He was on his feet and going for my throat, but I was ready for that. Castor may’ve been big, but he was no fighter, especially a dirty one. I kneed him in the balls and he collapsed gasping.
Yeah, well, I’d finished anyway. I turned to the wide-eyed Stratyllis.
‘See that he gets that will to Quintus Libanius in Castrimoenium first thing in the morning, sister,’ I said. ‘No hassle, I promise you: I’ll square things before then. And keep him out of trouble in future. Better still, ditch the bastard and find another boyfriend.’
I left. Well, it was nice to prevent a murder or three for a change rather than pick up the pieces afterwards. And you never knew: the shock might’ve done him some good.
Back to Castrimoenium myself, and a last talk with Quintus Acceius.
29
I went straight over there when I arrived. The slave who opened the door - Carillus, it was, I remembered - looked frightened as hell.
‘Your master in?’ I said.
‘Yes, sir. In the study.’ He swallowed. ‘You’re to go straight through.’
Acceius, when I got there, was sitting on the chair beside the desk dressed in his formal mantle. His face was like a death mask, and on the desk beside him was a basin and a knife.
‘Hallo, Corvinus,’ he said. ‘You got my message at last, then?’
‘No.’ I closed the door behind me. ‘What message?’
He shrugged. ‘It doesn’t matter, you’re here now in any case. But I’ve been expecting you since early this morning.’
‘I was in Bovillae.’ I sat down on the couch uninvited. There was something wrong here, very wrong, and the hairs were rising on the back of my neck. ‘You wanted to see me?’
‘Yes. Lucinda’s dead. Upstairs. I smothered her with a pillow last night.’ His voice was perfectly calm. I stared at him. ‘She didn’t suffer: she was drunk, as usual, and I’d crushed three of the sleeping pills Hyperion sent me into her wine. The slaves know, of course, but I told them not to report it until I’m dead myself’ - a twist of the lips - ‘which I will be shortly, now that you’ve arrived. I was only waiting to talk to you, to apologise, possibly to answer any questions you might have, before I slit my wrists and finish things.’
Gods! ‘You, uh, know that I know you killed Hostilius, then,’ I said cautiously.
‘And the others, yes. Or rather no, I didn’t know, not for certain. But you were getting very close, and my sympathies are with you rather than with me.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Corvinus, I’m not a natural killer, and yet I’ve killed four people. Five, counting Tascia.’ He glanced at the marble bust. ‘Do you realise how...sick that makes me of myself?’ I said nothing. ‘So I’ll be very, very glad, when your visit is over, to make what little reparation I can. If you’re good enough to grant me that licence.’
This was turning out all wrong. ‘You admit that you and Seia Lucinda poisoned your first wife, then?’ I said. ‘Using a poison you got from Brabbia Habra?’
‘Yes. It was the biggest, most stupid, most evil mistake of my life. Can I tell you about it now? Please?’
‘Yeah,’ I said quietly. ‘Yeah, if you like. Go ahead, pal. Take your time.’
He looked at the bust again, but this time his eyes didn’t shift. ‘I never loved her,’ he said. ‘Not as much as she loved me, certainly. I don’t think, at that stage, I was capable of genuinely loving anyone; certainly not Lucinda, that was a combination of lust, ambition and greed. Smugness, too, if that’s not too small a vice to put beside the others. Fifteen year old girl or not, she made it perfectly clear almost from the first that she wanted me, even knowing that I was married already, and that she’d do anything to have me. Her father was no hindrance, she could wind him round her finger, she was beautiful and she was rich. And I...well, I had ambitions. Serious ambitions. I knew that with her as a wife I could get out of Bovillae, set up a practice in Rome, and...oh, but you know yourself. The only obstacle was Tascia.’ He turned back. His cheeks were wet. ‘A complete and utter fool, you see. So when Lucinda suggested at the time of the Brabbius trial that the obstacle might be removed I gave in without a struggle.’
‘She knew about Habra, then?’
‘Oh, yes. She’d used her before. A...young male cousin, she told me it was, but I suspect the man might’ve been one of the family’s own slaves. Lucinda always was wild. She was certainly no virgin when we married, and she wouldn’t’ve had any compunctions in that direction. It wasn’t poison as such, just something to give Tascia when the time came that would...keep her bleeding, whatever the midwife did. Until she had no blood left. Then she died.’
