A Bitter Chill: An Aurelia Marcella Roman Mystery (Aurelia Marcella Roman Series)

by Jane Finnis

  Clarus nodded gravely. “I heard he was having a somewhat—ah—difficult time just now. But I’m sure it will all come right in the end. Whatever people are saying, I am positive your brother would never do anything dishonourable.”

  “Thank you, Clarus. It’s at times like this that you realise who your true friends are.” I resisted the temptation to ask what exactly people were saying. I could imagine well enough, and this wasn’t the time or place. Lucius had warned us that rumours of his disgrace would be widespread, and I supposed that was good, if it was what he wanted.

  We followed our host down the passage to a spacious sitting-room, which faced south-west so the last of the sunlight streamed in through the windows. Here too the greenery had been very well displayed, and there were wall-lamps and candles enough to make sure the big room would be as bright as noonday when darkness came. I was pleased to see there were at least twenty people here, including several of the leading lights of Oak Bridges as well as Sempronia’s party. So the guests had already separated into small groups, and we could circulate among our friends and not have too much to do with Sempronia or Diogenes. After my brief career as a hostage, the less conversation I had with them the better.

  Clarilla was sitting on a couch talking to Fabia, but got up at once as we came in. Not for the first time, I was struck by how like her brother she looked, only a few years younger. They were both tall and stately in build, fair-skinned and fair-haired, with the instinctive air of authority that the old native aristocrats still have. She hadn’t acquired Clarus’ pomposity though.

  “How good to see you both!” She spread her arms wide in greeting. “It’s ages since you were here, but I know how busy you are. Aurelia, I heard about your adventures yesterday. I hope you’re none the worse?”

  “I’m fine, thank you. Just in the mood for a party. You’ve got the house looking marvellous! I thought our decorations were good, till I saw yours.”

  “I love your new hairstyle,” Albia said. “With those ivory combs, and the curls, it really suits you.”

  Clarilla’s smile was mischievous, and she dropped her voice to a stage whisper. “My cousin Melina lent me her hairdresser. She’s just back from visiting Italia, you know, so her girl is up to date with all the latest fashions. I promised I wouldn’t copy Melina’s style too closely, and in return she promised she wouldn’t lend the girl to anyone else till after Saturnalia.”

  I noticed Albia glancing round scanning the faces, and Clarilla saw it too. “You’re looking for Candidus, I expect. He’s with his father. Plautius seems a good deal better, and he promises to come to the banquet tonight, at least for a while.” Again she lowered her voice. “I hope it all works out for you, Albia. You and Candidus are made for each other.”

  Albia held out her left hand, and Clarilla smiled broadly. “Good for you. We’ve been doing our best to tell the visitors what a wonderful daughter-in-law you would make.”

  “Aurelia Marcella!” That was Sempronia’s unmistakeable gravelly growl. Reluctantly I walked over to where she sat on a couch next to Horatius.

  “Good afternoon, my lady,” I said formally.

  “I want a word with you,” she began, and then paused, looking at me coldly.

  I waited. Whichever word she wanted, I didn’t expect to like it.

  “I heard what happened to you yesterday. Most unpleasant.”

  “Most.”

  “And I….” Again she hesitated.

  “Oh do get on with it, Sempronia,” Horatius put in. “The poor girl hasn’t even got a drink of wine yet. Don’t keep her standing about all afternoon.”

  “Yes.” She cleared her throat. “It seems I owe you an apology. For the way Diogenes allowed you to become involved as a hostage. He went well beyond his instructions. It should never have happened.”

  “Allowed” was good, I thought, but I let it go. “Thank you, Lady Sempronia. I accept your apology. It was a bad experience, not only the actual imprisonment, but feeling I had been betrayed by someone I was trying to help. But I’m quite over it now.” I decided to chance a shot in the dark. “Will Margarita and Gaius be released soon?”

  She sighed deeply and shook her head. “We are still negotiating. The criminals seem disposed not to release them, but sell them for money themselves. Very upsetting, not to say inconvenient. Once again, Diogenes acted on his own, without authority. Of course, we shall do our best.”

