Queen of the Night (22 page)

Claudia leaned over the bed, kissed Murranus on the brow, lips and cheek, then left. She stood for a while in the passageway, as if fascinated by the mosaic on the wall celebrating the legend of Sleep, the Brother of Death, the Son of Night, who lived in a mysterious cave on the isle of Lemnos near the land of the fabulous Cimmerians. The artist had conjured all this up, conveying a dark, misty picture of the waters of Lethe, the river of forgetfulness, flowing through the cavern where Sleep stretched on a feather-soft couch surrounded by an infinite number of his sons, the Dreams. The entire painting had been executed in sombre colours with the occasional flash of brilliance, vivid spots like bursts of sunlight on a dark day. The painting reflected Claudia's own mood. In truth, she was confused. The news, the sights she had seen, had dulled her wits. She had difficulty concentrating on anything. Murranus was injured. Aurelian's son Alexander was murdered; would Murranus be blamed? Four servants had died, not to mention those two veterans. How could all this happen in or near this beautiful villa surrounded by open countryside? How could the abductors have known that Alexander was being escorted into Rome? That must have been where Murranus was taking him, perhaps to one of the gladiatorial schools, the exercise gyms or even the baths. Only Murranus would be able to tell her for certain.

Claudia was about to return to the garden to sit and reflect when the villa was rent by more hideous screams and cries which drowned out the lamentations of mourning. She remained rooted to the spot as the heart-rending sounds echoed from the back of the house. Servants, slaves and freedmen, shocked from their own grief, hurried towards the fresh crisis. A short while later the steward returned, accompanied by Leartus; the expression on both their faces announced further tragedy.

'It's General Aurelian,' Leartus gasped. 'He's been found dead of a stroke or heart attack. He'd retreated to the library to mourn. Come…'

Claudia followed them along the exquisitely furnished galleries to the library. In the pool of light pouring through a window at the far end sprawled General Aurelian. Urbana and Cassia knelt close by, rocking themselves backwards and forwards, so distracted by their grief that neither woman protested as Claudia pushed through the servants standing helplessly by and crouched beside the General. His face was whiteish-blue, his eyes open, mouth gaping in all the horror of sudden death. Claudia glanced quickly around. She could see no wine cup, no food, nothing except a manuscript open on the table. Urbana was sobbing uncontrollably. Cassia knelt close by her, one arm across her shoulder, staring fixedly down at the corpse. Claudia felt the dead man's face; it was cold. She leaned closer and smelled his mouth: nothing but wine. She moved aside as the physician who'd been tending Murranus hurried in with a satchel across his shoulder. He felt Aurelian's throat and wrist; he pressed on the stomach and chest, staring into the glassy dead eyes. Claudia was impressed by the man's quiet skill and reserved manner. He drew away.

'A sudden seizure of the heart,' he declared. 'General Aurelian came in here to grieve,- the pain and shock must have been too much for him.'

'Did he have a weak heart?' Claudia spoke over the sobs of the two women.

The physician gestured with his head towards the door before ordering the servants not to move the corpse until he returned.

'Did General Aurelian have a weak heart?' Claudia repeated the question once they'd left the library.

The physician stared up at the ceiling as if fascinated by the carvings. Claudia could see the man was deeply agitated, uncomfortable.

'You know who I am,' she said. 'I am Claudia, servant of the-'

'I know who you are, Claudia.' The physician stared at her, his light green eyes watchful. He was a handsome man, high-cheekboned and thin-lipped. He struck Claudia as sharp, a man who observed closely, said little and kept his own counsel. 'I know who you are,' he repeated. 'General Aurelian told me about you. I am British by birth; my name is Casca. I have studied at the schools of Rhodes, Salerno and here in Rome. I've served the General ever since he retired. I was not only his physician but a close friend, his adviser; someone would even say a personal steward.' The physician chose his words carefully. 'Now, mistress,' he stepped forward, 'to answer your question. General Aurelian was a very good man; beneath his crusty ways he had a kind heart, but it was also a weak one. He'd served long and hard in the army both in Britain and elsewhere. Alexander, his son by his first wife, was his pride and joy, and his death meant the death of Aurelian's world, the end of his own life. I suspect, mistress, he did not wish to live any longer, but wanted to join his son in whatever life exists after death.'

