A Bitter Chill (21 page)

“I don’t know much really. Some trouble over a woman, I gather.” I must tread carefully. Lucius had told us that nobody, not even good friends like Quintus, was aware of his real situation, and keeping that secret was easy enough. But Quintus would guess that Lucius must have got in touch with me to give me some sort of explanation.

“That’s what I heard. Pinched the wife of one of the Procurator’s men, they say.” Quintus smiled properly this time. “The husband isn’t best pleased, and he’s got powerful friends in Rome to back him up.”

“My brother’s been a stupid idiot. He wrote and told me the bare bones of it, but I don’t know where he is now, he just said he’d got to lie low for a bit.” I sipped some wine, relieved that Quintus seemed to have accepted the story.

“He’s certainly an idiot if he’s lost the Governor’s support. I’ve no time for investigators who let their personal lives interfere with their work.”

“Is that so?” The words were out before I could stop them, but he didn’t react, and I hurried on to a safer subject. “Lucius did say that he thinks one of the powerful men in Rome who’s stirring up trouble for him is the Shadow of Death.”

Quintus nodded. “Yes, I’d heard that. It seems he’s found his way into favour at Caesar’s court. He was always plausible, wasn’t he?”

“Aurelia, forgive me for interrupting.” It was Timaeus, approaching our table with his usual irresistible smile.

I returned the smile with enthusiasm. “Ah, Timaeus, let me present Quintus Antonius Delfinus. This is Timaeus, Lord Plautius’ physician. I’m sorry we couldn’t talk earlier, Timaeus. Is now a good time?” Let’s see how Quintus would like
that!

He grinned. “Any time’s a good time, but first his lordship would like a word please, if you’d come along to his room.”

“Certainly. Excuse me, won’t you, Quintus Antonius?” I followed Timaeus out of the bar.

When we were in the hall, Timaeus turned to me, still grinning. “Is that the officer who brought Fabia up from Londinium?”

“Yes.”

He asked casually, “An old friend of yours, is he?”

“More a friend of my brother’s,” I said, hoping I sounded equally casual.

“I see.” He smiled and moved a little closer. Twenty-four hours ago if he’d made a pass at me I might have been only too pleased, but now I wasn’t in the mood.

I took a slow step back. “Does Plautius really want to see me?”

“Not just now. But I do need a word, if you’ve time.” He followed me into my study. “It’s about the murder of poor Leander.”

“Suicide,” I corrected. “Very sad, of course, but Albia and I have said all along that we were innocent.”

“It wasn’t suicide, I’m afraid. Lord Plautius showed me the note that was found beside Leander’s body. But Leander didn’t write it.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because I know who did.”

I felt a surge of excitement. “Who was it?”

“Gaius. I saw him do it.”

“
Gaius?
You’re mad! Gaius wrote a suicide note for Leander?”

“Of course not. Whoever killed Leander was clever enough to make use of something the boy had written which was a kind of confession.”

“A confession? To what, for the gods’ sake?”

“The first morning we stayed here, do you remember Gaius let out that dreadful cat of her ladyship’s? The fluffy yellow object she calls Medusa.”

“I remember. Sempronia threatened that Diogenes would have to climb the oak tree to get her back. I’d have sold tickets for a spectacle like that, but the cat came down of its own accord.”

“All the same, Sempronia was pretty annoyed with Gaius, and was making her usual threats about getting rid of him. So Margarita told him to write out twenty times a message saying sorry and asking for forgiveness. It took him ages, poor kid, but he did it, and it mollified Sempronia. All the messages were written on old scraps of papyrus, and Leander’s so-called suicide note had been torn from one of them.”

“I thought the papyrus was an odd shape. Have you told Plautius?”

“No.”

“Are you going to?”

“Yes, but I thought I ought to talk to you first. After all, if Leander killed himself, then you and your sister are no longer suspects. But if he didn’t….”

“Thanks, Timaeus. I assume from that, you don’t think we are murderers?”

“I think my next line should be, you’re far too beautiful to be a murderer.”

“Who else besides you and Margarita and Sempronia knew about Gaius’ confession?”

“Well…Diogenes did, and Priscus. Some of the slaves too, probably. Is it important?”