I waited for a while, then I said: ‘She started blackmailing you? Habra? After you married Lucinda?’
He shook his head slowly. ‘No. Or not as such. Oh, she asked me for money, yes, but I gave it to her willingly, more than she asked, and I kept giving it. Call it a conscience payment, if you like. Lucinda never knew, I was careful of that, or that she’d settled in Castrimoenium, because it was part of my punishment of myself, nothing to do with her.’
‘And another part was that you gave up the idea of moving to Rome.’
‘Yes. Not immediately. It was no sudden conversion, don’t think that. I told you, Corvinus, at the time I was not a very nice person. Even less nice’ - another half-smile - ‘than I am today. I was ambitious, I’d got - or thought I’d got - all I wanted. Only gradually it became not so important any more. I felt I had to pay. Do you understand that?’
‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘Yeah, I understand.’
‘So I stayed in Bovillae. And I...stopped sleeping with Lucinda. Then we moved to Castrimoenium and’ - he shrugged - ‘here we are. Still.’
Jupiter! Well, I had to admit the guy had paid, all right. Seia Lucinda, too. Twenty years! Gods! ‘Then Senecio came back,’ I said.
‘I thought he was dead. As he should’ve been, because who survives twenty years in the galleys? He must’ve found Habra first, there would’ve been people in Bovillae who knew where she’d gone. Then he found us. Lucius and me. He thought we were equally responsible and, unlike his sister, he wanted us dead.’
‘He said something, didn’t he, when he attacked you?’
‘Yes.’ Acceius closed his eyes briefly. ‘I can’t remember exactly, but it was suitably explicit and damning: something about us having gone back on the deal with Habra over getting rid of Tascia. Lucius guessed at once who he was and what he meant, of course - however ill he was in other ways, he never lost his lawyer’s sharpness - and that was that. I panicked. I...wrested the knife from Senecio and stabbed him. It was quite deliberate, and I’m sorry about that now. It would’ve been far better if I’d allowed him to stab me and finish things before they started.’
‘Then, the next day, you went to confront Hostilius, and he gave you his ultimatum.’
‘He was generous; very generous.’ Acceius took a deep breath. ‘But then Lucius always was, all the years I knew him. He offered me a simple choice. I would divorce Lucinda for adultery with Castor, which she would admit to, and prosecute her under the terms of the Julian law; you know, of course, that they’d been meeting secretly for the past seven or eight months in an empty house she owned in Bovillae?’ - I said nothing - ‘or he’d formally accuse the two of us of murder and start putting the case together. He gave me six days to decide.’
‘How did you work things out with Cosmus?’
Another shrug. ‘Oh, that was easy. A little judicious blackmail on my own account, plus the promise of a large sum in cash and help to disappear. I’d known for some time that he was acting with Castor in collusion with Publius Novius but...well, for various reasons I was reluctant to tell Lucius because - and I don’t expect you to understand this, Corvinus, but it’s the truth - I felt sorry for Castor himself, and it would’ve destroyed him, too.’
‘You felt sorry for Castor,’ I said neutrally. ‘Even though you knew he was having an affair with your wife.’
He smiled. �
�I said you wouldn’t understand. Yes. Yes, I did. The affair was nothing. Lucinda wasn’t a happy woman, no more than - for the past twenty years - I’ve been a happy man, and as I say we hadn’t been properly husband and wife since Bovillae. Think of it, if you will, as another part of my punishment, and of hers. Besides, destroying Castor would’ve hurt Veturina very badly indeed. I didn’t want that; I’ve never wanted that. Veturina has been hurt enough.’ He paused. ‘Arranging things wasn’t difficult. Cosmus spent a lot of his time in the stables, so we were hardly strangers: I saw him practically every time I visited the house. I knew about Lucius’s morning routine, of course, and about the medicine. I threatened Cosmus with exposure to Lucius - he would’ve sold him like a shot, and into a life that would’ve been far less pleasant than the one he had - and, as I say, added certain promises. Fortunately Cosmus wasn’t the most intelligent of slaves, nor the most moral: he agreed almost at once. As to the actual killing...well, I won’t defend that, I can’t, but at least I tried to make it as merciful as I could.’
