Illegally Dead (15 page)

19

It wasn’t an easy place to find, even with Libanius’s detailed instructions: two or three hundred yards up a heavily-wooded cart track off the main drag about a mile before the village, with no other houses or farms anywhere in sight. The back of beyond, in other words.

Libanius and Hyperion were waiting for me, together with a couple of the town’s public slaves and a mule-cart plus - presumably - the guy who’d found her, minus his dog.

‘We’ve only just got here ourselves, Corvinus, no more than ten minutes ago.’ Libanius was looking green. Shit: however the kid had died, it must’ve been nasty. ‘She’s over there, by the rock wall. Whoever killed her covered the body with brushwood, but the dog...well.’ He stopped. ‘Of course, it might have nothing to do with the Hostilius business at all, but contrary to current showing we don’t actually have all that many murders around here, so I thought you’d like to know.’

I was feeling sick, and depressed as hell; had been since I’d got the news. ‘Sure it’s connected,’ I said. ‘It has to be. Paulina was his ward.’

‘Paulina?’ Libanius was looking puzzled. ‘Why on earth should it be Paulina?’

I stared at him like he’d grown an extra head. ‘You mean it isn’t?’

‘Certainly not! I’ve known the girl for years! Besides, I distinctly told the messenger to say it was a woman’s body. She must’ve been forty-five if she was a day, and I’ve never seen her before in my life.’

Shit. I turned to Hyperion. ‘Uh...how did she die?’

‘Strangled with her own necklace. Do you want to see, Corvinus?’

‘Yeah.’ My brain still felt numb. ‘Yeah, sure.’

‘I’ll just wait here, if you don’t mind,’ Libanius said faintly.

We went over to view the corpse. Uh-huh. I could see Libanius’s point: not pretty, not pretty at all. ‘How long has she been dead?’ I said, looking down at her. Forty-five was probably about right; maybe a little older, but it was difficult to tell under the circumstances. Tall for a woman, chunkily built. ‘Any idea?’

‘More than a day. Probably not longer than three.’

‘What was she doing out here?’

‘I’m sorry.’ He smiled. ‘That’s your department, Corvinus, not mine.’

Fair enough. ‘Anything else you can tell me, pal?’

‘Not a lot. She wasn’t a gentlewoman, as you can tell from her clothes’ - she was wearing a rough ankle-length tunic, belted at the waist with a knotted rope, and cheap sandals of undressed hide - ‘but more importantly from the state of her hands.’ He held one up, back, then palm. ‘You see? Short chipped nails, trimmed with a knife, not scissors. Rough skin. She’s been used to manual work. Her teeth aren’t bad, though, and there’s no obvious slave mark, so probably free born. No jewellery, apart from the necklace, and that’s just a cord with an evil-eye stone.’

‘You’ve no idea who she was?’

‘No. Nor had the man who found her - you can ask him for yourself - and he’s local, so she probably isn’t from Caba or anywhere around here.’

Uh-huh. Like the guy who’d attacked Hostilius, in other words. And the guy who’d knifed Acceius. Interesting. Still, there were differences. I hadn’t seen the other corpse, of course, but from what the undertaker Trophius had said that guy had been a good step down from this lady, socially. She may not have been a gentlewoman, sure, but she was no tramp: she hadn’t been starving, and she’d kept herself in reasonable trim. Also, although her clothes were cheap they were no worse than you’d see on, say, a vegetable-seller in the market.

‘I’ll be taking her home with me, if Libanius doesn’t mind, for Clarus to have a closer look at.’ Hyperion dropped the woman’s hand and stood up. ‘He has sharper eyes than I have, and to be frank a sharper mind for extrapolating detail. External details, at any rate.’

I swallowed. Jupiter! Yeah, well, like I say, doctors are a different species, but the matter-of-fact way Hyperion talked about the dead woman, like she was some sort of parcel to be carted back and unwrapped, gave me a cold feeling in my stomach. And I’d bet that Clarus would be the same as his dad. ‘You’re not going to...ah...open her up, then? Like Cosmus?’

