Murder In-Absentia

by Assaph Mehr

  “What? No, he did not encounter a medusa. What made you think that?”

  “I heard my father and uncle talking after the funeral,” he said. “I thought I heard them say something about how he turned to stone, but they stopped talking when they saw me. So how did he die?”

  “That is what I am trying to find out. Why don’t you tell me what he did on his visit last autumn?”

  “He came with that friend of his, Gnaeus Drusus. My uncle sent them here, because Caeso was doing poorly at his studies, and wanted to marry a street mime. At least he said he wanted to marry her — she must have been really good in bed,” he guffawed.

  “When you grow up you’ll find that it’s the ones that you don’t bed that prey on your mind the most,” I said, hoping I sounded more like an older brother than a father. “And what did Caeso Quinctius and Gnaeus Drusus do while they were here?”

  “At first my father took them around to the garum factories and docks. I went with them, as father is preparing me to join his business. Drusus was alright, his family is in trade as well, but Caeso just wasn’t into it. My father tried other things too, even introducing him to Margaritus hoping he might get excited about the pearl business; Caeso was being a stubborn ass about all of it. Eventually father gave up, told him to just go take a cruise around the islands and get out of his way.”

  “And is that when you started to send them to those ‘interesting’ places?”

  “Yes. It’s somewhere on one of the small remote islands.”

  “And what, or should I ask who, is on that island?” I asked.

  “First tell me why you need to investigate my cousin’s death,” he said with a grin.

  “He died in extreme pain. He got involved with the wrong people, and they convinced him to participate in something very bad. He died alone and in intense agony, the look upon the face of his corpse was indeed like one who has seen the medusa.” I hoped to scare him, and by sound of his swallowing I might have managed. “You should be careful which friends you chose in life. Now, what was so special about the place you sent Caeso and Drusus to?”

  “I sent them to see the lamia! Oh please, I hope that this is not what caused his death!”

  “Lamia? You mean there is a lamia somewhere on these islands?”

  “Well, that’s what the legend says. It was something our nurse used to threaten us children, and stories we’d tell to frighten each other. Then one day I took a sailboat to one of the outer islands, and I saw a blind hag there, and I could swear that she had the lower body of a snake. I jumped back in my boat and rowed and sailed away as fast as I could. It was just my imagination, I told myself later. But what if she was a real lamia? And what if dear Caeso found her, and she was the one responsible for his death?”

  “Lamiae are not known for their patience, nor for their intelligence.” I recalled my tuition and the writings of Nikander. “If it was indeed a lamia, and I doubt one would live on these isles without notice, she would have attacked Caeso immediately. No, I think it was been something else. What did they tell you when they got back?”

  “Oh nothing. Just made fun of me, saying I am still a child, afraid of nursery monsters, that there was only an old lady there”

  “Still, we will go and take a look. Did you send your cousin and his friend Drusus anywhere else?”

  “Caeso and Drusus went on a few more cruises without me, probably visited Novus Portus. They climbed the Mons Krodus too one day, right before they left back to Egretia.”

  “And did they tell you anything out of the ordinary or behaved differently, anything at all that caught your attention, when they got back from those places?”

  “Novus Portus they visited first, after my father let Caeso do as he wanted. Drusus was more excited, probably because of the whores. I think they both went to the lamia’s place, even though by then Drusus was losing interest in sailing. Caeso did come back excited, though he wouldn’t tell me anything. He was nicer after he came back, in a good mood. They climbed the Krodus a few short days after. I don’t know if they found anything there, we had no chance to speak before they returned to Egretia.”

  I thanked Marcus for the information. I didn’t wish to waste time hunting around the small islands, so I made a deal with him to sail together to the mysterious lamia’s island the next day so long as his father gave permission. “You will just be showing me where Caeso went. I will promise him that I will keep you out of trouble — though I think your father will be more concerned with keeping you away from whorehouses than any lamia.”

