by Rachel Ford
Felix smiled. “She is, Tryg. And she tells me we’ve got you to thank for it.”
The Northman’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing.
“But that’s not the reason for my being here. Not directly, anyway.”
Here it comes, then. “Oh?”
“No. The doctor cleared Cass to be on her feet now, and she wants to know if you can come back – at your convenience, of course.”
It was convenient for Trygve to return that day. “In fact, if you’re in no particular hurry – and if you don’t mind the snow leopard sharing your vehicle – I could return with you,” he told the senator.
This was agreeable to Felix, who said, “I am here on dual purpose. Do you mind if I detour to your friend Lucretius’ villa? I could be back in, oh, two hours?”
Two hours was rather longer than Trygve – impatient to see Cassia again – needed, but he could not begrudge the other man his own time. It was, then, arranged.
Tullius emerged as Felix was leaving, and the apprehension in his features lightened as he caught sight of Trygve’s grin. “Good news, then?”
“The best.” He clapped the gladiator on the shoulder. “She wants me back.”
Whether Tullius regarded the news in so positive a light, he couldn’t be sure. Still, his friend had wished him well. “Good luck to you. I hope…well, everything works out.” He hadn’t been able to refrain from a caution, though. “But Tryg? Be careful.”
Trygve had been too excited to be annoyed, and he spent the next two hours pacing anxiously. Finally, Felix’s carriage returned; and with a last farewell, he was on his way.
He sat on one side of the carriage, with the senator on the other. Gunnar, seeing both benches occupied, snorted a few times, circled thrice, and settled on the floor between them.
At first, he was too preoccupied with watching the countryside beyond his window, gauging the time it would take to return, to pay much attention to Felix. But he was gradually aware of the other man’s scrutiny.
At first, he supposed he must be mistaken. The closed interior and close proximity didn’t leave much to draw the eye. But there was no confusing the scrutiny in the other man’s eyes for the vague stare of a preoccupied mind. As the minutes ticked by, he found his discomfort mounting. At last, he asked, “Is something wrong, senator?”
Felix shook his head. “Not at all.” He frowned. “But let me ask you something, Trygve?”
“Oh?” So this is leading somewhere, he thought.
“Cass told me what happened. With the miscarriage. And with Faustus afterward.”
“So you said,” he reminded the other man.
“Yes. You would do a lot to protect her, wouldn’t you Trygve?”
The Northman swallowed. “It’s my job.”
Felix smiled, the kind of patronizing smile parents give lying children who have been found out; the kind of smile old men give young fools. “Is that all, then?”
“It’s enough, isn’t it?”
“I’m not sure.”
It was the Northman’s turn to frown. “What do you mean?”
Again, the senator fixed him with a piercing gaze. “What I tell you – what I’m about to tell you – is for your ears only. Do you understand?”
He nodded.
“I don’t think Cassia’s illness was natural.”
For a moment, Trygve was dumbstruck. “What?” he managed at last.
“Neither does Aelius.”
“You mean…?”
“Poison. And what’s more, I think we know who did it.”
“Who?”
Here, though, Felix shook his head. “I will not say. Not yet. If we’re wrong – well, I don’t want to accuse an innocent. And we need evidence.”
Trygve found his temper rising. “Evidence? What about protecting Cass? Does she even know? What if he tries again?”
Felix smiled. “I keep no secrets from Cass. And, if you’ll take advice from an old man, I should not if I were you, either.” For a moment, he let the comment hang, and let his listener struggle to divine his meaning. “But to answer your question: yes, she knows. And we have taken precautions to see that it doesn’t happen again. Not least of all, you. So I ask again: what would you do to keep her safe, Trygve?”
He thought for a moment, and when he answered, his tone was low and grim. “Anything it takes.”
The old man smiled again. “Good. That’s what I hoped you’d say.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Cassia heard Felix’s voice before he entered, and she felt her pulse quicken. He will have Trygve’s answer.
The Northman had not understood when she’d sent him away, and she’d kept him away for longer than she said; longer than she wanted to. This morning, when Felix had departed, she’d believed that he’d return.
And then the hours had begun to wear away, and she had started to go over all the reasons he might not return after all. What a situation – what a mad, volatile situation – this was. Who in their right mind would come back? Who in their right mind would ask someone to come back?
She pushed to her feet, saying as the door opened, “Felix, what did he –” She broke off as suddenly as she started. Her friend wasn’t alone.
He was there too.
“Trygve.” The Northman paused in the entryway, and for a moment she found her own steps arrested. But then she found her feet again and crossed the distance between them. “You came back.”
They stood face to face for a moment in silence. His expression was inscrutable to her. Her own feelings were likewise confusing. Her heart soared with a joy she hadn’t fully expected. She felt – but here, she stopped herself. Trygve was her friend, and there was nothing more natural than being glad to see him. She would not overanalyze the emotion. She felt she dare not.
He bowed then, and said, “As you requested, my lady.”
She felt a pang at that action, so distant…so cold. “Welcome back.” She stretched out a hand, and for half a second, he hesitated. Then he took it in his own.
And she felt her heart skip a beat.