“Not when as many people as that were aware of it, no. Look, I expect you know that Plautius wants me and Albia to find out who the murderer is. I could use your help there, if you’re willing. You know the family, but you’re not too close to them.”

He nodded. “I’ll help if I can. So you don’t think
I’m
a murderer either?”

“Definitely not. You’re far too beautiful to be a murderer.”

There was a tap at the door, and Diogenes stepped in without waiting to be asked. “So this is where you’re hiding. I wondered why you weren’t in the bar-room.” He gave me his supercilious sneer. “Getting a little medical advice, are we?”

“Timaeus was just reminding me to make sure nobody in the kitchen meddles with the meals that he prepares for Lord Plautius. Nobody at all.”

“I’ll bet he was! And it’s all such nonsense, not allowing anyone else to serve the master.”

“Did you want me for something, Diogenes?” Timaeus asked. “Or are you just snooping around as usual, seeing what you can overhear?”

“I’m looking for Margarita. Do either of you know where she is? She’s had enough time off for one day, and her ladyship wants her in her sitting-room now. When is she returning from the market?”

“She already has,” I said, surprised. “She and Priscus and Gaius left Oak Bridges before my sister and I did, so they should have got back ages ago.”

He frowned. “Well none of them are here, and neither is the carriage. It’s too bad of her, it really is. My lady gets so agitated when things aren’t just so….” He went on grumbling as he left the room.

“I’d better get back to Plautius,” Timaeus said. “But any time you want us to put our beautiful heads together, you know where I am.”

By dark Margarita and the others still hadn’t returned, and Sempronia wasn’t the only one to be agitated. We all were.

C
HAPTER
XV

My first thought was the obvious one, that their carriage had lost a wheel or broken an axle, or one of the horses had gone lame, so they had had to abandon their transport and walk from Oak Bridges. They’d go at a slow pace, to suit young Gaius. Or perhaps, because of the snow which was still coming down periodically, they’d decided to stay in the shelter of their carriage, but then Titch would have got home somehow to bring us word.

After the first hour of darkness, I had to admit there must be some other explanation. They’d had time to walk all the way from the market to the mansio and back again.

“I don’t know what to do next,” I said to Albia, as we stood by the fire in the bar-room, which was now empty of customers and even of Horatius. “At least they’ve got Titch with them. If there’s been an accident, perhaps someone’s been taken ill, surely he’d come home to get help.”

She kicked at a log in the hearth, sending up a shower of sparks. “You know, Relia, I’m beginning to wonder whether they’ve run away.”

“
Run away?
From Sempronia, you mean?”

“Yes. Do you think they enjoyed their day out together as a family so much that they decided to disappear for a while? They couldn’t vanish for ever, but if they could get far enough away from Oak Bridges to be by themselves for even a couple of days, they might think it was worth the trouble they’d get into when they came back.”

“You read too many Greek love stories, Albia! Priscus, making a bid for a few stolen hours of romance? I can’t see it myself. He finds it hard to disobey Sempronia even in small things. He’d never dare take a risk like that. It would end with Margarita and Gaius being sent off to market.”

“I suppose you’re right. So what shall we do? We can’t just wait around doing nothing but worry.”

“I’ll send some of our men out to search.”

Secundus offered to set off straight away, taking our largest carriage and plenty of torches and blankets. Four of our farm boys rode with him on horseback, carrying cudgels and lanterns. Their instructions were to check the road to Oak Bridges, the market area, and the street where we’d parked the carriages. They were also to ask for information, if they could find anyone to ask at this time of night. The Golden Fleece would probably still be open, but not much else, especially since the snow was now continuous. The wind was rising again, and I didn’t need to warn Secundus to be as quick as he could, before the weather turned to a real blizzard.

Then I took my courage in both hands and set off to see Plautius. He had to be told that his son and two of his slaves were missing. But as I was crossing the hall, Quintus came out of the guest wing, and smiled when he saw me.

“Aurelia, I’ve just heard that Priscus and two servants have disappeared. Can I be of any help?”

“I think Albia and I will manage, thank you. You were kind enough to observe that we’re excellent innkeepers.”

“I know you’re far more than that. But this latest development is in my line of business, it seems to me. I presume you’ve realised what has happened?”

“I’m still investigating the various possibilities.”

