‘Is that so?’ Luka asked silkily. ‘Many young boys are seduced but few ally themselves with a murderer.’
‘I couldn’t go to my father and tell him what Severinus had done to me.’ Caius blushed with shame and self-disgust and, for a brief moment, Artorex felt a stab of pity. Caius could easily have been a well-born victim and to admit his rape would be to shame himself further.
Caius’s eyes displayed no emotion. He was no catamite, his tastes ran to young women, as meek and child-like as possible. His rape had convinced Caius that he hated pain - unless he was the person inflicting it. And this twisted and frightened young creature feared Severinus, who recognized the flaw in the boy’s nature and probed that weakness remorselessly until Caius was trapped in a nightmare of his own vices. No matter how fiercely Caius had thrown himself into debauchery, a part of his nature had remained frightened and ashamed.
Now, sensing that Severinus was under threat, Caius saw a way of saving himself from his friend’s demands and diverting Artorex’s rage at the death of his mother. Caius took pains to cower and beg, although the true core of his nature screamed furiously at his assumed compliance.
‘At first, we sacrificed a few sheep at the time of the Lupercal. The sport seemed harmless enough. I felt truly Roman for having taken part in the ancient ritual, for Severinus was always casting doubt on the purity of my Roman blood.’
The silence in the room was absolute, and Caius schooled his face to appear pathetic.
‘Years ago, Severinus and his catamite stole two children from the village. I became aware of it, and I was sickened by what they did. But I had no part in their deaths.’
‘It’s just as I told you, Artorex,’ Targo interrupted, spitting on the floor in contempt. ‘He only had the balls to watch.’
‘I couldn’t believe what Antiochus did to that girl. It was horrible!’
‘Was she attractive?’ Luka asked slyly.
Caius looked revolted. ‘No, of course not! She was only a child. Severinus gave me the task of burying her body, but I couldn’t even bear to cover her with earth when I unwrapped her corpse.’
‘Who removed her hands?’ Luka asked. ‘She was alive when they were hacked off.’
‘Antiochus did it,’ Caius whimpered. ‘She wasn’t dead when we unwrapped her. And Antiochus said the bitch would tell her kin in the village if she was allowed to live so he cut off both hands with his short sword. There was nothing I could do to stop him.’
‘Yet you left her to bleed to death?’
‘No! I stayed with her until she stopped breathing - and then I closed her eyes.’
‘What did Antiochus want to do with her hands?’ Artorex asked with sick curiosity.
‘He told me that Mistress Severina wanted them for some woman’s charm. I asked no more questions - I didn’t want to know.’ Caius looked at the sickened faces that encircled him and cowered back into the corner of the room. ‘On my mother’s head, Artorex, I was only seventeen. I didn’t know what to do! Who would have believed me if I had spoken out? Please, I don’t rape children!’
The last howled comment was true, Caius had no need to dissemble. Even Llanwith believed him, and the cold inner part of Caius rejoiced to trace the sickened acceptance in their eyes.
The need to purge his body filled Artorex’s mouth with a taste of bile. He couldn’t imagine any magical spell that would require the mother of Severinus to use the hands of a girl child. Like Caius, Artorex simply didn’t want to know, and he believed his foster-brother’s excuses - although he knew he was seeking the easy way out of his promise to Livinia.
‘What Roman matron could act in such a vile fashion?’
‘The mother of Severinus is worse than he is,’ Caius whined.
‘And what of the boy?’ Targo asked. ‘Did you take turns to pleasure yourselves with him?’
Caius was genuinely revolted. ‘I never knew what happened to the boy until later. I threatened to tell my father, but Severinus reminded me that I had assisted in the disposal of the dead girl’s body and I’d be judged guilty of the same crimes as he was.’ Caius hesitated briefly. ‘Every time Severinus takes his entertainment, I become ill with apprehension. He insists that I watch until I am sick, and then he allows me to take my leave. I’m kept fully in his power.’ Caius was almost telling the truth.
‘But your fears don’t explain what happened tonight,’ Artorex reminded Caius.
