The Mammoth Book of Classical Whodunnits

by Mike Ashley

  ‘I thought she’d fainted,’ Euthymius was saying. ‘Then I bent over and touched her cheek and she was cold. Cold.’ The big body shuddered.

  ‘She seemed well in the morning?’

  ‘She was wonderfully well. The master helped with her toilette. Usually that is my job. Oh, she loved the way I did her hair. We talk, you know, about everything. She tells me all about court, about the fine ladies, who aren’t so fine in private. She confided in me, did my lady.’

  ‘Did she confide in you about any troubles she and her husband may have been having?’

  ‘There were no troubles between them. Who told you there were troubles? Was it that Egyptian girl?’

  ‘No. It seems to be common knowledge.’

  ‘Common is the word. Not everyone was in my lady’s confidence as I was. It was all tittle-tattle. That Egyptian girl. She has her big eyes on the master. I have seen the looks she gives him. She doesn’t know, but I see things.’

  Euthymius’ whine grated against John’s ears. What he said did not ring true. Or was that only John’s prejudices?

  Who in the household, when it came down to it, except for Hypatia, could have concocted a quick-acting poison? She had, in fact, by her own admission, done so in her room. And only she and Peter had been in the house when the murder occurred. The solution was so obvious, aside from the actual administration of the poison, that it was really surprising no one had reached the same conclusion.

  And why had John avoided it? Because of his friendship with Anatolius. No matter that in the normal course of things that youth would have forgotten Hypatia in a month. At the moment she was the light of his life. And if John were to state what appeared to be a simple truth, that she had killed her mistress in hopes of seducing the master, his passionate young friend would never forgive him for extinguishing that light.

  People would do many things in the name of friendship. Yet how could John allow a murderer to go free? If only he could determine exactly how it had been accomplished. If the method could be demonstrated beyond doubt, perhaps Anatolius would have to admit her guilt – if she were the guilty one – and would forgive John any necessary actions.

  ‘Euthymius, tell me, did you bring anything into Anna’s room for her to eat? Did you see her with anything?’

  ‘Nothing. She was too agitated to think about food.’

  John glanced around as he cogitated further, deciding on his next question. The path leading away from the bath house was a lightless tunnel. At its end loomed an indistinct shape, imperceptibly lighter than the inky mounds of surrounding vegetation. John identified it as the statue of Eros. This put a thought into his mind.

  ‘The cat,’ he asked. ‘do you know anything about it? Hypatia said she found it beside Eros.’

  ‘Found?’

  ‘It was dead.’

  ‘Dead? I didn’t know. The Egyptian doted on that cat. I cannot say I’m surprised. It was like her, the nasty thing. Devious.’ The eunuch did not sound distressed. He added, ‘I saw her carting it up to her room more than once.’

  ‘They say the amount of poison in the root of Hecate’s flower varies, according to the soil and the climate,’ John mused. ‘Hypatia was a foreigner. She may have mixed what would have been an appropriate amount of root for Egypt into the manzoul. But perhaps a root grown here would be more poisonous. There may have been too much added to the mixture.’

  Anatolius looked stunned. ‘But even such an accident, involving a foreign servant and a lady –’

  He didn’t have to complete the thought. Such an event would prove as lethal to the servant as the mistress.

  ‘Here. This must be it.’ John took a small porphyry jar from the windowsill of the girl’s small room. The jar was half-filled with a gummy concoction that stung his nostrils.

  Hypatia was not there. John wasn’t surprised. The cramped quarters would have felt like a prison. He suspected she was somewhere in the shadowed garden below.

  ‘How can you be sure it is the . . . potion?’

  ‘I’ll have to turn this over to the prefect. They will probably test in on some poor creature or other. You will swear I found it here?’

  ‘If I must.’

  A glint of illumination caught his eye. Across the narrow hall, old Peter had cracked open his door, allowing a hint of candlelight to escape. As John turned, the door closed discreetly. ‘Those creaking stairs might as well be an alarm bell,’ he remarked.

  ‘What about Peter?’ Anatolius suggested. ‘He was preparing food, after all. He was also in the house at the time Lady Anna seems to have died.’

