“I’ve heard an empusa can take on any shape, even the shape of a pretty young woman in order to seduce a man and drink his blood.”
Apollodoros fell on his knees and grabbed the hem of Tacitus’ tunic. His eyes grew wide as he looked from one of us to the other. “That’s it exactly. I know you’ll think me insane, sirs, but she drinks blood to keep herself young. I don’t know how many people she has killed or how old she is.”
“If she has drunk other people’s blood,” Tacitus said, “why is she so interested in Aristeas’? Won’t anyone’s blood do?”
“She believes that, if she can drink Aristeas’ blood, she won’t have to keep hunting down victims and risk being caught.”
“Oh, right.” Tacitus’ voice dripped with sarcasm. “Because he is practically immortal himself.”
“Stop it,”I said. “This is preposterous. First a seven-hundred-year-old man, now a blood-drinking ghoul—I won’t believe any of it.”
Tacitus chuckled. “Maybe Regulus is behind it.”
“Regulus has recruited all sorts of scoundrels and cut-throats to do his dirty work, but I can’t believe this nonsense even of him.”
Apollodoros’ ears perked up and he got to his feet. “Regulus? Do you mean Marcus Aquilius Regulus?”
My stomach knotted as I felt the movement of another latrunculus piece. “What do you know of Regulus?”
“I? Nothing, but when I was following Aristeas, someone told me they had seen him near Regulus’ house in Rome.”
“Does he know Regulus?”
“He never mentioned him. I don’t even know if what I was told was true.”
I wanted to get my mind off of Regulus for the moment. When I had time and quiet, I would puzzle over his involvement in this ... scheme. “I want you to tell me the truth.” I pushed Apollodoros back onto his bed. “How can Aristeas appear to be dead?”
“He doesn’t appear to be, sir. He is. And he comes back to life.”
“How can you prove that?”
“His heart stops throbbing. If a man’s heart isn’t throbbing, he’s dead, isn’t he?”
That was the question I still couldn’t answer. Yesterday I would have been sure I knew the answer. “Did you teach him how to do that, how to make his heart stop throbbing?”
“Is that what the empusa told you?”
“If an empusa can take on any shape, how do I know you’re not one?” I hoped my servants guarding the door couldn’t hear this conversation. If the rumor of some blood-drinking monster got started in my household, I would never be able to quell the panic.
“What we need,” Tacitus said, “is to talk to Aristeas—if that is his name. He’s the only one who can tell us which story is the truth.”
“We should be out looking for him,” Apollodoros said, standing up and grabbing his cloak.
I pushed him back down on the bed. “No one is going anywhere tonight. You’re going to stay here, under guard, and Daphne is going to stay in another room, under guard.”
“I doubt you can keep her where she doesn’t want to be, sir. The empusa has powers you haven’t even dreamed of. Do you know how she got here? Have you seen a horse? A carriage?”
“No, but I don’t know how you got here either. Where is your horse? Your carriage? Now, enough of this nonsense. I’ll talk to you again in the morning.”
Tacitus and I left the room and I gave strict orders to the guards not to unbolt it or the room next door, where Daphne would be, for any reason. “No matter what they say to you or what you may hear in there, do not open these doors without my orders. Not my mother’s orders, mind you, my orders. You will be whipped if you do anything else.”
As we took seats in the arcade and helped ourselves to some wine, I sighed. “I hope that keeps the situation under control until tomorrow. I don’t think I could deal with any more weirdness tonight. Is there a full moon?”
“Not for several more nights.”
Blandina came into the arcade, reluctance written across her face. “My lord,”she began and stopped.
“What is it?”
“Excuse me, my lord, but there’s someone asking to see you.”
I sighed. “No. It’s dark, and I’m tired. Tell them to come back in the morning.”
“She says it’s urgent, my lord.”
“She?”
“It’s that woman from Laurentum, my lord, Chloris.” She said the name with all the disdain that a servant in an aristocratic household could muster for someone who, being free, was actually of higher legal status than the servant herself.
Tacitus gave me an unmistakable pleading look. “We should see her, Gaius Pliny. She has come all this way.”
I couldn’t deny that I would welcome the sight of Chloris, even with her clothes on. “All right. Bring her in and have someone take care of her horse.”
“There’s no horse, my lord. She walked. Or ran mostly, from the look of her.”
When Chloris came into the arcade she did look like she’d run a considerable distance, but she remained standing before us. She didn’t have her breath back yet. “Thank you ... for seeing me, sir, at ... this late hour.”
“Please, sit.” I gestured to a chair. She didn’t sit down so much as collapse into it.
“Blandina, get her something to drink.” I hoped the stern look I gave my servant warned her not to spit in the cup. “Now, what brings you here so late?”
“It’s murder, sir.”
“Someone’s been murdered? Who? Oh, by the gods, not your sister?”
“No, sir. It’s that man who was looking for you yesterday.”
“Aristeas?”
“Yes, sir. They found him in my sister’s room, dead.”
I sat back and dismissed her fears with a wave of my hand. “Then you don’t have anything to worry about.”
She looked at me in disbelief. “What do you mean? They’ve accused my sister of killing him.”
