Murder In-Absentia

by Assaph Mehr

  “So what happened that his health deteriorated again when you returned to Egretia?”

  “I am really not sure. We sailed back in November, right at the closing of the sailing season. I was eager to return by then, I had enough of that wretched island and could not imagine being stuck there for the winter. When we arrived in town Caeso went searching for that moecha of his, but could not find her. Her troupe had gone for the winter. This dampened his spirits — he must have been hoping for some tryst with her at Saturnalia,” Drusus winked.

  “What was her name, that mystery woman?”

  “Sorry, I don’t remember. I’m sure he mentioned it, but she was a nobody really. I think he might have just gotten some fever, the poor fool, as I have not seen him around the Collegium much recently.”

  “Do you know of any of his activities during the intercalaris? Or of anyone I might ask who would know? His father would be most appreciative.”

  “Not really, I had not seen much of him lately as I said, and to my knowledge neither did the rest of our little circle. He started to miss attending the Collegium more and more, though of course the teachers cut him some slack because of his father the rhone. If you ask me, he just got an embarrassing venereal disease from the street trash mime, and didn’t want his father to find out.”

  We chatted a while longer, but I learnt nothing more. Soon after Drusus left, and I finished the lunch alone. In my line of business, one learns to eat when one can, especially when it can be charged to an expense account.

  Chapter V

  I spent some more time that afternoon chasing others of Caeso’s old college mates, and by late afternoon managed to track down Lutatius and Porcius. Lutatius was a lanky youth, of light reddish hair and pimply face. His friend Porcius was slightly taller and heavier, with chestnut hair and a straggly beard in what I presumed was a failed attempt to hide his even more numerous pimples.

  At first it seemed they did not have anything to add to Drusus’ story. They had all seen Caeso become withdrawn and unhealthy over the winter intercalaris, had all lost touch with him recently as he shifted from his usual haunts. None had followed him to his new pursuits, and none could offer me new insights or leads.

  However when Porcius said that Caeso and Drusus were thick as thieves, my interest picked up. “Have you seen them much together recently?” I asked.

  “Oh yes,” said Lutatius. “They were always going around, their heads together. Not just in the college mind you, but after hours as well.”

  “I did hear them mention a club they frequented,” said Porcius, “A place up on the Clivi Inferior by the name of The Dented Skull. It’s an upmarket tavern, masquerading as a den of debauchery for the entertainment of the rich who want some excitement without the actual risk. He mentioned a name, now what was it? Something foreign, Hellican, I think.”

  “No, I’m certain it was Assyrican,” responded Lutatius. “Zymaxis. That was it”

  “That’s right! You are correct, Gaius Lutatius,” said Porcius. “Definitely Zymaxis.”

  “Have you ever visited that tavern?” I asked.

  They both shook their heads. “Not our kind of place,” said Porcius. “Too up-market,” added Lutatius with a sigh.

  “Did you notice anything odd about Caeso’s behaviour throughout winter?”

  They looked at each other. “Well, his health was deteriorating, that was certain,” said Lutatius. “It started last autumn I think. It got worse as time went by though. He became gaunt, lost colour. Dark circles around his eyes. Withdrawn. Started to miss out on studies. We visited him a few times, but could not lift his spirits.”

  “I don’t know what wasting disease it was,” said Porcius, “though I do know his father hired the best magisteri carneum in Egretia and even they couldn’t cure it. In fact Caeso refused to see them, though we tried as well to convince him that it is for his own good.”

  “If you ask me,” said Lutatius, “it wasn’t a fever at all. He was heart-broken.”

  “You and him were always such saps,” said Porcius.

  “A romantic heart is not a sap!”

  “Why do you think he was heartbroken?” I asked before they could continue their debate.

