She had flair, I’d give her that. A minute before she’d been propositioning me, now she could’ve been a dowager making polite conversation over the cakes and honey wine. Despite my anger – flair or not, I still didn’t like or trust her – I found myself grinning. And sitting down again. ‘Yeah. Yeah, okay,’ I said. ‘You know Niobe’s dead?’ The girl had been with Cornelia before she’d gone for a Vestal. Maybe she’d even been a Lepidi slave. Certainly Lepida would’ve known her.
If she had it didn’t show; not in the form of sympathy, anyway. Mind you, I doubt if anything would faze this lady. ‘Murdered?’ she said. She might’ve been asking the price of meat.
‘Yeah. She was found yesterday in an alleyway behind the House of the Vestals. Her throat had been cut.’
We were neither of us ready for a refill, but Lepida got up to fetch the wine jug and poured a little into each of our cups. The jade pendant on her necklace that had been snuggling inside her cleavage swung free and brushed my wrist. She didn’t seem to notice.
‘Really?’ she said cheerfully. ‘Well, it doesn’t surprise me.’
Maybe it was her tone, but something cold touched the back of my neck. ‘Is that so, now?’ I said. ‘You care to tell me why not?’
‘It was bound to happen sooner or later, that or something similar.’ Her shoulder lifted again. ‘She probably brought it on herself; Niobe always was a self-sacrificer, especially on Cornelia’s altar. One of nature’s victims.’
Not much of an obituary, but I reckoned that was about all the kid could expect from that quarter. ‘She died because she knew the secret Cornelia shared with your brother,’ I said. ‘You happen to know what that might’ve been?’
‘No. I told you before.’ Another shrug. ‘Or my father said he didn’t, I can’t remember which now and it doesn’t matter anyway because neither of us does. As you may have noticed, Corvinus, we’re not a togetherness family. Dear Marcus would’ve torn out his tongue before he confided in either Father or me, and the reticence was quite mutual. Common. Whatever the appropriate term is.’
I was within an inch of really losing my temper: this total callousness and all these shrugs, physical and metaphorical, were beginning to get to me. ‘Does anything really interest you, Lepida?’ I said. Anger or not, it was a genuine question. ‘What do you think is important?’ She was staring at me like I was talking Babylonian. Maybe in her view I was. ‘What would you kill for?’
The gods knew where that last question came from, but she laughed. ‘Oh, dear, how terribly serious! Very well. Your answers are, in order, nothing for very long, except perhaps fucking; nothing very much, except, again, fucking; and nothing, full stop. Unless for the fun of it, just once, to see what it felt like and for no other reason whatsoever. Will those do you or do you want me to make some up so you don’t feel quite so shocked?’
I took a mouthful of wine and swallowed it slowly. ‘No, lady,’ I said quietly. ‘They’ll do fine. If they’re genuine.’
‘Oh, they’re quite genuine, I guarantee it.’ She was watching me with a slight, crooked smile. ‘Absolutely. So, now. You think the same person who killed Cornelia killed Niobe?’
‘It’s a logical assumption, yeah. Especially since there’s another corpse. A flutegirl called Thalia.’
‘Her throat was slit as well?’ She hadn’t even blinked. I didn’t answer. ‘And all three deaths had something to do with my brother?’
‘Something he knew, certainly. And shared with Cornelia, who shared it with her maid.’
‘What was Niobe doing in the alleyway?’
The question was a non sequitur, except if you looked at it in a certain way in which case it made perfect sense. Uh-huh; so she did have some curiosity after all. I wondered how much the lady’s studied boredom was real and how much was put on. There was a brain behind those carefully made-up eyes, that was sure, and brains need to work. ‘She was on her way to meet someone,’ I said. ‘Or at least she thought she was.’
‘Do you know who?’
I’d been waiting for that particular question. I put my hand inside my mantle and took out the note I’d brought with me. ‘Your brother,’ I said.
That got through; she gave a little gasp. ‘My brother? But Marcus was dead!’
It could’ve been acting, sure, but the surprise in her voice sounded genuine. ‘She didn’t know that at the time,’ I said. ‘And this was delivered the day before, while he was still alive.’
‘It was found with Niobe’s body?’
