Fortune's Fool

by Albert A. Bell

  “What does he know about it?”

  “He was in charge of the work. He said your father stood over his crew during the last two days, almost like he was one of the workers. They missed a day’s work because of a storm.”

  “The storm that drowned Livius.”

  “I’m sure it was. But your father insisted they finish the work right away.”

  “Because he didn’t want anyone to discover what was in the wall.”

  “That doesn’t mean he killed the man.”

  Gaius still wasn’t convinced. “But, if he didn’t, he must have known who the man was and who did kill him. And he must have consented to having the body hidden in the wall. He is complicit, if not actually guilty of murder. That must be what my mother meant.”

  * * *

  When we rode into the stable yard of my house, I was surprised to see my largest raeda from the house in Rome sitting to one side. Barbatus was brushing down the horses that must have pulled it, speaking softly to them, almost crooning. One horse was munching a carrot.

  “When did this arrive?” I asked him.

  “Less than an hour ago, my lord.”

  “Who came in it?”

  “A girl named Xenobia, my lord. Your man Phineas seemed awfully glad to see her.”

  “That was quick,” Tacitus said. “Like winged steeds.”

  “Yes, my lord. But they don’t have wings, so it was very hard on the horses.” He turned to me. “So is riding two on a horse, if I may say so, my lord.”

  “You may not,” I snapped, my head still throbbing. Aurora slid off the horse and held the reins while I dismounted, rather clumsily. “I wonder why she used this.”

  “Full of boxes it was, my lord,” Barbatus said. “Don’t know where they expect me to put it now.”

  “Boxes? Of what?” Tacitus said, dismounting in one fluid motion. “Your mother wouldn’t need a wagon this large to move, Gaius. How many dresses can a servant have?”

  “Not dresses, my lord. Books. Boxes and boxes full of books. Heavy boxes.” He patted one of the horses on the neck.

  “What? I didn’t tell her to bring any books,” I said. “Is she in the house now?”

  “I believe so, my lord. They was taking the boxes to the library.”

  We headed straight for the library, with Aurora trailing respectfully behind us, and heard the excited chatter of a man and a woman. Phineas and Xenobia. I expected to find them unpacking scrolls from a box, but they were going over my father’s personal papers. They stepped back from the table when we entered.

  “Good day, my lord,” Phineas said.

  “Good day, my lord.” Xenobia bowed. “Thank you for bringing me here. I will do my best to justify your confidence.”

  I didn’t tell her that decision was based more on sympathy for Phineas than on an estimate of her abilities. Xenobia was of average height for a woman but, looking at her now from a different perspective, I thought a little plumper than I would find attractive. Her face was full, her makeup a bit too heavy. But perhaps my judgment has been clouded by comparing every woman I meet to Aurora. I hoped I wasn’t as giddy around Aurora as Phineas was now. She clearly returned his affection.

  “I need some explanation,” I said.

  “I just did what your letter said, my lord.” Xenobia’s smile faded.

  “Let me explain, my lord,” Phineas said.

  “Oh, I fully expect you to explain.”

  When Phineas gets nervous he speaks rapidly and begins to stutter. “You see, m-my lord, I g-gave Xenobia a list of b-books to bring to improve the library here, including all of your uncle’s w-works. It was in the letter that you sealed, along with instructions to b-bring the large raeda.”

  “I gave instructions for that?”

  He took deep breaths, gulping the air to calm himself, a technique I’ve seen him use before. “Yes, my lord. You said for her to bring…whatever b-books I thought necessary to improve the library here. I didn’t want to…bother you with details. It was all in the letter. I thought you w-would read it, but you didn’t. You just sealed it.”

  “What else was in there? Did I emancipate her? Name you as my heir?” I gestured as though I was really angry. In fact I was having trouble not laughing at myself and the situation, if I could find humor in anything right now.

  Phineas’ face turned as red as his hair. “No, my lord, of course not.”

  No harm had been done, and I didn’t want to embarrass him any further in front of his beloved. In future, though, I would have to be more cautious about what I put my seal on, even if it was presented to me by someone I trusted.

  “Are you still looking through my father’s papers? We went over them quite thoroughly yesterday. Don’t waste your time.”

  “I thought it might be helpful, my lord, to have a fresh set of eyes look at things,” Phineas said. “Xenobia has noticed something curious.”

  I turned my attention to the girl, who could not conceal her eagerness to atone for Phineas’ overreaching. “What have you found?”

  “I’m not sure, my lord.” She picked up a piece of papyrus from the pile in front of her and handed it to me. “It was rolled up inside a scroll. It seems to be some sort of agreement about a loan and interest.”

  “Interest?”

  “Yes, my lord. It’s signed by Caecilius—your father, I assume—with his seal at the bottom and by a Pompeius and a Romatius, who also put their seals on it. Do you know them?”

  I nodded as I read over the agreement, which took up only a single sheet of papyrus. “It says they agree to pay a tidy sum in interest to Caecilius and his heirs in perpetuity.”

  Tacitus took the document from me and read it. “But it doesn’t mention the amount of the loan or its purpose.”

