The Ghosts of Glevum Page 22

  ‘That’s right, citizen. A big black messenger.’ Lercius came over to the fire and squatted down, while Cornovacus went back to join the dwarf. ‘I’ve got another message, too, but Sosso says I mustn’t tell you till you’ve paid.’

  Another sestertius changed hands. ‘Another message? From my slave?’ I was not very hopeful, if the message came from Umbris again, but it was worth a coin.

  This time I was in for a surprise.

  ‘Your slave said to say he saw Mellitus’s shadow in Corinium again. He saw them together in the market place and discovered from the cake-seller that the shadow was Mellitus’s own. That was the message. It didn’t make much sense, but anyway he wanted you to know. Made me repeat it several times. It didn’t mean anything to me.’

  Shadow, I thought suddenly. Was it possible? Is that what Junio had said? He had seen Umbris in Corinium? Lercius had never heard the name and his Latin, though fluent, was inaccurate. Umbris had been to Corinium, I knew. But surely Junio would not send a message that concerned the messenger himself? Unless Julia had sent a different slave the second time, via the garrison, perhaps, as I’d heard her suggesting to the guard.

  ‘A different messenger, I suppose?’ I asked Lercius.

  Lercius nodded.

  I sighed. The message made no sense in any case. Umbris belonged to Marcus, not to Mellitus.

  Or did he? The Nubian slave had been a gift to Marcus, a bribe from someone staying in the villa. Mellitus had visited before. What if he had ‘given’ Marcus what seemed a handsome gift? That would mean he had a spy within the household, someone who could watch and listen – and report to him. Someone who was well placed to poison another’s food – and make sure that it reached the intended victim too.

  I had decided long ago that Praxus’s murderer must be a man of strength. Someone with sufficient size to seize him by the neck and throttle him when the dose of toxin proved not quite enough. From the beginning I had thought that only someone in Marcus’s household could have done the deed. Umbris was the obvious candidate. I had not wished to countenance the thought, when I imagined Julia was involved – but supposing Umbris worked for Mellitus?

  ‘That’s it,’ I said excitedly. ‘That solves the mystery of Praxus’s death, at least. Mellitus gets Umbris accepted in the house. Marcus is very pleased with him, and uses him at feasts. Then when Praxus comes along, and power is to be shared among the three, Mellitus sees a chance to murder him and seize more influence for himself. He provides the poison, Umbris serves it to Praxus in a dish – a very hefty dose of it no doubt. All this takes place in Marcus’s house, so even if anything goes wrong suspicion won’t fall on Mellitus – who makes very sure that he doesn’t leave the banquet, or drink any of the wine. The only danger is the bucket-boy – who knows that Umbris ordered him away – so Umbris chases him and murders him, and hides the body to disguise that he’s been there. Dear gods! Of course. That’s why he talked of Marcus as his “owner” all the time – his real master was someone else! To Golbo, of course, master and owner were the same.’

  They were all staring at me silently. Even the woman and her boys had clustered round the door, and were listening openly to this.

  ‘Don’t you see?’ I said. ‘It must have been Mellitus who arranged that Umbris should be freed and allowed to act as Marcus’s messenger. The arrangement was presented as a concession to my patron, but of course it was nothing of the kind. Mellitus handled it very cleverly. He controlled the go-between! That gave him access to Marcus’s messages – no wonder he allowed them to be sent!’

  I looked around. They were still gazing at me, rapt.

  ‘And of course, as procurator he had sufficient rank to co-opt Praxus’s bodyguard,’ I went on enthusiastically. ‘When Praxus’s death stopped looking like an accident he ordered that the villa should be searched – I heard him do it. No doubt he got the guard to plant that document. That way he turned events to his advantage. He made sure that Marcus was arraigned – so both of his rivals were accounted for! It was very neat. And when I started asking questions, he set Bullface’s soldiers on to me. It all makes sense.’

  I looked round the room triumphantly.

  Then Sosso spoke. ‘Good theory, citizen,’ he grunted. ‘Pity that not all of it is true.’

  XXV

  I stared at him, but Sosso shook his head. ‘We can prove it,’ he said. ‘Lercius and me. Cost you a sestertius, of course.’

