A Pattern of Blood Read online

  He was protesting volubly. ‘I can explain, I can explain. Let me talk to His Excellence!’

  His captors, however, ignored him. There was a rope around his neck, and he was being dragged along, none too gently. As I watched in amazement he was half-pulled, half-prodded along the passage to the narrow staircase and disappeared, still protesting, towards the attics.

  The chief slave had come in behind them, and I confronted him at once. ‘What in the name of Mercury . . .?’

  The chief slave said, ‘His Excellence ordered this arrest, citizen. He has found strong evidence against Lupus.’ He smiled. ‘I confess it is a relief to me. At least now we can admit the funeral guests tomorrow. His Excellence has lifted his restrictions on the gate. But he will tell you himself. He is awaiting you in the study.’

  I needed no second bidding. When I got there, Marcus was looking pleased with himself.

  ‘Ah, there you are, old friend,’ he exclaimed heartily as soon as I appeared. ‘Back from your explorations? I fear you were wasting your time. You know that I have now settled the matter?’

  ‘I know,’ I said carefully, ‘that Lupus has been arrested.’ I had to speak loudly. Outside in the courtyard, Maximilian was excelling himself in the lament and the wailing pipes struck up to swell the sound.

  Marcus beamed. ‘Lupus is our man,’ he said, over the uproar. ‘I knew it all along. I’ve had him locked up in the attics for the night, and I’ll order the town gaol to provide an armed escort tomorrow to take him to Pertinax. As a Roman citizen, the old man will have to go to the imperial courts, so there is no point in getting the gaoler out of bed at this hour.’

  ‘Lupus says he can explain,’ I said.

  Marcus snorted. ‘No doubt he does. I’ve heard half a dozen versions of the story already. But it will do him no good. The evidence is too strong. I don’t know what they will do to him in the end. Not execution, probably; more likely he’ll be sentenced to the mines, or – given his age – simply exiled and stripped of everything. Nevertheless, a satisfactory outcome. I am only sorry that you were not here to see it.’ He smiled at me triumphantly.

  I gulped. ‘You are . . . certain of this?’ I hesitated. ‘I felt that the circumstances surrounding Maximilian, for instance, were interesting to say the least.’

  Marcus waved a dismissive hand. ‘Maximilian is an oaf. If I had been his father, I would have done more than threaten to disinherit him, I would have reminded him that I officially had the power of life and death over him. That would have wiped the smirk from his beardless face. But he had nothing significant to add. Except that he now says he went to Julia’s apartments before he came to us. She wasn’t there, he says, so he went to his old rooms to see if there was anything of value he could salvage, in case Quintus carried out his threat and cut him off without a sestertius.’

  ‘Did he now? I suppose it is possible. There is a door there that leads to the rear courtyard. I noticed that a moment ago. But in that case, why did he not say so before?’

  ‘Who knows? He did it, though. Rollo saw him crossing the back courtyard while he was in the slaves’ room. I had him in to check. But it was Flavius who provided the really vital information. As soon as I started questioning him, it was clear that although he and Lupus had been sent out to the front garden to wait together, he spent most of the time pacing about the colonnade alone and actually had no idea where Lupus was, or what he was doing for most of the period. Found the old man a bit of a bore, I suspect, and was actively trying to ignore him. When I pressed him to remember, he said he had a dim impression that the old man had been walking about at one stage, but he couldn’t swear to it. He couldn’t give me a coherent account of what Lupus did and said, even when they were together.’

  I could believe that, I thought. If I had come to this house to sue for Julia – if I had been married to her and lost her and now saw her wedded to someone else – I should scarcely have noticed Lupus if that animated skeleton had torn off his toga and danced naked around the fountain.

  ‘All the same, Excellence . . .’ I began, doubtfully, but Marcus prevented me with a smile.

  ‘All the same, you are not sure that Lupus is guilty? You are such a doubter, old friend. Then let me tell you this. Flavius had one piece of testimony which even you cannot quarrel with. During the meal just now, a slave was pouring wine. Lupus forgot what he was doing, and stretched out that “stiff” hand of his – and where he had been clutching his toga, there were bloodstains on his sleeve. Flavius swears that Lupus saw him looking, and turned as green as grass. Obviously he had been holding his right arm like that as a way of concealing the marks, but he forgot that it was supposed to be stiff in his desire for wine. Spent the rest of the meal trying to conceal the marks again, apparently, but it was too late by then.’

