Murder in Hadrian's Villa

by Gavin Chappell

  ‘Very heroic. Very mysterious.’

  Erichtho continued her ministrations, turning to the wound on his arm. ‘Considering everything that has been going on recently, it’s a good thing that the emperor is absent,’ she said. ‘He would not be at all happy. This is what happens when he is gone all the time. Trajan spent too much time fighting the barbarians, but at least he kept people occupied. There’s no interest value in what the emperor’s doing, building fortifications. The Romans like to hear stories of heroism. That’s why you’re so popular.’

  ‘I’m popular?’ Flaminius said.

  She chuckled. ‘Of course you are,’ she said. ‘Why else would the empress want you to carry out the investigation?’

  Flaminius was quiet for a while.

  ‘I was assisted by Centurion Probus at first,’ he reminded her. ‘He told me that you had something to talk to him about, but before he had a chance to discuss it, he was taken off the case. Do you remember what it was?’

  She shook her head shortly. ‘I forget,’ he told him.

  It looked like she trusted him a lot less than she had trusted Probus. Why, he didn’t know; with the empress it was quite the reverse. ‘Has anyone else asked for your poisons?’ he asked.

  ‘I have no poisons,’ she told him coldly.

  ‘What about the cantharadin?’ he asked.

  ‘It’s only poisonous if used in too large doses. That’s why people should leave these things in the hands of suitably qualified professionals. But I told you, I’m not Locusta. I’m the empress’ perfumer.’

  ‘But you’re a Marsian,’ Flaminius pointed out. ‘Your people know all about poison.’

  She frowned. ‘So rumour has it. As you appreciate, I have a degree of familiarity with medicines.’ She had finished her work, re-bandaging the wounds. ‘How does that feel?’ she asked.

  Flaminius flexed his arm, then his thigh.

  ‘Fine,’ he said. ‘Thanks. You’re a good physician.’

  She shook her head. ‘I have some medical knowledge, that’s all. If Hermogenes was here, this would be his job. I’m a perfumer, I tell you. And no poisoner either!’

  ‘I’m not calling you a poisoner,’ Flaminius told her. ‘But someone killed Centurion Messalus with your cantharadin.’

  ‘Your cantharadin, you mean,’ Erichtho countered. ‘It was in your possession at the time.’

  Flaminius rubbed absently at his bandages. ‘Stop that,’ Erichtho said curtly. ‘I don’t want my work to be ruined.’

  He apologised. ‘I know that the cantharadin was in my possession,’ he went on, ‘but we know that I didn’t do it.’

  ‘So someone must have stolen it from you,’ Erichtho said, exasperatedly. ‘Minerva Medica! Who did the empress appoint as investigator, you or me? I’m not here to do your work, and by the gods you’d better not try to do mine!’

  ‘Did anyone show any interest in poisons before Messalus’ killing?’ Flaminius asked.

  ‘Apart from you, you mean?’ Erichtho shook her head. ‘You were the only one asking about them. The empress wanted me to talk to you about them when you first came to the Villa. I remember it well.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘You may have persuaded others of your innocence, but fingers of guilt are still pointing at you.’

  ‘I was found innocent in a court of law,’ Flaminius said severely. ‘Ursus Servianus was the magistrate presiding, and he accepted my innocence. If you continue to voice doubts, you could be tried for contumacy.’

  ‘I haven’t the faintest idea what that means,’ she said angrily. ‘Your Roman laws are nonsense. I am employed here for my skill in mixing perfumes and potions. The law means nothing to me.’

  ‘Is that so?’ Flaminius said thoughtfully.

  She saw what he was hinting at. ‘That doesn’t mean I would break it,’ she said. ‘I had nothing to do with the centurion’s death.’

  ‘Were you present at the Villa on the empress’ birthday?’ Flaminius asked.

  ‘Her birthday?’ she said. ‘I always accompany ma’am, as you well know. If she was present, I was present.’

  ‘That’s not really what I asked,’ Flaminius said. ‘Were you present here, last year, on the empress’ birthday, when Senator Rufinus Crassus made an attempt on the emperor’s life?’