  The story, once I had paid for it, was this. The dwarf had done exactly as I’d asked, and sent his gang around the town to find out where Mellitus had gone. One of them – the woman with the child – was sent to investigate a seedy inn just outside the city walls, intended for travellers who missed the closing of the gates.

  ‘All your friends were on the lookout, then?’ I interrupted in surprise.

  ‘Still are. One at the garrison. Another begging outside Balbus’s door . . .’ He was checking on his stubby fingers as he spoke. ‘One at your workshop too. You want to hear them all?’

  I shook my head. Those few sestertii had been earned, I thought. ‘Go on.’

  ‘I can tell you,’ Cornovacus said. ‘The woman asked for water at the kitchen door and started talking to the slave who scrubbed the floors – you know the sort, searches the straw for bed-bugs every day. The silly sow had no more sense than boast about the “most important man” who had turned up in the middle of the night – in a litter with a page-boy at his side. Caused more sensation in a place like that than Jupiter arriving in a thundercloud. Anyway, the landlord turned his mistress out of bed and gave up his private room to Mellitus – he’d have offered to lick his sandals clean, by all accounts. I don’t suppose the procurator was all that impressed, but the place was cheap enough and he agreed to stay. It was like a confounded henhouse there next day, it seems, everybody twittering about and sending off for bark-paper, ink – all kinds of luxuries – while Mellitus went off to the garrison.’

  ‘Went there all right,’ Sosso grunted, by way of confirmation of the tale. ‘Our man saw him go.’

  Capria chose that moment to come in with branches for the fire, and Cornovacus let her add them to the flames and leave again before he went on. ‘Came back looking as self-satisfied as a hunter with a bear and ordered lunch. Then, suddenly, his page came back with a message in his hand, and suddenly Mellitus paid up and went. Left everything – didn’t even stop to eat his lunch.’ He sneered. ‘The slave-girl finished off his pie herself, the stupid wench, and was soundly beaten when her owner learned of it.’

  ‘So, we lost track of Mellitus again?’ I said.

  Sosso shook his head. ‘Told the slave to order him a horse. All true. Lercius checked.’

  The boy chimed in, eager to agree. ‘There is a hiring stables right next door. The owner’s got the order chalked up on the wall. Hire and escort to Corinium, he said – though I couldn’t read the words, of course. Don’t know any more, because he threw me out. I poked one of his horses with a stick and made it rear. Didn’t it whinny, too?’ He grinned happily at the memory.

  ‘So Mellitus went home to Corinium. That’s what Junio’s message said. I wonder why? I’ve no doubt that the procurator organised events. The Nubian was here to act on his behalf. But something must have made him run away. It would be nice to know what made him change his mind like that.’

  Sosso nodded. ‘Exactly, citizen. That’s why we brought you this.’ He held out a scrap of folded bark. ‘Lercius got it from the serving girl today. Had to twist her arm a bit.’

  ‘A note?’ I stretched out a hand for it, but Sosso snatched it back.

  Lercius gave that manic laugh of his. ‘Serves her right for boasting that she had a souvenir. The procurator tried to throw it in the fire, she said, but she went and rescued it. She wouldn’t give it to me at first, but . . .’ He mimed a savage twist.

  ‘Worth a sestertius, citizen?’ Sosso said.

  I paid up with a sigh. At this rate, I would soon be penniless again
. And although I was sure I knew who murdered Praxus now, that was only half the problem solved. The question of the document remained, and therefore what I knew so far would not help Marcus in the least. Even if I could persuade a court of law that Umbris and Mellitus were responsible for Praxus’s death – and I had no proof – the ring-sealed letter condemned my patron on a greater charge. Though I had suspicions about that as well. Mellitus had ordered the guard to search the villa that night, which suggested that he knew what they would find. Had Umbris somehow stolen Marcus’s ring earlier and planted the incriminating document in his study? Had they set Bullface after me as well?

  ‘Going to read it?’ Sosso broke into my thoughts.