  You disgusting hypocrite, I thought, but I merely said, “We shall hope for good news,” and turned away to beckon one of the wine slaves.

  The wine was excellent—no surprise there, it had been supplied by us, and I always made sure that Silvanius got the very best. The beautiful wine-glasses were new, and I guessed were another of Clarilla’s innovations. Drinking-glasses were rare and precious, two qualities which made them very desirable for an ambitious Chief Councillor.

  I went and chatted to several of our friends, complimenting Melina on her hairdresser, enquiring how Saturninus was coping with his new baby, listening to Tullius expounding on the trials and tribulations of a farmer’s life. I noticed Quintus trying to catch my eye, and ignored him. Clarilla must have spotted this too, because she came up to me and said quietly, under all the noisy chatter, “Aurelia, tell me to mind my own business, but have you and Quintus Antonius fallen out?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. I’d arranged for you to share a couch with him at the banquet.”

  “Ah. Is it at all possible to alter the seating plan?”

  “That’s why I’m mentioning it now. Quintus took me on one side this afternoon and asked me, as a great favour, not to seat you two next to each other. So I haven’t. You’re sharing with Horatius.”

  “Thanks, Clarilla. Your party’s going so well. I don’t want our silly row to spoil anything.”

  As I finished chatting to Clarilla, I saw Albia and Candidus disappearing into the hallway. Evidently Candidus’ meeting had finished, for good or ill. Diogenes entered the room and went to Sempronia’s couch, bowing apologetically and saying a few quiet words in her ear. She nodded and waved him away. He started to come towards me, limping a little. I hoped that was Timaeus’ doing, but I wasn’t going to risk having to chat to him, so I strolled over to the window and gazed out at the garden, tinged red now by a beautiful sunset.

  All at once Quintus was beside me. He said softly, “Aurelia, can we call a truce for tonight? I need your help.”

  “What’s happened?”

  “Plautius has received a death threat.”

  “When? How?”

  “I’ll explain somewhere private.”

  “All right. The truce isn’t public, I assume?”

  He smiled, looking out at the sunset so that only I could see his face. “Certainly not. Public hostilities will have to continue for a while longer.”

  I smiled back. “So that you can sit next to Fabia tonight?”

  His eyes were full of mischief. “Of course.” Then he became serious again. “There’s an empty room along the corridor to the right, a small sitting-room. I’ll wait there for you.”

  He walked leisurely out of the room, and I flounced across the floor a few paces, exclaiming, “The cheek of that man!” to nobody in particular. Then I wandered out into the passage and found the small sitting-room. It had decorations, and lamps lighted, and even a jug of wine and a tray of glasses on a small table. And it had Quintus. I closed the door and sat down beside him on a reading-couch.

  “You look wonderful,” he murmured. “Let’s skip the banquet and just stay here all evening.”

  He was looking pretty good himself. I smiled at him for a couple of heartbeats, then I shook my head. “Fabia would miss you dreadfully.”

  “Who cares? Aurelia, I’m so sorry….”

  “No, don’t say any more. I’ll help you. I don’t know what you’re up to, and I don’t need to, so let’s stick to the point. This threat to Plautius. When and how did he receive it?”


  “A note was pushed under his door this afternoon.” He produced a small piece of papyrus from his belt-pouch.

  I read its brief message.

  EAT, DRINK, AND BE MERRY, FOR TONIGHT YOU DIE.

  “How has Plautius taken it?”

  “He’s still insisting on coming to the banquet. But he’s worried, naturally enough, with all the gossip and bad feeling about the hostages.”

  “I can’t believe he authorised the Weasel to give away Margarita and Gaius. I think Diogenes forged some sort of message, knowing it was what Sempronia wanted.”

  “Oh yes, he authorised it. I asked him, because it may be relevant to the death threat. I don’t doubt that Sempronia encouraged him, but the paper that Diogenes showed to Otus was genuine.”

  “How could he!”

  “As I said the other night, he’s a lot tougher than he looks.”

  “And he thinks this latest threat comes from someone who is angry with him for not getting Margarita and Gaius released?”