The physician walked away, then came back, standing so close Claudia could smell the sweet crushed herbs in which his robes had been washed. He tapped the side of his head, i'm a physician, Claudia, I can observe and perhaps tell you what is wrong, but what goes on in the mind, in what they call the soul, I do not know. General Aurelian was devastated by the murder of Alexander,- such a hideous death, to be ambushed on a country road and cut down-'

Claudia held her hand up to stop him.

'What's the matter, mistress?'

She tugged at the man's tunic and they walked away from the doorway to stand by an open window overlooking a small courtyard. i may be wrong,' she declared. 'I had a suspicion that those who attacked Murranus and Alexander intended to kidnap the young man, but if that was the case, why did they kill him? Is this attack by the same gang who carried out those other crimes in Rome? Or was it just outlaws? No, no!' She paused. 'That's not logical. If it was a gang of robbers, they would choose much easier prey, not a young man armed and protected by the likes of Murranus, not to mention four servants walking with them. I can't understand that! Why was he killed? Murranus might be able to answer that question. Tell me, Casca.' Claudia held the physician's gaze. 'From the little I know,' she continued, 'Murranus, Alexander and their escort left this villa before dawn. They took the road leading to Rome, so they were bound for the city.'

'True,' Casca conceded. 'Everyone knew that.' He half smiled at Claudia's questioning look. 'Last night,' he continued, 'the General was full of praise for his son. He told anyone and everyone what was going to happen today. How Alexander wished to test his skill against Murranus at the gladiatorial school. How he was interested in arms, that one day he'd make as good an officer in the imperial army as Aurelian had been. The old general announced this to anyone who'd listen, to his guests at dinner, to servants coming and going. Look around you, mistress, this villa is full of people who are recipients of Aurelian's kindness; those two veterans, barbarously murdered in the baths, were only two amongst many. Aurelian always invited people he'd known from his long career. They could stay as long as they wished. People were coming and going, servants travelling here and there; news soon spreads.'

Claudia nodded in agreement. She could imagine the old general boasting the previous night. Anyone could have heard what was intended and slipped away into the city. Once darkness had fallen, despite the villa's gates and curtain wall, they could leave and return and no one would notice.

'What happened last night?' she asked.

The physician blew his cheeks out. 'Well, as I've said, Aurelian was pleased that Murranus had joined us; he felt more secure. He was also satisfied with the story those two veterans had told him, he informed me of that. Anyway, we dined late, General Aurelian, myself, the Lady Urbana and Lady Cassia. Aurelian reminisced about his army days and how Alexander would follow in his footsteps.'

'Did you see or hear anything suspicious?' Claudia persisted. Casca shook his head. 'Would you make further enquiries?' Claudia begged. 'Anything a servant may have seen or heard? Somebody in this villa must know something.'

The physician nodded in agreement.

'Was Leartus there? I mean, at the banquet last night,' Claudia asked.

'Of course,' the physician replied coldly. 'Where the Lady Cassia goes, Leartus always follows. Talking of which, the ladies need me now. I'll remember what you said.' He was about to walk away when Claudia caught his arm.

'The other deaths,' she said, 'the escort?'

'All four were killed instantly,' the physician replied, 'shot by arrows. Their corpses lie in the death house.'

'The two veterans?'

He shrugged. 'According to a slave, Secundus was seen just before dawn walking down to the baths; the General had given him some task. He went in, and the other must have joined him later, but how they were killed so easily, so quietly, I don't know. Now, mistress, I really must go.'

The physician hurried back towards the library, and Claudia went searching for Polybius and Oceanus. She found them sitting on some steps in the kitchen courtyard, surrounded by servants from the sculleries and nearby stables. Polybius was trying to distract them. In the centre of the courtyard was a fountain, the water spout in the shape of a sheaf of corn tied to the tail of a fleeing fox carved out of marble. Polybius was describing the rites of the great festival in Rome when a fox, with burning brushwood attached to its tail, was released at the foot of the Aventine Hill.