  I unfolded the little piece of bark. The message did not instantly incriminate Mellitus, as I had hoped. It was brief and very difficult to read, a few words scrawled in charcoal in an unformed hand, the spelling dreadful and the Latin worse, the whole thing scorched and blackened at the edge. All the same, I could discern the general drift. New charges against Marcus . . . found a document . . . has taken charge of Praxus’s bodyguard and might be dangerous. . . . back to Corinium and report. That much I could make sense of, but the final line defeated me – though it was least affected by the flames. Try as I would, I could only read it as The pig is in the drain.

  I tried to reason out what the note implied. The message was obviously from Umbris, and had reached Mellitus around midday – the serving girl was giving him lunch. From my experience at the garrison, when I was first admitted and then turned away, the second charge against my master had been laid while I was there, or immediately before, and that was in the morning. Marcus would have been permitted to write home at once, and Umbris was reporting to his master what the letter said – he must have read it as he carried it to Julia. The timings tallied. That all made sense.

  Yet obviously Mellitus was not aware of the new charge, or why should Umbris write to him? Who had ‘taken charge of Praxus’s bodyguard and might be dangerous’? And above all, what did Umbris mean by ‘the pig is in the drain’?

  I looked at Sosso. ‘What do you make of this?’

  ‘Can’t read it.’ He shrugged. ‘But if it says what Cilla says it says . . .’

  ‘You’ve been inside the villa wall again?’

  ‘Lercius did. The way he went before. How else could we discover what it said? Can’t afford to pay the market scribes. Show him, Lercius.’

  This time it was Lercius who put his hand inside his ragged robe and from a little leather pouch (I recognised my purse) produced an article for my inspection.

  ‘There wasn’t any pig that I could see, though I looked everywhere. Even the double-seat latrine. I was lucky there. There’s a cesspit for the servants at the back, so no one is bothering much with the latrines now that your patron is away. I put my hand in right up to my arm, but there was no obstruction anywhere. The only thing I found was this. It looked as if it might have been pushed down beneath the seats. It was lying on the ledge above the stream. Here!’ It was, by no imagination, like a pig – it was a small lump of something soft and pale, smelling not too dreadfully of drains. Lercius put it into my reluctant hand.

  I looked at it with a kind of horrified fascination, but I didn’t put it down. Slimy, soft and soggy. Where had I touched something of the kind before? ‘Pigs,’ I said, suddenly remembering. ‘The almond-bread pigs that were served at the feast. That’s what this is. A piece of almond bread. Of course. Umbris served the guest of honour first – so he could make sure which piglet Praxus ate! Later, this was in the water pail – I put my fingers on it. Umbris must have put it there when he was drowning Praxus in the vomitorium. Loquex told me he had been carrying something on a plate.’

  Lercius was staring in astonishment.

  ‘This is firm evidence!’ I said. ‘This is what poisoned Praxus at the feast. And Umbris served him – we have witnesses. The note connects the pig with Mellitus. Praxus must have tasted something odd and staggered out – so Umbris had to finish him by hand. We’ll give this bread to the civic authorities. If they feed these remnants to a criminal, he’ll die, and then the case is proved.’

  ‘Not so, citizen.’ Cornovacus stepped across the fire, and spoke urgently to me. ‘Even if what you say is true, how could you convince a court that your wretched patron didn’t hatch the plot? His food, his slave, his kitchens – and he had as much to gain as Mellitus. And, Dis take it, what about that document?’

  I nodded. In my enthusiasm I had momentarily overlooked the fact that even if I had solved one half of the problem, a greater one remained.

  Cornovacus gave a sour smile. ‘You are a clever thinker, but you’re wrong. Like one of Tullio’s confounded eels, you’ve fallen into the trap they set for you.’

  ‘They?’ I said.

  ‘The people who really did all this,’ he said. ‘Important people – I don’t know their names – but I can show you who they are, and where they live. Both of them were there at Marcus’s house that night. Great Mithras, man, don’t look at me like that. Can’t you see what’s right in front of you? They wanted you to find the clues that led to Mellitus. Perhaps he did murder Praxus, I don’t know, but if so they encouraged him, and if you hadn’t worked it out probably they’d have “discovered” it themselves. They planned his downfall, don’t you understand? – and your patron’s too. With Praxus gone, that clears the way for them.’