‘No. She left it with a friend.’ I passed the note over. ‘The killer forged your brother’s signature to bring the girl outside. At least, that’s what I think.’
Lepida unfolded the slip of paper and read it. Her brow creased, and then she laughed. ‘Well, now, Valerius Corvinus,’ she said softly. ‘Do you really? How very interesting.’
The last word was drawled: conscious irony. The hairs at the nape of my neck stirred. ‘Hold on, lady,’ I said. ‘You mean the signature’s genuine?’
‘Quite genuine.’ She handed the note back. ‘It isn’t my brother’s, though.’
I frowned. ‘You’ve lost me. Who else’s would it be?’
‘My father’s, of course.’
19.
Gods…
Yeah, sure, when you thought about it it made perfect sense: father and son shared the same name. I just hadn’t thought of the alternative explanation, that was all. But why would Marcus Lepidus Senior, aristo and one of Rome’s most respected ex-consuls, fix up a clandestine meeting with Niobe?
Apart from the obvious reason, of course. But there again if he’d signed his own name in his own hand and then murdered the kid, or had her murdered, while leaving the note undestroyed, or at least unaccounted for, then the man was a fool. And Marcus Aemilius Lepidus Senior, the guy Augustus himself had tipped as prime emperor material, was no fool.
Unless of course he was clever enough and desperate enough to risk a double bluff…
I must still have been glazed over because Lepida laughed as she leaned across and patted me on the cheek.
‘Well,’ she said, ‘I never thought Father had it in him. Making illicit trysts in back alleys with slave-girls and then slitting their throats. How very plebeian. Does this mean he murdered the others, too? Cornelia and this flutegirl of yours?’
It was a question I’d’ve liked to know the answer to myself, but I wasn’t biting.
‘Is he in at the moment?’ I said.
‘I’ve really no idea.’ She stood up, took a sip of wine and refilled the cup from the jug. I noticed she didn’t offer me any more. Not that I’d finished what I’d got, mind; I’d had other things to worry about.
‘You think you could find out, maybe?’ I said carefully.
She looked at me, eyes wide. Her mouth made an ‘O’ and she smiled. Then, still holding the jug, she sauntered over to the door, opened it and yelled, ‘Venustus!’
He must’ve been hanging around within earshot because he came padding along the corridor like a tame mastiff. I caught the shift of his eye to the wine jug and then to the drape of my mantle, but his face was expressionless.
‘Yes, madam,’ he said.
‘Is my father at home?’
‘He was out earlier but he’s just arrived back, madam. I believe he’s in his study.’
‘Good. Tell him Marcus Corvinus here would like a word.’ Before the slave could acknowledge the order she’d shut the door in his face and walked back over to the couch. ‘Do you mind if I watch?’
‘Watch what, lady?’
‘You confronting Father, of course. It ought to be fun.’ She set the jug down on the floor and stretched out on the blue velvet. ‘You’re sure you don’t want to fuck? It’d pass the time while we wait, and Venustus won’t come in when he gets back. He has strict orders not to.’
‘No.’
‘Does that mean you’re not sure? Or that you’re not interested?’
‘Tell me about Aemilia an
d Galba.’
She sat up. ‘What?’
‘You wanted to pass the time. Let’s do it my way. When I was here last you said you were a friend of Aemilia’s.’
‘I said she was a distant cousin and that she’d tried to strike up a friendship.’ That was sharp. ‘Aemilia’s an empty-headed pain and a social crawler. She’d like to be a femme fatale but she hasn’t even the working talents of a common whore.’
Ouch. ‘You don’t like her, then?’
Lepida laughed. ‘No. Not a great deal. She has appalling taste; positively crude at times. She was lucky to get Licinius Murena for a lover, even if he is only using her as an in with her husband. I’ve had him myself, on this very couch, in fact, and he’s not bad.’
‘Is that right, now?’
‘I’d give him seven out of ten. With perhaps another point for effort. It won’t last, naturally, not now Galba’s reached the end of his consular year.’ She ducked her head to hide a smile. ‘And you’re being stuffy again, Corvinus. Oh, don’t mistake me; I do have some sympathy for the poor dear. It isn’t easy to be married to a man who ignores you. I speak from experience. My own brief marriage to Drusus Caesar was no bed of roses either, but at least in his case it was other women.’