  “He told me once of a girl he met,” said Porcius. “Her name was Mahatixa, a Mitzrana from the other side of the Montes Mauretanii. Exotic, lithe and very attractive. I haven’t seen much of her, though I remember Caeso did have good taste in women, even if he didn’t have the sense to choose those of his own class.” Porcius grunted in agreement to this. Lutatius continued, “I think I saw her troupe on the streets maybe a month ago, just before the new year. They put up the usual mime tent and move it often, flying a pennant with the image of a sphinx. They perform next to the docks and the Circus Magnus, in the Campus Civicus.”

  Nothing more in my conversation with Porcius and Lutatius seemed relevant, as the two friends kept interrupting each other on tangential philosophical flights. I thanked them, and requested that they inform me should they remember anything else of note. I paid for our wine, and thus had a feeling that they will come calling if something did rattle their memories.

  A more interesting question raised, was the significance of the differences between Porcius and Lutatius version of events, to those of Drusus. Did Drusus really not know of his friend’s involvement in the matters leading to his death, or was he aware but trying to mislead me? Was he himself involved perhaps, and now trying to downplay it? Or were the two men I met today just prone to overstating innocuous events? Given Drusus’ — and more importantly, his family’s — background, I would need more evidence before I could confront him.

  * * *

  I decided to go in search of Mahatixa before tackling the Dented Skull. While I had no doubt I could handle the Clivi Inferior at night, it being a reasonably quiet neighbourhood for the most part, I wanted to see if I can learn anything about the mysterious woman who captured Caeso’s heart first.

  I stopped at home briefly to change, and then started to poke about at the docks. This being Avrilis twilight came early, and I did not wish to get caught out on the Campus Civicus in full darkness. I walked for a while amongst the hurrying people finishing their work for the day and making their way home. Fortuna must have smiled on me that night for I saw a crowd gathered just next to the silos of the Forum Piscarium, and in its midst a mime troupe tent flying a flag with the sign of the sphinx.

  I approached and stood at the back, watching the show. It was a crude affair, and so was the crowd. These were not the people to appreciate a fine Hellican drama, with intricacies of hubris and inescapable fate. This show involved stock characters and a farcical plot — a scatterbrained old master, a young vixen wife, her neighbour-come-lover, and the ubiquitous slaves that see everything and snigger behind their masters’ backs. Plenty of hiding behind curtains and baring of breasts to the catcalls of the crowds. They were good at what they were doing though, better than most such troupes.

  There were about seven people I could distinguish despite the masks, playing the various roles. Two were women, both young. No self-respecting Egretian troupe would put women on the stage, but this was neither Egretian nor particularly respectable. There would be a few other people involved, no doubt, though no more than ten.

  Between one skit and the next, while resetting the stage, the troupe put out more entertainment so as not to lose the crowd. It involved the usual children performing acrobatics and playing flutes, and a big hulking brute who lifted them all together above his head. I could not be certain of course, but I felt reasonably sure that the dark-skinned beauty dancing the Dance of Seven Scarves would be Mahatixa. Her body glistened in the last rays of daylight, shimmering on her clear, dark skin as the scarves snaked their way around her contours, wafting behind her as she danced and somersaulted, eventually floating to the ground like leaves in autumn. Not a single men in the crowd looked elsewhere while she was dancing, though the more worldly ones clutched their money pouches
even while their jaws slacked open. She disappeared in the tent with the last scarf lingering behind her, floating in the breeze. A collective sound between a sigh and a groan escaped from the lips of every man amongst the audience, as the rest of the troupe emerged quickly and started on the next skit.

  I waited until the show was over and the crowds dispersed. The actors and dancers went around with bowls collecting donations for their performance. I moved closer to the girl, and as she neared me I said her name as if I knew her. She looked up at me, and I smiled at her. I offered a full sestertius for her bowl, and said, “This is for the lovely show.” As she smiled at me I produced a silver denarius and held it between thumb and forefinger. “And this,” I added, “is yours if I can just talk to you about Caeso Quinctius.”

  She looked doubtful for a moment. “Pretty girls going alone with strangers makes a good story,” she replied, “one that seldom ends well for the girl.”

