Queen of the Night ar-4

by Paul Doherty

  'As well as vindicating the power of your Christ.'

  'His power does not need vindication,' Sylvester replied. 'But there again, it did no harm.'

  Claudia was tempted to tease the Presbyter with quotations from his own scriptures about the use of the sword. In the past he had quoted the same to her. Sylvester pushed back his hood and watched Sorry pull across the bolts on the main door. He waited until the boy scampered away.

  'Well, what do you want, Claudia?'

  She told him in a clear, logical sequence, testing her hypothesis against Sylvester's questions and defending it in the face of his criticism. The more she spoke, the more concerned Sylvester became, lapsing into silence, plucking his lower lip, shaking his head. An hour passed; outside the sounds of laughter echoed as members of Polybius' party awoke to revel again. Once Claudia had finished, her voice hoarse with arguing, Sylvester rose to his feet.

  'This is, as you say, Claudia, a matter for the Empress. She will decide.' He glared down at her. 'But it is very, very serious.'

  The next morning Claudia was the first to rise. She found Celades fast asleep in the kitchen, a wineskin in one hand, a piece of roast pork in the other. She broke her fast, slept again and woke much refreshed. She washed, changed and went down into the tavern. Celades, bleary-eyed, was now in the kitchen, grilling strips of beef. He was still full of the previous day's exploits and the banquet he had prepared.

  'Cook what you have to, Celades,' Claudia declared, 'but be ready to prepare something else.'

  'What do you mean?'

  'Just wait and see,' Claudia retorted.

  The rest, including Murranus, were nursing sore heads, moaning to themselves, only too eager to escape to a chamber upstairs or back into the garden. At last, late in the afternoon, Polybius came down to greet the usual regulars. He announced that Murranus was fast asleep, but once darkness fell, the festivities would recommence, this time in Claudia's honour. She was protesting at this, only to be interrupted by a thunderous knocking at the door before it was flung open. Burrus, hand on the hilt of his sword, almost charged into the eating hall, followed by three of his companions and a host of servants wearing imperial livery, all carrying linen bundles, wine flagons and other pots and jars.

  'Where is the warrior?' Burrus thundered.

  'Upstairs!' Claudia shouted back. 'Drunk, hungover, tired, but like the rest of you, ready for the next piece of mischief.'

  'Good!' Burrus beamed. 'The Empress sends this.' Two bulging leather purses were thrown on to a table. 'And this.' A third followed. Polybius scooped them up in the twinkling of an eye.

  'The Augustus and his mother will dine here tonight just after sunset.' Burrus gestured at more servants filing in with their burdens. 'They have sent what they intend to eat and drink, and look forward to tasting the recipes of your new chef.'

  Celades, standing in the kitchen doorway, clasped his hands and moaned with pleasure. Polybius chewed his lip as he weighed the sacks, quickly scrutinising what was being brought in.

  'No one else.' Burrus' left hand descended on the thin shoulder of Simon the Stoic. 'The Excellencies and their guests will celebrate the victory of their champion.' He glanced fierce-eyed around the eating hall. 'A great honour! So be prepared.' The German waited until the imperial servants had delivered all their burdens, gave Polybius a mock salute, winked at Claudia, then left slamming the door behind him.

  At first silence reigned, then Poppaoe began to wail. Polybius stood disconcerted but Celades rose to the occasion. He quickly inspected the contents of the linen bundles and bustled back, leather apron on, to announce he would prepare a banquet fit for the gods.

  'Braised cucumbers, mushrooms in honey,' he proclaimed, 'baked plaice, fried liver, ham in red wine and fennel sauce.'

  The die was cast. Polybius decided he'd turn his favourite part of the orchard into a dining area: lamp-stands were brought out, more were begged and borrowed, lanterns hung from trees, tables, couches and stools loaned by the likes of Apuleius and other friends and neighbours. Polybius wondered how many guests there would be. Claudia, who suspected what was about to happen, replied about ten in all. The garden of the She Asses was transformed into a veritable paradise, the air sweet with the fragrant smells from the kitchen. Polybius turned away his usual coven of rogues as he became aware of the great honour being bestowed on him, declaring that by tomorrow evening all Rome would know that the She Asses was a tavern frequented by their Excellencies.

