A Pattern of Blood (26 page)

Sollers mastered himself. ‘Then who . . .?’

I debated for a moment before I answered him. Then I made a decision. ‘It was Maximilian,’ I said at last. There was a stir of astonishment among the maidservants, who instantly suppressed it.

Sollers stepped forward urgently, his face alert. ‘I thought as much. I told you so before. I have always suspected that young man. He needed money. Quintus was threatening to disinherit him. He was left-handed, too. Perhaps you should search his quarters, citizen. Who knows . . .’

I nodded. ‘An interesting suggestion, medicus. I may do that, later. But there has been a new development. Lupus has been arrested. We knew already that Lupus had bloodstains on his sleeve, and now it appears Mutuus saw the old man go into Quintus’s room yesterday after Maximilian left.’

‘He did?’ Julia was wide-eyed, and Sollers looked genuinely shocked.

‘He did. The case seems definite. Marcus has already called the guard.’

‘But you do not believe it?’ Sollers said. ‘That Lupus killed him?’

‘I could believe that Lupus did it, given the evidence, but I do not understand why he would take such an appalling risk. Why now, of all times? What is so different now that he should suddenly make such an attack?’

‘Perhaps it has something to do with Mutuus,’ Julia said. ‘Lupus was very attached to him. He never forgave Quintus for wresting him away. He has been heard to say it in the council, I understand – that Quintus had a handsome son already, and did not need to steal someone else’s.’

‘Handsome?’ I echoed with a smile. I thought of Maximilian – the tousled hair, the tall figure, the close-set eyes, the petulant young face. I suppose to an old skeleton like Lupus he might seem good-looking. Not much like his father, Junio had said. Like his mother, perhaps? The dowerless woman who had lost her looks and been put aside when the child was small?

And suddenly I made a connection. The piece that did not fit the pattern fitted unexpectedly into the border.

‘Julia,’ I said urgently, ‘tell me quickly. How old was Maximilian when his mother was divorced?’

She gazed at me as though my wits were addled.

‘Believe me,’ I said, ‘this is important. I would not ask you otherwise. Try to remember, did Quintus ever speak of it?’

She was still looking bewildered. ‘I believe,’ she said, ‘that Maximilian was quite a child. Four years old, or five. No more. Quintus had the woman put away, and then she caught the pox. She died a year or two ago.’

‘She died?’ I said. ‘You are sure of that?’

‘So Quintus said. Maximilian was distraught. He felt that Quintus had betrayed his mother. They quarrelled bitterly about it.’

‘He put her away,’ I repeated, ‘and then she caught the pox. In that order.’ I turned to Junio. ‘Come, Junio, there is something we must do. And quickly, before it is too late. I want to go back to the market and find this soothsayer. I think she may hold the key to everything.’

‘But citizen,’ Julia murmured. ‘The funeral . . .!’

‘At what time does the procession start?’ I asked the question of Sollers. ‘As soon as it is dark, as usual?’ I have had occasion previously to deplore the Roman preference for interring their dead by torchlight, but tonight the arrangement had advantages. There was still an hour of daylight left, at least, enough for me to make my enquiries and still return in time for the procession.

‘But master,’ Junio said urgently, ‘you should eat something first. The evening will be long before the banquet, and you have eaten nothing since this morning. I at least have had a honey cake.’

Julia was in instant consternation. ‘Citizen, a thousand apologies. I have not considered food. The household, of course, is fasting for the day until the funeral banquet. Allow me to send one of my slaves to get something for you.’ She gave me one of her beautiful smiles. ‘A little fruit, perhaps, and wine? I am sure we could find some quickly. And since Marcus has eaten already, you shall have the finest tray.’ She lowered her lids. ‘It is a very handsome one. My husband had it brought especially from Rome.’

And then at last I understood, and a trickle of cold fear ran down my back, so physical that I feared my toga would be dampened. Of course. Twice I had seen that ‘handsome’ tray, and twice Marcus had been served upon it. Naturally it would have been given to him last night as well. It had not come to me.

In exchanging Rollo for Mutuus to bring my supper, Maximilian had not exchanged the trays. Those had still gone to their original destinations.

I had been wrong in my self-satisfied deductions. If Rollo had been poisoned by the food he ate, that poison had not been intended for Marcus. It was intended for me.

Someone was trying to kill me.