  “My name is Felix, called Felix the Fox by some. And you are Mahatixa, the marvellous Mitzrana dancer that stole Caeso’s heart. So there — no longer strangers.” I smiled. “But to reassure you, why don’t you ask that brute of a strongman you have with your troupe to accompany us. I will gladly buy him a cup of wine too, if he will just sit in the next table and let us talk.”

  That seemed to have reassured her that I meant no harm. “Wait here,” she told me.

  * * *

  She went back to her troupe and helped with the final packing. A few moments later she returned, dressed sensibly in a pleated dress and cloak and accompanied by the hulk, whose name I learnt was Harkhuf.

  We walked to the closest tavern I could spot, and settled ourselves at a side table with Harkhuf at the next table. I ordered wine for us and beer for the brute. His scowl disappeared as the buxom serving maid placed the tankard before him, and I was certain he would not bother us.

  “I heard about you through some mutual friends of Caeso Quinctius, Gaius Lutatius and Gnaeus Porcius,” I started. I did not want to present myself as coming from his father following the son’s death, as that might cause her to clam up in case she was indeed involved. “Have you seen Caeso recently?”

  “Not since we came back. We got here just a few weeks ago in times for the festival of Anna Perenna, after having spent the winter in Hellica. How is dear Caeso doing?”

  My pause caused her to knit her perfectly arched brows. “I am sorry to be the one to tell you — Caeso passed away. He was found dead in his bed on the morning of the day before yesterday.” She shuddered and drew her cloak tight around her shoulders.

  “Did he fall to some illness over the winter?”

  “He was unwell, yes, though his family knows not what affliction it was.” I looked at her eyes as I said that, and could see no guile. Her reactions seemed genuinely surprised, sad to hear about Caeso’s death.

  “And what is your role in this?” She asked. “You are paying for this interview, so you are not here to bring me this news out of the kindness of your heart. Your eyes have a keen look in them, and you do not strike me as a spendthrift. A hired ferret then, hired by Caeso’s father. Something odd about his death then! Surely you cannot suspect me, I have not been in Egretia this whole winter!”

  I smiled, despite myself. The girl was intelligent, and not afraid to show it. “No, no, please do not be alarmed. You are correct that I was hired by Corpio pater. I found out about you from his friends, Porcius and Lutatius. I am only trying to piece together Caeso’s life, to ease his distraught father’s mind. I heard from Drusus as well, that he was much in love with you. Would you tell me about your involvement with him?”

  “Oh, it was just a summer fling,” she started. “We were performing one day last spring at the other side of town, for a more respectable crowd. We tried to see if we can earn more money that way, rather than the quadrans and semis we get from the dock workers. We even put on not a mime show but selected scenes from proper dramas. Still, we needed to draw crowds for that and when I did my dance of seven scarves the vigiles decided to chase us away. I guess some old stuck-up sourpuss passing on the street had taken offence. Caeso must have been in the crowd, for he followed us here. At first he seemed to me just like any other moon-struck puppy that follows me. He was quite insistent, however, and quite charming, and quite good looking…

  “I refused him of course. But he came back with flowers, jewellery and other gifts almost every day. He seemed so naive, a boy really, and I just found it so charming… So I let him buy me dinner one night. And then another night. And we talked. And went on walks. I am my own person, you know. Not a slave of the troupe. So long as I was around during performances to draw the crowds and help with the tent, Djaty, our leader, does not mind.”

  I stirred the dregs of wine in my cup with my finger, and waved the servant maid to fetch more wine. Behind Mahatixa I could see Harkhuf down yet another tankard of ale, and shamelessly pinch the maid’s buttocks as she passed by. The maid was young, voluptuous and flirty, and yet had nothing over the woman sitting in front of me. I traced my wet finger on the table leaving behind doodles in wine, and looked at her sparkling black eyes as she was telling the story.

