Rosemary Rowe - The Chariots of Calyx

At the mention of spirits Lydia rolled her sheeplike eyes, then fixed them lugubriously on me. ‘You have your suspicions, citizen?’

I had no clues whatever, although I didn’t want to admit that. I said, with an attempt at solemnity, ‘I suspect everyone.’

Lydia turned to Annia Augusta and let out a doleful wail. ‘He suspects everyone! Oh, madam citizen. .’

‘Do not be foolish, Lydia,’ the older woman said sharply. ‘The citizen does not mean you! Obviously not — you were performing the lament at the time, in full view of everyone.’

‘But Filius. .’

‘I can assure the citizen that it wasn’t Filius either — he was with me from the time Prisca herself brought the bread and water to us in the annexe until after her body was found.’ She turned to me. ‘I kept him deliberately under my eye — I did not want him wandering into the kitchens and being tempted to break the ritual fast.’

I nodded. In Annia’s position I would have feared the same thing. ‘The other servants will no doubt vouch for that?’

‘Oh, Minerva. .!’ Lydia began, but Annia cut her off decisively.

‘Oh, Lydia, for the love of Mars! Don’t wail! Of course the citizen must confirm my story. And we cannot keep him waiting any more. Besides, we are blocking the passageway — those councillors will finish their lamentations any minute and they will be wanting to leave. I will accompany the citizen to the study and go and have a word with Fulvia.’

She suited the action to the word and began to lead the way. I waved aside the carrying bed and followed her on foot, assisted by Junio and one of the bearers who had brought me here. The other three removed the litter hastily, while Lydia trailed behind us, still protesting feebly.

Annia gave instructions as she walked. ‘This citizen has been hurt — he needs a stool at least,’ she motioned to a slave, ‘and no doubt the kitchens can provide some dates and wine for him, even if we cannot partake of them. Or,’ she turned her head to look at me questioningly over her shoulder, ‘perhaps he would prefer a little cordial tonic too?’

I ceased my stumbling walk to murmur that I would be much obliged. I am, as Junio was well aware, no great enthusiast for sweet fat Roman dates and thin sour Roman wine, but the idea of rest and refreshment was becoming increasingly attractive.

‘The distilled water of wild poppy flowers, I think,’ the older woman said briskly. ‘That is a strong remedy for frenzies and a wonderful restorative besides. I’m sure I have some in my bedchamber. I think I may even take a little myself.’ She nodded to her handmaiden, who was attending her, and the girl set off to the annexe at a trot.

‘But Annia Augusta, madam citizen.’ Lydia’s voice was again a wail. ‘The augurer insists that we must fast. No meat or drink of any kind until after the funeral, and then the first thing we eat after the graveside rituals must be the flesh of the sheep that was sacrificed. Otherwise, who knows what trouble will befall this house.’

Annia was losing patience, I could see. ‘To take a medicine is not to break a fast,’ she snapped, ushering me at last into the study, where I sank down on a welcome stool. ‘But you are right about one thing, Lydia. That story of the broken imago . Fulvia may be Monnius’ official widow, but it was most improper of her to interrupt his funeral rites in that way. All that fuss, and for a slave-woman, too! She had no right to do it, and I shall tell her so.’

Lydia flapped her bony hands. ‘Well, most honoured citizeness, you may try.’ She had turned an unattractive shade of puce. ‘We have all of us attempted to speak to her — Filius, myself, the priest of Jupiter, even the servants. But she insists that someone is trying to kill her. I have tried to reason with her, but the death of her nursemaid has only confirmed her opinion.’ She shrugged her bony shoulders under the dark cloak. ‘But you will see for yourself. She will spoil the whole funeral, if she continues. She has barricaded herself into her bedchamber and refuses to come out.’

Annia Augusta was not impressed. ‘Barricaded herself in?’ she said. ‘We shall see about that! She cannot keep it up; her attendance is required at the funeral. Meantime, I shall have the slaves sent here and the citizen can start on his enquiries. Ah, here is the girl with the cordial I sent for.’ She motioned to the slave-girl to pour me a cup of the poppy-water cordial, which Junio brought to me.

I was cautious, after my experience with Annia’s concoction earlier, but this one looked appetising enough, and I was woefully weak. Even that short walk had taxed my strength. When I took an exploratory sip I found it tasted wonderfully refreshing and I drank the rest gratefully. Annia sipped her own, but when Lydia was offered some she shook her head, and folded her arms like a rebellious child. For the second time, I saw a resemblance to Filius.

But there was little time to think of that. Annia was right. If I was to interview the servants and try to discover what had happened to the nurse, I would need to be quick about it. There was not much time before the funeral.

I had Junio round up the servants and bring them to me in batches, once Annia and Lydia had gone. There were a good many servants in a city household of this size, and they obviously could not all be spared at once, but their duties were limited, and I confined myself to questioning them according to their tasks: kitchen-slaves, handmaidens, pageboys, messengers, gatekeepers, and all the rest.

The borrowed tunic (and my consequent apparent lack of status) had almost prevented Lydia from uttering a word to me, but I hoped that now it would help to loosen tongues, and indeed there was no lack of willingness to talk. However, no one had anything significant to tell me. No one had seen anything suspicious, and all agreed with Annia Augusta’s assertion that she and Filius had been in public view, and Lydia had been lamenting throughout.

One of the little pageboys gave the most helpful account. ‘We were the ones who found the body, citizen. Poor old Prisca. She was just lying there, outside the master’s chamber, her face all screwed up and blue and her eyes protruding, and foaming at the mouth like frogspawn. It gave me quite a shock, and Parvus here’ — he indicated the fellow pageboy at his side — ‘had never seen a poisoned body before. He had to be given water to revive him.’

I was not altogether surprised at his reaction. The last time I had seen Parvus he had been tasting Fulvia’s drink himself.

But the other boy seemed oblivious. ‘Of course, we should have expected something of the kind. Poor Lady Fulvia has been worried for her life ever since she was attacked — insisting on sending us out for bought bread from the market instead of eating anything from the kitchens. Even then, she refused to touch it unless Prisca tried it first. And it was the same with wine and water — hers had to be the second drink poured from any jug, with one of us pageboys standing by to make sure no one tried to poison the cup.’

‘But someone did,’ I said.

He shook his head, perplexed. ‘I don’t know how,’ he said. ‘We were right beside Lady Fulvia while she ate, in the triclinium . I brought the tray of food to her myself, and Prisca tasted everything before she ate it.’

‘And there was no sign of a problem then?’

He shook his head. ‘Everything seemed to be in order, although now I come to think of it the lady Fulvia did say that the water tasted a little bitter, and refused to swallow any more of it. But we thought nothing of it at the time — she has been suspicious of everything for days, and Prisca seemed to be all right. Then our mistress decided to retire, and her nurse went off to prepare the bedchamber.’ He shrugged expressively.