“Including,” he came close and spoke almost in a whisper, “the possibility, or probability, that Priscus and his party have been taken hostage?”

“Hostage?
Who by, for the gods’ sake?”

“Someone who reckons that Plautius and Sempronia will pay a sizeable ransom for their son and two valuable slaves.”

I moved a pace back. It unnerved me to be so close to him and yet not touch. “That’s ridiculous, Quintus. This is a safe area, and anyway they were travelling in broad daylight. No, my money’s on some kind of accident, made worse by the fact that it’s snowing, and they either couldn’t or wouldn’t walk home. They’re probably taking shelter in a native roundhouse even now, wishing they could get back here for a hot bath and a good dinner.”

“But your boy Titch is with them, isn’t he? A first-class lad, as I remember. He’d have made contact with you by now if that was the explanation.”

“He’s very likely on his way. It’s all under control. So thank you for your offer of help, but Albia and I can handle this.”

He shrugged. “Whatever you wish. But the offer’s still there, if or when you need it. And I’ve got a good man with me, the best servant I’ve ever had. His name’s Rufus. Feel free to call on him, if he can be of any use.”

“Thank you. One thing you should know, if you’re advising the family. You’ve heard that someone tried to kill Plautius, but got the wrong man?”

“Yes, and then killed himself. They told me. They said you and Albia were suspected of the first attack for a while.”

I nodded. “We were the ones who found the body in Plautius’ bed.”

“I suppose they all realised soon enough that if you two had decided on a murder, you’d have made a decent job of it.”

“Why does everyone keep saying things like that?” I couldn’t help a smile, but then remembered I was supposed to be annoyed with him. “The suicide was no suicide. I know that for a fact. Plautius knows it as well, but we decided to keep it quiet and try to catch the killer off his guard.”

“You’re sure?”

“I just said so, didn’t I?”

“Sorry, yes. You’ve taken me by surprise, that’s all. So the real murderer is still somewhere around. Any idea who it could be?” He was looking at me intently, with that suppressed excitement he often showed during an investigation. I knew it so well.

“In the words of one reliable source, it could be almost anyone in Plautius’ party.”

“Oh, a nice simple problem then. Why?”

“Plautius is in the throes of making a new will, mainly to disinherit Candidus, but there are various other provisions which are causing bad feeling.”

“Bad enough to turn someone into a murderer?”

“Who knows? Oh, and one more thing. We think Titch’s dog may have attacked the murderer, possibly bitten him. So if you see anyone nursing a dog bite, will you let me know? Well, don’t look like that! You may notice something when you’re in the bath-house. One of the things a woman can’t do when investigating a crime is share a bath with the male suspects.”

“H’m. Well, thanks for that.” He smiled again, and the smile reached his purple-blue eyes. “We make a good investigating partnership, you and I.”

“We used to.”

“Remember I’m there if you need me.”

“Right.” That was all I could trust myself to say. I turned away and headed for the bar-room. I felt in need of a drink.

The room was empty, so there was nobody to see the time it took me to recover my cheery expression. But I did recover it, and I sat by the warm fire, making a determined effort not to brood on what had once been, but was no more. I’d enough to think about, with two murders and now three missing guests.

As I got up to fetch a drink, there was a crash and a blast of freezing air as the main door burst open. A small snow-covered figure staggered in, barely recognisable because his clothes and hair were white, and his body was stooped forward as if he was about to collapse.

“Titch! Thank the gods!” I rushed across to him. “Are you all right? Are the others with you?”

He didn’t answer, but struggled to push the heavy oak door shut behind him against the storm. As I helped him, he stumbled, and would have fallen to the floor if I hadn’t caught him. He was shivering, and looked utterly exhausted. “Sorry,” he muttered, “I’m so sorry, Mistress.” He staggered again. I more or less carried him across the room and sat him on a bench by the fire.

“It’s all right, you’re home now. Here’s a warm fire, and I’ll get you some wine. Are the others with you?” I repeated the all-important question as I fetched a lamp and looked at him properly. He was blue with cold, his cloak soaking wet and covered with half-frozen snow. He had bruises on his face, and what looked like a knife-cut across the back of his right hand. He leant towards the fire’s heat, while I helped him off with his cloak and brought him some wine.