  John shook his head. ‘The prefects look for the physical method. Yet, if the inclination exists, there are innumerable methods. I prefer to look for the inclination. What reason would old Peter have to kill his mistress?’

  ‘She was a pagan.’

  John balanced the porphyry jar in his hand, feeling its weight. ‘Religious zealots have done worse, it is true.’

  And infatuated young men grasped at straws.

  Gaius the physician had drunk the third toast to Zeus hours before, and hadn’t stopped there. When John and Anatolius reached the reception hall, Gaius was roaring and staggering in circles like a wounded bear at the games.

  The noise had brought the entire household to its source. Even the excubitors had abandoned their posts. They lurked in the back of the room, uncertain with how to deal with one of the party they had accompanied the previous day.

  Although Gaius’ tone was unmistakable, the sense of what the physician was trying to say in his slurred rage was harder to fathom.

  ‘Not worth it to you? You think I won’t tell what I know? I’ll give it out for free and take my pleasure in seeing you both rot in the dungeons.’

  Theodore and Sophia had arrived before John and Anatolius. Theodore had placed himself protectively in front of the couch where the body of his wife lay. Sophia stood on the other side of the room, fists clenched. John moved quickly to her side.

  ‘He’s crazed with drink,’ Sophia mumbled. Her own eyes were glassy. She swayed slightly.

  ‘So the great Lord Chamberlain has arrived to represent our mighty emperor,’ growled Gaius. ‘And your fellow creature, too, I see.’

  John looked towards the door where Gaius directed his gaze. Euthymius was approaching, timidly and ponderously.

  Gaius made a sweeping, theatrical motion of greeting with his hands, bending low, nearly falling forward. ‘Come in. Everyone come in. Ah, there you are, Peter. Old, yet more a man than most of those present. And our little beauty, the clever gardener. All here, now, are we? What do you say now, Sophia, your great ladyship? And you, Theodore, beard trimmer. Is the price still too steep? When the rats in the dungeons chew your ankles, you’ll wish you were sticking patches to gentlemen’s pimples again. You’ll wish they’d hire me to sew you up.’

  ‘Be quiet,’ Sophia shrieked. ‘Stinking drunk! Liar!’

  Gaius laughed. ‘Too late, I’m afraid. The offer is withdrawn.’

  ‘Make him keep silent, John.’ Sophia’s speech was nearly as slurred as the physician’s. ‘Can’t he at least respect the dead, if not the living?’

  ‘This is intolerable, Lord Chamberlain,’ Theodore broke in, outraged. ‘I must call for the prefects.’

  ‘Gaius, what is this about?’ John’s voice was firm, but with no hint of anger. He knew men could say terrible things when drunk.

  ‘Haven’t you deciphered it yet? All night you’ve had, too. It’s nearly dawn, the water’s run out of all the clocks.’ Gaius whirled about and leapt toward Anna’s couch. Theodore, who had until now seemed reluctant to approach too near to his dead wife, put his back to the couch, blocking the crazed man’s path.

  ‘So warm to her in death, so cold in life,’ sneered Gaius. ‘I delivered more than one of your bastards, Theodore. You think patients don’t talk? But that is court life, is it not? And if a man wishes to keep his interest in his wife’s dowry, rather than father heirs who
will claim it from him, well, we are men of the world. But murder, Theodore. That is something else. That was worth something to conceal. Or so I thought. Until the Lady Sophia told me otherwise.’

  Sophia took a step forward but John grabbed her shoulder. ‘Filth! You are filth!’ The spittle she directed at her tormentor dribbled down her chin. She was, after all, a lady and not versed in such skills.

  Gaius laughed again. ‘Don’t you know a woman with child should be more careful of her health? This is my medical advice to you, my lady. You don’t want Theodore’s bastard born dead.’

  Sophia shook her head. ‘No,’ she said. ‘No . . .’

  ‘You both wanted Lady Anna dead, didn’t –’

  Gaius’ oration came to an abrupt end as Theodore, moving swiftly, grabbed a gesticulating arm, yanked it up behind Gaius’ back and flung him headfirst onto the tiles. His head hit the floor with the hollow thump of a dropped melon. Luckily for the physician, a melon that fails to break. He lay still, but his chest still moved.

  In the ensuing silence John’s voice sounded loud, although he spoke softly.