  Her face cleared. ‘Oh, when you were first declared the hero of the hour? Yes, I remember it. That was what you were asking about in the first place, when you first came to the Villa, wasn’t it? If he’d been poisoned? Yes, it’s a possibility. He was a strong, healthy young man, not the sort to die of a sudden distemper.’ She shrugged. ‘But who knows what might have been done to him? I assumed the emperor had had him put to death, or given him the opportunity to make good his infamy by committing suicide. The former, I should think. They certainly put him to the question, and quite right too.’

  ‘He was murdered in his cell, I’m sure of it,’ Flaminius said. ‘He scratched a message into the wall, I think.’

  ‘What does it say?’ Erichtho asked, curious.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ Flaminius said; ‘it seems to be in some kind of cipher. But I might just have the key.’

  A look crossed her face. Was it his imagination, or did she look troubled?

  ‘Well, that’s good,’ she said after a pause. ‘But I still don’t really know what you’re talking about.’

  Flaminius rubbed his jaw. ‘It was the empress who suggested I talk to you,’ he said, ‘I mean, in the first place. Because of your expertise with regards to poisons. Why did she suggest you?’

  Erichtho shrugged. ‘Everyone knows that the people of my tribe are virtuosos in such matters. Besides, as far as I remember, the empress did not mention poison. She merely suggested that I, as her personal physician, would be able to tell you how Rufinus Crassus came to die.’

  ‘But you denied being a physician,’ he said. ‘Hermogenes is the official imperial physician, but he’s in Britain with the emperor.’

  Erichtho shook her head. ‘I said I know some medicine,’ she said. ‘The empress keeps me for my skill in cosmetics and perfume, but she also turns to me whenever she has ailments. She doesn’t trust a man like Hermogenes to tend to her! I was employed on the basis of my perfumery. I used to have a shop in the Forum, you know. It became quite fashionable at one time. Then the empress had me whisked away into this life. After a while, my responsibility grew… broader.’

  ‘I got the impression she was quite fond of men,’ Flaminius said.

  ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ Erichtho said tiredly. ‘She has her favourites, of course, men as well as women. She likes to surround herself with female servants, and male friends. The Praetorian Prefect and the imperial secretary are her friends, certainly.’

  ‘Just friends?’ Flaminius said. ‘It’s well known that Hadrian’s inclinations lie in another direction. She must be… frustrated.’

  Erichtho looked scandalised. ‘I thought you were commissioned by the empress to investigate Centurion Messalus’ murder,’ she snapped, ‘not spread idle gossip. I will have to report this to ma’am!’

  Realising that he had made a mistake, Flaminius changed the subject. ‘Tell me why you suggested that Rufinus Crassus was poisoned.’

  ‘I merely repeated what others had said,’ Erichtho replied.

  ‘Spreading idle gossip?’ Flaminius taunted her. ‘But you must have had some reason to suspect it, to repeat it. Besides, which others? Who first suggested that the senator had been poisoned?’

  ‘If you must know,’ said Erichtho grudgingly, ‘I think it was the imperial secretary who suggested it. I happened to mention that some of my cantharadin had gone missing the following day. He said he had read that in high doses it was poisonous, and suggested that Rufinus Crassus’ sudden distemper was caused by the drug.’

  The empress had said something about Suetonius Tranquillus mentioning the Gaulish poisoner Locusta. Surely that inoffensive old scholar was incapable of murder, but he knew a lot about the horrors of the pas
t and he had knowledge that people with murderous inclinations could find useful. Flaminius had assumed that Erichtho was the person a murderer would turn to for advice on poisons. But she seemed genuinely outraged by what Flaminius had had to say. Was it an act?

  ‘What do you know of the imperial secretary?’ he asked.

  ‘I know him professionally,’ Erichtho said. ‘And he’s part of the empress’ circle…’

  ‘What about his insistence on leaving the Villa just before my centurion was murdered?’ Flaminius said. ‘What inspired it?’

  ‘I do not know,’ she said. ‘I am hardly privy to his thoughts. I’m sure I wouldn’t want to be! I keep myself to myself and do not pry into matters that do not concern me.’

  ‘He seemed to have had an argument with Septicius Clarus,’ Flaminius persisted. ‘What do you know about their friendship?’

