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Authors: Jane Finnis

Tags: #Fiction, #Mystery & Detective, #General, #Women Sleuths, #Historical, #FICTION / Mystery & Detective / General

Buried Too Deep (22 page)

BOOK: Buried Too Deep
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Quintus nodded and turned to Vividus. “Then will you excuse me while I find out what she has to tell me? I’ll take the opportunity to show her the place where your uncle met his death. Unless you’d rather…? No, I thought not. I’m sure you don’t want the distress of visiting it again.”

“No, I leave that to you. The priests will be here soon for the ritual cleansing, so if you want to see the place as it is now, you’d best not waste any time. Meanwhile, what do you want me to do?”

“We need to find your brother Ferox as a matter of urgency. If you could send men out to look for him, that would aid our enquiries. You’ll have a good idea of where he’s likely to be found, if he’s just carrying out his usual duties as estate manager.”

“All right, I’ll send out a search party.”

“Thank you. And please tell your gatekeepers that nobody else is to leave your compound until further notice. In particular, Niobe is under instructions not to leave. Now, come with me, please, Aurelia.” He got up quickly, and I followed. We were out of the door and down the stairs before Vividus could say another word.

At the bottom of the staircase, just inside the wide house-door, Quintus pointed to a smaller door on our right. “That’s the room they’ve assigned me as an office. It’s just big enough for a desk and two chairs, but it’s in a good position for watching who comes and goes into the house. We’ll go straight to the baths now, though. We can talk privately there.”

We left the house and turned right, and then right again alongside the corridor of rooms that jutted out behind. I noticed a door leading into the corridor from the courtyard, and counted six windows. The baths were towards the back of the Fort, near the outer wall. Not far really, but distant enough that you couldn’t see their entrance from the front of the house at all. It was a smaller bath-house than ours at the Oak Tree, having only one set of rooms, not separate suites for ladies and gentlemen as we have. But it was extremely luxurious, with high-quality tiling and mosaics, and good-sized pools for the bathers.

Needless to say nobody was using the facilities now, and the outer door was locked. Quintus produced a key, and when we were safely inside, locked the door again, muttering, “We can’t be too careful.”

We entered a wide lobby with several doors leading from it. I could see a changing area, and a cold plunge pool. Quintus took me into a kind of sitting-room next to it, meant presumably for bathers who wished to relax for a while over a cup of wine or a philosophical discussion. I felt sure that in the Ostorius household the room saw more drinking than debating.

At last he turned to face me and gave me a proper smile. He put his arms round me and kissed me hard, then stepped back and said softly, “Gods, I’m glad to see you. Thank you for coming so quickly. This is a horrible situation. Having you here makes me feel we might just possibly get through it without the whole district being engulfed in a bloodbath.”

“Of course I came. But you really think there’s likely to be open war now between Magnus’ family and Bodvocus?”

“Unless we identify the murderer by Beltane, I’d say it’s odds on. Most of the men here are clamouring to take revenge on Bodvocus and his people.”

“You mean at the feast tomorrow? But there’s no evidence…”

“None, but they’re angry, and they’re determined. They’re a wild assortment of ex-army toughs, with more energy than discipline, especially now Magnus is gone. So far I’ve kept them under control by showing them my imperial pass, which carries quite a lot of weight in such a military setting. When Lucius gets here I’ll be able to put men on the gates. But if their resentment reaches boiling point before I find Magnus’ killer, they may just ride out of here whether I like it or not, and start massacring every native in sight. With Vividus’ full consent, I suspect. It’s probably he who’s been putting ideas of vengeance into their heads.”

“That would be a nightmare. At least Aquilo has an alibi for last night and this morning.” I smiled at him. “Elli’s well, by the way, and so’s the baby. Thanks for asking.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “Gods, yes, with all that’s happened here I’m forgetting you’ve had your share of drama too. You know, in a way it would have been simpler if Aquilo had done it. We could have announced the fact, shipped him off to Eburacum, and that would have been that. As it is, there are three obvious suspects in the family, and I haven’t even started interviewing the servants yet.”

I looked round the elaborately tiled room, with its cushioned benches and marble-topped table. “This is pretty much a standard bath suite, is it? Changing room, sitting area, cold plunge, warm room, hot room, furnace down below underneath the building?”