“He only appears to be dead.” I shook my head and smiled. “It’s just an act. Wait until morning. He’ll be awake again and everyone will see that your sister did nothing to him.”
“Not meaning to offend, sir, but that can’t be.”
“I know it’s hard to believe, but, trust me, he’ll be all right in the morning.”
She gave me a look of complete disbelief. “Sir, I’ve never seen a man wake up in the morning when his throat’s been slashed the night before.”
VIII
I jumped up from my seat. “You ... you can’t be serious,” I said.
“I’ve never been more serious, sir.”
“His throat was cut?”
Chloris drew a finger across her own throat.
“And the body was found in your sister’s room?”
“Yes, sir.”
Tacitus put a hand on my arm. “Slow down, Gaius Pliny.” He turned to the redhead. “Why don’t you tell us exactly what happened, Chloris, instead of us trying to pull the story out of you piece by piece?”
Tacitus and I moved our seats closer to her.
She took a long drink of the wine Blandina brought her and let out a deep breath. “Well, sir, I got back home less than an hour ago and there was a crowd around the door and all sorts of noise.”
Tacitus snorted. “A crowd? In Laurentum? What is that, three people?”
“I didn’t have time to count them, sir. Saturninus told me they had found this man in my sister’s room. He said they were accusing Myrrha of murdering him and told me to get out of sight before they turned on me, too.”
“So you didn’t see the body?”
“No, sir.”
“What happened to him?” I asked.
“Saturninus saw him. When my sister found him, she screamed and Saturninus came running to her. He recognized the man because he was the one who was in the cheese shop with us a few days ago. I had to get some help and you are the person I can depend on.”
“Why me?” I asked.
“Because of this.” She he
ld out her right hand and pointed to the ring on her index finger. “Your uncle gave it to me.”
I took her hand and bent over to examine the ring. It was silver, large and thick. Engraved around it I read AMICA G PLIN SEC—Friend of Gaius Plinius Secundus.
Chloris’ red hair fell around her face as she leaned close to me. “He told me that, if I ever needed help, all I had to do was show this to someone in his household.”
I let go of her hand and sat back to clear my head. This felt too much like the recognition scene in a Greek comedy. There’s always some improbable token left with the abandoned child or the parted lovers—two halves of something that fit together. “He never said anything about it—or you—to me.”
Tacitus leaned over to examine the ring. “This could have been made by anyone.”
“But could this have been made by anyone?” She turned the ring on her finger so I could see the other side of it. There was a small imprint of a dolphin incised into the ring. “You wear your uncle’s signet ring, don’t you? I noticed it when you visited us.”
I held up the ring on my right index finger. It has a dolphin embossed in the center and my uncle’s name—now my name—around it. “Yes. I’ve worn it since he died.”
“I believe you’ll find that the dolphin on your ring fits into this one. Your uncle told me this one was made with his ring as the mold.”
She took off the ring and handed it to me. I studied it for a moment, knowing that, if the two rings did fit together, my relationship with this woman would change forever.
“Aren’t you going to try it?” Tacitus asked.
I put Chloris’ ring on top of mine. The dolphin on my signet ring fit perfectly into the impression on her ring. I pulled them apart and tried it a second time, just to be sure. The dolphin fit as snugly as it had the first time.
“Well, there it is,” Tacitus said.
There was no denying it. I leaned back in my chair and looked at the two rings. If my uncle had indeed accepted this woman into his amicitia—the status of a special friend—he had given her a claim on our family and imposed on our family an obligation to her.
“All right, friend of Gaius Plinius Secundus,” I said as I handed the ring back to her and slipped my signet ring back on my finger, “what can I do to help you?”
“Please help me prove that my sister didn’t kill that man.”
“How do you know she didn’t?”
She leaned forward, her face betraying a mixture of earnestness and fear. “Myrrha would never do anything like that. She couldn’t do such a thing. She’s a kind, loving person. She won’t even kill the mice that infest our rooms—because of all that stinking cheese. I have to do it.”
“It’s impossible to say what any person would or would not do, given the provocation.” My stomach tightened as I recalled what it felt like to plunge a knife into a man in order to save my own life. It wasn’t something I ever wanted to do again, but I would if necessary. “Haven’t you or your sister ever felt a threat from a man who was with you?”
“Once in a while a man gets a little rough. But they know, if they go too far, we won’t let them in again.”
“Do you keep a knife in your room?”
“Well, yes. Any woman who has men she doesn’t know in her room would be a fool not to. But neither of us has ever had to resort to it.”
“Besides,” Tacitus said, “I think in those circumstances, she would stab the man, not slit his throat.”
“But Myrrha wouldn’t do either,” Chloris insisted.
“Since you didn’t see the body, “ I asked again to be sure I understood, “how do you know how the man was killed?”
“Saturninus told me. He ran his finger across his throat, like this.” She drew a long, elegant finger across her throat again, from one ear to the other. “He said it was a deep cut, the kind you make when you’re sacrificing an animal. And there was blood on her gown.”
“On the front or the back?”
“I don’t know, sir. I didn’t see her. I was just told.”