‘And the senior consul prefers other men.’
‘If and when he can get them. Boys would be easier, but Galba doesn’t like boys. He’s not a very nice person, Corvinus. He’s vain, he’s cruel and he may be rich but he’s mean with money. That puts men off as well as women. At least, except those of a certain type or slaves who have no say in the matter.’
‘Uh-huh.’ Yeah, well; in for a penny. And I might not get a better chance. ‘You happen to know anything about one of his exes? At least, he’s probably an ex. A male fluteplayer.’
She gave me a long cool stare. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I don’t.’
I blinked; the lady was palpably lying, and she didn’t care whether I knew it or not. And was I imagining things, or had there been a touch of amusement in her voice?
‘You sure about that?’ I said.
‘Quite sure.’ There was a soft knock on the door and she turned away. ‘That will be Venustus. I think we’d better go. My father hates to be kept waiting.’
Lepidus was sitting at his desk as he had been on the last occasion; in fact, he looked like he’d never moved. The two fixtures, animate and inanimate, could’ve been made for each other, and there wasn’t much visible difference anyway in as much as animation was concerned. If he was surprised to see his daughter with me it didn’t register, and she didn’t offer any explanation. As I crossed the threshold she pushed in ahead of me and draped herself on the reading couch, smoothing her mantle like someone settling to a show. Lepidus ignored her completely.
‘Sit down, Valerius Corvinus,’ he said. ‘You wanted to see me?’
I pulled up a chair. There was no point beating about the bush here. Reaching into my mantle, I took out the note and handed it to him without a word.
He unfolded it and read. I was watching his face closely. Not a muscle twitched. He looked up.
‘So?’ he said.
No inflection; polite interest, no more. Jupiter! Cool was right! No wonder guys like him ruled the world. ‘You know the maid Niobe is dead, sir?’ I said.
‘Yes. I understand she was found yesterday with her throat cut.’
‘You mind my asking how? How you know, I mean?’
‘Yes, I do, actually. Very much so.’ His voice was still level, matter-of-fact. ‘Indeed I find the question in its implications extremely offensive. However, I will tell you anyway. I serve on the same senatorial committee as Fabius Camillus. We had a short meeting earlier this morning, from which I have just returned. Niobe was originally one of our house slaves, and Camillus quite rightly thought I should be informed of her death.’ He laid the note down flat in front of him. ‘Does that satisfy you?’
I swallowed. ‘Yeah. Yeah, that would seem to be in order.’ I indicated the scrap of paper. ‘You admit you wrote that, sir?’
‘You can see my signature at the bottom for yourself. And I’m sure my daughter’ – he didn’t so much as glance in Lepida’s direction – ‘has authenticated it for you.’
‘You care to tell me why?’
‘Why what?’
‘Why you asked for a meeting in the first place. Why you chose the Aemilian Hall as a venue instead of going to the House of the Vestals yourself or having Niobe brought here. Why the note was slipped under the side door rather than being brought round to the front and delivered properly.’
He was looking at me like I’d just crawled out of the woodwork. ‘No,’ he said slowly. ‘I don’t believe I do care to tell you any of that, young man, because it’s none of your damned business.’
I glanced at Lepida. She was smiling to herself, clearly keen on not missing a word. Jupiter, the bitch was enjoying this! All she needed were the oranges and the nuts. ‘Sir, listen to me,’ I said. ‘Whether you like it or not I was asked officially to look into the death of the Vestal Cornelia. Niobe’s murder is connected with that death, and the person responsible for one was very likely responsible for the other. The reason Niobe died where and when she did’ – I stopped myself – ‘the probable reason, is that the killer had finally managed to get her out of the House of the Vestals where she couldn’t be touched. Your note served that end. You must see that unless you offer some sort of explanation I can come to only one conclusion.’
‘That is your privilege, Valerius Corvinus.’ His lips formed a hard line. ‘I repeat: the purpose of the meeting and the arrangements I made for it are none of your business.’