  ‘Bloodstains?’ I was not expecting that. ‘I found a blood libation to Minerva in the rear court,’ I said. ‘I was coming to tell you about it. You don’t think Lupus somehow managed to trail his hems in that?’

  Marcus looked at me pityingly. ‘How could he? He has not been to the rear courtyard. Besides, if he had any kind of excuse, he’d have given it.’

  Lupus had been trying to give an excuse, I thought, but no one was listening to him. I dared not say that to Marcus, however. ‘You are sure they were bloodstains?’

  ‘I saw them myself. And don’t tell me that the man may have picked them up in the market. He came here in a litter, dressed for a formal interview with Quintus. In those circumstances a man ensures that his toga sleeves are clean.’

  I could hardly argue with that.

  ‘I sent for Lupus,’ Marcus said, ‘and asked him to lift his arm. He pretended he couldn’t do it at first, but when I threatened to have him flogged he managed it fast enough. Fresh bloodstains. Lupus gurgled and burbled but he could not account for them. I told you the man was hiding something.’

  ‘I see,’ I said, slowly. ‘Stains on his sleeve. That is certainly suspicious. It is only that . . .’

  ‘What?’ Marcus demanded. ‘A man with motive, means and opportunity is found, after a murder, with bloodstains on his sleeve. Furthermore, he acknowledges that he was at the chariot races. What more do you want? Testimony from the corpse?’ He was mocking, but there was real impatience in it. I knew from the way he was tapping his baton on his hand.

  I chose my words with care. ‘It is only, Excellence, that Lupus is an old man. Of course, you have evidence now that he can use his arm, but that dagger was driven in with dreadful force. You remember Sollers said it had chipped a bone.’

  The baton stopped. ‘An interesting point, old friend. But even an old man can sometimes find surprising reserves of strength. Perhaps we should ask the medicus what he thinks. In any case, I do not believe that Lupus is quite the invalid he pretends in other respects. He talks of his swollen knees and aching joints, but I saw him move with surprising sprightliness just now, when there was a dagger at his back. He could have hurried to Quintus’s room swiftly enough if he chose.’

  I had to admit the justice of that. I had come to the same conclusion myself. ‘And the message,’ I said, slowly. ‘ “Remember Pertinax”. You think he was responsible for that too? Today was the first time he had visited the house, yet that tablet was found at least two days ago.’

  Marcus frowned. ‘He must have smuggled it into the house somehow. Or perhaps he had Mutuus write it for him.’ He brightened. ‘Yes, that would account for it. Mutuus is his adopted son, and he would have access to wax tablets if he needed them.’ He stopped, and added more thoughtfully, ‘Lupus must have heard about that attack on Pertinax. I wonder how? He is not on the curia now, and it is not common rumour. Doubtless Lupus had his spies.’

  I shrugged politely. ‘It is possible, Excellence. Who, in Corinium, might have known the truth?’

  Marcus looked grave. ‘I do not know. Perhaps Lupus can tell us. I shall have him questioned again tomorrow. If the old man knows anything he will tell us, soon enou
gh.’

  I took a deep breath. ‘In the meantime, Excellence, have I your permission to continue my own enquiries?’ Privately I was still convinced that, whatever Lupus did, he was not acting alone. This killing had the marks of bold decision: someone had seen an opportunity and acted swiftly. What I had seen of Lupus did not accord with that. Although, I reminded myself, he had deceived us about his arm.

  He looked at me wryly. ‘Still doubting, Libertus?’

  I thought quickly. ‘I should like to be of some help, Excellence. About that wax tablet, for instance. To prove that you did not bring me here in vain.’

  He smiled indulgently. ‘Very well. You have my permission to keep your eyes open. I suppose at the least you can do no harm. It must be disappointing to find yourself superfluous. I suppose Quintus will not even require his pavement, now.’

  I had not considered that. I should have done; that commission was a matter of pressing financial interest. I said, hopefully, ‘Unless he has endowed one in his will. We shall know tomorrow, I suppose, when the testament is opened in the forum.’