'I think the origins,' Polybius declared, who fancied himself as something of a teacher, 'dated from the time when a fox was caught raiding a hen coop. Apparently it was covered in straw and set alight, but escaped with only its tail burning. The sacrifice brought great luck, so ever since then…'

He paused as he noticed Claudia, excused himself, rose and hurried towards her, Oceanus stumbling behind. The servants protested that his story wasn't finished, and Polybius shouted over his shoulder that he would tell them the rest one day. Claudia took them both over to a shadowed corner of the courtyard.

'Before you ask,' Polybius smiled, i snouted like any good little pig for whatever bit of news I could find.' He gestured back towards the kitchen, where the servants, disappointed that his story hadn't been finished, were filing back to their duties. 'It was a happy household. Aurelian ran it with a rod of iron, but he was very kind and generous. The servants loved him. There were many visitors here. Apparently the old general doted on his son and his memoirs, whilst Lady Urbana and Cassia were devoted to their own good causes and the cult of a woman called…' He closed his eyes, screwing up his face.

'The Magdalene.'

'Ah yes,' Polybius opened his eyes, 'the Magdalene.' 'How is Murranus?' Oceanus asked. 'There's a bad bruise to the side of his head and he is still unconscious. I've got to wait until he wakes.' She turned back to Polybius. 'Have you learned anything about the attack?'

'Well, everyone knew they were leaving for Rome. Oh, by the way, someone else was killed, a peasant farmer who worked on the outlying estate. They found his corpse with a feather shaft in his back; he must have been killed by the same people who ambushed Murranus.'

Claudia stared up at the sky. White wisps of cloud were disappearing, the sun growing stronger. 'Let's go there,' she declared. 'I want to visit the place where the attack took place.'

They left the villa, going out on to the sun-baked trackway. Claudia wished she'd brought a hat. The heat was cloying; the cool breeze had disappeared, and sweat trickled along the back of her neck. The trackway was rock hard; the undergrowth, sprouting wirily along the sparse hedgerow, was already alive with insects and the constant clicking of crickets. They reached the place of ambush, dark, cool and shaded by the trees on either side of the road. A place of ghosts, Claudia reflected, where the manes of the murdered hovered restlessly. She quickly muttered an incantation her mother had taught her, not knowing if it was Christian or pagan. Oceanus and Polybius stood, hands on hips, staring up at the interlaced branches above them.

'A good place,' Oceanus declared almost in a shout. 'This is where I would attack someone.' He crouched down and drummed his fingers against the hard pebbled soil.

They searched the ground carefully. Claudia detected bloodstains, fragments of arrows; here and there horses had skittered and turned, their hoofs chipping up the soil. Only faint signs remained of the violent attack which had cost five men their lives. She followed Oceanus into the copse on her left; here the undergrowth was tangled and thick but at last they found a trackway the attackers must have used. Oceanus had spent many years in the auxiliaries, and his military training now came to the fore. At first he was bumbling and hesitant, but eventually he began to point out how the attackers had used the trees on either side of the trackway to position archers. Claudia, standing under the shade of a sycamore, realised how clear a target Murranus and his companions must have been. They crossed the trackway and searched the other copse. Little by little they collected scraps of information. Oceanus reckoned there must have been about twelve men, who had sheltered in the copse for some time; they found a heap of horse dung, a stone where a sword had been sharpened, scraps of food, a broken cup and a piece of leather.

'I believe,' Oceanus concluded, 'that the attackers, about a dozen in all, came here long before dawn. They camped, ate and drank and prepared themselves. The trees are closely packed together; the undergrowth is tangled and dense. Even the birds would get used to their presence. They were professional killers, they knew what they were doing. Strange,' he mused, 'they only had one or two horses.'

'And after the attack,' Claudia declared, 'surely they'd be noticed when they went back to Rome?'

'Not necessarily,' Polybius declared. 'If you follow this trackway it leads down to the crossroads. The attackers could escape down there, break up, mingle with other travellers going to and from the city; as long as they didn't act suspiciously, no one would really notice. Who knows, they may even have been disguised as soldiers, auxiliaries travelling to some garrison. Who would have reason to stop them?'