  Chapter XV

  We left before dawn the next day. Young Marcus turned out to be a decent sailor, and we were accompanied by one of his father’s slaves to help. Marcus introduced him as Ariarathenes, who seemed used to the young master’s trips. Living primarily in the Kebric archipelago, sailing was a part of life. Every child learnt to swim and sail almost as soon as they could walk.

  We sailed west out of the bay of Kebros as the sky was just beginning to pink behind the massive dark shape of Mons Krodus. We rounded the western cape of Kebros and Marcus kept us on the outer edge of the archipelago. From his description I understood that the island on which he saw the lamia, as he still insisted in calling her, was on the furthest northern reaches.

  We barely spoke as we sailed, Ariarathenes and Marcus so used to sailing together that they hardly needed to talk. I helped where I could, but spent much time merely sightseeing as we passed many islands on the way. Some were green with trees and shrubs, dotted with farms and villas, some were barely more than rocks jutting out of the sea covered in wind-swept hardy grass and fit only for seagulls. Boat traffic increased between the isles of the archipelago as the day wore on, and we tried to stay away from the bulk of it.

  We anchored in a cosy cove for a short rest and early lunch, and Marcus assured me that we were near, with perhaps an hour sailing left to the lamia’s island. Eating the provisions packed by Publius Corpio’s kitchen slaves for us amidst the pastoral islands, watching the blue skies with scudding white clouds, the clear waters teeming with fish, the sailboats dotting the horizons with their striped square sails — I found it hard to consider that we might be facing a dangerous monster on our next stop.

  Sometime in the seventh hour of the day we reached an island standing alone some distance away from the rest of the archipelago. It was of medium size, a big hill in its centre supporting a large copse of trees, and a brook running down through verdant meadows to the rocky beach. I saw no signs of human habitation on it. Mere separation could not explain why the people of the archipelago would shun a bountiful island like this.

  We anchored close to the beach and rowed a light skiff ashore, Ariarathenes staying with the boat. Marcus led me up the hill towards the copse of trees. “I saw her on this side of the island,” he said in a low voice, “and I think she lives in a cave of sorts amongst the trees.”

  We continued to clamber up the hill in silence. We reached the tree line, and stopped for a moment to catch our breath in their shadow. As we stood staring into the gloomy dark shadows between the dense foliage, the folly of my action suddenly caught up with me. Taking my employer’s nephew, still a child, without escort, without proper preparation, armed only with my dagger, to meet an unknown quality, who may or may not be a flesh-eating lamia…

  Not the time to dwell on such matters. I loosened my dagger in its scabbard, and we started into the woods. We wandered under the branches at the edge looking for a path in. As we rounded a jutting boulder, I saw some sheep roaming freely in a green meadow. No one was in sight and even the sheep were eerily quiet. Marcus touched my arms and pointed silently to a narrow path between the trees, leading into the grove. We turned in and followed it slowly.

  We walked amidst gnarled trees and dense shrubs. A few paces in and we could no longer hear the waves of the sea, every sound becoming muffled, ominous. After a few minutes of walking as silently as we could, jumping with racing hearts at each snapped bra
nch, we reached a sunny clearing. A low hut stood next to a pool fed by a spring at the side of large rock formation. The hut was old, with wattle and daub walls and a thatched roof. A shuttered window was next to the rickety door, both closed. A thin wisp of smoke was coming out of the chimney.

  We stepped into the clearing. “Hello?” I said loudly.

  No answer.

  We approached the small hut. “Hello?” I said again, louder.

  “No need to shout, here you have no clout” said a hoarse voice right behind me.

  * * *

  We turned and saw a wizened old woman, old beyond belief. Her face was deeply lined with age and exposure the elements. She was short and thin though not bent, standing erect. Dressed in a rough woollen tunic, much patched and frayed but kept clean.

  She looked at us with sparkling dark eyes, smiling faintly. “I had no visitors all this winter, yet I knew in spring you will come hither.”