  “He does, but I’m not sure I agree. He told me he’s been worried about his safety ever since he left Londinium, and someone did try to kill him while he was with you at the mansio. Didn’t he give you any idea who he’s afraid of?”

  “None. When I pressed him, he pretended to go all vague on me and said he was just an old man letting his imagination run away with him. I didn’t believe it though. He’s as sharp as a spear, despite his physical weakness.”

  Quintus sighed. “Then let’s assume the worst possible case: an attempt on his life will be made sometime during the banquet. Which, being a special celebration, is likely to go on for hours.”

  “Hours and hours, yes.”

  “Plautius may not stay for the whole evening, but he’s determined to attend for as long as his strength holds out. After that, once he’s in his room, it will be easier to guard him. Our main problem is during the party itself, when there’ll be all sorts of people milling about—dozens of table slaves, and the guests as well. So we must be vigilant the whole time, ready for anything.”

  “Who else knows?”

  “Horatius—he was there when the note came. Timaeus—Plautius wants him to be the only one who serves him with food and wine. And maybe some of the slaves overheard, in which case everyone else too.”

  “We’re assuming the murderer will use poison, are we?”

  “It’s the most likely weapon, at a banquet.”

  “But supposing the killer is Timaeus himself? He was angry enough to beat up the Weasel.”

  “I don’t think so. When the food comes to Plautius’ table, Timaeus has offered to sample everything first, before Plautius eats it.”

  “Gods, that’s what I call devotion to duty! How about guarding the dishes while they’re in the kitchen? That’s the most likely place for someone to try to interfere with the food.”

  “Timaeus will choose what’s to be served to Plautius in the kitchen. Until it goes out to the table, the head bodyguard, Hector, will stand over it all the time.”

  “You seem to have covered everything. And you’ve warned Clarus, presumably?”

  “Yes. Plautius doesn’t want anyone else told about it, he says he doesn’t want to worry the family. But I think I’m going to tell Sempronia at least, whatever he says. She has a right to know.” He stood up and crossed to the door. “I’ll go and find her now, before….”

  “There you are, Relia!” Albia burst into the room, looking flushed and agitated, and almost knocking Quintus over. “I’ve been hunting everywhere for you. Oh, hello, Quintus,” she added distractedly. “You may as well hear this too. We’re going home. Candidus has seen his father, and they’ve had a huge row. I knew they would. Plautius is still refusing his consent for us to marry, and still threatening to disinherit him. It’s all Sempronia’s doing, I know that, but he could say no if he wanted to. I’m so angry, I could murder the pair of them! How dare they meddle in our lives like this? How dare they?”

  “Oh, Albia, I’m so sorry,” I said. “But it’s only what you expected.”

  “I was still hoping against hope. But it’s too late for that now. We don’t want to stay under the same roof with them, so we’ll go back to Candidus’ Oak Bridges place tonight. Tomorrow he’s taking me with him to his new house in Eburacum. If you need me, that’s where I’ll be.”

  I was alarmed. “Now wait awhile, Albia, and calm down. This isn’t the best way to make important decisions….”

  “It’s the only way! Don’t try to stop us, Relia, we know what we’re doing. If we can’t have a proper wedding, then there’s nothing to stop us living together straight away. And if Candidus’ parents don’t like it, they can lump it, or they can drop down dead for all I care!” She left, slamming the door with a bang that rattled the glasses on the table.

  Quintus said, “I’d offer to go after them, try and persuade them not to leave. But this Plautius business means I’ve got to stay here.”

  “Thank you, but there’s no point talking to them till they’ve cooled down a bit. They’ve made up their minds, and if they want to gallop off into the night, there isn’t anything we can do.”

  “I suppose not.” He sat down again. “Poor Fabia. This will be hard on her.”

  “Fabia? Oh, I’m sure you’ll be able to console her.”

  “Mi-aouw! What’s the unlucky girl ever done to you?”

  “Nothing at all. She’s just not the type to be my bosom friend. Fortunately she seems to have found a friend in you.”