‘I know that Severinus has taken another boy,’ Caius whispered softly. ‘He sent word that I was required tonight to attend his “feast”, as he calls it, and that no excuses would be accepted. I tried to send a message that we had visitors at the villa, but Severinus didn’t care. During our meal tonight, I had to endure the thought of what he would do to me because of my absence from his entertainment, and I was frantic with terror.’
Caius genuinely hungered to be free of Severinus and his friends. The Roman was drunk with his diseased pleasures and was taking greater and more unacceptable risks. Sooner or later, Severinus would be caught, and the justice meted out would be cruel and swift. Caius was, in truth, sick with apprehension that he would be caught up in the destruction of the Severinii family.
Now he saw a way out of the trap he had devised for himself so he kept talking.
‘I just snapped when Julanna tried to stop me, and whined on and on that I loved my friends more than I loved her. I hate Severinus! I hate him! I wish he were dead so that I can once again become free. As Julanna nagged on and on, all I could think of was how I had to get away. But she set up such a crying and keening that I lost control of my senses - and I tried to shut her up.’
‘Your feeble explanation is very convenient,’ Luka commented, his face twisted with disgust.
‘Severinus took an intaglio ring from me some time ago in payment of a debt. It is a jewel that could easily be recognized as my property, and he swore to leave it with one of the corpses if I didn’t do exactly as he ordered. He terrifies me - even more than you do!’ Caius’s eyes darted from one unforgiving face to another. His cold, inner self hunted desperately for the words that might exonerate him from his manifold sins.
‘Your friend is a brave man when it comes to killing children,’ Artorex murmured sardonically. ‘I wonder if his courage will stand by him when he is faced by men?’
‘You can’t confront him,’ Caius panted. ‘It would be the death of me.’
‘I think we can, you know,’ the baritone voice of pen Bryn stated coldly. ‘Where is this Severinus? I have a sudden desire to meet him.’
‘You must tell us, Caius,’ Luka added. ‘For, if necessary, we’ll use means that you won’t enjoy to force the answers out of you.’
As his eyes darted around the chamber, Caius realized that he had no choice but to comply, and information began to spill from his lips.
‘He has a crypt, an underground room that he has devoted to Dionysus and other older and darker gods. He keeps the children there for the rituals, because he believes their suffering will make him stronger.’
‘How do we find this crypt?’ Artorex asked, his face carefully masked to hide his loathing.
‘There’s a trap door in the mosaic floor in his scriptorium at the Villa Severinii. The entrance is hidden under a floor rug with a large eye woven into it. He says it is the orb of the black god.’
‘Your association with Severinus is about to come to an abrupt end, one way or another’, Artorex said. ‘Your father will never have cause to be ashamed of your actions and I predict you will soon become interested in Ector’s affairs, as a good son should. No, don’t argue, Caius, for you have no bargaining power left to you. You will stay here in your rooms with your wife and new daughter, and you’ll consider earnestly how you intend to live so that your mother’s shade will find peace. You can leave the rest to me.’ Artorex smiled thinly. ‘From this day on, Frith will be watchful in case you should ever decide to take your bad temper out on your wife and child. She will ensure that several stout servants will be on call if you are stupid enough to ever use your fists again.’
‘And Severinus?’
‘Severinus will soon be entertaining some important visitors,’ Targo interjected. His mouth was a seamed wound of half-suppressed contempt and Caius flinched away from the old soldier’s basilisk glare.
‘And, in case he should wish to argue his rights, all five of us will be present to answer any questions he might have,’ Luka added sardonically.
Caius cowered as the men saw to their weapons, but Targo watched the young man’s hands, which clenched and unclenched as if they searched for something to grip and tear.
‘You’re not to leave the villa, Caius,’ Artorex warned. ‘I’ll know if you even attempt to disobey me. And no warnings are to be sent to Severinus, for I’ll soon become aware of your duplicity if you attempt to do so.’
‘No! No! I wouldn’t do that. I swear I’ll obey you in all things.’
‘See that you do obey me, Caius,’ Artorex continued. ‘For your mother’s sake, I’ll try to extricate you from the sins of your fine Roman friends. But should I discover that you, personally, have shed innocent blood, or lied to us, I’ll expose your knowledge of these hideous crimes to your father, loath though I’d be to do so in his time of grief.’
