The Mammoth Book of Classical Whodunnits

by Mike Ashley

  ‘Which is unlikely under the present circumstances.’

  ‘I assure you I was in no fit state to lie in wait for Basso and avenge my humiliation.’ Piso drew together the tattered shreds of his dignity. ‘It occurs to me you got your own taste of humiliation from Basso. I bet you learnt a trick or two in the Ludus Magnus. How to kill a man without leaving a mark.’

  Hengist smiled sunnily. ‘I have the perfect alibi. I was chatting in the triclinium with a former Vestal Virgin.’

  ‘Claudia!’ grunted Piso. ‘Damn you, Hengist. You’re always smiling. It’s a wonder you didn’t get your front teeth knocked out in the arena.’

  Hengist continued to examine the gladiator’s face. ‘Have you ever seen a dead man’s features as contorted as this? He looks as if he’s seen a horror too terrible to be endured and died of the shock of it.’

  ‘I’ve seen victims of heart attacks who looked like this.’

  ‘Or victims of poison. It’s possible Basso was murdered before he left the triclinium.’

  ‘What? How?’ spluttered Piso.

  ‘You hated Basso even before he humiliated you.’

  ‘Of course I did. I told you that at prandium. He was young and handsome and tumbled more girls in a week than I have in my lifetime. I envied him and I detested him.’

  ‘Yet you gave him your drink.’

  Piso gave a faint gurgle. ‘Didn’t you notice? After he’d made that jibe about my tomb I spat in the honey-wine. Then I offered it to Basso. It amused me to see him toss it off in a single gulp.’ He opened his little eyes as wide as they would go. ‘You don’t think he died of my spit.’

  ‘It probably held enough venom.’

  ‘Hengist!’ Piso gazed at him, reproachfully. ‘What a lawyer you would have made. I thought you were my friend.’

  ‘Even murderers have friends. Will you allow me to be present when you conduct your interrogations? Since I read and write I can act as your scribe.’

  ‘Allow you?’ echoed the magistrate, eyeing him with new respect. ‘I insist on it.’

  The tablinum was a large room lined with shelves containing furled scrolls, clay tablets and another collection of ancestral busts.

  When Hengist entered, a ferocious argument between Piso and Valerius was in progress. Marcus abruptly broke off as he recognized his ex-slave.

  ‘What impudence!’

  ‘He’s here at my invitation,’ interjected Piso. ‘To transcribe for me.’

  ‘I have a secretary who can do that for you.’

  ‘Marcus!’ Piso threw up his hands. ‘Are you asking me to trust your slaves? Hengist is at least impartial.’

  ‘Why do you insist on carrying on with this enquiry?’ Marcus was not drunk, but the night’s events had whipped him into a state of belligerence.

  ‘Would you prefer me to report the matter to a higher authority, perhaps someone recommended by Caesar himself?’

  ‘That’s extortion!’ snarled Marcus.

  ‘Of course I might meet with an unfortunate accident on the way home, but two unfortunate accidents involving two notables leaving your banquet might be difficult for the public to swallow.’

  ‘What do you want from me?’ Marcus acquiesced, sullenly.

  ‘Just a few answers. For example, where did you go after Basso left the triclinium?’

  ‘Great Jove, you’re treating this thing as if it were murder.’

  ‘Answer.’

  ‘I was with my wife until I was summoned to view Basso’s body.’

  ‘Will Julia verify this?’

  ‘She’d better if she wants to live.’ He shot the magistrate an ill-tempered look. ‘I didn’t mean that as it sounds. Knowing the law, you realize that a man has the right to have an adulterous wife condemned to death.’

  ‘Trust you to think of that, Marcus,’ returned Piso, with just the slightest edge to his voice. ‘Make yourself available for further questions.

  ‘No one had a stronger motive than Marcus. An outraged father and cuckolded husband,’ mused Hengist, ‘but the time factor’s wrong. If Basso had been set upon by assassins while coming out of a brothel one week hence I’d have suspected Marcus. This was premeditated’

  ‘Unless Marcus already knew Basso was the cause of his trouble.’

  ‘And invited him to a banquet in order to poison him. I doubt it.’

  The magistrate sighed. ‘Shall we call the virtuous Julia?’