He nodded. “And only one entrance for bathers to go in and out.”

“How do the furnace slaves get in? They have their own door, presumably?”

“It’s at the very far end. They get to it from an alley near the wood store and the latrines. It lets them into a small room where they can leave their clothes, and they go from there through another door to the stokehole itself. Vividus told me they’re here stoking well before dawn, so Magnus can have a really good hot bath.”

“Is there a door between the slaves’ area and the baths? You know we have one at the mansio, to make a second exit for bathers in case of a fire.”

“Yes, there’s a small door from the slaves’ changing-area that leads through into the bath suite, at least into a spare lobby right at the far end that’s not used. The door’s never used either, and it’s kept bolted from this side, so nobody can ever get in that way. At a push someone from this side could unbar it and get out.”

“Was it bolted this morning?”

“It was, by the time I came to examine it. Whether anyone unbarred it earlier, I’ve no way of knowing.”

“All the same,” I said, “a private bath-house is a fairly intimate place, isn’t it? Surely only the family and their personal slaves could have come and gone in here as they liked.”

“I agree. I don’t think we’re dealing with a mystery killer who sneaked in from outside through the back entrance. Magnus would have heard an intruder coming in that way, he’d have turned to face him at least. I’d say the attacker must have been Vividus or Ferox, or the girl Niobe, who I think counts as family in this situation. But you see the problem. Whoever did kill Magnus will try to place the blame elsewhere, and who could be a more convenient guilty party than Bodvocus?”

“Well then, let’s get to work.” I kissed him. “Don’t worry, we’ve faced worse than this before. And Lucius will soon be here, and that scamp Titch, if he hasn’t run off to his shepherdess. So now,” I pulled away from him, “kindly give your humble assistant a briefing. Let’s take the three family suspects first. You said that you were with Vividus when the attack happened?”

He smiled. “Actually that’s what
he
said. I’m not making assumptions about when the attack happened at this stage. But it’s true that I met him, by arrangement, just after they blew reveille.”

“They blow reveille here? Gods, how appalling! Do they have other bugle-calls to regulate the day?”

“No, just a sunrise one. I suppose you get used to it. Vividus had suggested I meet him then, so he could show me the night-time security arrangements here. They’re pretty formidable. All gates locked at sunset, and the chief guard brings the keys to Vividus every night, except for the main gate key. There’s a sentry on duty all night there, to unlock that big gate for anyone who wants to go in or out. They never do, unless it’s a real emergency.”

“So in effect there’s a night-time curfew.
Merda
! Remind me never to marry a military man!” For a heartbeat I wondered what Clarilla would make of a household like this, but put the thought aside. “Tell me about how the body was found. By this concubine Niobe, I gather?”

“That’s right. She found him in the hot room here, just after dawn. She said he wasn’t quite dead. She asked who had killed him, and he answered, ‘He’s finished me, Niobe. After all I’ve done for those boys, they betray me. Even Aquilo…too late now.’”

“No wonder Vividus was all for locking Aquilo in chains when he came back. But is Niobe’s account reliable?”

“I wish I knew. She’s not an easy character to read.”

“She’s quite a beauty, isn’t she?”

He nodded. “She was Magnus’ concubine, not his wife, but they’ve lived together for some years, and the nephews seem to accept her as part of the family.”

“Does any intelligence lurk inside that pretty head?”

“I think so. I’d have said definitely so, except that if she’s not telling the truth about Magnus’ last words, her efforts to implicate Aquilo in the murder were rather stupid. Granted she didn’t know where he’d gone last night, but she couldn’t be sure he hadn’t got witnesses to vouch for him.”

“So you think she invented Magnus’ last words, and threw suspicion on Aquilo to protect herself, or somebody else?”

“I honestly don’t know. She must have realised that, as the person who found him, she’d be the one everyone suspected of having killed him. Yet to invent a story that could be so easily checked…As you saw for yourself, she’s quiet but confident, as if she’s got herself and everything else well in hand. She was the master’s favoured slave, yet she doesn’t push herself forward, at least she hasn’t since I arrived.”

“She can’t afford to now, can she, with her protector dead?”