  ‘Theodore, is what he said true?’

  ‘Of course not. Anna was my wife. I loved her.’

  ‘Liar! Beast! How dare you say such a thing!’ Sophia escaped John’s grasp and leapt across the room. She lashed out at Theodore, her sharp talons drawing blood from his cheek. At a nod from John, the excubitors moved forward, and restrained her.

  Theodore looked stunned. Red pearls of blood welled up on his smooth cheek.

  ‘You’re drunk,’ he said to Sophia, as if only just realizing this fact. ‘I was only saying what –’

  ‘You didn’t have the courage, after all,’ whispered Sophia. ‘She was right. You aren’t a man.’

  ‘It was the Egyptian, not the master,’ came the quavering voice of Euthymius. The eunuch had stopped tearing in nervous exasperation at his fingernails. ‘The girl wanted to take her place. She took my place. The mistress chose her. She chose her.’

  ‘John,’ Anatolius began, ‘please, don’t –’

  But John did not hear him. There was, for a moment, a strange look in his eyes, almost confusion. Because his unruly mind had caught a glimpse of the truth and leapt into the void, and now, he looked around, amazed at where he found himself.

  The Lord Chamberlain walked over to where Anna lay.

  ‘Thank you, Euthymius. You have been very helpful.’ He spoke to Theodore. ‘I was puzzled by the cat. The girl says she found it by the statue of Eros in the garden. That is beneath your window.’

  Sophia laughed harpy-like. ‘I should have known. You promised you’d do it but you had to test the poison first, of course. So meticulous. Everything planned. Except this child in my belly. I knew you wouldn’t have the courage. Did the cat cry out in pain?’

  ‘It was the Egyptian who killed the cat,’ shrieked Euthymius, ‘not the master. She dropped it out of her window. Her room is on the third floor. Right over the Eros. I wondered why she was taking the cat away.’

  ‘No, I never would.’ It was Hypatia. ‘The cat is sacred.’

  In her panic, the girl had shouted out her protest in Egyptian. ‘The cat is sacred to Egyptians,’ John translated, for the others in the hall. ‘She would never have killed a cat. It represents one of their gods.’

  Peter gave a loud sniff of disapproval.

  ‘And you never saw Hypatia take the cat up the stairs, Euthymius,’ John added. ‘You think Peter wouldn’t have noticed and mentioned such a thing when I spoke to him? It was, after all, the mistress’s cat.’

  John saw that Anatolius had managed to move over toward Hypatia. She had accepted his comforting arm around her shoulder.

  ‘I know what goes on upstairs,’ confirmed Peter. ‘I would have seen anything unusual.’

  ‘Including the master, had he mounted the stairs and gone looking for the poison in Hypatia’s room.’

  John paused, waiting for the room to fall quiet. A bird chirped, outside in the garden, signaling the as yet unglimpsed dawn more accurately than any of Theodore’s clocks. Gaius, prostrate on the floor, groaned as he began to wake.

  ‘I was puzzled by the manner of the poisoning,’ John confessed. ‘I jumped to the obvious conclusion that it was the potion made from Hecate’s flower that was used. And I was right. But it seemed to me that Anna must have ingested the poison when she was alone in her apartments. Unless someone was lying.’

  Theodore glared at him. He was beginning to look very tired.

  ‘When I searched Anna’s room I found nothing. That was not suprising. There was nothing to find, except this.’ The Lord Chamberlain produced the apricot pit he had pulled from beneath the bed. ‘This pit suggested poisoned fruit. But Anna had not eaten all day. And the pit, you can see is an old one, dried out. What should have attracted my attention, but what I never thought about until Euthymius reminded me by his own habit, was the bit of fingernail with all the other debris from the floor. Anna bit her nails, didn’t she?’

  ‘The nail color,’ Theodore looked amazed.

  ‘Yes. Her nails weren’t perpetually ragged from the gardening, as they joked at court. Anna wore gloves to garden. Her nails were ragged because she bit them when she was nervous. And when would she be more nervous than on this important anniversary? You painted her nails, Theodore. The slightest amount of the potion is fatal. I was convinced that what killed Anna was in her room. And, indeed it was, until I allowed you to have her body removed.’