‘Good gracious, no!’ Hyperion smiled again. ‘Much though I’d like to on general principles I doubt if Libanius would allow the law to be stretched that far. Besides, it’s obvious how she died.’ He indicated the bulging eyes, protruding tongue and purple face, plus the necklace-cord twisted tightly round the throat, as if they were botanical specimens. I swallowed again. ‘He must’ve been strong, whoever did it, though. She was quite a powerful woman.’

‘Yeah.’ I turned away and walked over to the guy without the dog. ‘Hi, friend.’

He nodded cautiously. ‘Afternoon, sir.’

‘Anything you can tell me at all?’

‘Not a lot, that you don’t know already.’ He had the slow, Latin burr in spades. ‘I was hunting, just after sunrise. Blackie - that’s the dog - she started rooting around over there and barking. I went to look and there she was.’

‘Covered up?’

‘Yes, sir. Dead branches, some green stuff. Just where she is now. I went back home - I’ve a farm just this side of Caba, sir - and the wife says get the hell down to the authorities in Castrimoenium, tell them. So I did.’

‘You’re sure she’s not local?’

‘She’s not from Caba or anywhere five miles around, that I’ll swear, and I’m not mistaken, even though it’s difficult to –’ He stopped. ‘No, sir, she isn’t local. Certainly not.’

‘So what could she’ve been doing here?’

He shrugged. ‘No idea, sir. Nothing around here, you can see for yourself. Mine’s the closest farm, and that’s on its own and half a mile off. It’s rough country, this bit, only good for hunting.’

‘There’s a cart track, though. Where does that lead?’

‘Nowhere. Leastways, it stops a few hundred yards further on. Charcoal burners use it, but not all that often.’

‘So nobody would be up this way? In the normal course of events?’

‘Oh, you’d get passing traffic on the main road, sure, plenty of that, what with the quarry and all.’ Yeah; I remembered the Caba quarry. So that was still a going concern? ‘Not up here, though.’

‘Right. Thanks, pal.’

‘You’re welcome.’

I turned back to Libanius, who was taking the air well away from where the corpse was lying.

‘Finished, Corvinus?’ he said.

‘Yeah. Nothing more I can do,’ I said.

‘Good.’ Obvious relief; I grinned to myself. He signalled to the slaves. ‘You can load her onto the cart now, boys.’

As the lads went over - I noticed that one of them had a stretcher and a blanket - I moved back across to Hyperion and took his arm. ‘Quick word, pal?’ I said. ‘Before I go?’

‘Certainly.’

‘It’s...ah...nothing to do with the body. Or the case. I was just thinking we’d best, uh, think about fixing things up between Clarus and Marilla. If you’re agreeable, that is.’

Hyperion smiled. ‘Oh, I’m agreeable, Valerius Corvinus,’ he said. ‘Very much so. And I can certainly answer for Clarus.’

He held out his hand, and we shook. Well, that was that arranged, anyway. I collected my mare from where I’d parked her tied to a tree and rode back to Castrimoenium. Maybe under the circumstances a half jug in Pontius’s wouldn’t go amiss.

I’d left the mare fraternising with a couple of her cronies at the town square watering trough and was heading towards the wineshop’s veranda when I saw Meton. He was standing on the corner of one of the side streets, dressed to the nines in a snazzy blue tunic, and he was talking to a woman. Not just any woman either: mid twenties max, and with a face and figure that would’ve made Praxiteles bite his chisel.

The woman laughed. So did Meton...

I gaped. Meton never laughed, never-fucking-ever. Sneered, yeah; Meton could do sneer with the best of them, it was his natural default expression. The bugger could even chuckle, if something happened to tickle his warped, sadistic sense of humour. But laugh? And with a woman? A woman that would’ve knocked the eyes out of a septuagenarian priest at fifty yards?