“Only one of her protectors.”

“Only one! You mean more than one person in the house is taking her to bed? Who told you that?”

“Vividus makes no secret of it. He says both he and Ferox fancy the girl, and to avoid petty jealousy, they, as he put it, each use her in turn. Vividus and Ferox can have her company in the evenings when they want, they just agree it between themselves. Night-time and early morning she spent with Magnus, if he wanted her to, and everyone knew he liked her to bathe with him.”

“Poor Niobe. I don’t suppose anyone knows or cares what she thought of the arrangement?”

“That’s one of the things I’m hoping we’ll find out, or I should say, I’m hoping
you’ll
find out. She’ll almost certainly respond better to a woman than a man. We’ll arrange matters so you and she have a private, woman-to-woman chat about everything, especially the insensitivity of men, who simply don’t understand the difficulties of her position.”

“I daresay I can manage that. I’ve every sympathy with her, if she’s being treated like that.”

“Niobe says that this morning she came in here to join Magnus in his bath. They used to take their morning bath together regularly. Wine too, from the look of it.” He gestured towards a small table near the door, where a silver tray held a jug and a couple of glasses.

I went over and looked at the wine in the jug. It was a rich red, looking almost black against the white marble. I sniffed it. Campanian probably, and quite good. There was nothing unusual about its bouquet. I looked at the glasses too. You don’t often encounter wine-glasses, and these were fine examples. Any family that owned these and casually drank out of them in a bath-house was not just rich, but flaunting the fact.

“These two are still clean,” I said.

“Yes. They could have been swilled out afterwards, or replaced with fresh ones. You’re wondering about poison?”

“It crossed my mind. It would be easier to stab a man if he’d drunk something that paralysed him, or made him very sleepy. But then if the murderer had a supply of poison, he or she would surely have killed Magnus with that, not half-used it and finished the killing off with a dagger.”

He nodded. “That’s the conclusion I came to. There was no indication on Magnus’ body that he’d eaten or drunk anything unusual. No foam near his mouth, and his face wasn’t discoloured.”

I shivered. “Anything else about the body? I’d just as soon not have to look at it unless it’s absolutely necessary. Where is he?”

“They’ve put him in a small room with a shrine in it, where the household gods are kept, and all the decorations and awards the family have won over the years. They regard it as sacred, and that’s where he will stay until the funeral, which will be today at sunset. No, you don’t need to see him. But I’d like you to look at the spot where he was found.”

He led the way through to the hottest room, where steam was rising from the round marble-lined pool, and the air was heavy with moisture and the sickly smell of blood. The water in the pool was tinged reddish, but most of the blood was on a low marble bench near its edge. “He lay here,” Quintus indicated the scarlet stain that spread over the bench and dripped down onto the pretty blue mosaic. “Quite relaxed, apparently, there doesn’t seem to have been a fight of any kind. He was stabbed in the neck, about
there
.” He touched the right side of my neck just above the spot where my collar-bone joins my shoulder. “The blow came from in front, and needed just one stroke of a narrow blade. It was quite clumsily done because it missed the important veins, so he didn’t die immediately.”

“He just had time to accuse his family of killing him. Very convenient.”

“You don’t sound as if you believe Niobe’s account of his last words. The wound wasn’t deep enough to be fatal straight away. He’d have had time to say something.”

Suddenly I felt queasy. “Quintus, can we get out of this room now? I’ve had enough of the scent of blood.”

Back in the sitting-room I felt better. Quintus put his arm round me. “Go on about Niobe. You doubt her word?”

“I haven’t heard the story from her own lips, so I suppose I shouldn’t judge. But if we only have her unsupported word for what happened, he could have been dead when she came in here. Or maybe she killed him.”

Quintus looked at me steadily. “Maybe. What’s your reason for suggesting that?”

“For a start, it sounds as if the attacker wasn’t experienced at killing with a dagger. That would rule out army men like Vividus and Ferox, wouldn’t it?”

“Not necessarily. Don’t forget an experienced professional killer might want to disguise the fact, and botch the job to give the impression the attacker was an amateur. So for instance, a right-handed man could strike with his left hand.”

BOOK: Buried Too Deep
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