  ‘I didn’t do it,’ denied Theodore. ‘You heard Peter. I never go up to the servants’ quarters.’

  ‘I know,’ John agreed. ‘I said you painted her nails, not that you put the poison into the color. That would have directed attention to you. Oh, you intended to kill her – you and Sophia planned it. But you had some idea of administering the poison later, in private. You knew you would be in private today, of all days.’

  ‘You can say what you like, but I warn you . . .’

  ‘So the murderer did not have to be in the room with Anna, or even in the house, when the poison was ingested.’ John continued. ‘That was when she bit her polished nails. And even better, from the murderer’s point of view, as soon as you finished painting her nails, she pulled on her gloves and went out to garden. Maybe the poisoner suspected she’d do that. So an hour or more had passed before the gloves came off and the poisoning actually occurred.’

  ‘You have no proof that I intended to poison her. And the cat might have been found under my window, but as Euthymius says, it must have been Hypatia’s doing – no matter what the girl says about her odd religious views.’

  ‘Yes,’ agreed John. ‘You are innocent of Nefertiti’s death also. The cat, having attested to the potency of the poison, was dropped, in a deliberate manner, from Hypatia’s window. Peter would have noticed you moving about upstairs, Theodore, but not Euthymius. He was a servant too, and they were servants’ quarters.

  ‘And Euthymius took care of Anna’s unguents and cosmetics. Not only could he move about freely upstairs, but he had access to the apartments where the cosmetics were stored.

  ‘Euthymius was unhinged by jealous rage because, as he saw it, his mistress had forsaken him and preferred the company of the new Egyptian servant. He intended to take his revenge on both, by killing her and pointing the finger at the only person in the house who could have done it.’

  The eunuch said nothing, but began to sob. John motioned the excubitors toward him.

  John turned to Anna, placing his thin hand gently along the side of her head.

  ‘It reminds me of the verse you recited, Anatolius, about a flower growing concealed in an enclosed garden. This lovely flower was concealed by its own plain features. And, as the poet said, many may long for that which grows concealed.’

  Theodore laughed.

  ‘You are amused at your wife’s death?’ John’s tone was sorrowful rather than sharp.

  ‘Isn’t it humorous how the Fates arrange our d
ispositions?’

  ‘You think that what you set out to accomplish has been achieved, don’t you?’ John’s voice was gentle.

  ‘I don’t know what you mean, Lord Chamberlain. Can’t you see, I am bereaved? It wasn’t I who poisoned poor Anna.’ A grin was spreading over Theodore’s handsome face.

  ‘You wished her death though, and even planned it.’

  ‘Did I? Surely I didn’t say that?’

  The first tendrils of daylight crept in from the garden beyond the window, illuminating in starker detail the group in the reception hall.

  ‘You would have killed her,’ Anatolius stalked over towards Theodore. ‘This is what you wanted. It isn’t right.’

  ‘We cannot be prosecuted for our wishes or plans, can we?’ Theodore sneered.

  ‘Fate can be kind to some and unkind to others,’ said John. ‘But it is not always unjust.’

  Theodore laughed louder. ‘Well, Lord Chamberlain, I’m sure Sophia and I will have many happy years to reflect on that. Now, I must ask you all to leave. Suddenly this long night has caught up with me and I feel my hospitality waning.’

  He extended his hand toward Sophia. She looked up at him numbly. Her anger was gone. In her eyes there was some other emotion, pity perhaps. Gently she touched the cheek she’d scratched, wiping away the blood.

  ‘I’m sorry, Theodore,’ she whispered.

  Theodore took her hand impatiently. ‘Come away, now,’ he said. He pulled her after him.

  John drew his hand gently across Anna’s forehead, brushing aside an errant strand of hair. He was aware of Anatolius at his side.

  ‘Such a nimble mind, she had, Anatolius. She would appreciate this, I know. You see, after Theodore finished coloring her nails, the make-up box was left on the dressing table in the guest room. Anna’s good friend Sophia often helped herself to the rouge, and the kohl – and the nail color. Yes, the master’s lover was coloring her nails when I spoke to her last night.’

  John bent toward Anna. ‘Your husband will be joining you presently,’ he whispered. ‘I would like to hear that conversation.’