  He made a grimace. ‘Yes, and no doubt as house guests we shall be expected to attend the formalities. It is all very inconvenient – since we were in the house when the death occurred, we shall have to be ritually purified as well – but there is no escape, I suppose. In any case, Libertus, it has been a long day. I should like to retire to my quarters. Go and find a slave to help me. I shall require lamps, of course, and a portable brazier if they have one; the night threatens to be cold. And see if the kitchens can send someone with a tray of something warming – I have not dined substantially today. Although,’ he added, gesturing towards the courtyard, where the lamentation still wailed and moaned, ‘I doubt that I shall sleep, with that confounded caterwauling in my ears all night.’

  I did not have to search for long for a slave. The courtyard was dark, but the chief slave had positioned himself outside the door with a candle, and I had hardly set foot on the veranda when I caught sight of Sollers, now dressed formally in a toga, crossing the courtyard with the turquoise page who was holding a lighted link for him. From other rooms in the house one could detect the flicker of lamplight under doorways and through the clouded windows. Maximilian’s lament had dimmed to a sobbing moan.

  The doctor stopped when he saw me, and came to join me. I was giving Marcus’s orders to the chief slave.

  Sollers heard me out and then nodded to him sharply. ‘See to it instantly. And arrange braziers and lamps for this good citizen, too. He is also our guest.’ He turned to the page. ‘And you, Rollo, go to your mistress and tell her that I will come directly. Leave us the taper.’ The two slaves hastened off together to do his bidding, and Sollers turned to me. ‘I am going to prepare a fortifying draught for her, before she takes her turn at the lament. And I suppose a couch should be prepared in one of the public rooms for Flavius, since His Excellence insists that he should stay here, because of his evidence. I hear Lupus is under lock and key in an attic.’

  ‘Marcus is convinced he is the murderer.’

  Sollers looked at me, his face shadowed and quizzical in the candlelight. ‘But you are not.’

  ‘Are you?’

  Sollers grinned. ‘I confess I am surprised. He would not have been my first suspect.’ He looked at me, that remarkable face glimmering in the taper-light. ‘But I bow to your judgement. You are no mere pavement-maker, I hear. Julia tells me you are an esteemed solver of mysteries.’

  It was my turn to smile. ‘And you are a thinker yourself. Whom would you have suspected, citizen? You know the household better than I do.’

  He seemed flattered that I had asked his opinion, although he was embarrassed at the question. ‘It is hardly my place, citizen,’ he said at last, ‘but in your position I would have questioned Maximilian. He seems to have had the greatest opportunity. And a motive. You heard that his father threatened to disinherit him? He told him so this very morning, too.’

  I nodded. ‘My thoughts exactly. Except that in that case, one would have expected Maximilian to disguise the fact. Instead, he told me about it himself. And look how he reacted to the body. Almost as if he wanted to be accused.’

  Sollers looked at me in surprise. ‘I see your point, pavement-maker. I had not considered that. Although Maximilian is a crass young man. He may not even have seen the danger. Or perhaps his arrogance was all a bluff. Certainly he needed money, and he did not love his father. I should not have put it past him to arrange that attack in the street.’ He smiled doubtfully. ‘But perhaps I am wrong and His Excellence is right. They tell me Lupus had bloodstains on his clothes.’

  News travels swiftly in a household of servants. I nodded. ‘As you did yourself, earlier,’ I said, and had the satisfaction of seeing him look startled. ‘Even before you examined the body.’

  There was a moment’s shocked silence, and then he threw back his head and laughed. ‘Did I, indeed? From when I bled him earlier, no doubt. You are observant, pavement-maker. But I see your reasoning. In your place, I should be suspicious of me. After all, I profit by his will. He leaves me, I think, a small gratuity. Although I promise you, citizen, if I had wanted to murder Quintus, I should have used some subtlety.’

  I smiled. ‘You misunderstand me, medicus,’ I said. ‘I meant to argue that a man does not have to be a killer to have blood on his sleeve. Oh, of course it had occurred to me to wonder if you had stabbed him. But why should you do that? All you had to do was introduce a little poison into the wound, or give him a potion, and he would be dead within a week, still thanking you for your loving care of him. You say he had promised you a gratuity, but if he disinherited his son – as you knew he was threatening to do – your portion would soon have been even greater. As you say, you are not unsubtle. Why would you, of all people, choose this moment to plunge a clumsy dagger in his back?’