I’d had enough of this; more than enough, especially after a session with Lepida. My temper broke. I stood up and set my hands on the desk in front of him to stop myself from grabbing the front of his mantle. ‘Look, you pig-headed bastard!’ I snapped. ‘There are three people dead already, plus your son, and Jupiter knows he’s a victim as much as the others are. I don’t want a fourth body and I want their killer nailed. So why don’t you just come off your fucking high horse and answer the fucking questions?’
Silence. Complete silence. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Lepida shifting on her couch, but her father hadn’t moved. Not a finger, not a muscle. You could’ve set a couple of the family busts next to him and if you hadn’t known which the real, living man was there would’ve been nothing to tell you. We stared at each other for a good minute. Then I straightened. ‘Ah, the hell!’
I was halfway out the door when he spoke. Even now he didn’t raise his voice.
‘Corvinus.’
I turned. ‘Yeah?’
‘You’re quite right. I apologise.’
Just that. Gods! Not so much as a batted eyelid! I’ll never understand these lord-of-the-world bastards; me, I’d’ve punched my lights out, or tried to, anyway. Still, I’d got what I wanted. I sat down again. ‘Okay, sir,’ I said. ‘You want to tell it in your own time?’
‘Very well.’ Still that calm, controlled tone of voice that made me want to thump him, but at least he was talking. ‘You asked me to answer your questions. That is what I shall do. If I remember correctly, they were: why did I want a meeting in the first place; why did I choose what one might call neutral territory; and why was the note not delivered in the normal way.’
‘Yeah.’ I kept my fists bunched below desk-level. ‘Right.’
‘Indeed.’ He cleared his throat. I had the distinct feeling that, poised aristo or not, the guy was nervous or ashamed; maybe both. ‘The first question, then. I’ve known for several years that my son harboured an affection for my former ward which was not wholly fraternal. Forbidding him to see her under any circumstances early in the course of things might have been wise; however, I doubt if it would have done much good, and I have never tried to control my children’s lives or curb their inclinations. Perhaps I have been at fault in this’ – I noticed that he was very careful not to let his eyes stray t
o Lepida – ‘but that is another matter. However distant we became, however wild he became, I trusted Marcus to keep his feelings in bounds. When Cornelia was found dead that trust was… strained.’
‘You thought he might have raped her and she’d committed suicide as a result.’
He nodded. ‘I didn’t believe for a moment Marcus would have killed the girl, whatever the consequences discovery would have brought on himself. But suicide – yes, suicide was very possible. I couldn’t ask Marcus himself, of course. He would only have denied it, whether it was true or not, and even my asking of the question might have precipitated a rupture which has been threatening for some years. Besides, as you saw yourself he was too distraught to be rational.’
‘Uh-huh.’ I glanced at Lepida. She was still sitting smiling, quite at ease, like she was watching a play. ‘So you decided to ask Niobe.’
‘She would have known, if anyone did. I’m not wholly in favour of friendships between slave and master or mistress, but when they are genuine they can be very strong. That between Niobe and my former ward was an instance of the latter case, and the two girls were extremely close. Certainly close enough for a frank exchange of confidences. In the event, of course, I learned nothing since for obvious reasons Niobe failed to appear at the appointed hour. Does that, Valerius Corvinus, answer your first question?’
‘Yeah. Yeah, it makes sense.’
‘Good.’ He half smiled. ‘Now the second: why not meet the girl here or at the House of the Vestals? Or at least, naturally, in Camillus’s apartments next door. The first location, in the light of what I’ve already said, was obviously impossible: Marcus was still alive, of course, and although we lived our separate lives we did so under one roof. I could not afford the risk of having Marcus find Niobe and myself together since that would have necessitated either a frank admission of the reason for her presence or an outright lie. The first would, for the reasons I gave you, have been impossible; the second would have been repugnant to me in the extreme. As for interviewing her at the chief priest’s residence, no, that I could not do either. It would have meant admitting to Camillus – as I would have felt obliged to do – that I suspected my own son, on very flimsy evidence, of the worst of crimes. Camillus and I have been friends for many years, and he had known Marcus since the boy’s birth. He would have found the thought as painful as I did myself. As far as choosing the Aemilian Hall specifically as a venue went, I had no special reason, except of course that it has family connections, is fairly well-frequented and was not at any great distance. So much, Corvinus, for your second question.’
Last Rites (Marcus Corvinus Book 6) Page 15