library, talking in low voices with the door shut.’
‘Yes? And who was this visitor?’
Alexandros hesitated. ‘I never saw him myself, not really. You see, that’s the strange part. But Zeno said … poor Zeno .. .’ He furrowed his thick eyebrows and stared intently into space, caught up in the remembrance.
‘Yes,’ I said, ‘go on. What did Zeno tell you? Why did you flee the house?’
‘Zeno said he had gone into the library. He had rapped gently on the door and thought he heard his name spoken, so he stepped inside. Maybe he didn’t hear his name at all, or maybe the master was telling him to go away; Zeno was like that, he had a habit of stepping in when he wasn’t wanted, just to have a sniff at what was happening. He said the master spun around in his chair and told him to get out ��� yelled at first, then lowered his voice very quickly and cursed him in a whisper.’
‘And the visitor?’
‘He was standing by the shelves, looking through some scrolls with his back to the door. Zeno didn’t really see him, but he saw that he was dressed in military garb, and he saw the man’s cloak thrown over one of the chairs.’
‘The cloak,’ I said.
‘Yes, just a simple dark cloak ��� but one corner had an emblem on it, a seal pinned to the cloth like a brooch. Zeno had seen it plenty of times before; he said he’d know it anywhere.’
‘Yes?’
‘It was the seal of Crassus.’
‘No,’ I said, shaking my head. A throb of pain passed through my skull with such power that I finally reached for the cup of willow bark and nepenthes and drank it down.
‘No. That makes no sense at all.’
‘Even so,’ Alexandros insisted, ‘Zeno said it was Crassus in the library with the master, and the master’s face was as white as a senator’s toga. Zeno began to pace up and down in the stables, shaking his head with worry. I told him there was nothing we could do; if the master had got himself into trouble, that was his problem. But Zeno said we should go and stand outside the library door and listen. I told him he was mad and rolled over to go back to sleep. But he wouldn’t leave me alone until I got up from the straw and put on my cloak and stepped into the courtyard with him.
‘It was a clear night, but very windy. The trees thrashed overhead, like spirits shaking their heads, whispering no, no. I should have known then that something terrible was afoot. Zeno ran ahead to the door and opened it. I followed him.’ Alexandros wrinkled his brow. ‘I have a hard time remembering all that happened next, it happened so fast. We were in the little hallway that leads to the atrium. Suddenly Zeno backed against me, so hard he almost knocked me down. He sucked in a breath and started blubbering. Over his shoulder I saw a man dressed like a soldier down on his knees, holding a lamp, and beside him was the body of the master, his head all crushed and bloody.’
‘And this man was Crassus?’ I said, disbelieving.
He shrugged. ‘I only glimpsed his face for an instant. Or perhaps I didn’t see his face at all; the lamp cast strange shadows and he was mostly in darkness, I think. Even if I had seen him clearly, I wouldn’t have recognized him. I told you, I had never seen Crassus. What I remember looking at was the master ��� his lifeless body; his broken, bleeding face. Then the man put down his lamp and sprang to his feet, and I saw his sword, leaping like a flame in the lamplight. He spoke in a low voice, not frightened, not angry, but cold, very cold. He accused us of killing the master! ‘You’ll pay for this!’ he was saying. ‘I shall see both of you nailed to a tree!’
‘Zeno grabbed me and pulled me out the door, across the courtyard, into the stable. ‘Horses!’ he was saying. ‘Flee! Flee!’ I did what he said. We mounted and were out the door of the stables before the man could follow. Even so, Zeno rode like a madman. ‘Where can we go?’ he kept saying, shaking his head and weeping like a slave about to be whipped. ‘Where can we go? The poor master is dead and we shall be blamed!’ I thought about Olympias, and remembered Iaia’s house in Cumae. I’d been here a few times before, carrying supplies back and forth.
I thought I could find the way in the dark, but it wasn’t as easy as I thought.’
‘So I myself discovered,’ I said.
‘We were going too fast, and the wind kept getting stronger, so that we couldn’t hear each other shouting, and the fog closed in. Zeno was in a mad panic. Then we took a wrong turn and came to the cliff that overhangs Lake Avernus. My mount knew me, she warned me in time, and even so I almost went tumbling over. But Zeno knew very little about horses. When the beast tried to stop he must have kicked her, and she threw him. I saw him disappear, flying head over heels into the fog. The mist swallowed him up. Then silence. Then I heard a faint, distant splash, like a man falling into shallow water and mud.
‘He screamed then. His voice rose
up from the darkness ��� a long, terrifying scream. Then silence again.
‘I tried to find a way down to the shore in the darkness, but the trees and fog and shadows baffled me. I called his name, but he never answered, not even a moan. Have I said something wrong?’
‘What?’
‘The look on your face, Gordianus ��� so strange, as if you had been there yourself.’
‘I was only remembering last night …’ I thought of Eco and felt a pang of dread. ‘Go on. What happened next?’
‘Finally I found the way to Cumae. I entered the house without waking the slaves, found Olympias and told her what had happened. It was Iaia’s idea to hide me in the cave. Cumae is a tiny village, they could never have hidden me in the house. Even so, you discovered us.’
‘Dionysius discovered you first. You should thank the gods that he didn’t tell Crassus. Or perhaps you can thank someone else.’ I looked sidelong at Iaia.
‘Again you insinuate!’ Iaia gripped the arms of her chair.
‘Credit me with having eyes and a nose, Iaia. This house is full of strange roots and herbs, and I happen to know that aconitum is among them. On the day we consulted the Sibyl I saw it in a jar in the room where you make your paints. I imagine you might also have strychnos, hyoscyamus, limeum���’
‘Some of these I keep, yes, but not for murder! The same substances that kill can also cure, if used with proper knowledge. Do you insist on an oath, Gordianus? Very well! I swear to you, by the holiness of the Sibyl’s shrine, by the god who speaks through the Sibyl’s lips, that no one in this house committed the murder of Dionysius!’
In the vehemence of her oath, she rose halfway to her feet. As she slowly settled into her chair again, the terrace became preternaturally quiet. Even the crashing of the waves below was hushed. The sun had at last risen above the roof of the house, tracing the terrace wall with a fringe of yellow light. A lonely cloud crossed the sun and threw all into shadow again; then the cloud passed, and the heat reflected from the dazzling white stones was warm against my face. I noticed in passing that the pain in my head had vanished, and in its place I felt a pleasant lightness.
Arms of Nemesis - Roman Sub Rosa 02 Page 27