  ‘Their friendship?’ she repeated. ‘Nothing, except I understand that they have known each other for many years. Septicius Clarus was a friend of a senator called Pliny, I believe, who rose to prominence in Trajan’s day. A mutual friend of theirs was Suetonius Tranquillus, who Pliny favoured. Suetonius Tranquillus, in turn, favoured Septicius Clarus as prefect. They were both part of the empress’ circle, of course; she patronises literary types, and I believe that Septicius Clarus has written verses that are much admired in some circles.’

  Flaminius tried to imagine his burly, bluff commanding officer writing poetry. He failed. This was new, but not very helpful. ‘So her favour may also have got him his place in the Guard?’ he asked.

  She shrugged. ‘I think it was Suetonius Tranquillus who spoke up for him.’

  ‘Would you call the prefect an attractive man?’ he asked suddenly.

  Erichtho shook her head, but in exasperation rather than denial. ‘Young man,’ she said, ‘you clearly think that there is nothing in life except… except whoring, to put it frankly. I suppose it’s due to your youth, of course, and moving in military circles as you do…’

  ‘Is he attractive, though?’ he repeated. ‘To a woman of his own age, I mean.’

  She smiled briefly. ‘Maybe he would be attractive to a younger woman!’ she said. ‘I’m not sure I haven’t seen that Greek handmaiden you’re so fond of giving him encouraging looks.’

  ‘What?’ Flaminius’ mind raced. When he’d first met Medea, she’d been the concubine of Falco, an older, married man. But she’d found him more attractive than that old man. Or had she?

  Erichtho laughed cruelly. ‘That worries you, doesn’t it? You have feelings for the girl. After all you had a tryst with her the night of the murder… Stop looking like that, you oaf! I’m only teasing you. I’m sure she doesn’t find a bald, middle aged man like Septicius Clarus more attractive than you.’

  He scowled at her.

  ‘I’ll have to ask you to tell me the truth,’ he said. ‘This is a serious investigation, of murder. Please don’t try to mislead me.’

  Erichtho shared with herself a small, secret smile. ‘I think you’re misleading yourself,’ she said, ‘if you think I know anything to help you.’

  ‘But you know these people,’ he said. ‘You may know something that no one else does.’

  ‘If you really must know,’ she told him, ‘Septicius Clarus has a kind of inept charm. So does Suetonius Tranquillus, for that matter, when he takes the trouble. I no longer have any interest in men, at my age, but if I were a younger woman, I might encourage the secretary’s advances should he approach me. But he seems to spend most of his time in another world. Although every now and then,’ she added, musingly, ‘he’s a different man. Not the silent, occasionally quite rude scholar, but someone younger at heart. When he’s like that, the handmaidens are in mortal terror of his unwanted advances.’

  ‘Younger at heart?’ Flaminius found this difficult to imagine. ‘I’ve never seen him like that. He’s been pretty cantankerous when I’ve seen him.’

  ‘I suppose that means I know him better than you do,’ she conceded. She lifted a hand quickly. ‘Not that I know him well. I don’t know what it is that makes him change like that. Perhaps it means when he’s found himself an even older, even mustier scroll, on an even older, dustier topic.’

  Flaminius laughed. ‘But surely,’ he went on, ‘he’s always poring over scrolls. Something that affects him like that would have to be completely different.’ He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, then turned to another subject. ‘You say he was the one who first mentioned the poisonous effects of cantharadin. Did you notice anyone paying particular attention to this?’

  ‘The empress was certainly listening,’ she replied. ‘Or pretending to. She was making a point of being particularly pleasant to him just then. This was shortly before he had that row with Septicius Clarus and demanded to leave the Villa. The empress was flattering him and being attentive.’

  ‘She wasn’t normally like that?’

  Erichtho shook her head. ‘At one time, she was often quite rude to him, but perhaps it was in jest. Banter, if you like. They seemed quite close on the whole.’

  This also came as a surprise. Flaminius couldn’t imagine Suetonius Tranquillus being close to anyone. ‘He seems like a woman hater to me,’ he commented.

  ‘Oh, I’m sure you’re right,’ Erichtho said. ‘He has been very brusque with me when he hasn’t taken the trouble to be charming, and he’s hardly charming to the handmaidens, from what I’ve seen. Nevertheless, he depends on the empress for his position. While his friend Pliny was still alive, I suppose he relied on the senator’s patronage, but now Pliny and Trajan are both gone, his standing in the imperial household depends on his place in the empress’ affections.’

