‘He can’t have been very clever,’ Marilla said. ‘Cosmus, I mean.’
‘I don’t think he was,’ Clarus said. ‘Not that I knew him myself.’
‘Well, at least the physical aspects of the murder let Veturina out. That’s one thing.’
‘Ah...no, Corvinus. No, I’m afraid that actually they don’t.’
‘What?’
‘You’ve never seen her before, have you? Veturina is...uh...quite big.’
‘Is she, indeed?’ I said.
Bugger.
7
I found out what he meant the next day, when I went round to Hostilius’s place and met the lady: Veturina looked like she could tie iron bars in knots, never mind use them to ventilate a kid’s head. That said, there was nothing particularly masculine about her, quite the reverse. She might be well on the wrong side of fifty, but she was still no bad looker, even in zero make-up and a mourning mantle. And I’d just bet she was the kind to keep stuffed toys in the bedroom. She put me in mind of a fluffy Amazon.
‘I’m sorry, Valerius Corvinus,’ she said. ‘This is...I’m going to find this very difficult. I knew Lucius was dying, he knew it himself, but first the suddenness of his death and now –’ She stopped and took a deep breath. ‘Forgive me. How can I help you? Where can I start?’
Well-spoken and articulate, but with a strong low-class Bovillan accent; yeah, Marcia had said she was a Bovillan innkeeper’s daughter. Interesting, though, that after all the years she and Hostilius had been married - over thirty, hadn’t it been? - and she’d been moving in, presumably, higher social circles than she could’ve been used to she hadn’t gone to the bother of upgrading it. Maybe that said something about the woman.
‘With the death itself would be logical,’ I said. ‘Unless you think there’s a better point.’
‘No.’ She wasn’t nearly as composed as she sounded, mind; I noticed she was gripping her fingers together, twining them hard, holding her hands close in her lap. They were big hands, but not mannish ones. The nails were bitten to the quick. ‘Although I can’t tell you very much about that, actually. Oh, I was with him when he died, but only because Scopas fetched me. We...Lucius and I lived separate lives for the most part. Not by my doing. You may have heard from Hyperion that he was...very difficult latterly.’
‘Fetched you from where?’
‘Only along the corridor. There’re two rooms that I use, a bedroom and a sitting-room looking out through the portico over the garden. I spend most of my time there, just as Lucius spends - spent - most of his in a sitting-room of his own.’ She hesitated. ‘It’s a big house, but I don’t...didn’t want to move too far away from him in case he thought I was...in case he suspected me of...’ She stopped and took a deep breath. ‘Forgive me. I’m trying to be frank and helpful, but being so is in itself embarrassing.’ I said nothing, just waited. ‘That was why I saw Cosmus coming out.’
I straightened. ‘What?’
‘I’m sorry, I’m not being very coherent. The fact that my day room overlooks the garden explains why I saw Cosmus come out through the portico. There’s another door, you see, a little further along the corridor, between my rooms and Lucius’s. He must’ve come through that.’
‘Uh...what time are we talking about now?’ I kept my voice neutral. ‘The time when your husband died?’
‘Oh, no. Much earlier, about an hour after dawn. I’m a late riser as a rule, unlike Lucius, but that morning for some reason...anyway, I was surprised because Cosmus had no business in that part of the house. And I’d just heard Lucius’s footsteps in the corridor going towards the latrine. That’s the other way, to the -’
I held up my hand. ‘Hold on, lady. Let’s get this clear. You’re telling me that the morning of the day your husband died you saw Cosmus - the dead slave-boy - coming from the direction of your husband’s room while your husband was out of it? Right?’
‘Yes.’
‘Don’t you think that maybe you should’ve mentioned this earlier?’
I’d deliberately kept my voice neutral and unthreatening, but her chin went up.
‘No, I don’t,’ she said. ‘Why should I? Until this morning when Quintus Libanius brought you round I’d assumed that Lucius died a natural death, and that was several hours later. Why should I think anything particular of it, let alone think in terms of - ’ She stopped at the word, frowned and tried again. ‘In terms of murder?’