  “And I wonder why Livius wasn’t part of the deal,” I said. “They were partners in other ventures.”

  “Yes, my lord,” Phineas said. “We’ve found some other contracts, and they were always signed by the four of them.”

  “The date on this one is after the time Livius died,” Tacitus noted.

  “Get Decimus and bring him in here,” I told Phineas. As he left, I turned to Xenobia. “Since you’ll be working here, you should know that my steward also handles the accounts for this estate. Decimus, and his father before him, have had that position for almost thirty years now.” On my other, larger, estates, I have a servant whose primary responsibility is to keep the accounts, but this estate isn’t large enough to warrant that division of duties.

  “Yes, my lord.”

  When Decimus entered the library, I told him who Xenobia was and what her duties would be.

  “A woman as our scribe, my lord? That will be…unusual.” He might as well have said “unthinkable.”

  “Phineas will be coming up here at regular intervals to oversee her work.”

  “Very well, my lord.”

  “She’s had good training.” I don’t know why I felt like I had to argue a case. I was the master. All I had to do was to give the order and it was done. “And she’s already brought something to my attention.” I showed him the document Xenobia had found. “Do you know anything about a loan that my father made to Pompeius and Romatius?”

  “Not much, my lord. My father told me that your father had told him to expect this sum from these men every year. He understood that there was some kind of written agreement, but he never saw it. Nor have I. I’ve sometimes wondered what I would do if they didn’t pay, but they always do. They’re honorable men.”

  Or frightened men, I thought. I dropped the piece of papyrus back on the table. “That money is what makes the difference between profit and loss for this estate, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, my lord. I’m sorry to say that the production from the estate is marginal at best. It’s been that way for years.”

  I could almost hear him thinking, If you paid more attention to the place, you would know that.

  “Once we get Livia back,” I said, “I intend t
o make some changes. The people I’ve brought in from Tuscany should have some ideas about how to improve the crops, especially the vines. I’m going to talk to Pompeius and Romatius about this loan. If they’re legally obligated—and this document says they are—I’ll expect them to continue to pay, but I don’t want the estate’s profit to depend on something like this.”

  “No, my lord, of course not. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

  I dismissed him and turned back to Xenobia and Phineas. “Have you found anything that might be the document I’m supposed to find? It’s written on a piece of parchment and sealed with the sign of a skull.” I picked up the seal I had removed in one piece from the first warning we received and showed it to them. “Like this, I believe.”

  Xenobia shuddered. “That’s someone’s seal, my lord? It’s hideous.”

  “I think it was used only to make an impression on particular occasions. I’m not certain that what I’m looking for will even be here.”

  “We’ll look through everything again, my lord,” Xenobia said.

  “If you find any sealed documents, don’t open them,” I said. “Let me do that.”

  “Certainly, my lord,” Phineas said.

  “At some point I’ll talk to Pompeius about this,” I said, “but now I’m focused only on getting Livia back.”

  “We would expect nothing else, my lord,” Xenobia said. “It’s obvious to all of us how much you love her.”

  So young and already a mistress of sarcasm and double meaning. Or perhaps she really couldn’t divine my true feelings. Yet, Aurora assures me that I’m not very good at hiding them.

  * * *

  “What are we going to do?” I asked Tacitus. “I feel like one of the daughters of Danaus, ordered to carry water in a sieve. I can’t do it. How can I do it? We must talk to Pompeius, but no one knows where he is. What if he’s gone for three or four days? We don’t have that much time. The only thing that could save us would be for Pompeius to show up at my door just now.”

  Tacitus chuckled. “That only happens in a badly contrived play, when the author has written himself into a corner that he can’t get out of.”

  We were standing outside, near the spot where the wall in my garden—the place where all the trouble had started—was being torn down. Half of it was gone, and the trench that outlined the new wall had been dug. Some of the blocks removed from the wall were already in place in the trench. The workmen had finished for the day.

  “At least you haven’t found any more surprises in this wall,” Tacitus said.

  I pointed to the two men coming toward us across the garden—my steward Decimus and Livia’s uncle. “That’s Pompeius,” I told Tacitus.

  Tacitus laughed out loud. “By the gods!”

  Decimus and Pompeius stopped with the wall between us. I couldn’t have been more surprised if Livia herself had appeared at the door. Because of his height Pompeius had no trouble talking to us over the wall.

  “Have you learned anything?” Pompeius asked without any more formal greeting than a nod. “Do you know where Livia is?”

  “I might ask you the same thing,” I said.

  “Me? How would I know? I just got back to my own house an hour ago and was told about the kidnapping. I got a fresh horse and came here immediately.”

  His unshaven face, shaggy gray hair, and dirty tunic lent truth to his story. He was certainly elderly, but I wouldn’t have described him as feeble. “Where have you been?” I asked.

  He hung his head, then looked back up. “I went to see a woman.”

  “What woman?”

  “A woman with whom I’ve had a…long-standing…connection.”

  “Why did you leave when you did, so late at night?”

  “I didn’t want to appear rude to my niece and my sister, but they annoyed me so much I had to get away from them for a while. They are two of the most disagreeable women I’ve ever known. I still can’t believe Pompeia found not one, but two, men who were willing to marry her. I waited until they were in bed so they couldn’t say anything.”