Forget the wine; we’d got serious problems here. And I’d caught the bastard slap bang in flagrante. I changed direction, fast.

I’d got to within ten yards, just close enough to hear her say: ‘Make it tomorrow, then,’ and Meton to answer: ‘Yeah, right.’ Then she turned and walked off up the street.

‘Oh, hi, Corvinus.’ Meton did a double take when he saw me coming and gave me his best scowl. ‘Didn’t see you there.’

‘Yeah, I’d sort of assumed that, pal,’ I said. ‘Who the hell was that?’

‘Her name’s Renia.’

‘That so, now?’ I took another glance at the retreating figure. Gods! Make that an octogenarian priest at sixty yards. ‘What were you talking about?’

‘This an’ that.’

‘Meton...’

‘’s my own business, innit?’ He inserted a finger in his ear, screwed out a bit of wax and flicked it away. Then he leered. ‘Good looker, though, isn’t she?’

‘Meton, you bastard...’

‘’s okay. She’s married.’

‘She is what?’

‘Yeah. Husband’s a locksmith.’ He sniggered. ‘Not a very good locksmith, from what I hear.’

Oh, gods! This was the stuff of nightmare. And Meton? To my certain knowledge the closest that single-minded bugger ever got to having designs on a woman was lusting after her recipe books. ‘Ah...listen, pal,’ I said. ‘I’m being serious here. Do you have any - any - idea what the penalty is for a slave who...devalues a freeborn wife?’

‘Uh-uh.’ Another leer. ‘Might be worth it, though, in Renia’s case.’

I gaped afresh.

‘Joke, Corvinus. ’s all under control, nothing to worry about. Just forget it, okay?’ He removed another flake of wax. ‘Now I don’t know about you, but I’ve got better things to do at present than stand an’ chat.’

He ambled off.

I shook my head to clear it. Forget about problems; what we’d got here was a full-blown domestic crisis in spades. Home, and Perilla. Fast.

I made it as far as the lobby. There was a woman there, talking to Marcia’s door-slave. She turned as I came in.

‘Valerius Corvinus, sir?’ she said. Small, middle-aged and mousy, and obviously nervous as hell.

‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘Yeah, that’s me.’

‘I’m Tyche, sir. The mistress Paulina’s maid. She wants to speak to you, sir.’

I stared at her. ‘What?’

She ducked her head. ‘The mistress Paulina sent me to say she wants to speak to you, sir. Straight away, if you can manage it.’

Holy gods! ‘You know where she is?’

‘’Course, sir. She’s at my cousin’s, that’s Mika, sir, she’s a freedwoman, lives above the baker’s near the shrine of Latinus. I...well, I arranged it, sir, when the mistress said she wanted somewhere to go.’ She hesitated. ‘I wouldn’t of come, sir, only the mistress insisted. Don’t you believe her, Valerius Corvinus, when you do see her. She don’t know what she’s saying.’

‘Yeah? And what’s that?’

Tyche swallowed. ‘That she did it, sir. Killed the master.’

Shit!

20

Paulina was a wisp of a girl, mid teens, with a long face, big teeth and mousy hair like her maid’s; no looker, certainly, and from the self-effacing way she was sitting on the chair opposite me in what was obviously Mika’s and her husband’s bedroom she was probably more conscious of it than I was. She’d a nice voice, though: low-pitched, quiet and serious.

‘I didn’t actually kill him myself, Valerius Corvinus,’ she said. ‘That was Cosmus, I know, because I saw him come out of Uncle Lucius’s rooms that morning. Not that I knew at the time what he was doing there, although -’

‘Hang on,’ I said. ‘You saw him? You’re sure?’

‘Oh, yes. Absolutely. At about an hour after dawn. I’ve been...getting up very early these last few months.’ She lowered her head, and unaccountably blushed. I noticed that Tyche, who’d come in uninvited and was sitting on a stool by the door, shot her a quick glance.

There was something odd there, but I left it alone for the moment. We’d come back later. ‘So where were you?’ I said. ‘In your room?’