‘Did Lucinda know?’
‘Not immediately. But yes, I told her, shortly afterwards.’ He frowned. ‘She...again I don’t expect you to believe this but I meant to play fair by Cosmus, originally. Lucinda persuaded me that perhaps it...was not a good idea.’
‘So you killed him.’
‘Yes. I went to the Bavius farm where we’d arranged he should hide with that intention in mind, and hit him with an iron bar while his back was turned.’ He looked at me bleakly. ‘It was a proper murder, for which I have no defence. There were no extenuating circumstances for Cosmus’s death, none at all. I can’t pretty it up by ascribing it to panic, like Senecio’s, nor can I claim that the death in itself was a mercy from which other people benefited, as Lucius’s was. I killed Cosmus out of purely selfish motives, and it was done intentionally, for Lucinda’s sake and my own. I told you, Corvinus, we’re not nice people. We’re both better off dead.’
‘What about Habra?’
‘That happened exactly as I said it did. At least, I don’t think I deliberately intended to kill her, although she certainly wanted to kill me. Understandably so. I’m sorry about Habra.’ He shook his head. ‘I’m sorry about it all.’
‘Yeah. Right.’ I stood up. I felt sick, and empty.
‘That’s all?’ He was watching me. ‘You’ve no more questions?’ Again, that half smile.
‘No. I’ve no more questions.’
‘Good. Then I won’t keep you any longer.’ He hesitated. Then he said, formally: ‘Thank you for coming, Valerius Corvinus. Thank you for everything.’
I left him sitting. The marble bust’s eyes were on me all the way to the door. I still felt them on my back as I closed it behind me.
30
When I got home after my long talk with Libanius Perilla and the youngsters were already in the dining room and the skivvies were serving the starters.
‘Marcus, why on earth didn’t you send word if you were intending to -?’ Perilla began. Then she must’ve noticed the look on my face, because her voice changed and she said simply: ‘What’s happened?’
I set the welcome-home cupful of wine down on the table and stretched out on my usual couch.‘Quintus Acceius is the murderer. By now he’ll be dead. Him and his wife both.’
All three of them stared at me, Marilla with a stuffed olive half way to her lips.
‘What?’ Perilla said.
I told them the whole boiling. I didn’t feel much better by the end of it, either. He’d thanked me; the poor bugger had actually thanked me, like I’d done him a favour.
‘It’s not your fault, Corvinus,’ Clarus said.
‘No.’ I sighed and took a swallow of the wine. ‘He’d’ve killed himself anyway, eventually, even if Hostilius’s murder had never come to light.’
‘It would’ve done, or it might’ve, even if you hadn’t got involved. Veturina knew who was responsible, right from the start. And Castor. Didn’t they?’
I shot him a quick look. I hadn’t been going to let that aspect of things out, not even to Perilla: it was too dirty. He was no fool, young Clarus: Marilla was lucky. If you could call it luck. ‘Uh-huh,’ I said. ‘At least, I think so. For Veturina not to know, she’d’ve had to’ve stopped listening, that day of the conversation between Acceius and her husband. And she would’ve told Castor. I don’t think she could’ve kept any secrets from him.’
‘So why didn’t she say?’ Perilla was frowning. ‘After all, he was her husband.’
‘Clarus?’ I took another slug of wine and topped up the cup from the jug. This was an evening I didn’t intend to stay sober.
‘She’d been planning to kill him herself,’ Clarus said. ‘A mercy killing. Acceius beat her to it, and whatever his motives were she couldn’t bring herself to betray him. It could’ve been her; thanks to him, it wasn’t.’
I nodded. ‘Yeah. That about sums it up. Also...well, I’d guess she thought it could’ve been Castor, too. Although personally I think he preferred things the way they were. The chances are, a month down the line Acceius would’ve found himself being blackmailed; that is, if Castor hadn’t already begun putting the bite on, which he may well have done because Acceius wouldn’t’ve told me. And I doubt that Acceius would’ve stiffed him for it as he deserved, even if he’d lived, because the guy had had enough of killing. Bugger!’ I slammed the cup down and the wine spilled. ‘Why is it always the wrong person who dies?’