  This is no lamia before me, I realised, the whole setting was too pastoral. I relaxed a little. “You knew we would come?” I said, having met many charlatans and several mad hermits.

  “Oh yes, this young man I have seen before, and last autumn his cousin came ashore. And you, a lucky fox, standing there like a slow ox, on a journey to find the truth, of what happened to the poor youth.”

  I heard Marcus swallowing next to me, and shut my own open mouth with a snap. That was far too precise to be mere charlatan patter. I deemed it prudent to proceed politely and carefully.

  “Please forgive us for the intrusion on your island. Could you tell us about the cousin’s visit?”

  “The young man was seeking thrills, and attempted something lacking in skills. He came to me to find an answer, though he didn’t know it would end in disaster. His actions caused himself the blight, for he did them well under the light.”

  “Could you tell us the questions he asked you, and what answers you gave him?” I asked.

  “Those things I cannot do, they belong to him, not you.”

  I was talking to a sibyl, of that much I was certain. The trouble with their prophecies is that, while accurate, were usually completely useless to us mortals until after the fact. How could I make the best of this?

  “Would you help me find out who killed him?” The direct approach.

  “That I can do with glee, but first you must drink my tea. However, you must beware, of things neither here or there. You seek now to find a missing spell, always careful when you look down a well.” The image of the bloated body floating in the well rose unbidden in my mind, and I shuddered involuntary under the sibyl’s piercing gaze. I had no doubt that this was what she meant.

  “Come now, do not fear, there is a reason why you’re here. We shall drink some tea, so that hidden things you might see.” She walked past me into her hut. Marcus and I looked at each other for a moment, then followed her inside.

  As we waited for our eyes to adjust to the gloom of the hut, our noses were subjected to a dense and complex aroma. From wood-fire smoke, to dry meats, to floral bouquets. It was not unpleasant, rather sweet and earthy. The interior of her hut was made up of one room. A simple cot in one corner, a hearth with a black pot on the embers in another. A rickety table and stools in the middle, a mid-sized chest against the wall, both covered with rough fabric and supporting household items — cups and dishes, a bronze mirror and a few closed boxes. Various dried sausages and bunched herbs were hanging from the rafters.

  The sibyl handed me a pot, saying “Be a dear and take this thing, bring me water from the spring.”

  I took the pot and went outside. As I knelt on the moss covered stones next to small pool, I felt my skin tingle. I looked into the pool, but ripples made by the dripping spring waters obscured its depths. As I dipped the pot into the water the feeling intensified. This was an old place, a place where the power of an ancient numen lived. Our people once revered the numina of nature, and many of us still do. Our months, our holidays are named for them. But then the incantatores had asserted that this was just energy that could be harnessed, that new philosophies could free men from superstition. Regardless, the old folk wisdom knew better, and in places like this one could not argue with it.

  I muttered an old formula of thanks to the nymph in the spring, feeling foolish as I said it and knowing full well my old college buddies would have laughed at me for saying it. Now, having been expelled from the Collegium and having travelled the world, I had seen more things than I could comfortably explain. I wondered how long have there been sibyls here, caring for the numen of the spring and living in its power.

  Back inside the sibyl took the pot from me, added crushed herbs and put it on the fire. “Now we wait until the tea is ready, which we’ll know when the aroma is quite heady.”

  While we waited, the sibyl pottered around clearing the table and setting three cups. She dipped bay leaves in honey and placed one in each cup. “We shall do this one at a time, or otherwise it might confuse my rhyme. First the young one, whose dreams are fun, then the fox should learn to trust, and this old sibyl’s tea entrust.”

  “You don’t have to do this,” I said to Marcus. “We hardly know anything about this woman. You yourself thought she was a lamia. This is an unnecessary risk.”

  “It’s a sibyl, Felix,” he said rolling his eyes. “I know my legends and lore. I may have been a frightened boy when I thought she was a lamia, but now I am almost a man. I will not miss a chance to receive my own prophecy.”