  The woman reputed to be the most beautiful in Pompeii was a mess, her hair tumbled and her cosmetics smeared across her face.

  ‘Don’t imagine I’ve been struggling with Basso.’ She met Piso’s startled look defiantly. ‘My husband’s been exercising his conjugal rights. A prelude to my execution.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said the magistrate, lamely.

  ‘Why?’ she retorted. ‘You’ve never liked me.’

  ‘Beauty sometimes makes ill choices,’ he said, wryly.

  ‘Not as ill as love. Ask your questions.’

  ‘Were you surprised at Basso’s death?’

  ‘No, only at how quickly Marcus acted. He must have given the order before he came into my cubicle,’ she halted briefly and then hurried on. ‘Of course, my erstwhile lover was beaten to death. Just as I promised. Except that I didn’t give the order.’

  ‘We . . . I,’ Piso amended, swiftly, ‘suspect he was poisoned.’

  ‘Poisoned!’ Her face blazed. ‘At Marcus’ banquet? How delicious!’

  ‘You fed him titbits . . .’

  ‘And he fed me. From the same plate. And we drank from the same cup. No, magistrate, you can’t lay that at my door. If you’ll excuse me, I want to go to the bath-house to wash off the night’s events.’

  ‘Did you know about Paulina and Basso?’ Hengist flung the question after her.

  She paused, more bemused than offended by his intrusion. ‘No, that was a surprise.’

  ‘She could be lying,’ muttered Piso. ‘There was the prune she pushed into his mouth.’

  ‘He ate and drank a great deal after that.’

  ‘It depends on how fast-acting the poison was.’

  ‘Yes.’ Hengist gazed at him as if seeing something else.

  Paulina crept into the tablinum and sat on the edge of her chair, her hands clasped nervously in her lap.

  ‘I won’t keep you longer than is necessary,’ said the magistrate, kindly. ‘Was it true? Was Basso your lover?’

  She gave him a scorching glance from under her swollen lids, but said nothing.

  ‘Where did you go after you left the triclinium?’

  ‘Surely it’s obvious,’ she said, sulkily. ‘I’ve been in my cubicle – crying.’

  ‘Are you sure you didn’t meet Basso in the garden?’

  She flinched as if she’d been struck. ‘No!’

  ‘Did you hate Basso for betraying you and spoiling your marriage plans?’

  She stood up. ‘I really can’t help you. May I go?’

  ‘Were you glad when you learned that Basso was dead?’ Hengist asked her, suddenly.

  ‘Yes, yes!’ She startled them by the vehemence of her tone. ‘I wish I’d been the one to kill him.’

  ‘Do you know who did?’

  She closed her little pink mouth and went away.

  Piso whistled through his teeth. ‘What did you make of that?’

  ‘She didn’t kill him. It would have been quick, unpremeditated, personal, a dagger to the heart. She has a dark core, that little flower.’

  The magistrate looked sober. ‘Do you think she knows who murdered Basso?’

  ‘Perhaps. I hear they’ve apprehended the bridegroom and dragged him back to the villa. Shall we have him in?’

  Lucius Maro’s indignation was obvious. ‘I was hardly some fugitive to be hauled in under arrest.’

  ‘My apologies. We’ve had a tragedy here.’

  ‘What’s that to me? I’m not a member of the household.’

  ‘You almost were, but your hopes were blighted to
night by Basso’s revelations.’

  ‘I was angrier with Marcus Valerius for deceiving me. He’d assured me the girl was a virgin.’

  ‘Are you one?’ asked Hengist.

  Lucius coloured furiously and blustered, ‘Naturally . . .’

  ‘. . . Not. And just as naturally you were upset when you left the villa. Where did you go?’

  ‘For a walk along the cliff. The breeze cooled my temper and gave me a chance to think.’

  ‘And what did you think when you heard Basso was dead?’

  ‘That Valerius had killed him. Though he could have chosen a subtler modus operandi. He obviously didn’t give himself a chance to cool down.’

  ‘Or like you he would have chosen a modus operandi so subtle he’d have left no trace of suspicion.’ Piso took over the interrogation.

  ‘What do you mean by that?’

  ‘A poisoner doesn’t require great physical strength. Before you took your stroll, did you meet Basso in the garden for one last drink?’

  ‘He’d scarcely have shared a drink with me.’