‘No. In the garden. He didn’t see me, at least I don’t think he did, because I was sitting in the little arbour by the rose-bed. You can see out from there, but it’s difficult to see in.’

The garden? An hour after dawn? Odd was right. Still, we’d better sort out the most important point first. ‘Paulina,’ I said carefully. ‘If you saw Cosmus leaving your uncle’s rooms and you know - at least now - that he was the killer, then where do you come into things?’

She looked at me wide-eyed. ‘Because I was responsible, of course. My uncle wouldn’t have died at all if it hadn’t been for...well, the way he treated me.’

Yeah; I could imagine life hadn’t been too pleasant for the kid. After all, if Veturina had been going through hell these last twelve months for no reason then Paulina had probably been doing the same. Even so, for her to suggest that as Cosmus’s motive for murder was complete nonsense. From all I’d heard of him he didn’t exactly seem the altruistic type; certainly not to the extent of risking his own neck by bumping off his master as a favour to Paulina.

‘Uh...you sure about that?’ I said gently. ‘I mean, that that was Cosmus’s only reason?’

She was scowling. ‘You’re down on him like everyone else, Valerius Corvinus, and you never even met him!’ she said. ‘Do you think that’s fair?’

I caught Tyche’s eye. Her lips were set in a tight line and she nodded imperceptibly. Yeah, well: whatever the mistress’s opinion of Cosmus was, her maid certainly didn’t share it. I remembered what Scopas had said, about Cosmus being able to use his charm to get round the youngest members of the family, especially Paulina. Now that I’d seen her for myself, that made complete sense; it certainly explained her view of the boy and the large slice of wishful thinking involved where his motives were concerned. No surprises there, quite the reverse: he’d been good-looking, about her own age, attentive and probably good fun, and even if he was a slave that combination would’ve weighed a lot with someone like her. She’d never have let things go beyond mild flirting, sure, or if she had done then she was a bigger fool than I thought she was, but I’d bet she hadn’t had much experience even of that. Yeah, I could see how Paulina would easily get starry-eyed over Cosmus.

‘Maybe it isn’t fair, at that.’ I temporised. ‘And if your uncle was being cruel -’

‘I never said he was being cruel.’

Said very quietly. The head was down again, and Tyche was looking at her hard, with pursed lips.

Uh-oh.

I let a few seconds go by. Then I said gently: ‘You want to tell me, Paulina?’

‘No. But I will.’ Her chin came up. ‘It...never got beyond touching, and that was when Aunt Veturina found out and put a stop to it. Besides, I kept my bedroom door locked so even if he tried to get in he couldn’t.’

‘That’s why you’d been getting up so early, isn’t it?’ I kept the conversational tone. ‘Because he did try.’

‘Sometimes, yes. First thing in the morning. Most mornings, by that stage.’ She frowned. ‘Valerius Corvinus, my uncle was a good man! He was! Before he was ill he’d never, ever have done anything like that, he’d have died first, believe me!’ There were tears in her eyes. ‘And now he is dead, and I’m glad. And that’s terrible.’

Gods!

‘No, it isn’t,’ I said quietly. ‘It’s not terrible at all. And maybe it’s for the best, that part of it. Whoever killed him, and whatever their motives were.’

‘Yes.’ She nodded. ‘Yes, that’s what I’m hoping. That they did it for the best of motives.’

There was something in her voice that made the hairs rise on the back of my neck. Besides, that wasn’t exactly what I’d said. In fact -

The penny dropped. Oh, shit!

‘You think your aunt killed your uncle, don’t you?’ I said.

‘Cosmus killed him.’ She wasn’t looking at me. ‘And I was responsible.’

We needed to take this slowly. I drew a deep breath. ‘Look, Paulina,’ I said. ‘You may’ve liked Cosmus - he may’ve liked you - but you have to admit he wasn’t the greatest brain in the world. He’d never have thought of doctoring that medicine bottle on his own, however much he wanted to help you. And if you didn’t give him the idea then somebody else must have.’

