Read Danger in the Wind Online
Authors: Jane Finnis
Tags: #Fiction, #Historical, #Mystery & Detective
“Have you found a place for her?” Quintus asked Titch.
He nodded. “We’ll take her up to the clearing. There’s several empty tents now the cooks have all gone. We’ll put her in the smallest one. There’s another small tent next door that we can use ourselves. We’ll want somewhere we can talk to people without an audience.”
“Good work. We’ll follow you very soon.”
Titch led his men away from the river. I started to follow them, but Quintus said, “Before we go inside, let’s have a look round this area. See if anything else has been dropped or left here, apart from this broken glass.”
“I suppose so, if we must. What are you expecting to find?”
“I don’t know, really. I’d like to see the spot where she was pushed into the river.” He began to pace about, eyes fixed on the ground, circling the spot where Jovina’s body had been, then moving slowly towards the river’s edge and turning upstream. I walked beside him till we paused by a clump of thorn bushes that grew close to the bank. One of them stood out because some of its small branches were bent or broken, as if a heavy animal had forced its way through…or a heavy weight had been dragged. I knelt down to peer underneath it, cursing as the prickly branches caught in my hair.
“We could do with Hawk for a hunt like this…Gods, Quintus, look.”
In the grass under the bush lay a small bronze brooch, a plain disc bearing the initials VVV. It was identical with the one in Terentius’ box, and the one Jovina had showed me yesterday. Perhaps it was even that same one…but no, she’d intended to throw it into the river, and she’d had plenty of time to dispose of it. This one must be yet another example.
“By the gods,” Quintus said. “Well done. Now how did that get here?” H picked it up. “The pin’s quite badly bent, see? It won’t fasten properly. It’s been torn roughly from a tunic or whatever it was attached to, without the pin being undone first.”
“Look!” There was a tiny shred of cloth caught on the pin, the peach-coloured material of her tunic. Another larger scrap was impaled on a nearby branch. “That’s the colour she was wearing.” Somehow it upset me as much as seeing Jovina’s body. I wanted to cry.
He put his arm round me. “I’m sorry, Aurelia. I was fairly sure one of her family was involved with this Venutius conspiracy. I didn’t expect it to be Jovina. But it explains why she wrote and asked for your help. She couldn’t tell anyone at the fort.”
I pulled myself together. Tears wouldn’t avenge Jovina. “I don’t think she was involved. I can believe she’d got into a mess over her love affairs, she told me as much. But I can’t accept she was conspiring with barbarian rebels. Does it seem likely to you?”
“It seems unlikely, but anything’s possible. And if not, why was she wearing this brooch?”
“But she wasn’t. She wore a pair of gold brooches at the party. She made a point of it; they were a present from Statius.”
He stood upright, pushing a strand of wet hair out of his eyes. “You’re right, and now I think of it, she’s still wearing them.” He helped me to get to my feet.
“I’m convinced she wasn’t involved with the rebels, Quintus. From what I know of her and from the conversations I’ve had with her, I’d stake my life on it. There must be another explanation. Suppose whoever killed her deliberately pinned this disk onto her tunic, so if her body was found it would look as if she’d been murdered because of the conspiracy.”
“It’s possible.”
“And then he dragged her down to the river and threw her in, but the brooch caught in the bush and came off. Why choose this spot, though? Further along the bank there aren’t any thorns, it would have been much easier.”
“He must have been interrupted, and had to get her into the water in a hurry. This was the nearest place. Then he ran for it along the bank.”
“I wonder if whoever he saw spotted him, too? We’ll have to question everyone, I suppose.”
Quintus wiped the rain off his face with his sleeve. “There were thirty-some guests at that party, and at least the same number of servants, and then the guards. Interviewing that lot will take us half a month.”
“Then we’d better make a start. At least let’s get out of the rain.”
“One thing though, let’s keep this find a secret for now.” He slipped the brooch into his belt-pouch. “We can’t disguise the fact that she was murdered, but the less we reveal about what we know, or think we know, the better. Agreed?”
“Agreed.”
We walked back along the bank in silence. As we turned to head up to the shelter of the tents we heard a shout and the sound of running feet coming towards us. A cloaked figure hurtled down the path, shouting as he ran.
“Hello! Is the commander there? I need Trebonius urgently.”
“No,” Quintus called back, “he’s not here. What’s happened?”
The man was swathed in a heavy cloak and hood against the rain. A small separate corner of my mind recognised the garment as one of Congrio’s. It wasn’t till he was almost on top of us that we recognised the man inside it as Philippus.
He skidded to a halt beside us. “Aurelia! Antonius! What in the gods’ name are you doing out in the storm?” Without waiting for an answer he hurried on. “When I saw someone down here, I thought it was bound to be Trebonius. Something awful has happened. I need to find him.”
“I’m afraid you’re right, Philippus,” Quintus said. “Something truly awful has happened. But how did you know about it?”
“How did I
know?
Because I’ve just heard him with my own ears, that’s how. I must find the commander. We need a senior officer to deal with this. Father’s gone quite mad.”
“We’ll find him. Meanwhile I have authority to look into what’s happened,” Quintus said. “So tell me what your father’s done.”
“I don’t understand this. You said you knew something awful…”
“But not about your father. What’s he done?”
“He’s raging and crying and telling everyone he’s murdered my mother.”
I felt a shock, almost like a blow. I couldn’t get any words out.
Quintus said levelly, “Do you believe what he says?”
“Of course not. It’s some kind of madness, probably too much to drink, or…I don’t know. Mother went home ages ago. She had a headache and left a message that we were to carry on with the party, but she needed to lie down for a while. Then the rain started and everyone began to leave anyway. I heard one of the young tribunes saying there’d been an accident down by the river, and I couldn’t find Trebonius, so I went to tell Father. He burst into tears and said that Mother was dead and he’d killed her.”