I tried to hide my consternation, but Junio was too quick for me. He had read my face and knew that something had alarmed me.

‘Master?’ he said anxiously.

I shook my head. ‘I will buy some food in the market place,’ I said. ‘Hurry, there is little time to lose. Go to my rooms and fetch my warmest cloak.’ Junio gave me a worried look and hurried away. I turned to Julia. ‘This woman has a hovel outside of the town. It may be getting dusk when I return, and though I have no intention of being shut outside the town gates when they close, I shall be forced to leave the protection of the walls. It is not prudent to venture out there alone in failing light. I shall need torches and an escort.’

Julia looked at Sollers uncertainly. ‘But the procession . . .’ She had lost her composure now, and her lovely face was crumpled in despair. ‘I must have slaves and lights for the procession. I have served Quintus so badly as it is. There has scarcely been time to show him proper reverence. This should have been a time of ritual private mourning, the household all united in its grief, taking turns to watch with the body – myself and Maximilian most of all. But slaves are wailing the lament, and I have had to leave my husband to the hired mourners.’ She was almost weeping now.

‘Julia, my dear.’ Sollers’s voice was gentle. ‘You have done all that it is proper to do. The body has been properly anointed and set upon its bier, the vault has been prepared, the candles and herbs are lit in the chamber and there has been unceasing music and lamentation while the household fasts. Quintus’s spirit cannot feel unmourned. There have been dignitaries from the civitas coming all day long, and you have arranged that they were met and greeted and that their offerings were accepted, too. You could do no more.’

‘It has become a kind of circus spectacle,’ Julia burst out. ‘The house is full of guests – two of them men my husband hated – and half Corinium has besieged the gates. I have spent my day worrying: deciding on grave goods, arranging for the funeral and feast, and all the time knowing that a murderer is among us. First Quintus, and then Rollo. I pray the gods it does prove to be Lupus. I am half afraid that there will be a dagger in my own back next.’

I was feeling uncomfortable at having occasioned this outburst. ‘Lady,’ I said, ‘do not distress yourself. I will take my own slave, I can hire torches, and no doubt Marcus can arrange a proper escort for me. The guard is coming shortly to take Lupus away. They would take the time to accompany me, if he directed it, and in any case my mission should not take long. This woman knows the whole truth about Maximilian, and about Flavius. Her testimony is vital. Marcus must hear it. I hope to bring her back for questioning, and still be present at the funeral myself.’

Julia looked up, her eyes red-rimmed from weeping. She had controlled herself again. ‘I am sorry, citizen. Of course I will help in any way I can. I am sorry for that outburst. I am upset.’

‘Julia, my dear,’ Sollers said firmly. ‘I think you should lie down for a little while and rest. I will arrange some more hydromel for you. In the meantime, leave the citizen to me.’

She nodded speechlessly and left the room, accompanied by her handmaidens. I was alone with the medicus. There was a moment’s silence, broken as Junio appeared at the door with my cloak.

It was Sollers who spoke. ‘I apologise for that, citizen. Julia is overwrought. I am sure the household can accommodate your needs. Let us not trouble Marcus and the guard. I will find a pair of slaves and some torches and accompany you myself. Do you know where to find the woman?’

‘I hear she lives beyond the bridge outside the Verulamium Gate. She has made a home in an abandoned kiln, so I am told.’

Sollers made a doubtful face. ‘That is a large and marshy area. How do you think to find the place?’

‘I hoped that Flavius might lead me to it.’

‘Flavius? But Marcus has him guarded.’

‘Why not, since he would still be under escort? No doubt he knows where this woman can be found if he consulted her often. Or better still, Maximilian could take us, if his absence from the house will not distress Julia. He had private dealings with the soothsayer, too, and he did not make those arrangements in the public forum! He can tell us where this hovel is. I don’t suppose he will wish to, but in the circumstances I think Marcus will force him to assist us. But if we are to go, we must go quickly. It will get dark and we are already losing time. Besides, I will have to persuade my patron of all this. He is convinced that Lupus alone is his man.’

Sollers nodded. ‘I will arrange for torches to be prepared, then fetch my cape and see you at the rear gate. Do you have a weapon, citizen? I will take one. There may be animals, or thieves, in lonely places outside of the town gates.’

‘I will see that the escort is armed,’ I said, and taking my cloak from Junio, I went out to Marcus.