  “Didn’t your daughter think there was anything unusual about you leaving?”

  “She knows that I sometimes go off for a couple of days, and she knows not to ask any questions. Now, is there anything I can do to help you find Livia?”

  Which meant, I was sure, that he wasn’t going to answer any more of my questions. But why was he here? Was he brazen enough to kidnap his niece, then appear at my house full of concern for her? Was he trying to keep tabs on our inquiries, to learn what we knew? Or was he making a genuine offer of assistance?

  “Your mother said there was a note. It gives you only a couple of days to turn something over to the kidnappers. May I see it?”

  I had either to play along with whatever dramatic scene he was staging or accuse him of the crime to his face. “Come with me,” I said.

  I hoisted myself over the wall, led Pompeius to my room, and unlocked the box in which I was keeping the note. The bones from the wall, along with the skull we had encountered on our way back from Comum, were in the larger box Aurora and Julia had brought out. I decided not to mention them, or the note we had found with the skull, or the items we had picked up at the old villa—all of which were also in my locked box. If Pompeius knew about those items, he might say something that would give him away. If he didn’t know about them, he didn’t need to at the moment.

  He took the kidnappers’ note and stepped out into the garden, where the light was better. Looking up from the note, he said, “And you have no idea what they want or where it is?”

  “None whatsoever. If I did, I would hand it over and be done with this whole business.”

  Pompeius nodded. “I would expect nothing less from you.”

  I couldn’t tell if he was reassuring himself or considering a threat. “In looking through my father’s papers, I have found a note with your seal and Romatius’ on it, promising to pay interest on a loan. Are you still paying that interest?”

  “Yes.”

  “But my father has been dead for years.”

  “He loaned Romatius and me a great deal of money to make an investment. The interest was to be paid to his estate after he died.”

  “What was the investment for?”

  “For us to buy some property. Your father didn’t want to own the property, but he was generous enough to help us buy it.”

  “Where is—”

  “On the other side of the lake. Gaius Pliny, as long as the interest is paid, none of the other details concern you. And the interest is being paid. Now I need to get back to my family. As you can well imagine, they are deeply distressed. I’m going to take some of my men and see if I can find Livia. We know this area better than you do.”

  As he walked away, I called after him,“ What do you know about a deserted villa a few miles from here, deep in the woods?”

  He stopped and seemed to gather himself before he turned around. “Just that there is a deserted villa in the woods. Why do you ask?”

  “We found evidence that at least one of the women who was kidnapped was taken there.”

  “Not Livia?”

  “Apparently not. Do you know who owns that place?”

  “No, I don’t.” He turned toward the front of the house before I could ask anything else.

  * * *

  “I told you we’d never get Gaius into a boat,” Tacitus said as we shoved off to cross Lake Comum. “I’m none too fond of the idea myself, but if you think it will let us learn something, I’ll go.”

  I settled myself into the front of the small craft as Tacitus unfurled the sail. “The only thing we learned from Pompeius that we didn’t already know,” I said, “was that he and Romatius bought property on the other side of the lake. It may have something to do with the body in the wall. We don’t have much time, so we need to explore as many possibilities as we can. Gaius can examine the bones while we do this.”

  “How do you expect to identify
a piece of property after all these years?”

  “I don’t think it was property as in land. That’s why I asked you to bring those things you found at the old villa.”

  The breeze was light but brisk enough to keep us moving and make the boat bob in the water. I’ve never had any problem about getting sick in a boat, so I was surprised when I began to feel my stomach fluttering. I tried to ignore it until the feeling got so strong I had to lean over the side and vomit.

  “Is there anything I can do for you?” Tacitus asked from behind me.

  “No, thank you. I’ve been feeling nauseous the last few days.” I put a hand on my belly, a gesture I find myself making more and more often. It’s so incredible to me that I’m carrying Gaius’ child.

  Tacitus gave me a paternal smile. “When are you going to tell Gaius?”

  “What? Did Julia—”

  “No. She was sick a lot when she was carrying our child.”

  “I just don’t know how he’ll take it. I know how Livia will take it, but I don’t know what Gaius will say or do.”

  “Do you know how long—”

  “I’ve missed two monthlies.”

  “It won’t be long before he, and everyone else, will be able to see what’s happening, you know.”

  I took a deep gulp of the crisp air. “I know. It will have to be soon. Have you ever fathered a child that lived?” For some reason, the solitude or the bright sun, something made me bolder.

  “None that I know of. Admittedly, I could have planted a seed here and there. I do hope Julia and I will be able to have a child who survives. People of our class seem to lose so many children these days.”

  “And then some bastards take young ones to that villa.” I placed a protective hand on my belly.

  “Do you think what was going on there has anything to do with the body we found in the wall?”

  “The children had to come from somewhere. Livius made frequent trips across the lake, for some purpose that no one seems to understand. What if he was buying young boys?”

  “Then I hope it took him a long time to drown. But you’re suggesting that Gaius’ father provided funds for Pompeius and Romatius and Livius to bring boys to the villa.”