Fair enough. ‘Still, when you knew that Cosmus had disappeared -’
‘I did not know that!’
The sharpness of tone made me blink. I stared at her. ‘Uh...fine, fine,’ I said. ‘No problem, lady, it was just a –’
‘I scarcely saw the boy! Not from one day to the next!’
Upset was one thing, but this was something else. Maybe Hostilius hadn’t been the only one with a tile loose. ‘So Scopas, your major-domo, didn’t tell you?’ I said, still keeping my voice carefully neutral. ‘Or about the articles missing from your husband’s room?’
She took another deep breath, and her hands twisted together in her lap. I could hear the finger-joints crack with the pressure. ‘No. No, he didn’t,’ she said. ‘Not at that point, anyway.’
Uh-huh; not like a conscientious major-domo, and I hadn’t heard anything to suggest that Scopas was anything but. Quite the contrary. Well, that was something I could check with the guy himself later. ‘So when did he?’
‘I honestly can’t remember. Perhaps it was the day after, when we were clearing up, putting things in order. You’d have to ask him yourself.’ She paused. ‘Corvinus, I’m sorry, but my husband has died and I’ve just been told that he was murdered. The first shock was bad enough. The second...well, as you can understand I’m not thinking too clearly at present. You’ll have to make allowances.’
Yeah. Right. Still, I’d bet good money that she was a lot more together than she was pretending to be. And there was some pretence going on here, that I’d swear to. I was beginning to have my doubts about this lady. ‘Even so,’ I said, ‘it’s been - what? - seven days now since your husband died, and up to this morning there was no word of Cosmus being missing. Now, if there was the matter of a theft and as you say you saw the kid under suspicious circumstances leaving -’
‘“As I say”?’ She jerked round to face me. ‘Are you accusing me of lying?’
‘Uh, no. Not at all. It’s just that -’
‘Or perhaps of murdering Lucius myself?’ She was on her feet now and glaring at me.
Shit. No sign of fluffiness now: what we’d got was pure Amazon - she must be six foot tall in her sandals, easy - and not friendly Amazon, either. ‘Hang on, lady,’ I said quietly. ‘There’s no need for this. No one’s accusing you of anything.’
‘No. But they will, won’t they?’ The big hands flexed at her sides in spasmodic jerks; if this wasn’t hysteria it was the next thing to it. I wondered if I should call the slaves. ‘As far as not reporting the fact that Cosmus had gone missing is concerned, I’m sorry, however important it may be it hasn’t been up to now. Or not to me. But I’m not a fool, Corvinus, I know the boy wouldn’t have murdered Lucius unprompted, he had no cause and he didn’t have the wit. And when a man dies from poisoning his wife’s the first to be suspected, isn’t she, especially when she...when there were disagreements between them. So don’t pretend that the possibility that I’m a murderess hasn’t crossed your mind!’
‘Veturina, I never -’
She held up a hand. ‘Now I want you to listen to me very carefully, please,’ she said. ‘I loved and respected my husband for thirty-six years, since the day he took me from my father’s wineshop in Bovillae. If he changed towards me - and that was only in the past year or so - then it was because he was ill. It wasn’t him any longer, not Lucius, and in his right mind he would have despised himself for behaving as he did. I may have hated the way he treated me latterly, indeed I found it unbearably painful, but I did not stop loving him for what he had been for one single
minute. Now under these circumstances if you or anyone else thinks that I could murder him then you’re totally wrong.’
Well, if she’d been acting there then Roscius couldn’t’ve managed it better. Not that the little speech didn’t open up another intriguing avenue, mind, although in her present mood I wasn’t going to bring that up with the lady. Not yet, anyway.
‘Okay,’ I said. ‘Point taken. Then who do you think did?’
She held my eye for a good half minute. Then the anger and stiffness went out of her and she dropped her gaze. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said quietly. ‘That was unfair, completely unfair. None of this is your fault, and you’ve been very kind. It’s just that somehow I feel guilty for Lucius’s death. Even although I’ve no reason to. Does that make sense?’
‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘It makes perfect sense.’