“You say your mother left a message? Who brought it?” Quintus interrupted.
“
Who brought it?
How should I know, and what does it matter anyway?” He must have read something in our expressions, because he grew pale. “That’s right, isn’t it? Mother’s safe at home?”
“I’m afraid not.” Quintus looked at me, then back at the young man. “I’m sorry, Philippus, but she isn’t at home.”
“Then where…gods, you’re not telling me it’s true?”
“No, not that exactly. But I’m sorry to say your mother’s dead.”
We told him what we’d found and showed him the place where she’d been pushed into the river. At first he was incredulous, then he became deadly calm. His face turned into a mask, empty of all emotion. It was sadder and more frightening than weeping or passionate anger.
He turned to face Quintus. “She was a good swimmer. She couldn’t have just drowned. Somebody murdered her and threw her body into the river.”
Quintus nodded.
“Do you think my father did that?”
“I don’t know. It’s too early to say what happened. But I can promise you this: we will find out.”
We walked him gently to the tent where his mother lay. Titch was standing guard outside it, and after the two of them had stepped in, he said softly, “Mallius is telling everyone he killed her.”
I put a finger to my lips. “I know. Later, I think. Where is Mallius now?”
Titch nodded towards one of the other small tents which had a soldier in front of it. “I put a man on watch outside. We can’t leave him loose, can we? Do you think he did it? I don’t.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “He wasn’t by the river any time. But other folk might think he’s guilty and take the law into their own hands.”
Quintus and Philippus emerged just then. Philippus was shaking now, and sobbing.
“Oh, my poor Mother. How could this have happened? She hadn’t an enemy in the world, not really. Even Father…I can’t believe he’d hurt her. Where is Father now?”
Titch pointed out the tent.
“May I see him?”
“Not for a little while, I’m afraid,” Quintus said gently. “There are some questions we need to ask him.”
“You don’t think he did it? He can’t have done, he wouldn’t…”
“In view of what he’s saying himself, we’ll have to talk to him first. And anyway, there’s something else I’m hoping you can do.”
“Of course. Anything.”
“Somebody has to break the news to your sister.”
“Oh, gods, you’re right. I’ll go and find her.”
“Shall I come with you?” I dreaded the thought of it, but I wanted to help.
“That’s kind of you. But I must do this alone.” He began to walk away, then turned back to me. “Thank the gods you’re here, Aurelia. She may need your help later. We all may.”
“You know I’ll do whatever I can.”
“What I want is the truth about who killed Mother. Whoever it is, I want them brought to justice.”
“That’s what I want too,” I said. “That’s what we all want.”
Quintus pulled his Imperial pass from his belt-pouch and handed it to Titch. “Find someone reliable to guard Jovina’s tent. Then look for Trebonius, but don’t waste much time on it, because we need to move fast. If you can’t find him, use my authority. Eurytus has agreed I can handle this until Trebonius turns up.”
“Right.”
“Keep everyone here who hasn’t left yet. Get them all together in one or two tents, and keep them there till we come. Try and make a list of everyone who’s gone already.”
Titch pulled a face. “They aren’t going to like it.”
“Then they can lump it. Aurelia and I will talk to Mallius. If he really killed Jovina, it simplifies matters, and we can let all the rest go.”
Titch said quietly, “Like I just told Aurelia, I don’t believe he did. I didn’t see him down by the river alone this afternoon. He was with the crowd. And he was very drunk, unless he was pretending.”
“He wasn’t pretending.” I said. “By midafternoon he could barely stand, let alone commit a murder.”
“Then why in the gods’ name would he confess to one?” Quintus grumbled.
“There’s only one way to find out,” I said. “Come on, let’s get it over.”
The tent where they’d put Mallius was small and uncomfortable. The wet grass underfoot made everything damp, and all he had to sit on was a folding stool. But in fact when we went in he was sitting on the ground, his back against the leg of a rough table. Not much light penetrated the leather, and a tiny oil lamp made little impression on the gloomy interior. In the shadowy half-dark his slumped figure looked sad and defeated.
He didn’t attempt to rise as we entered, but lifted his head and looked first at Quintus, then at me.
“Antonius…and Aurelia. Philippus has told you what’s happened?”
“Mallius Melandrus,” Quintus said gently, “we’re very sorry to hear about your wife’s death. And you’ve told your son that you killed her. Is that true?”
“Yes, I killed her.” His words were slightly slurred, but fluent enough. “It’s all my fault. I killed my wife. I don’t deny it, and I shan’t try to escape the consequences.”
“Tell us what happened,” Quintus said.
“And why,” I added.
“I did it this morning before the party.”
“This morning?” Quintus and I exclaimed together.
“I mean that’s when I started it. Of course I didn’t know how long it would take to work.”
Quintus stared blankly at him, then glanced at me, but all I could do was shake my head. I didn’t understand either. Mallius didn’t notice our silence.
“It was after I saw those glass goblets she had for her birthday. She was so pleased with them, she insisted on bringing them to the party. They were from a lover. I know they were, although she tried to tell me they were from you, Aurelia. But they weren’t, were they?”
There was no point lying about it now. “No, they weren’t.”
“Who gave them to her, do you know?”
“She wouldn’t say. She was very mysterious, and said they were from someone who shouldn’t be giving her extravagant presents.”
“That’s what I thought. That means it must be Trebonius. And I was so angry that someone was giving her something so expensive, and that she was going to flaunt it in front of everyone. She and Trebonius…there are rumours about them everywhere. I made up my mind I wasn’t going to be treated like that, and I did it.” He got up and stood unsteadily, one hand on the table for support. Yet his gaze was defiant. “Do you blame me?”