‘Gently, Marcus,’ Perilla said. ‘Besides, it isn’t.’
‘I could’ve done without Castor,’ I said. ‘If there’s anyone who deserves a place in a fucking urn just by existing it’s that bastard.’
‘It’s over. Leave it. Change the subject.’
Yeah, well; she was right as usual. Not that that was any comfort. I refilled the cup and sank another quarter pint as the skivvies came in with the main courses. Meton had done us proud again. Which reminded me. ‘So how did your meeting with Renia go, lady?’ I said. ‘You manage to see her?’
‘Mmm. Chicken with chives and hazelnuts,’ Marilla said brightly. ‘Corvinus, you must have some of this. Clarus, pass Corvinus the –’
‘Yes, I did, Marcus. As a matter of fact.’
Uh-oh. There weren’t any spiders to rush for cover, but I’d bet if there had been the little buggers would’ve been swinging on their webs as fast as their eight legs could carry them, because the atmosphere had just turned glacial. ‘Ah...good,’ I said. ‘Good.’
‘“Good” is not a term I’d use.’ Perilla picked up her spoon. ‘Not even close. I have never, ever been so embarrassed in the entire course of my life.’
‘I forgot to check on Corydon,’ Marilla said, sliding off the couch like it was greased. ‘Come on, Clarus.’
They disappeared. Shit; for the Princess to leave the table half way through a meal this had to be bad. ‘She, uh, denied it?’ I said. ‘Having an affair with Meton?’
‘Renia, Marcus, is a perfectly respectable married woman who enjoys the complete and fully-justified confidence of her doting husband and would not countenance having an affair with anyone, let alone a paunchy, middle-aged slave with all the allure and sexual charms of a warthog.’ Perilla dumped a serving of carrots in cumin savagely onto her plate. ‘Her words, not mine, in case you’re wondering. Personally, I think the warthog comparison is overgenerous.’
‘But –’
‘This when she saw that I was making a serious accusation, mind. Her first reaction to the idea, after I’d introduced myself and told her why I was there, was uncontrollable laughter involving a certain amount of rib-hugging. The stage that followed it consisted of a threat to call her husband’s slaves and have me thrown out on my ear.’
‘But –’
‘Fortunately, she was and is by nature a very nice girl indeed, with a lively sense of humour and of the ridiculous. After I had grovellingly apologised’ - I winced; oh, hell! - ‘we got quite chatty and discussed the misunderstanding
over a cake or two and a cup of honey wine. So’ - she laid down her spoon with a snap - ‘that is that little mystery cleared up. And, Marcus Valerius Messalla Corvinus, if you ever, ever again put me into a situation like that I will kill you in the slowest, most painful way I can possibly devise. And I have an extremely good imagination.’
‘But I saw them! Marilla and Clarus saw them! Meton was all over the woman! And what about the way he was fucking dressed? Meton never wears -’
‘Marcus!’
Oh, bugger. A chip of plaster from the ceiling fell onto the table. I clammed up, fast.
‘Do you want me to explain or don’t you?’
The hard ones first. Ah, well; best get it over with. I took another belt of the Alban as an anaesthetiser. ‘Yeah, okay, lady,’ I said. ‘You’ve got the floor. Go ahead, tell me.’
She did.
Oh, bugger!
31
We took the carriage into town the next day, Perilla and I, about two hours shy of lunchtime. I got Lysias to park it just short of the market square - no point in giving the duplicitous bastard advance warning - and we walked the rest of the way to Pontius’s. We’d timed it well: they’d all be inside already.
I led the way up the outside stair to the first floor and opened the door at the top. Perilla and I slipped inside.
The place was packed full of women. At least, there was one man there, apart from the major attraction at the front of the room, and he was standing two or three yards away. I edged over, grabbed his arm and twisted it up his back. He squealed, and a plump woman sitting on the bench immediately in front of him turned round and said: ‘Ssssh!’
‘Sorry, lady,’ I whispered. ‘Private business.’ Then, in his ear: ‘Gabba, you bastard! You set this up, didn’t you?’
Illegally Dead (Marcus Corvinus Book 12) Page 22