She’d moved across to a pedestal with a marble bust on it crowned with cypress: Hostilius himself, presumably, when he was younger. The face was strong-featured and confident. If the artist hadn’t lied, or exaggerated the way they sometimes do, he’d been a very good-looking guy who knew his own mind and took a pride in himself. Veturina rested her fingers on the bust’s shoulder, like a caress. Then she turned back to me.
‘The answer to your question is no,’ she said. ‘I can’t even suspect. I’m sorry again, but there you are.’
‘How about his partner in the firm?’ I said.
‘Quintus?’ Her eyes widened. ‘Why would Quintus want to kill Lucius?’
Quintus. Not Acceius. Interesting. ‘Someone did. They didn’t get on too well, I understand, and the situation was getting worse. Also’ - I hesitated; we were on dangerous ground again here - ‘there was your husband’s, uh, personal accusation.’
Veturina coloured. ‘You mean that we were committing adultery together.’ I said nothing. ‘Listen, Corvinus. Quintus and I were - are - friends, close friends and have been for years, ever since he and Hostilius became partners. I have the greatest respect for him, as he has for me, but I swear to you, and you can believe me or not as you please, that we are not and never have been lovers. Is that perfectly clear?’
‘Yeah. Yeah, that’s clear.’
‘Good. I’m glad.’ She turned her head away sharply and her voice tightened. ‘Many of the things Lucius said to me - and about me, to other people - over the past year I found very, very hurtful. The charge that I was committing adultery with Quintus was among the worst. And, just to complete your education, if you’re interested in other salacious details of a similar nature you might also like to know that he accused me, both in private and in public, of sleeping on a regular basis with a selection of our better-looking slaves.’ She turned back to face me. Her cheeks were wet. ‘If you should care to believe that unpleasant little squib then I’m sorry for you. You don’t know me, and you didn’t know Lucius in the final stages of his illness.’
‘Right. Right,’ I said. Then, gently: ‘Veturina, I’m sorry, but I’m only doing my job, okay? The Castrimoenian senate have asked me to -’
‘Then it’s a filthy job, that’s all I can say.’ She wiped her eyes clear with a fold of her mantle. ‘Whether it has to be done or not. As far as I’m concerned both you and the Castrimoenian senate can go to hell.’
‘Yeah.’ There was an awkward silence; then, abruptly, she turned her back on me again and lowered her forehead against the bust’s. Well, it was time to leave - past time - and I’d got as much as I could reasonably expect at present. ‘Ah...I wonder if I could talk to Scopas now?’ I said. ‘Oh, and maybe your brother, if he’s around, and your adoptive daughter?’
She stood motionless for a second or two more. Then she turned round again and wiped her eyes. ‘Scopas, of course,’ she said, and from her voice you’d’ve thought we’d spent the last ten minutes discussing the weather. ‘Castor’s out at present, I think; he lives almost completely separately from Lucius and me in the other wing, so I can’t be sure, Scopas will know for certain. Paulina, I’m afraid - there’s been no formal adoption, by the way, she’s simply our ward - has gone to Rome for a while to stay with Lucius’s sister. She found the death very upsetting, and I thought it was for the best.’
Damn. Still, if she was little more than a kid she probably couldn’t help much anyway. I really wanted to talk to this Castor, though. ‘Fair enough,’ I said. ‘Thank you for your time, Veturina. And I’m deeply sorry if I –’
‘You’ll find Scopas in the servants’ quarters, just across the courtyard from where you came in. He is expecting you. The door-slave will take you.’
‘Yeah. Yeah, right.’ I turned to go, and I’d got about half way to the atrium’s exit when she called:
‘Valerius Corvinus!’
‘Yeah?’ I turned back. She was still standing by the plinth, her fingers against Hostilius’s marble cheek.
‘He was a lovely man,’ she said. ‘Before. A good, fair-minded man and a kind and faithful husband. We had thirty-five happy years together, and set against these that last horrible year was nothing, nothing at all. I want you to understand that, please, and remember it.’
I nodded, and left.
Hell. I could be wrong, sure, but I doubted it.