The day passed quickly after that. They brought Trygve up to speed on the happenings of the last week and a half. He seemed relieved when he learned Faustus was away, visiting his mines in the south. The fact was, she was relieved too. She hadn’t seen her husband for four days after they’d fought; and when she did see him, it was for the span of some sixty seconds. He dropped by long enough to tell her that he was going to inspect his holdings, and he could not say when he’d be back.
That part, of course, she didn’t share with Trygve. It was enough to know that, for the moment anyway, Faustus’s temper, Faustus’s anger, would not be a concern.
The Northman’s brow furrowed, though, when Aelius spoke of their suspicions. “I have seen such a thing before. It was used by a husband, who wanted his wife dead. I was called in, because her own physician could not understand the illness.”
“How did you know it was poison?”
“I didn’t. But I suspected. She was a healthy woman, strong and in the prime of her life. Like Cassia. And no one else in the household was ill. So I set a trap and waited; and caught him in the act.” Aelius shook his head. “He would put a few drops in her food – mix it with a broth, sprinkle it on fish. Not enough to kill her at once, but enough to make her sick; to make it seem natural.”
Trygve had turned mortified eyes to her. “And you think that’s what’s happening to Cass?”
“What was happening, yes. In the case of which I’m speaking, there was no pregnancy. But the symptoms otherwise were the same: the sudden onset of illness. The lethargy, the pallor, the steady decline of strength and vigor.”
“And how do you know she’s not still being poisoned?”
“We have taken precautions.”
“What precautions?”
“Patience, Trygve,” Felix said. “You will know in time.”
Cassia smiled at the scowl that spread across the Northma
n’s face. “Do not take it too hard, Trygve. I do not know either.”
“They’re keeping you in the dark as well?” His eyes widened, and he turned back to Felix and the physician. “If Cass does not know, how can she protect herself?”
“You must trust us, Mr. Ingensen,” Aetius said. “No one is going to poison Empress Cassia. No one is allowed in or out of her rooms except under supervision. No food is admitted, except that our people have prepared it or overseen its preparation, and no drink either.”
“If Cassia knows who we suspect, she will – it is only human nature – act differently around them. And if our poisoner suspects that they’re suspected – well, they will be that much harder to catch.”
“Then I, at least, should know,” Trygve persisted. “It’s my job to know who is a threat to the empress.”
Aetius threw a discreet but concerned glance at Felix. The senator was less tactful. He smiled at the words. “Not to quibble, Mr. Ingensen, but your job is to keep the empress safe.”
“That’s what I said.”
“No. The best way you can keep Cassia safe is to carry on like normal.”
The Northman glowered. “I can carry on like normal and know who to look out for at the same time.”
“I would not tell you for the same reason we haven’t told Cassia,” he countered.
“It’s not the same,” Trygve protested.
“You’re right,” Felix said, the grin reappearing. “I would trust you to regulate your behaviors even less. Cassia, at least, would try.”
Trygve’s scowl was growing with each leg of the exchange, and she felt it best to interject at this point. “Tryg, I’ve agreed to let them try their way. You know it would be hard, acting as if nothing happened, while dealing with someone who tried to kill me.”
“We only need a few more days, Mr. Ingensen.”
“How do you know?”
“Because the first attempt didn’t succeed. They will try again.”
“And if it doesn’t work,” Cassia finished, “then we’ll do it my way.”
“What’s your way?” the Northman wondered.
“Arrest them and hope we can find enough evidence to make charges stick.”
Trygve didn’t like the plan any more on further discussion, but he was overruled. Cassia trusted Felix, and whatever cabal of amateur investigators he’d hobbled together. There was nothing for it, but to wait and see how things played out.
They had, at least, put some thought into screening her food and drink – and visitors. The entire process was overseen by their people.
Aetius had taken up residence in the palace now, and so had a few of his and Felix’s servants. “Trusted men and women,” the senator explained. “Highly vetted.”
If they’d been planning a coup, the Northman thought darkly, they could not have prosecuted it more thoroughly. Cassia’s husband was out; their people were in. She, still weak from the attack, had fallen entirely under their guidance.
He entertained the thought for half a minute before dismissing it. The old man was probably Cass’s best friend, and certainly her most trusted adviser. He trusted her judgment, her affection for Faustus notwithstanding, enough to believe she would not put so much faith in a man capable of a coup against her.
As for the doctor, well, he knew little enough about him. But Aetius seemed to regard his return as a positive, and any man intent on harming Cassia would be a fool to welcome him back.
No, he decided, their secrecy was not intended to harm the empress.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Two days passed. Once or twice, Trygve heard Aetius and Felix whispering. He only ever picked up snippets: “I’ve made some inquiries,” and “one of the sellers in the temple district told me…” and “what did your man learn about the poison?”
But they always fell silent when he entered. It was maddening.
Still, his time was spent primarily with Cassia, and that was a relief in its own way. Her bedrest was over, but she was still assigned only light activity. So their days were spent lazily – as lazily as she would allow, anyway.
She always had a stack of papers to read, to consider, to respond to. Even when they took air in the gardens, sometimes she would bring a lap desk. Trygve would threaten to tell Doctor Aelius, and that, usually, was enough convince her to put her work aside.