‘I was responsible. My uncle wouldn’t have died if –’

‘No. Listen. You didn’t know, that morning when you ran, that your uncle had been murdered, did you? No one knew, except Cosmus and whoever told him to do what he did, and that wasn’t you, was it?’ She shook her head. ‘Fine.Your uncle was dead, sure, but to all intents and purposes his death was natural. So why did you run? You must’ve had some reason.’ Silence. Bugger!  ‘Paulina, I’m sorry, but you really have to tell me.’ Silence: she’d dropped her eyes again and she was staring at her hands. ‘Something’d changed, hadn’t it? Something important, so important that when your uncle died right after it happened you linked the two events and you panicked. Maybe it was something you heard, or saw, the evening before when your uncle and aunt –’

‘Stop it!’ Her head came up. She was glaring at me. Over by the door, Tyche shifted on her stool, but she didn’t say anything.

‘All right,’ I said. I leaned back, away from her, and waited.

Paulina’s gaze didn’t shift. ‘My uncle accused Aunt Veturina of sleeping with Uncle Castor,’ she snapped. ‘He said that as far as he was concerned she was nothing but an incestuous  whore, that he wanted her out of his house and that he’d see to the formal divorce and prosecution as soon as they could be arranged. Is that what you want to know?’

Sweet gods!

‘Yeah,’ I said softly. ‘Yeah, that’s it. Thank you, Paulina.’

Well, that explained things.  Scopas had known, of course, he had to have, and when I’d grilled the poor bastard he couldn’t just give me nothing, because he knew I knew there’d been a shouting match; so he’d twisted the truth as far as he dared, given me a sanitised version. For Castor’s adultery with Seia Lucinda read incest with his sister, Veturina under threat of divorce because of it and the two of them, not just Castor alone, out in the street. Still, I didn’t blame the guy for lying, no way: he’d only been protecting his mistress as best he could, for the best of reasons; and, in a way, protecting his master as well. If it’d been me instead of Hostilius, I’d hope that Bathyllus would have the nous to do the same.

Paulina had burst into tears, and Tyche shot over like she was greased. The girl pushed her away and wiped her nose on the sleeve of her tunic. She was still glaring at me. ‘If Aunt Veturina did kill him the next morning, Valerius Corvinus,’ she said, ‘or have him killed, then she had every reason to, and my uncle - my real uncle - would’ve blessed her for it.’ I closed my eyes, briefly. ‘But she wouldn’t have done, not just for herself, I know she wouldn’t. She did it for me. If you’d been me what would you have done, when my uncle died? I couldn’t stay and face her, every day, not saying anything; not knowing what I knew. I had to leave. I had to.’

‘Right. Right.’ Shit, what a mess!

‘Are you going to tell her? Where I am?’

I’d been asking myself the same question. Legally, the answer had to be yes: the girl was Veturina’s ward, and no one had formally accused Veturina of any crime. Even so, there were good reasons why I shouldn’t, not the least being that the lady herself had tried to cover up the fact that the girl was missing.

‘Not if you don’t want me to,’ I said. ‘But I’ll have to tell Libanius. Have you got any other relatives anywhere?’

She shook her head. ‘No. Not close ones, anyway. That was why Uncle Lucius and Aunt Veturina took me in.’

‘Maybe Libanius can arrange something, then.’ I stood up; I felt sick to my stomach. ‘We’ll leave it to him.’

‘All right.’ Paulina lowered her eyes. ‘Thank you for coming, Valerius Corvinus. I’m glad I talked to you. And...if you do see my aunt, and it’s possible, could you say thank you to her as well, from me? Don’t say why, just say I said it.’

‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘Yeah, I’ll do that.’

I left.

‘Veturina killed him, or got her brother to,’ I said to Perilla when I finally got home a couple of hours later after a long talk with Libanius. ‘And the gods know I don’t blame her for it. Him, either.’