‘I haven’t lied to you!’
‘Then I’d suggest that your wife and daughter are awaiting your congratulations and your best efforts at reconciliation. You may be sure, Caius, that I’ll kill you if you raise your hand against your wife or your child. As long as we are alive, you will be bound to your oath and you will act like a Roman gentleman. You owe your mother a change of heart and, by Mithras, you will honour her shade by making her death have some purpose. You’d be wise to understand that you are under threat from all who are here this night. Do you understand me, Caius?’
‘Aye!’ Caius muttered, his eyes hidden.
‘Look at me, foster-brother! You’d be unwise to think that you can placate me and then go back to your old life. Your punishment is to live to prove every day that you can be trusted. I don’t know whether I will ever believe you.’
Myrddion shot a quick, searching glance at the steward. Caius was being forced to become a penitent curled at Artorex’s feet, but Myrddion couldn’t see any trace of sympathy in the face of his protégé. To live on, to harbour one’s guilt and to endure life under constant suspicion was a cruel punishment, even for an unforgivable crime.
Shortly afterwards, five grim men left Caius’s rooms, pausing only to collect their arms and don dark cloaks.
Artorex spoke briefly to Frith. He instructed her to watch Caius with the stable boys on hand during his absence, in case his foster-brother should try to take his own life, or undertake some other foolish action. Satisfied that the villa was in order, he followed the others to the stables.
The night was thick with shadows, for the hour was well after midnight, that time when the vitality of the body wanes, and even the moon seems like a pallid skeleton of itself in a starless sky.
The horses and men disappeared like silent wraiths into the fog that blurred the outlines of the Villa Poppinidii.
CHAPTER VI
CLEANSING THE ALTAR
After an hour’s hard riding under a gelid moon, the party arrived at a sumptuous villa on a bare hill overlooking Aquae Sulis proper. Although no lights shone, the brick and stone of the buildings seemed to be awake and eerily sentient. In those dark hours preceding the dawn, the villa appeared to crouch like a jewelled toad on the spine of the hill, causing Artorex to suppress a superstitious shudder.
The floor plans of Roman villas, despite their thick walls, usually followed the natural variations of the terrain, so that they blended with their surroundings. With their orchards, gardens and running water, Roman homes were graceful and comfortable places.
But the Villa Severinii was unlike any Roman palace that Artorex had ever seen. The hill was bare of all vegetation and no sculptures were visible along the walls to soften the harshness of the bare stone. The structure hadn’t been whitewashed, as was the normal custom; Severinus had ordered that a dark red ochre should be mixed with a skim of mortar, which might have been fashionable in old Pompeii but transplanted into Aquae Sulis gave the impression that the villa had been dipped in drying blood.
Boldly, but on silent feet, five grim men led their horses up to the stables. The silence was tomb-like, and the air seemed unnaturally prescient. Not a soul was stirring in the villa, not even an ostler. The horses rolled their eyes, sensing something unwholesome in the air, and Artorex was suddenly grateful that he had not come alone.
The humid weather conditions conspired to suffocate the intruders. It was the kind of warmth that rarely came to the north but, when it did, it left the weak or the very old short of breath and close to death. Within their light armour, the friends sweated profusely, even in these early hours of the morning when the cooler breezes should have brought some relief.
Perhaps the earth itself is sickening here, Artorex thought as he wiped away the sweat that streamed down his face.
The gate at the entrance to the villa had been left unlatched, perhaps in anticipation of the arrival of Caius. A drowsy steward intercepted the armed men as they entered the atrium, his eyes flaring in sudden panic. He would have run to raise the alarm had pen Bryn not picked him up bodily from behind, clamped one hand over his mouth and expertly snapped his neck.
‘The servant could have been innocent,’ Artorex protested.
‘Not if he lived in this pestilence,’ Llanwith whispered. ‘Smell the air, my young friend. The corruption of death hangs over this villa.’
‘The air is thick with a cloud of perfume,’ Targo grunted as he dragged the body of the steward into the shadows. ‘Damnation! The place smells like a whore’s armpit.’
The same cloying heat accentuated the stink of attar, precious oils and something sweet, sickening and dead that pervaded the painted walls of the villa.