  The sibyl held the pot with a folded towel and took it off the fire, poured the steaming brew into the cup before Marcus and placed it back in the hearth. “Breathe the steam, drink, and dream.”

  Marcus did as instructed, holding the cup gently, blowing on the liquid and inhaling the steam. He took a first careful sip, his face brightened, and he sipped some more. “Whatever is in here,” he said, “is actually quite ni—”

  His face and hands froze. His eyes glazed. Without changing expression, he very carefully put his cup down. I caught it and guided it gently to the table, so he wouldn’t spill the hot brew on himself.

  “The mind of the young, free of distraction, his dreams will grant him much satisfaction,” said the sibyl.

  “And mine?” I look at her sidelong.

  “That you will see when you drink my tea,” she said with a cryptic smile.

  “Tell me,” I asked, “when the young man’s cousin was here last year, was he alone?”

  “He came here with a friend, and both drank my special blend.”

  “And you will not tell me anything else about it, will you?”

  She just smiled and continued to dust around her hut.

  A few minutes later and Marcus began to stir. He drew a deep breath and the colour and animation returned to his face.

  “Did you learn anything?” I asked.

  His face reddened. “I… I think so. Can’t quite make sense of it though.”

  “That is normal with sibyl’s prophecies”, I shot the sibyl a sidelong look.

  “The boy’s prophecy is his alone, to heed its message or bemoan.”

  “I saw myself as an old man, sitting in my family’s house, dressed richly with very fine things all around me,” Marcus continued.

  “That sounds like a good future.” I said.

  “It’s just that, you see, I felt this great dissatisfaction. Disillusioned, thoroughly miserable, a life wasted.” I waited for him to continue. “I am not sure what led me there. What choices will I make in life to lead down such a path, and how might I avoid making the wrong ones? I need to think about it.”

  “And now you,” said the sibyl, “sit and drink my brew.”

  She poured another measure of the tea into the cup in front of me. I raised it carefully to my nose and breathed on the steaming surface. The aroma reminded me of the scent of spring flowers wafting over crisp snow. I took a careful sip. I could taste the honey, the flowers and other things besides which I could not quite place. It was earthy, ri
ch, comforting in a way. I took another sip.

  * * *

  I was following Caeso up a narrow mountain path. I could clearly see the town and the bay far below us, the clear horizon of blue skies meeting with blue seas. We were climbing the Mons Krodus — Caeso together with Gnaeus Drusus, and me keeping well behind. The path soon reached the woods on the slopes and Caeso and Drusus disappeared from my sight.

  I followed them between the trees. As I walked deeper into the forest the light dimmed, until I could hardly see the ground for the faint light did not penetrate the thick canopy. A thick white mist rose and was curled on the ground, obscuring roots. I tripped and fell, got up, walked on. Vague glimpses in rare breaks amidst the branches offered me slivers of moonlight and faint stars that were not enough to show me direction. Before me, around me, behind me, between the trees all I saw was the fog. I lost track of the people I was following and just kept walking, avoiding branches and roots, drawn inexorably towards my destination.

  The clearing.

  I slowed as I walked out from between the trees, taking careful steps across the moonlit grass. In the edges of the clearing out of the corner of my eye I saw what I thought was moonlight reflecting in eyes, as the sheen of purple-black fur, though whenever I turned I saw only grey-white mist and leaves.

  I edged to the middle of the clearing. The grass looked like brittle shards of silver in this light.

  In front of me loomed the well. I knew there my destination lay, the reason for my being here.

  I walked over to it. I placed my hands on the stones of its sill, and turned my head to look up to the stars. I stared at them and they blinked back at me coldly.

  I steeled myself to face the well. Face what was inside it. That was why I was drawn here. To make me confront the thing down its depths.

  I didn’t want to, but I had to.

  I dropped my gaze, and opposite me stood Araxus, looking straight back at me with both eyes.