  I stared at him. ‘How do you know all this?’

  ‘They bribed your little twitching friend to help, that’s how.’ He laughed unpleasantly. ‘Amazing what facts come tumbling out, when you shake a man hard enough.’

  ‘The secretary to the garrison? But what could he have done? I can’t believe . . .’

  Cornovacus quelled me with a glance. ‘Listen, citizen, I don’t give a whore’s dowry if your patron dies or not. You’re paying me to help, and I am telling you. If you don’t believe me, come and listen for yourself. I know where they meet. I’ll take you there and you can see. Tomorrow, at first light, if you like. We’ll lie in wait for them – I know a hiding place. I guarantee in half an hour you’ll be convinced, and have all the evidence you need.’ He shot me a look. ‘If you’re prepared to pay for it, of course.’

  ‘You want a whole denarius again?’

  He leaned closer. ‘I want the aureus,’ he said, and his tone was menacing. ‘I know you’ve got it, citizen. I saw it earlier. But if this information frees your wretched patron, it’s worth it, isn’t it? Or shall I send to tell him that you grudged the fee? I’m sure Parva could find a way to let him know.’

  I looked to Sosso for support, but the dwarf was cleaning his fingers with his knife again. ‘Greedy,’ he said, without looking up. ‘But quite likely true. If Cornovacus says that you’ll have evidence, you will.’

  I sighed. I had no personal faith in Cornovacus as a guide, though I had to admire his abilities as a blackmailer and spy. I would not have put it past him to take me into town, steal my gold aureus and flee. But I did trust Sosso, and he seemed to think that it was worth my while. Besides, what did I have to lose? Without this promised evidence there was no chance my patron would be freed, and then there was no future for me here. At best I would have to leave Glevum with my wife and try to start again, selling my pavements somewhere else. Not an easy prospect, at my time of life. At worst . . .

  I took a deep breath. ‘Very well,’ I said. ‘You make sure I’m smuggled into town and I’ll come with you as you suggest. But no money till I see the evidence.’

  I thought that he might argue, but he simply smiled. ‘Agreed.’

  Sosso gave his owl-cry again and Tullio and his family, who had been hovering at the door, came in and huddled with us round the fire. The woman brought in the basketful of eels – all skinned and filleted by now – which she tipped into a pan. Soon she had fried enough to feed us all, before settling her children into bed and eating her own supper by the fire. She raked the embers around a sort of pot in which sh
e set a round of dough to bake, and then – still silent – retired from the hearth.

  Her husband grunted and got slowly to his feet, gesturing that she could go to bed. I lay down on my designated pile of reeds and tried to rest while Tullio went out into the dark and led Sosso and his gang back through the marsh.

  I had so much to think about that sleep eluded me. Who were the two ‘important people’ who had planned the downfall of the proposed triumvirate? What was I missing that was self-evident? I gave it up at last, and must have fallen into fitful sleep, because I dreamt I was the high priest of Jupiter, dressed in a woman’s mantle and a sack, helping Gaius the old ex-councillor thread piglets on a string, while Gwellia threw scraps of bark-paper in the fire.

  ‘You’ve learned one useful thing from this,’ Gwellia told me in my dream. ‘If you can catch eels, at least we’ll never starve.’

  XXVI

  I woke to a damp day and the smell of fresh-baked bread. The little house was full of steam and smoke, and when I raised myself on my arm to look out of the door, I saw that wisps of mist were rising from the river flats and joining a curtain of misty rain that hid the trees.

  ‘Ah, citizen! You are awake.’ Tullio’s wife was already astir, fanning the fire into life and dusting ashes from the baking pot. ‘Do you want food?’ She gestured to where her boys were squatting on the floor. They had the iron skillet in which the meal had been fried the night before, and were mopping up the grease with chunks of flat bread from the loaf, which they stuffed hungrily into their mouths.

  My stomach rebelled at the suggestion of more eels, but I accepted a morsel of the bread, washed down with a beaker of brackish rainwater. Capria waited patiently until I’d finished my feast before she said, ‘My husband’s waiting for you,’ and gestured to the door.