  Murranus eventually came down. Claudia dispatched him up the alleyway so Torquatus could cut his hair, shave his face and take him to the nearest baths.

  'And don't drink a drop!' Claudia shouted after him. 'You must be stone-cold sober.'

  Murranus bowed mockingly to her and sauntered off. Claudia slipped into the kitchen and drew Polybius and Celades aside. She told them what would happen and what they were to do. Polybius shrugged in resignation. He knew better than to question his iron-willed niece. Celades was astonished, but readily agreed to carefully follow her instructions.

  Darkness was falling as the imperial entourage arrived in a clash of arms and the fiery glare of torches. The imperial litters, curtains drawn, massed in the small square before the tavern, which was immediately ringed and sealed off by rank after rank of the imperial guard. Burrus and his contingent filed into the eating hall then out into the garden to patrol the walls and guard the gates. Polybius' household, Claudia included, knelt to receive the distinguished guests. Claudia sighed with relief when she saw the party: Constantine, Helena, Sylvester, Urbana, Cassia and Leartus. The Emperor, clad in purple-edged snow-white robes, waggled his fingers at them and immediately went into the kitchen, emerging with a slice of ham which he ate noisily, slurping wine from Polybius' favourite goblet.

  'Mother,' he spluttered, 'this is marvellous.' He glanced quickly at Claudia, a calculated, cold-eyed stare, a sign that the Emperor, as usual, was acting the buffoon.

  Helena graciously greeted them all and, hugging Claudia close, kissed her on both cheeks. Claudia sensed the Augusta's excitement; her unpainted face was tense, her dark eyes watchful.

  'Be careful, little mouse,' she whispered, 'but the stage is now yours.'

  She drew away, hitching the silk-tasselled purple mantle around her shoulders, fingering the amethyst on its gold chain around her neck. She glanced around and, in mock anger, asked where the champion was. Constantine demanded the same. Polybius blustered that Murranus wanted to be well prepared and would their Excellencies like to go out into the garden? Constantine replied that their Excellencies would like nothing better. Claudia exchanged cool courtesies with the rest of the guests and followed them out. She was relieved when Murranus joined them. Constantine, seated at the centre of the couches arranged in a horseshoe, immediately began to question the gladiator about his victory in the arena.

  'There'll be more rewards for you, my boy!' he shouted, and promised the gladiator the cup he was drinking from, immediately apologising when Helena whispered loudly that it wasn't his to give.

  While the first courses were served and the wine cups filled, Murranus held the guests spellbound as he described his tactics.

  'I wanted them overconfident,' he declared, 'but above all I wanted them to separate. I guessed that some would not be as brave or as skilled as others. Once that happened, my chances improved.'

  Constantine, of course, interrupted with a spate of questions. The wine flowed, the guests were drinking copiously, and, judging the moment was ready, Claudia nodded to Polybius and held up her hand to speak.

  'Excellencies.' Claudia swung her feet off the makeshift couch. 'Let us sit in silence in the Frisian custom,' she ignored Murranus' questioning look, 'until our cups are filled, then let us toast our champion.'

  Constantine thought it was a splendid idea. Polybius, Poppaoe and Narcissus circled, filling goblets. Celades approached Leartus to serve him.

  'Larg na maiihV Celades asked in a loud voice.

  'Lar
g na maith malan,' Leartus replied without thinking — then froze.

  'What's that?' Constantine asked. 'I thought you said this should be done in silence?'

  Leartus stared owl-eyed across at Claudia.

  'Celades is a Pict,' Claudia declared. 'He just asked Leartus in his own tongue if his goblet should be filled with red or white wine. Leartus is supposed to be a Parthian, yet he understands the Pictish tongue, an astonishing achievement. What was his reply, Celades?'

  'I want red, please!' declared Celades, standing behind Leartus.

  'Celades,' Claudia continued conversationally, 'you told me earlier how the son of a Pictish chieftain has a sacred circle, a tattoo on his right thigh imprinted there just after his twelfth year.'

  'Yes, mistress.'

  'Leartus, modesty aside, show us the sacred mark.'

  'What is this?' Urbana shrilled. Cassia too became agitated, her hand going out to grasp Urbana's arm.