“Could Myrrha have done this—?” Tacitus started to ask.
“She didn’t do anything,” Chloris said, jumping up from her chair. “She’s the kindest person you’ll ever know. She raised me. She’s as much a mother to me as a sister.”
“Please, calm down,” I said. “Let’s rephrase it. Could anyone have slit the man’s throat while facing him?”
“I don’t think so,” Tacitus said. He got up from his chair and picked up the knife we’d been using to slice cheese. “To slit a man’s throat deeply, you need to be behind him, to apply enough pressure.” He stood behind Chloris, very close behind her. “And you have to hold his head, like this.” He put his hand on her chin, drew her head back. Chloris grabbed his arm but didn’t resist. “Then you plunge the knife in on one side and make the cut.”
“You speak like one with experience at this,” Chloris said as she pulled away from him.
Tacitus put the knife back on the tray. “Anyone who’s sacrificed a sheep knows how to do it.”
“But I could have pulled your arm away. Or bitten you.”
“Not if I caught you completely off-guard.”
“So we should assume,” I said, “that whoever killed this man wasn’t defending himself, or herself.”
Tacitus nodded as he sat back down. “If the wound is as bad as Chloris has told us, it had to be murder.”
I turned back to Chloris. “You say you learned about the murder when you got back home. Where had you been?”
“Why are you asking me that?”
“If your sister is already under suspicion, you soon will be.”
“But I wasn’t there. I wasn’t even in Laurentum.”
“Where were you?”
“Out for a while.”She looked down at her hands.
“Chloris, if you want me to help you, you’re going to have to be completely honest with me. That’s your obligation if you’re in my family’s amicitia.” I paused to let that admonition sink in. “Where were you?”
“I was keeping company with a gentleman in one of the villas around here.”
“You were at his villa?”
“Yes, sir. We met in the tavern yesterday and he arranged to take me out to his house in a carriage. He picked me up about the second hour this morning. He brought me back the same way just before sunset.”
“Who was he?”
“His name was Marcus, sir.”
Tacitus snorted. “You can’t turn around in Italy without hitting a man named Marcus.”
Including Marcus Aquilius Regulus, I thought. “What did he look like?”There are so many villas along this stretch of the shore I couldn’t know the owners of all of them—and some of them are rented out—but I might get lucky.
“He was older, probably fifty, with dark hair, thin on top. A little on the heavy side.”
A description that fit Regulus ... and half the members of the Senate. “And Marcus is the only name he gave you?”
“Yes, sir. I knew he didn’t want me to know who he was—many of my customers don’t—and I didn’t really care. Marcus, Publius, Gaius—what difference does it make to me? If you’ll pardon me for saying so, I think of them all as just Mentula.”
She spat out the derisive word for a man’s private parts, but her voice carried a tone of acceptance rather than bitterness. I suspected she had gone past bitterness a long time ago.
“Where was his villa?” I asked.
“I’m not sure.”
“How can you not be sure if you were there?”
“He said he wanted to play a little game, like he was kidnapping me. So he came into my room, tied me up and blindfolded me and took me to his carriage. He said he didn’t want anyone to see us. It was part of the game.”
“Did he blindfold you on the way back to Laurentum?” Tacitus asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“And you didn’t mind?”
“He paid very well.” Sh
e pulled out a bulging coin pouch tied around her neck. “When a Mentula pays that well, I don’t mind ... anything.”
Tacitus’ eyebrows arched. “Exactly what sort of ‘anything’—?”
I cut him off with a wave of my hand. “That’s not relevant right now.” I reached out to Chloris but didn’t touch her. “So you can’t name the man. Was there anything about the villa that would allow you to identify it?”
She shook her head. “It was big, and very pretty. Mostly what I saw was one bedroom and the bath. All I know is, it wasn’t this villa.”
“And your sister wasn’t with you?”
“No, sir.”
“Do you know where she was during that time?”
“She was with a man. He took her out to his villa, too.”
Tacitus and I exchanged a glance. “Were you both gone all day?”I asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“Did the man who took your sister arrange that in advance?”
“Yes, sir. Yesterday. He told her he would come to our rooms. She was waiting for him when I left. We thought we were lucky to both have such well-paying ... offers. My sister is, as you saw, somewhat older than me. We’re not sure how much longer men will want her. She wants to make all she can while she can.”
“Do you know who she was with or where they went, or when she got back?”
Chloris wiped a tear. “I haven’t had a chance to talk to her. They had already locked her up when I got home. I couldn’t even get into my own rooms because of the crowd.”
I looked over at Tacitus, who shrugged. “I guess we have to go,” he said.
“Go where?” Chloris asked.
“To Laurentum,” I said. “At once.”
“But, sir, it’s already dark. I was scared half to death coming out here. There’s who knows what sort of creatures out there.”
“I think most of the ones you need to be afraid of are locked up in my house right now.”
She scrunched up her face in confusion.
“Never mind. If we’re going to make any sense of this, we need to see your sister’s room and, if at all possible, see the murdered man’s body where it was found.”
“He’s dead, sir,”Chloris said. “And he’ll still be dead tomorrow morning.”
The Corpus Conundrum Page 12