  ‘His place in her affections?’ Flaminius seized on the words. ‘What do you mean by that?’

  ‘Nothing!’ she told him. ‘A mere slip of the tongue. I mean, he depends on her favour, as I’ve already indicated.’

  Flaminius remembered his recent experience in the empress’ chambers. Obviously, being married to a man who according to most rumours was—forgive him—a pederast, much like most Roman matrons in such a situation, she would seek solace with other men. After all, she had just been all over him. Somehow Flaminius thought that this was no new thing. But Suetonius Tranquillus?

  ‘Erichtho,’ he said, ‘are you telling me that the imperial secretary was having an affair with the empress?’

  ‘I’m telling you nothing of the sort,’ she insisted. ‘I don’t believe the empress commissioned you to pry into her own private affairs. You’re supposed to find out who the murderer was. I don’t see how this can be relevant.’

  ‘Oh, but it could be,’ Flaminius said grimly. ‘It could be. You know what Marcus Cato said: “Every adulteress is as good as a poisoner.” And people who commit adultery are often involved in murder. Just look at the homecoming Clytemnestra prepared for Agamemnon[10]. We have to look at people’s motives. Another quote, this time from the renowned judge Lucius Cassius[11] speaking about crime—“who benefits?”’

  ‘I’ve never heard of any of those people,’ Erichtho said testily. ‘You forget, I grew up in a mountain tribe. I learnt more about herbs and potions than you lowlanders could dream of, but I didn’t have the benefit of a classical education like you clearly did. Who benefits from poisoning Messalus? It makes no sense. Are you implying the empress is a poisoner?’ She was outraged.

  ‘Are you admitting that the empress is an adulteress?’

  She scowled. ‘I’m admitting nothing of the sort,’ she said, ‘and I strongly suggest this line of inquiry goes no further.’

  This seemed to be as close to an admission as he could reasonable hope for. What was more, it tallied with Flaminius’ own recent experience. If the empress was an adulteress, well…!

  Well what? It proved nothing. Why would she murder anyone, unless they were going to betray her secret? None of it meant she was involved in the conspiracy against the emperor.

  He was tired and confused. He’d had a bad nigh
t, what with the fight itself and insomnia brought on by the pain of his wounds. Junius Italicus’ news of mysterious manoeuvres was troubling him, too. Then the empress’ attempt to seduce him had made him doubt her. Really, he had no reason to suspect her of anything more than a few marital misdemeanours. It meant nothing to anyone other than her and her husband, and any passing moralist of the more prurient persuasion.

  Erichtho had finished cleaning and dressing his wounds. ‘Do you have any more questions for me? I suggest you get some rest as soon as your duties are over. I’ll say no more about what you have said, on the condition that you are equally quiet about anything I may have unintentionally implied. Is that understood? Nothing you have said makes any sense. You are supposed to be investigating Centurion Messalus’ murder, not snooping into the business of your betters.’

  ‘Very well,’ Flaminius said humbly. ‘I have finished my questions, unless there is anything else you can add.’

  She shook her head. ‘None. Except…’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Perhaps Messalus had enemies. I don’t know, but you should ask your own soldiers. A man in his position makes enemies among the men. Perhaps it was one of them. Or perhaps some other enemy he had made.’

  ‘He had enemies,’ Flaminius admitted. ‘But in other quarters. Maybe you’re right, though. Maybe that’s where I should be directing my investigations.’

  Right at the moment, though, he felt he would be best employed reporting back to Probus.

  He found Junius Italicus again and put the cohort in his hands, then marched from the palace and headed for the Castra Peregrina, avoiding the shortcut through the alley. Half an hour later, he was sitting on the far side of the cluttered desk from Probus.

  —15—

  ‘I think I’ve made a discovery,’ he said. Scraps of papyrus still littered the table-top. Probus looked glad to be able to put the work to one side.

  ‘What is it?’ he said curtly.

  ‘It turns out that the imperial secretary, Suetonius Tranquillus,’ Flaminius said, ‘is a mine of information. I don’t know if he realises the significance of much of it… anyway, I was reading one of his books, his book on Augustus, in fact, and it mentioned the Caesar cipher.’