  I was holding the candle and his hand closed warmly around mine for a moment. ‘I apologise, citizen. I underestimated you. I should have seen that a man of your intelligence would appreciate these things at once.’

  I was unreasonably flattered by his praise. ‘I had an unfair advantage,’ I explained. ‘I saw you tending Quintus after he was stabbed in the street. I know that without you he would undoubtedly have died that night.’

  He was surprised. ‘You were there?’

  ‘In a shop nearby. I witnessed it by accident. But you did not look like a would-be murderer to me.’

  He laughed. ‘I see. I thought you were merely a good judge of men!’ His face grew serious. ‘Now, I must go to Julia. Maximilian is fading in his lament, and ritual requires that she take his place. Is there anything further that you need from me?’

  I would have liked to speak to Julia, but this was not the moment. In the morning, perhaps. I was surprised to find how much I was looking forward to it. After all, I thought suddenly, Julia herself could well have stabbed her husband. She was not in her apartments when Maximilian called.

  To Sollers I said, ‘One question, citizen. I want your professional opinion. Did Lupus have the strength to deal that blow?’

  He thought for a moment. ‘Perhaps, if he lunged at Ulpius with all his weight. I should like to say “no”, and certainly he would have to be lucky to strike so fatally. But it is possible, yes.’

  ‘Thank you, citizen.’ I grinned. ‘And if you are making a tonic draught for Julia, perhaps you can offer one to Marcus, too. He is worn out by his exertions and complaining that he will not sleep for Maximilian’s wailing.’

  Sollers laughed softly. ‘I will send a sleeping draught on his tray. And one for you too, if you like. But now, here are the slaves coming with the lamps. Excuse me, I must go to Julia. Are you sure there is nothing else you require?’

  I was about to say no when a happy thought struck me. ‘Yes,’ I said suddenly, ‘I would like my own attendant. Have Junio sent to me.’

  Chapter Nine

  Junio was endearingly pleased to see me. He was not accust
omed to endless hours of waiting. Back at the Glevum workshop, he was my only servant. He helped me with everything, and I was additionally teaching him the rudiments of pavement-making. One day, when he gained his freedom, when I was gone or he was old enough to manumit, I intended that he would have a trade to support himself.

  Several hours of idleness in the attic had been hard for him to bear, and he threw himself into my service with enthusiasm. A pair of matching slaves had been sent to tend me, but Junio would not allow them near me. He insisted on doing everything himself. He stoked the braziers, trimmed the wicks, fetched water to bathe my hands and feet, combed oils through my hair and beard, plumped up my cushions, extricated me from my outer garments, lighted my way to the latrine and finally tucked me up, cleansed and shining, under the woven blankets on the luxurious Roman bed – wooden frame, webbed base, padded mattress and all. When, after all that, he sat down on the floor beside me and began to fold and brush my toga, I took pity on the waiting pair and sent them away.

  Junio, who up until then had been according me unaccustomed respect, and speaking only when spoken to, put down his work as soon as they were gone and grinned at me cheerfully. ‘No spiced mead tonight, master.’ It was my favourite nightcap, but not one I expected to find in a Roman household. ‘How will you ever sleep? And on such an uncomfortable bed, too.’

  I found myself grinning back. My bed at home was a humble pile of reeds and rags. ‘Doubtless I shall manage. The physician has promised me a sleeping draught.’ I explained to Junio the events of the day.

  He nodded. ‘I heard that Quintus Ulpius was dead, of course. Eventually. We thought something must have happened – Marcus’s slave and I – we were promised bread and cheese in the attic, but no one came near us for hours. We did not worry at first: we had a gaming board, and I was beating him at twelve-stones.’

  I sighed. It was no use remonstrating with Junio: he had been raised in the sort of Roman household where even the slaves learned to gamble as soon as they could count. Even if the dice were loaded, as they often were, he could calculate odds faster than I could measure a pavement. ‘I hope he could afford it?’