Trygve was happy to fill her hours, and their easiness around each other returned as if they had not been parted at all.
The first morning, she taught him a game played with dice and knucklebones. When he’d win, he’d thank the Hamingja who watched over him; and when he lost, he would decry her fickleness. “Hamingja?” Cassia had asked. “What is that?” And when he explained, she said, “Like Lady Fortuna, then.”
When the sun was bright, they left her study for the gardens, and found a warm patch of grass near the fishponds. Trygve carved the lines of a game board in the dirt, and they used pebbles as playing pieces. It was a game of strategy from his home country. “I would play against my sisters,” he said.
“And did they win?”
He grinned. “More than I like to admit. But I would always beat my father.”
“Then your sisters are the clever ones in the family?” she teased.
“Ingrid, certainly. Lucia is more like me: more beauty than brains.” Cass rolled her eyes, and he grinned again. “Karina always gave as good as she got.”
“Three sisters?” she said. “That’s a big family.”
He smiled. “Perhaps. But, I suppose it was good planning on their part. At least for me, they needed a spare or two.”
She shook her head, but she was smiling. “You’re terrible. Your poor mother.”
“Poor Ingrid, you mean. Now she’s the eldest. Now she’s got to represent our family.”
Now and again, their conversation would turn to politics. It was a topic that Felix would bring up as much as Cassia. “I spoke with young Lucretius,” he told her, “the other morning. He will be coming to the city in a few weeks’ time. He’s committed to the run now.”
“I’m so glad.”
“His family, too. His father has pledged to help fund his campaign. His mother thinks they can get some of their neighbors to pitch in, too. They want to cover a day’s bread at one of the next races.”
“Like Gallus did in the spring.”
“Exactly. Memories are short. Spring was an eon ago. People won’t remember who fed them in the spring. They will remember who fed them last when they cast their votes.”
They were two days spent peacefully and enjoyably, the kind of days that made Trygve forget that Cass was still in danger. It was early in the morning on the third day, though, when a visitor arrived who shattered those idyllic notions.
He was an urban prefect named Celsus, who commanded the urban cohort stationed in the residential district. The urban cohort was to Stella what deputies were in the North: a kind of police force that maintained law and order within the boundaries of the city. The Prefect was more powerful than the Northern sheriffs, who answered to their respective jarls; the prefects answered only to the Emperor and Empress.
Celsus was a man on the wrong side of youth, but with an energy to his step that managed to keep most of the signs of age at bay. His demeanor grew at once subdued, though, when Cassia entered to greet him. He knelt and bowed his head, saying gravely, “Empress.”
“Prefect Celsus,” she greeted. “To what do I owe the honor?”
“Forgive me, Empress, but I am come with grim tidings. Senator Felix is dead.”
Cassia blinked at the words, and for a moment seemed too stunned to speak. Trygve was not in much better control of his senses. He’d seen the senator just the night before, and he was in fine health; how could he be dead?
“Felix?” she said in a moment. “Dead?”
“I’m sorry, Empress, but yes. He was found this morning. He was murdered.”
“Murdered?” Cassia trembled as she said the word,
and Trygve guided her to a seat. She shook in his arms as she asked, “How? When? Where?”
“Not far from his home. It was early – the physician believes it was before sunrise, based on the temperature of his body when he was found. He’d been stabbed. It looks like a robbery. His signet rings are gone, and his chains of office too. But we don’t know for sure, yet. We won’t until we catch the killer or killers.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Empress. It’s the first sign of anything of the kind in the area. My men have reported nothing but quiet nights lately. We have heightened patrols, of course, and –”
“What was he doing outside before sunrise?”
“I don’t know,” Celsus said. “I was hoping – well, I was hoping you might be able to shed light on that. You were one of the senator’s closest confidantes.”
“Me?” Cassia repeated. “I have no idea.”
“Did he have business that might take him out at such early hours, before the day began? Or perhaps – forgive me, Empress, but it might help us find his killer. Do you know if Felix had a lover? Any woman, or women – or man, for that matter – he might have been going to visit? Or returning from visiting?”
She shook her head. “He was my friend, Prefect, but we weren’t on those kinds of terms. If he had a lover, he never told me. I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry, Empress. I had to ask.”
She nodded, and her expression seemed almost dazed. “I don’t understand,” she said. “Felix, dead? Who would want to kill Felix?”
“Didn’t his people know where he was?” Trygve asked now.
Celsus turned his eyes to the Northman, and took a moment to scrutinize him before answering. “No. Felix’s chief of staff tells us it was not uncommon lately for his master to disappear at night. But he didn’t know why.”
“Tell me, Prefect,” Cassia said now. “Did he – did he suffer?”
The other man shook his head. “No, my lady. It would have been over quickly. Whoever our killer is, he knows how to use a knife.”
Prefect Celsus remained for a while longer to answer their questions, but he had nothing more to tell them than the bare facts he’d already conveyed. The idea had occurred to Trygve that Felix’s death was related in some way to his investigation, and to Cassia’s poisoning. But he’d refrained from mentioning this to the policeman until he had a chance to run it past her.