  ‘He might have thought it amusing.’

  ‘I was on my way back to the villa when the slaves found me, not running away.’

  ‘Why return? Was it to retrieve your amphora with its hundred-year-old Falemian?’ asked Hengist, silkily.

  ‘I’d changed my mind about the betrothal. I could see how Basso’s accusation might be of profit.’

  ‘Explain.’ The magistrate glared at him.

  ‘If I deliver Valerius from a potentially embarrassing situation and protect his daughter’s honour, shouldn’t I expect gratitude, introduction into the first families, the granting of patrician status, maybe even access to the Palatium and Caesar himself.’

  Piso cocked an eyebrow. ‘Brave man. The rest of us prefer to keep a healthy distance.’

  ‘And what gratitude would you expect from Paulina?’ asked Hengist, quietly.

  ‘A docile wife, something I’ve always wanted,’ Lucius smiled, smugly.

  ‘Hasn’t Basso’s death put a spoke in your ambition?’

  ‘I hope not,’ said Lucius, cautiously. ‘I’ll have to see how the matter unfolds.’

  Hengist drew an ampulla from under his pallium. ‘Do you recognize this?’

  Some of the complacency went out of Lucius. ‘Yes, it’s mine.’

  ‘I found it on the path not far from Basso’s body.’

  ‘Why not? You all saw him take it from me.’

  ‘There’s still some wine in it.’ Hengist drew out the stopper. ‘Care to finish it off?’

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘I’m afraid I have to insist you drink the wine,’ interposed Piso. ‘As magistrate of this enquiry.’

  ‘Unofficial enquiry,’ corrected Lucius. He made no move to accept the ampulla from Hengist.

  ‘Are you afraid to drink the wine?’

  Lucius smirked. ‘Disinclined.’

  ‘Drink it!’

  Lucius jumped at the stentorian roar and grabbed at the ampulla. He looked at each face in turn for a heart-beat’s space before he sniffed at the contents.

  ‘This isn’t hundred-year-old Falemian. It’s the coarse brew Valerius serves to his guests.’ He tipped it up and let the crimson stream run out across the tiles. ‘Will there be anything else?’

  ‘What a baboon’s behind!’ exploded Piso. ‘I’d give my oath he’s guilty.’

  ‘Would you? He could well have done without any compromise to the Valerian name. As for compromising his own ambition? Never!’

  ‘But the ampulla . . . his refusal to drink..’

  ‘Fastidiousness.’

  ‘After Basso had slobbered over it you mean. Anyway, he soon caught on to our trick.’ Piso groaned in despair. ‘What am I to think? What do you think, Hengist?’

  ‘I’m going for a walk to put my thoughts in order.’

  Hengist went down the steps of the tablinum into the crypto-porticus.

  Dawn was breaking, pale and thin, the virgin day. A peacock uttered its haunting, melancholy cry. Hengist was drawn irresistibly to the sanctum of the travertine bench and the apricot tree. The gardeners had not yet been abroad to sweep up the dead birds and the apricot stones.

  Claudia looked up as he approached. ‘Have you discovered your murderer?’

  ‘Yes.’

  She made room for him to sit beside her. As he sat down, she touched one of the bracelets. ‘You kept them.’

  Enlightenment broke upon him. ‘You sent them to me.’

  ‘You never guessed? You were my idol. But only from afar. You in the arena – I on the podium. If a Vestal breaks her vows her punishment is to be buried alive.’

  ‘There must be more than one way to be buried alive.’

  She stirred a dead bird with the toe of her sandal. ‘It’s a pity they have to die. Such fleeting lives.’

  He reached up and took an apricot from the tree. She watched the fish lurking in a euripus made shallow and murky by the dredging up of Basso’s body.

  ‘Why did you invite me to the banquet?’

  ‘I told you . . .’

  ‘You wanted me to solve the enigma of Basso’s death. I kept hoping there was an alternative, that I’d discover an opportunity or a means that would prove me wrong.’

  ‘There were motives enough.’

  ‘But the time factor, the modus operandi, didn’t always match the persona of that particular enemy. I needed premeditation.’

  He threw the apricot into Claudia’s lap. It rolled onto the ground and into the euripus, floating for an instant before it sank.