‘You’re absolutely sure?’ Perilla was looking grave. We were sitting on the terrace with a pre-dinner drink. I hadn’t told her about Meton yet: there was no point in worrying the lady unduly, and anyway I hadn’t decided how to handle that particular problem.

‘Yeah.’ I put my head back and closed my eyes. ‘What Paulina said clinches it. The situation had just got impossible, and all three of the family members were involved. If Hostilius had lived another day, Veturina would’ve been divorced and out of the house, she and Castor would’ve been formally accused of incest, and unless Paulina went with her aunt she’d’ve been left alone with her uncle and raped within the month. Veturina’d have to be less than a step down from one of the Graces not to kill him.’

‘What about Cosmus?’

I opened my eyes and shrugged. ‘Under the circumstances, lady, he’s a detail, and if it was Castor set things up then he’s explicable. Not excusable, but explicable.’

She was quiet for a long time. Then she said: ‘What happens now?’

‘That’s up to Libanius. I’ve made my report, and he can arrange for Veturina to be prosecuted, with or without her brother, or he can just let the whole business drop. Me, I’d say that’d be by far the best course for all concerned, Hostilius included. Veturina might go through a hard time with the locals, sure, but she can always sell up and move if things get too bad; the same goes for Castor. Case over, close the book.’ I slammed my winecup down. ‘Fuck!’

‘Gently, Marcus!’

‘Yeah, well.’

‘What I don’t understand is how it was allowed to get this far. The man was clearly certifiable, he wasn’t responsible for his actions. Under any reasonable circumstances he would have been locked up months ago.’

‘That would’ve needed the impetus to come from his next of kin,’ I said. ‘Veturina herself. And it would’ve been an admission that the situation was hopeless. Where would you have drawn the line yourself, Perilla, if it’d been you that had to decide?’ She didn’t answer. ‘Besides, when push came to absolute shove she made the kindest decision. Oh, Hostilius would’ve brought the charges, of adultery and incest, like he threatened, I don’t doubt that; but no judge in the country who knew the background would’ve given them a moment’s credence. She was safe enough there. Only –’

‘Only she’d have to defend herself on the grounds that her husband was insane, with the inevitable result. Then watch him getting worse, more unlike himself, day after day until he died in any case. Hating her for what she’d done.’ Perilla shivered. ‘The poor woman. The poor man. You’re right, Marcus, it was the kindest decision she could make.’

‘Yeah.’ I took a morose swig of my wine.

‘What about the rest of it? The dead woman up in Caba and the will? Are you dropping those too?’

I shook my head. ‘Uh-uh, or not unless Libanius objects. They may not be pieces of the same puzzle, lady, but they’re puzzles that need solving in themselves. Besides, Alexis has been beavering away in the public records office over in Bovillae for the last two days trying to fit a name to the man who attacked Hostilius. If I pulled the plug on him now the guy’d never forgive me. Clarus and Marilla wouldn’t be too happy about it either.’ I grinned. ‘Which reminds me. You want the good news or the bad? Nothing to do with wills or murders. I’d recommend the good, because the bad is pretty horrific, but it’s your choice.’

‘All right then.’ I told her about my short conversation with Hyperion, and she beamed. ‘Oh, that is excellent! Aunt Marcia will be so pleased!’

Yeah; that was partly why I’d hurried things. Marcia had been taken bad the day after we’d arrived, and although Hyperion had said it was nothing really serious, so long as she kept to her bed for a few days, it was a sign of things to come.

‘I’m quite pleased myself,’ I said. ‘Clarus is a nice guy.’

‘When did he ask you?’

‘For what?’

‘Permission to marry Marilla, of course.’

‘Ah...’

Perilla stared at me open mouthed. ‘You mean he hasn’t? Not at all?’ She started to laugh. ‘For Juno’s sake, Marcus, you can’t just assume that –!’

‘It’ll be okay, lady. Trust me.’