Rosemary Rowe - The Chariots of Calyx

I smiled more broadly. ‘My thanks and greetings to the governor. Have them brought here,’ I said, and he bowed himself out, while I returned to my enquiries.

There was little left to do. I questioned the last remaining servants — a couple of garden-slaves who tended the plants, cleaned the pool and swept the paving stones. They had little to add. They had not been working in the peristyle, they told me, since their master’s death, apart from cutting a few plants for the undertakers. Their services had been required elsewhere, strewing aromatics in the street outside, and fetching extra water for the kitchens. In any case it would have been difficult to see into the house — the shutters in their master’s cubiculum had been kept closed since his death, and the ones in Fulvia’s bedchamber had been shut and bolted by the pages.

I dismissed the gardeners, feeling very little wiser, and heaved a dispirited sigh.

‘You are tiring yourself, master,’ Junio said anxiously. ‘Should I send for the litter for you, or a mattress so that you can stretch out on the floor?’

I shook my head. ‘But since you mention the floor,’ I said, ‘there is something that I’d like you to investigate. You will do it more easily than I will, and I think that there is time before we are interrupted again. There, underneath the table — you see where the square in the design has a deep space around the border?’

Junio was on his knees in a flash. ‘You think. .?’

‘It lifts,’ I said. ‘I know. I moved it once before — and I think that you will find underneath it the solution to Eppaticus’ missing money.’

He flashed me a cheerful grin. ‘We’ll see.’ He inserted his fingers in the crack as I had done, and once again the central section moved. ‘It’s too big and heavy,’ he said. ‘I can’t grip it. I could get it up at one end, but I need something to prop it with.’ He looked around as if for inspiration.

‘That gong stick on the wall outside?’ I said, suddenly remembering.

He nodded eagerly, and soon came back with it. It was a strange shape, almost triangular, but when Junio lifted one end of the floor panel, and inserted it, the gong stick acted as a perfect wedge. It was exactly the right weight and width to slide under the aperture — almost as if it had been designed for that very purpose. With one end now propped open it was easier to lift the other, and a moment later the cavity was revealed. It was cleverly made: lined with wood and a stone floor set into it, it would have been a dry and certain hiding place for anything. And it was spacious too — just as I had remembered it.

Except that this time the cavity was empty. It was so surprising that I staggered from my gilded stool to look. There was no mistake. The coins had gone.

‘Empty, master?’

‘There were coins in there, Junio,’ I said, clinging to my dignity. ‘I’m sure it was the money owed to Eppaticus. So what has happened to it now? It was there after the murder. If Fortunatus did come here and strangle Monnius, he certainly hasn’t been back to take the money.’

Junio looked at me. ‘Perhaps poor Prisca stumbled on the hiding place. Look at the way those men treated you. And Superbus, too. They wouldn’t hesitate over an ageing nurse.’

I shook my head. ‘This death was different. Poisoning has to be planned.’

‘Then why Prisca?’ Junio said.

I sighed. ‘I wish I knew. Perhaps the poison was designed for Fulvia, as she claimed. In any case, we’d better put the lid back on the hiding place. I don’t want the thief to realise that I know. That way I might startle a confession from the one who took it — if I ever discover who it was!’

The lifting section of mosaic went back more quickly than it had come out, but even so Junio had scarcely time to hang up the gong stick and take his station behind my stool again before Annia Augusta swept into the room, followed by her apologetic maid.

‘Lydia is right,’ she announced, without further ceremony. ‘That wretched Fulvia, may Dis take her, has barricaded herself into her room. Literally barricaded herself. I’ve knocked and shouted, but she refuses to reply, and it seems she has even pushed something behind the door so that it cannot be opened from outside. That heavy storage chest of hers, I imagine.’

She looked like an avenging fury, with her folded arms and dark flowing robes. I said, diffidently, ‘You tried the door from Monnius’ chamber, too?’

She looked at me as though I were a toad, suddenly discovered in her bedchamber. ‘I would have, though it seemed disrespectful to the dead. But she has blocked the door from the corridor into my son’s room as well — put something heavy just where the panels would fold. And she will not even answer when I call. Great Minerva, citizen! They will be beginning the eulogies in an hour or so, and we cannot start the funeral without her. What are we to do?’ She glared at me, as if I were personally responsible for this affront. ‘And you? Have you made any progress here? Perhaps if we can discover who killed her maid, you will be able to persuade her to come out, like a civilised woman!’

I remembered the ladder leaning on the wall. Had Fulvia thrown caution to the winds and run away? Fortunatus had not been alone when he was arrested. I countered with a question of my own. ‘Have you any idea, madam citizen, who might have killed the servant? Or wanted to kill Fulvia, perhaps?’

She drew herself upright. ‘What are you suggesting, citizen? Are you accusing me?’

Of course, that was a possibility. Annia Augusta had made no secret of her animosity to Fulvia — but she must have known that the widow was employing a poison-taster. I tried a little hasty flattery. ‘Not at all, madam citizen. I am simply interested in your perceptions.’

Annia Augusta was not placated. ‘I wonder why? You’ve not been interested in what I thought till now. Besides, I have nothing to suggest. I cannot imagine who would be interested in a worthless slave, so presumably the poisoned draught was meant for Fulvia. Perhaps I should have paid more attention to her claims. I confess I did not believe there was any threat to her, despite her protestations. Even now, I do not understand it — unless that Fortunatus fellow has some other woman in the town, and she somehow managed to smuggle poison in.’

I thought of Pulchrissima. ‘And how would such a person arrange that Fulvia would take it?’ I said.

‘Fulvia did insist on sending out for everything herself. It might have been contrived.’ Annia lost patience suddenly. ‘I don’t know how. You are supposed to be solving this, not me. I am simply attempting to see that my son has a decent funeral, without its being interrupted any more than necessary. By his widow, among others. If he’d listened to his mother, and stuck to Lydia, none of this would ever have happened.’ She broke off as Fulvia’s pageboy, Parvus, came into the room. ‘What has happened, boy? Has your mistress finally consented to come out?’

‘There is a detachment of soldiers outside, mistress, asking to see the citizen. They say he is expecting them.’ He looked at me. ‘Should I let them in?’

Annia Augusta echoed in amazement. ‘Soldiers? Here?’

Parvus nodded. ‘They’ve got two prisoners under escort.’

‘Prisoners!’ Annia rounded on me, furious. ‘You have allowed them to bring prisoners here? In the middle of our mourning, too. This is an indignity — an insult to the dead. Lydia is right, the auguries are frightful. And in front of all those spectators outside, as well. Jupiter alone knows what everyone will think — that these are mourners coming to the funeral, no doubt, and my son has only criminals to weep for him.’