  ‘Are you familiar with the legend of Proserpine, the maiden of the sun carried off by Pluto, King of the Underworld? The classic name for abduction is rape, though now we give it a different meaning. Proserpine ate four pomegranate seeds while held captive by Pluto, so she is constrained each year to spend four months in the gloom of the Underworld as his wife. It’s how we Romans explain winter.

  ‘In this garden another Proserpine was raped by a Pluto who invaded her sanctum in his own style, over the wall, coming and going as he pleased. It was the hour of twilight; she was alone. It must have appealed to a cruel sense of humour to make her ineligible for Vesta, a different triumph from the arena.’

  ‘And of course she was too shocked and debased to report the outrage to Marcus or Julia, but she did confide in you.’

  She nodded. ‘Even when it became obvious she’d had congress with a man she refused, despite all Marcus’ bullying, to reveal his name. She was dismayed it was someone she considered an inhuman brute.’

  He reached up and picked another apricot. ‘You stopped me before. Will you stop me again from eating your fruit?’

  She slid him a sidelong glance. Her eyes were the same colour as the rim of the sky.

  ‘I might have missed it altogether and gone away unsatisfied if Aulus hadn’t reminded me today of Livia. Aulus called her a harridan, but she was worse, a conniving, ruthless woman who was determined that her own son Tiberius would follow Augustus to the Imperial throne. An army of Augustus’ grandsons and nephews died to pave the way for Tiberius. Augustus was naïve enough to believe that all these lingering deaths were from natural causes. He grieved, but he didn’t suspect. Until the end . . .’

  ‘You speak as if you were an intimate of the Imperial circle, with privileged information.’

  ‘Claudius is a close friend of mine. Uncle of Caligula. Grandson to Livia. When she lay dying she sent for him and confessed. Claudius has always been believed by his family to be something of a half-wit. I think she felt there was no harm to her pride confiding in a fool. And Claudius confided in me, because I respect him and he trusts me and couldn’t bear the weight of such terrible knowledge.’

  ‘What have Livia’s confessions to do with Basso’s murder?’

  ‘It was the modus operandi she employed in murdering Augustus. He’d become distrustful and refused to eat at her table, drinking only water and eating fruit
off the trees. Yet she achieved her end. Livia was an expert poisoner, slow poisons to ape lingering illnesses, fast poisons to instantly stop the heart. She must have taught her protégée some of her secrets. Aren’t you going to tell me how you injected the poison in the apricots while they still hung on the bough?’

  ‘That secret dies with me.’

  ‘How did you induce Basso . . .?’

  ‘Fool!’ She curled her lip, spoiling the sweetness of its curve. ‘He was easy to deceive. Vanity and stupidity are so often synonomous. I told him the fruit was an aphrodisiac, I promised him all manner of delights and powers, and the fool believed me. He thought as Keeper of the Flame I was privy to the Mystery of Mysteries.’

  ‘Didn’t he think it strange you offered the gift to him.’

  ‘I think he believed I lusted after him in the last flush of my womanhood. After all, he wasn’t the first young man to capture my admiration.’

  ‘And it was sweet irony to kill him where he committed the rape.’

  ‘Yes, to give Pluto the pomegranate and see him carried down to the Underworld forever, yes, that was sweet revenge. When he was late, I hoped it was because he had eaten the fruit first.’ She slid him another look. ‘You’re wise in the ways of wild beasts. No wonder you hung onto life in the arena. What made me capable of murder?’

  ‘You made a strange remark yesterday. My mother died too soon.’

  ‘Ah, yes, I wouldn’t have been sent to the House of Vestals had she lived. Marcus became my guardian. Even as a youth he was ambitious. He wanted the prestige of a Vestal Virgin in the family. Livia tried to intervene, but Augustus denied her.’

  ‘And you were born for the love of men and to have children. Paulina satisfied your mother-hunger. You were the female of the species fiercely avenging her young.’

  ‘So what will you do now, my own wild beast? Report me to Aulus?’

  ‘I leave that to you.’

  ‘Then I shall say nothing. Justice will be served. Slow poisons. Fast poisons. Perhaps I shan’t outlive the year.’

  He left her serenely admiring the flamingo colours of the sunrise and returned to the tablinum.

  Valerius and Piso were in profound discussion which they broke off as he entered. Hengist bowed deferentially before he addressed his former master.