A Pattern of Blood (11 page)

The light was fading now, and I was anxious to get back to Marcus before he finished his enquiries without me. Since he had mentally identified Lupus as the killer, I knew that his questions to everyone else were likely to be perfunctory.

All the same, I wanted to examine the grotto. The girl had hidden there. Could a killer have done the same – perhaps even as Marcus and I were hurrying to the murder scene? I walked across and examined the bowers carefully, but there was nothing particular to see. No helpful fragments of cloth caught on the stone seats, no wisps of hair trailing on the branches, no footprints with distinctive hobnail patterns imprinted in the earth. I looked at the statues. They were half as high as a man, and elegantly carved. A predictable foursome: Jupiter, Mercury, Mars and Minerva. Quintus, it seemed, had a particular attachment to Minerva. It was her statue which I had also noted in the front courtyard, though this was a far superior sculpture.

I moved a little closer. Certainly, someone in the household favoured the goddess. There had been recent oblations offered at the shrine. Small fragments of bread and morsels of honey cake had been scattered on the plinth, where the birds were accepting them gratefully, if Minerva had not. Someone had offered a libation too; there was a dark dampness in the fresh earth channel in front of the statue, as if someone had poured out a liberal cupful of red wine. I bent and touched my fingers to the earth.

They came away sticky, and I gazed at them in dismay. A swift sniff confirmed my suspicions. The liquid had been red all right, but it was not wine. Someone had offered Minerva a libation of fresh blood.

The caped girl had not put it there. She had dropped her jug before she went into the grotto, and in any case the libation was too old for that. Of course there was another possible explanation. Animal sacrifice is common at Roman festivals, the blood poured out by the officiant and the flesh eaten afterwards. In wealthy households like this, the monthly festivals were usually marked by a family sacrifice. Yet it was far from the first or last day of the month, and the earth was still moist. Even allowing for the general dampness of the air and soil, this blood had been spilled here not many hours ago. Since we had been at the house, I guessed. But there had been no mention of a memorial sacrifice, no family attendance at the shrine, and there had been none of the squawking and squealing which usually accompany the ritual slaughter of chickens, lambs or pigs.

No: the more I thought of it, the more sure I became. This libation, if that was what it was, had been made earlier, and secretly. And in that case there was a possibility that the blood was human. Not, of course, that there was any way of finding that out for certain.

It was a macabre thought and I got to my feet, shivering. I must report this to Marcus.

As I turned to go, a sudden sound pierced the air, an unearthly, eerie, ululating wail that shivered the blood. It reached out mournfully to every shadowed corner, and echoed dismally around the empty columns.

Maximilian had begun the lament.

I re-entered the house, to return to Marcus. In the atrium, however, I encountered a commotion. Two burly slaves swaggered self-importantly in from the front courtyard, each with a knife in his hand, and between them, prodded at dagger-point, with his head bowed and his arms bound firmly behind him, came Lupus.

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 enough.’

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.’