  I was correct, Claudia thought — you are both terrified because your guilt will soon be known.

  'Burrus,' Helena called into the darkness. The German stepped forward.

  'There is no need.' Leartus rose to his feet. He shrugged, undid his belt and opened his tunic.

  'Amongst our tribes,' Celades declared, 'the circle would be coloured in sacred paint.'

  Burrus brought across a torch and held it as close as he could. Claudia studied the tattoo engraved on Leartus' thigh.

  'Slightly faded, the skin puckered, but still clear to see.' She gestured dismissively with her hand. Leartus picked up his belt, wrapped it round himself and sat on the edge of the couch staring coolly across at her.

  'You are no Parthian!' Claudia accused. 'You made a mistake during the recent games, — carried away by excitement, you shouted "narifa", the Pictish word for victory — you repeated it twice. You, Leartus, are a Pict, a warrior, the son of a chieftain. Eighteen years ago your father included you as part of his war band. I will not repeat the details, everyone knows them. The band were massacred by a wing of Roman cavalry led by Stathylus. He captured your father and cruelly tortured him to death. Stathylus and his companions thought your father was the only survivor, but you also survived. You left your jewellery on another corpse and hid in the heather. Your father survived for hours, — his only consolation was that he knew what you had done. He realised the corpse they'd brought was not you. You wanted vengeance for him. In the full light of day you saw what happened to your father. More importantly, you also had time to study the faces of his torturers: Roman cavalrymen who, now the fight was over, took off their helmets and pushed back their coifs. Later you followed that cavalry troop south to Colchester. You caught one of them, probably when he was drunk, killed him and abused his corpse.

  'I don't truly know what happened then, but I suspect you were captured, enslaved and made a eunuch. The legions were withdrawing to Rome and you were taken with them. Once in the city, you entered the service of Cassia. Celades told me how the Picts are skilled in sign language; you became proficient, her companion as she moved from courtesan to Christian. I suspect you had a pleasant life until General Aurelian decided to hold one of his reunion parties. You saw Petilius; more importantly, Petilius saw you. He probably recognised your father in you. He hadn't forgotten that hideous death out along that lonely wall in northern Britain.

  'Leartus, you have some effeminate ways; you also have access to your mistress' wardrobe and perfumes. Do you know,' Claudia stared up at the star-strewn sky, 'I wondered about those gruesome murders committed in the fetid side streets of Rome. No woman would go down there on her own, but of course, you are still a warrior, Leartus, whatever has happened to you. You would have no fear, particularly when you are intent on revenge. So let us imagine how it happened! Slipping through the side streets and the alleyways with a leather sack containing a veil, a woman's cloak, perfumes and paints for your face, you would stalk your victim, hunt him as your father did Romans in the heather so many years ago. At the appropriate time you'd attack. Your victims thought they were meeting a whore; in fact, they were facing vengeance. Of course, with Crispus and Secundus it was very easy. General Aurelian brought them back to his villa so it was just a matter of watching and waiting. Once again you acted the woman; you carried a jug into those baths, enticed one then the other inside, stabbing both with swift thrusts to the belly, cutting their throats and abusing their corpses, an offering to the shades of your father, his second wife and all those who died so many years ago.'

  'We did not know this.' Urbana spoke.

  'Oh yes you did,' Claudia replied coolly. 'You knew he was a Pict.' She spoke slowly so Cassia could follow her lips. 'You knew about the murders, — you must have noticed certain items going missing. At the time these men were killed, Leartus was absent. But there again, what did you care? After all, I suspect Leartus was accustomed to such a disguise: he used the same when he met Sesothenes and gave him your instructions. You see, Cassia,' Claudia leaned forward, i used Sallust the Searcher. He discovered a little about your past. You are a Christian convert but before that you were a courtesan and, like all leading courtesans of Rome, devoted to the goddesses of Egypt, Isis and the Lady Hathor. You knew Sesothenes; you knew about his nefarious ways.' if that's true,' Urbana retorted, if Sesothenes knew that Cassia was involved, why didn't he confess it?'