I found him in the atrium, chafing with impatience. He was not accustomed to spending his days in idleness, especially in someone else’s household, without entertainment, business or company. The imported wine and figs with which he had been provided, although he had clearly availed himself handsomely of both, were no substitute for the deferential attention with which he was usually surrounded. Marcus was very obviously bored.

He was also slightly drunk, a state of affairs which often made him belligerent. It was not, taken all in all, a good moment to be asking favours. The baton was tapping impatiently as soon as I appeared.

‘Greetings, Excellence,’ I beamed, with the heartiest good humour I could muster. ‘I bring good news. We are making progress in this matter at last.’

He regarded me sourly. ‘When you say “we”, in that peculiar manner, I assume you are referring to yourself? Personally, I have made excellent progress already. I regard the whole event as closed. The guard will be here shortly to take Lupus away. No doubt there will be appeals to the Imperial Court, and Pertinax will end up sending him to Rome. But I have done my part.’ That was not like Marcus. Usually he was confident of his own ability to sway the governor. He sighed. ‘I can’t think why the guard is taking so long.’ He eyed my cloak gloomily. ‘I see that you are dressed for the night air. Is this funeral about to start? I would be glad to see it over, so that I could decently return home – though even then I suppose there will be days of purification ritual to endure, since we were here when the death happened. Why did I ever bring us here?’

He gestured to his slave, who stepped forward to refill the goblet.

‘Excellence, I wanted to speak to you about the guard. Could you, most graciously, consent to grant a boon?’ When Marcus was in this churlish mood, my only hope was in grovelling supplication. ‘I am in need of an escort.’ I outlined briefly what I hoped to do.

Marcus took up his cup. ‘I do not see that it is necessary,’ he said. ‘We have our culprit. Lupus went into the room, he knew the dagger was there, he came out with blood on his sleeve and Quintus was dead. We know that he could even have poisoned Rollo. What more information do you need?’

‘And the wax tablet?’

Marcus drained his wine at a draught. ‘That came from Flavius, as we know.’

‘Indeed, and I can even tell you why.’ I told him the story of the twin tokens. ‘But who scratched “Remember Pertinax” upon the wax, and left it in the colonnade to be found? I am a pattern-maker, Excellence. I do not like a piece that does not fit.’

The mention of Pertinax swayed him, as I hoped. ‘Swayed him’ was an appropriate phrase. Marcus was unsteady on his feet and pronouncing his words carefully. ‘And supposing I agree? What has this to do with Lupus?’

‘I am not certain, Excellence.’ I was choosing my words with equal care, though for quite different reasons. ‘If I am right, then Lupus did Quintus Ulpius a dreadful wrong, even if he did not wield the knife that killed him.’

Marcus regarded me blearily. ‘What “dreadful wrong” is this?’

‘I think I could persuade him to confess it, Excellence, if you would condescend to have him sent for. But we must make haste; it is important that I find this sorceress quickly. We know she had a part in the stabbing, and she had a part in those wax tablets too. But we must be quick. Someone may have been to see her already, and we shall be too late. She will be gone, like the bath attendant.’

Marcus looked at me doubtfully, but then he said, with all the bravado of the drunken, ‘In that case, my old friend, we shall not waste time by having Lupus brought here. We shall be like Hannibal and go to him.’ He made a sweeping gesture with his arm to summon the slaves, and led the way through all the rooms of the house, past a startled Flavius in the triclinium, towards the passageway which held the attic stairs.

I followed him, although I was not quite clear as to how we were emulating Hannibal. By climbing up, perhaps, as the Carthaginian had scaled the Alps. Marcus’s ascent of the stairs was certainly, if not like Hannibal, at least like one of his elephants. The stairs were not much better than a ladder, steep and uneven and lacking a hand-rope. They had been designed for slaves and storage, not for patrician feet, and Marcus lurched and swayed up them with difficulty.

We found ourselves in a long dark corridor, from which a series of rooms gave off to either side. Most of the rooms were open, sizeable spaces with small, high window spaces in their walls and ranks of straw mattress piles laid in serried rows. Sleeping quarters for the house slaves, clearly, with Mutuus’s partition at the end. Others were obviously storage rooms, where extra lamps and platters spoke mutely of their owner’s wealth. Nuts and apples lurked in wicker baskets.