8
Scopas was a surprise: a big guy, broad-shouldered, with a boxer’s face and close-cropped bristly grey hair, more like a prizefighter than a major-domo. Not that he was young: I’d put him sixty, at least, which was probably - although I’d never asked - about Lucius Hostilius’s age. He was sitting on a bench outside the servants’ quarters, whittling a stick.
‘Valerius Corvinus, sir?’ He laid the stick and the knife to one side and stood up. Slow, broad-vowelled local-Latin voice, with nothing servile about it. This guy knew what he was worth. He was probably bang-on, too.
‘Yeah. Sit down, Scopas.’ He did, and I sat down on the bench beside him. ‘Know why I’m here?’
‘Of course. Because the master was murdered, sir. We’re grateful.’
I frowned. ‘Grateful for what?’
‘A lawyer’s slave knows a bit of the law. Should’ve meant the thumbscrews by rights, now, shouldn’t it?’
‘So long as you give me all the help you can, pal, you won’t find me objecting.’
‘All the same, like I say we’re grateful. And I’ll help you as far as I’m able to, gladly. Lucius Hostilius was a good master in his day. The best.’
‘You been his head slave long?’
‘Since he and the mistress moved here from Bovillae, sir, fifteen years back.’
‘That when Quintus Acceius became a partner?’
‘Nor. He and the master’d been partners six or seven years by then.’
‘Any particular reason for the move?’
‘Lawyer in Castrimoenium died, Bovillae had a lawyer already. Still does, old Publius Novius.’
‘Uh...what’s this Acceius like, by the way? You see much of him around here?’
Long pause: Scopas gave me a level stare and sucked on a tooth. No fool, this guy.
‘He’s a good man,’ he said at last. ‘A good friend to the master, while he was himself, and a good friend to the mistress. A good friend.’ He stressed the last word. ‘And if you’ve been told anything more, Valerius Corvinus, sir, then you forget it, because it isn’t true. That said, yes, he’s in and out frequent, on business and to dinner, him and his wife. Or they were, while the master was well.’
‘He’s married?’
‘To Seia Lucinda, sir, lady from one of the biggest families in Bovillae. Father and grandfather were purple-stripers like yourself. Big poultry-breeding business, they had. Still have, the brother runs it now.’
‘When was the last time Acceius was here?’
‘Oh, that’d be about twelve or thirteen days ago, the day after that bit of trouble in town. You’ve heard about that?’
‘When the guy attacked the pair of them in the street? Yeah; I’ve heard of that. You know anything about it?’
‘No, sir. No
thing no one else doesn’t. But it left the master very shaken. He stayed at home the next day and Quintus Acceius brought the business here.’
‘What business was that? Do you know?’
‘No, sir, I’ve nothing to do with that side of things, anything like that you’d have to ask the gentleman himself, or Fuscus in town. He’s the master’s clerk.’
‘Not your mistress’s brother?’
Was it my imagination, or did Scopas hesitate? If so, it was only for a split second. ‘No, sir, Castor’s just a messenger, a gopher, no disrespect intended. He wouldn’t know either, no more than me. But it wasn’t anything out of the usual, as far as I know. Acceius didn’t stay long.’
‘Does he usually?’
Pause; then, deliberately, eyes on mine: ‘No longer than necessary, sir, this last year, anyway. And always with the master present. He was very careful about that, master being as he was.’
Yeah, well, that was me told. The adultery angle was looking less and less likely. ‘So tell me about the day Hostilius died,’ I said.
Scopas stood up. ‘You’ll want to see the room itself, sir. The mistress said you would.’
‘Sure. If you don’t mind.’ I got up too.
‘It’s the other side of the house, overlooking the garden. If you’d like to follow me.’
We went through a narrow arched passageway and round the edge of the main building into a large garden with a portico. The garden had a wall, but I could see a gate at the far end. That must’ve been where Cosmus was heading for when Veturina had seen him. If she had seen him: I wasn’t going to take all that lady had said quite on trust yet. Far from it.
Illegally Dead (Marcus Corvinus Book 12) Page 5