  “And so it went on through the summer and into autumn. We spent time away from both our lives. We took many walks; he liked the island of the Pharos — close yet far, we found seclusion there. He could not present me at any formal events of course, his family would never allow it. But we saw his friends for informal dinners with other people our age. I met Lutatius and Porcius and liked them, and we met Drusus though I liked him less. Too judgemental, too proud of his family’s history to appreciate the likes of us. Caeso and I went to sideshows and games together. Private poetry parties. Taverns of a more relaxed nature. There is quite a lot going on at night in Egretia, and one just needs to know where to look and who to ask.

  “He tried to make promises he could not keep, about marrying me one day. I did my best to disabuse him of this notion. His family would not allow it, he could never join our life, and I would never agree to be cooped up inside like some Egretian matron. He would not listen though. He kept talking about how one day he would make it all work, and damn the social order.

  “Well, I tried to get him to cool down, though unsuccessfully. Thankfully his father sent him away to Kebros, and Caeso went. Cursing and pouting, but went nonetheless, bent to his father’s will.

  “My troupe moved to Hellica for the winter part of our circuit. We visited Heraclion, Ephemezica and Phrylia. We went back out in spring and took a ship here. I wondered if he would show up again, as I haven’t seen him these past few weeks. And now you come to tell me that he is dead…” She shivered again.

  “You must be distraught.” I placed my right hand on top of Mahatixa’s left on the table, covering her hand in a gesture of sympathy. She must have been used to these kind of affections from men, and hardly even glanced down. She must have been used to flirting for a living too, as she did not draw her hand away, and I will not compliment myself that she had any other interest in me.

  “Tell me,” I decided to move the conversation, “you are Mitzrani, am I correct?” She nodded, and I continued. “Your people have a great interest in the afterlife. They even preserve the corpses of the dead, for the life after life. Did Caeso ever show an interest in the subject?”

  “Not really,” she said. “He was very much a young socialite. Dreamt big, but lacked the determination to achieve anything beyond a mediocre career as a merchant, in his father’s business.”

  I kept my hand covering hers and brought it gently towards me, looking at her eyes. As her hands reached the doodles of wine dregs I drew on the table, I could feel a slight warmth from them, saw them glimmer and shimmer in the corner of my eye, and I smelled the tinge of fresh air after rain.

  “Come now,” I said, “there’s no need to lie. We both know that he was interested in such matters, and that he shared this with you.” She sat back and tried to withdraw her hand. I held on to
her wrist firmly, but without squeezing too hard. “Please, let us be civil. If you will just look behind you at Harkhuf, you will see that my generosity with the beer has left him quite inebriated. If you try and shout to the other patrons, well…”

  I extended my right index finger and touched the faintly glowing wine doodle on one side, and then drew it across her wrist, and touched the pattern on the other side. I withdrew my hand. She tried to snatch her hand back, but found it bound to the table with the shimmering tracery holding her wrist tight.

  “I am just a citizen sitting across from a foreign woman. You on the other hand, will not be able to remove your hand from this table while you tell me lies.” I looked into her eyes, and saw tears of frustration tinged with fear. “Please, do not be afraid. I will not harm you, I just need to know what you have omitted from your story.”

  She tried in vain to pull her hand away. She looked back at Harkhuf, who was talking to himself with an unintelligible slur. She sat back then, straightened up, and looked at me squarely.

  “I did not lie,” she said fiercely. “What I said was the truth.”

  I saw the tracery brighten just a little. “You have omitted something.”

  “Yes. I did. I guess… I guess I did not like the direction Caeso was taking last year, and tried to distance myself from him. I got scared, you see. He did see me a few days before we left Egretia. One night he took me to this little tavern, out on the Clivi Inferior. At first I thought we would just be meeting some of his friends there, the neighbourhood is quite sedate with plenty of houses for the affluent merchants. However when we got there he went right to the back, beyond the tables and the dancing girls. He led me down to the basement, and we did meet some other people already there. The room was dense with smoke, lit only by bad oil lamps. I thought I saw Drusus there, but I was not sure.