  “I like her well enough. But mostly I feel sorry for her.”

  “Oh yes, and I’m the Queen of Brigantia! Don’t forget, I saw you together that first day at the Oak Tree, and I’d say you were being more than merely sympathetic.” The jealous words were out before I could prevent them. I realised I’d shattered the friendly working atmosphere between us, but I didn’t care.

  “Aurelia, don’t be such a bitch. It’s not like you.”

  His sharpness stung me. “I’m sorry? I find a man I—I used to regard as a friend, showing off to a stunning-looking girl by treating me like a servant, and you’re surprised that it brings out the worst in me?”

  “It’s that poor girl,” he said deliberately, “who’s been badly treated. She’s been ordered to marry someone who doesn’t want her….”

  “We all know arranged marriages are normal for senators’ children. They’re brought up to accept it.”

  “Oh, she accepts the marriage. In fact she wants it. She loves Candidus, and has done since they were children together.”

  “What? But I thought she hardly knew him.”

  “They know each other well. They were childhood sweethearts, apparently, and everyone took it for granted they’d marry, until Candidus grew out of childhood and wanted a different life. I’m not blaming him, these things happen. So now Fabia’s been ordered to come to Brigantia to persuade him to go back south with her. Her father and Plautius have even signed a marriage contract, and Plautius and Sempronia say they intend to drag their son home again and proclaim that he and Fabia are married.”

  “They’ll never succeed.”

  “Let me finish. What does Fabia find when she gets here? The groom completely refuses to have anything to do with her. It’s not just that he doesn’t care for her. He cares so much for Albia that he’s prepared to be cut off from his family rather than lose her. How do you think that makes Fabia feel? How would you feel in her place? Humiliated? Miserable? Friendless?”

  “She doesn’t look humiliated or miserable, and certainly not friendless.”

  “Of course she doesn’t. I repeat, how would you feel? The man you love rejects you and goes off to live his own life with another woman. Would you crumple up like a broken doll and let everyone see how hurt you are? I don’t think so! And neither will Fabia. It doesn’t mean she isn’t hurting.”

  “I hadn’t looked at it like that.”

  “No. So if she indulges in a bit of harmless flirting, what do you w
ant me to do? Let her know how little I care about her, and humiliate her still more?”

  “I suppose not.” I wanted desperately to believe him, to accept that he could be kind to an unhappy girl without being in love with her.

  The door opened slowly to admit Clarus’ elegant Greek major-domo. “Sir, Madam, dinner is being served in the new dining-room. Would you care to come through and be seated?”

  “Of course,” we both said, in our best party manner.

  The new dining-room was enormous, and set in its own wing of the villa. As we began to walk down what seemed like half a mile of corridor, I realised I was dreading the dinner now. This latest threat to Plautius had changed everything. I even found I was taking deep breaths, like someone preparing to dive into a cold river, and illogically, I wished that after all I’d be sharing a couch with Quintus.

  I said softly, “May the gods protect us.” Then I strolled into the grand banquet as if I hadn’t a worry in the world.

  CHAPTER XXI

  The dining-room looked magnificent. There were green branches everywhere, and even pink roses, which I discovered later were made of silk, so realistic you wanted to pick them. The air was heavy with rose scent, and alive with music. The dining-couches, placed all round the edges of the room, were draped with embroidered linen, and the small tables in front of them were set with silver-handled knives and spoons, and beautiful drinking-glasses. A huge table waited in the centre for the first course to arrive. It was all as bright as day, thanks to dozens of bronze lamp-standards festooned with small hanging lights.

  A slave showed me to my place. It wasn’t at the very top of the room, but quite respectably close. Sempronia was sharing with Clarus and Priscus, while Clarilla sat with Quintus and Fabia. Plautius was there, reclining on a smaller couch on his own, with Timaeus seated nearby on a stool. I was in the middle section of the room with the dozen or so local guests—senior town councillors and their ladies—and at the far end sat several favoured freedmen, mostly Clarus’ clients. Where Candidus and Albia would have been placed I couldn’t tell. The furniture had been tactfully reorganised.