  'Why, of course he wouldn't,' Claudia retorted. 'He might suspect, but he had no firm evidence against you. Moreover, to accuse you he would have had to incriminate himself. Accordingly, Murranus' challenge seemed the safest path for everyone. If Sesothenes won, there'd be no further problem. If he was killed, he and his companions would be silent for ever. I can understand your joy in the imperial box when Murranus was victorious; a problem had been cleared away. Hence Leartus' scream of triumph, so excited he lapsed back into his Pictish tongue.'

  'Whom are you accusing?' Urbana declared. 'Cassia, Leartus, even me?'

  'Of course I am.' Claudia glanced round the ring of couches. They were all watching intently, — even Constantine had forgotten to drink. Sylvester sat, head bowed, hands in his lap. Helena was staring into the darkness. Murranus shook his head in disbelief.

  'I will present my indictment. Urbana, you are certainly a wealthy woman; well, you are now,' Claudia added, 'though not before. Religion is a powerful mix. You, Urbana, and Cassia embraced Christianity. No real conversion, you were just exchanging one cult for another. You both became obsessed with the story of Mary Magdalene, Christ's woman friend who, according to Presbyter Sylvester, fled Judaea after the resurrection of Christ and landed in Marseilles with her sister Martha and brother Lazarus. You dreamed of finding her tomb, but that costs money.'

  'My husband was wealthy.'

  'Aurelian was wealthy but he did not indulge you, Urbana, because he did not really love you. He resented your conversion, your absorption with relics. I read his memoir. Do you realise that in the last few years he hardly mentions you? Of course you still had influence with him. When Petilius recognised Leartus, you were probably instrumental in making sure that the veteran never met your husband to discuss what he had seen. Did you urge Leartus to strike swiftly and decisively to end the matter?'

  Urbana glanced away.

  'Of course,' Claudia continued, 'if Petilius had met your husband and talked to him, you would have supported Leartus. After all, there is no crime in being a survivor of a massacre, especially when Petilius would have had to tell the truth about what really happened to his commander in that lonely mile fort in the north of Britain so many years ago.'

  'What has this got to do with the kidnappings?' Constantine broke in, ignoring his mother's angry gesture.

  'Oh, everything,' Claudia replied. 'Urbana needed money.'

  'She's wealthy!' Constantine slurred.

  'No,' Claudia replied, 'I suspect she simply had an allowance, an income which she spent on her costly searches. Sallust soon discovered the terms of your husband's financial support of you, not to mention th
e clauses of his will. Before Aurelian died, you depended totally on your husband's allowance. You desperately needed money, so what did you do? You're a high-ranking lady of Rome, Urbana, you listen to all the gossip. It was so easy to discover about parties and expeditions, their times and places, even Antonia's secret spot in her own garden. You decided to organise the abduction of the children of wealthy Romans, demand a ransom, free them and have your own source of income. Well, that was the first part of your plan. You and Cassia are…' Claudia paused; she was tempted to say 'lovers', but she had no real proof of that. 'You are allies. Through her and Leartus disguised as a woman, you opened negotiations with Sesothenes, who had a reputation for nefarious dealings, something Cassia remembered from her past when she was a courtesan. Your scheme was perfect. As I've said, you learned all the details of the patrician families of the city. You are also a leading Christian, able to discover all there is about the catacombs. No real harm was done: the children were returned safe, their wealthy parents lost some gold, Sesothenes received his share and you were able to continue to finance your search for sacred relics. You and Cassia became immersed in that. Religion was no longer important to you. The Magdalene became an obsession, your world centred on it. You'd spend anything to realise your ambition. Of course your husband might wonder where your wealth came from, but you were so friendly with Cassia, it would be easy to obfuscate, to lie, to deceive.'

  'But Alexander?' Murranus asked. 'He was killed.'

  'Ah — that was different, the second part of Urbana's plan. As I've said, I sent Sallust the Searcher out to Aurelian's villa. The General's will is now public knowledge. According to that, once he died, all his wealth would go to Alexander. Only if Alexander died without issue would his wealth go to you, Lady Urbana. I reflected on that when Murranus was talking about you.

  He emphasised how you were now a wealthy woman. You and Cassia realised that the kidnappings could not go on. Alexander was too much of an obstacle, so you decided that he had to die, both he and his father, that was to be Sesothenes' final piece of villainy.