Rosemary Rowe - A Pattern of Blood

No: the more I thought of it, the more sure I became. This libation, if that was what it was, had been made earlier, and secretly. And in that case there was a possibility that the blood was human. Not, of course, that there was any way of finding that out for certain.

It was a macabre thought and I got to my feet, shivering. I must report this to Marcus.

As I turned to go, a sudden sound pierced the air, an unearthly, eerie, ululating wail that shivered the blood. It reached out mournfully to every shadowed corner, and echoed dismally around the empty columns.

Maximilian had begun the lament.

I re-entered the house, to return to Marcus. In the atrium, however, I encountered a commotion. Two burly slaves swaggered self-importantly in from the front courtyard, each with a knife in his hand, and between them, prodded at dagger-point, with his head bowed and his arms bound firmly behind him, came Lupus.

He was protesting volubly. ‘I can explain, I can explain. Let me talk to His Excellence!’

His captors, however, ignored him. There was a rope around his neck, and he was being dragged along, none too gently. As I watched in amazement he was half-pulled, half-prodded along the passage to the narrow staircase and disappeared, still protesting, towards the attics.

The chief slave had come in behind them, and I confronted him at once. ‘What in the name of Mercury. .?’

The chief slave said, ‘His Excellence ordered this arrest, citizen. He has found strong evidence against Lupus.’ He smiled. ‘I confess it is a relief to me. At least now we can admit the funeral guests tomorrow. His Excellence has lifted his restrictions on the gate. But he will tell you himself. He is awaiting you in the study.’

I needed no second bidding. When I got there, Marcus was looking pleased with himself.

‘Ah, there you are, old friend,’ he exclaimed heartily as soon as I appeared. ‘Back from your explorations? I fear you were wasting your time. You know that I have now settled the matter?’

‘I know,’ I said carefully, ‘that Lupus has been arrested.’ I had to speak loudly. Outside in the courtyard, Maximilian was excelling himself in the lament and the wailing pipes struck up to swell the sound.

Marcus beamed. ‘Lupus is our man,’ he said, over the uproar. ‘I knew it all along. I’ve had him locked up in the attics for the night, and I’ll order the town gaol to provide an armed escort tomorrow to take him to Pertinax. As a Roman citizen, the old man will have to go to the imperial courts, so there is no point in getting the gaoler out of bed at this hour.’

‘Lupus says he can explain,’ I said.

Marcus snorted. ‘No doubt he does. I’ve heard half a dozen versions of the story already. But it will do him no good. The evidence is too strong. I don’t know what they will do to him in the end. Not execution, probably; more likely he’ll be sentenced to the mines, or — given his age — simply exiled and stripped of everything. Nevertheless, a satisfactory outcome. I am only sorry that you were not here to see it.’ He smiled at me triumphantly.

I gulped. ‘You are. . certain of this?’ I hesitated. ‘I felt that the circumstances surrounding Maximilian, for instance, were interesting to say the least.’

Marcus waved a dismissive hand. ‘Maximilian is an oaf. If I had been his father, I would have done more than threaten to disinherit him, I would have reminded him that I officially had the power of life and death over him. That would have wiped the smirk from his beardless face. But he had nothing significant to add. Except that he now says he went to Julia’s apartments before he came to us. She wasn’t there, he says, so he went to his old rooms to see if there was anything of value he could salvage, in case Quintus carried out his threat and cut him off without a sestertius.’

‘Did he now? I suppose it is possible. There is a door there that leads to the rear courtyard. I noticed that a moment ago. But in that case, why did he not say so before?’

‘Who knows? He did it, though. Rollo saw him crossing the back courtyard while he was in the slaves’ room. I had him in to check. But it was Flavius who provided the really vital information. As soon as I started questioning him, it was clear that although he and Lupus had been sent out to the front garden to wait together, he spent most of the time pacing about the colonnade alone and actually had no idea where Lupus was, or what he was doing for most of the period. Found the old man a bit of a bore, I suspect, and was actively trying to ignore him. When I pressed him to remember, he said he had a dim impression that the old man had been walking about at one stage, but he couldn’t swear to it. He couldn’t give me a coherent account of what Lupus did and said, even when they were together.’

I could believe that, I thought. If I had come to this house to sue for Julia — if I had been married to her and lost her and now saw her wedded to someone else — I should scarcely have noticed Lupus if that animated skeleton had torn off his toga and danced naked around the fountain.

‘All the same, Excellence. .’ I began, doubtfully, but Marcus prevented me with a smile.

‘All the same, you are not sure that Lupus is guilty? You are such a doubter, old friend. Then let me tell you this. Flavius had one piece of testimony which even you cannot quarrel with. During the meal just now, a slave was pouring wine. Lupus forgot what he was doing, and stretched out that “stiff” hand of his — and where he had been clutching his toga, there were bloodstains on his sleeve. Flavius swears that Lupus saw him looking, and turned as green as grass. Obviously he had been holding his right arm like that as a way of concealing the marks, but he forgot that it was supposed to be stiff in his desire for wine. Spent the rest of the meal trying to conceal the marks again, apparently, but it was too late by then.’

‘Bloodstains?’ I was not expecting that. ‘I found a blood libation to Minerva in the rear court,’ I said. ‘I was coming to tell you about it. You don’t think Lupus somehow managed to trail his hems in that?’

Marcus looked at me pityingly. ‘How could he? He has not been to the rear courtyard. Besides, if he had any kind of excuse, he’d have given it.’

Lupus had been trying to give an excuse, I thought, but no one was listening to him. I dared not say that to Marcus, however. ‘You are sure they were bloodstains?’

‘I saw them myself. And don’t tell me that the man may have picked them up in the market. He came here in a litter, dressed for a formal interview with Quintus. In those circumstances a man ensures that his toga sleeves are clean.’

I could hardly argue with that.

‘I sent for Lupus,’ Marcus said, ‘and asked him to lift his arm. He pretended he couldn’t do it at first, but when I threatened to have him flogged he managed it fast enough. Fresh bloodstains. Lupus gurgled and burbled but he could not account for them. I told you the man was hiding something.’

‘I see,’ I said, slowly. ‘Stains on his sleeve. That is certainly suspicious. It is only that. .’

‘What?’ Marcus demanded. ‘A man with motive, means and opportunity is found, after a murder, with bloodstains on his sleeve. Furthermore, he acknowledges that he was at the chariot races. What more do you want? Testimony from the corpse?’ He was mocking, but there was real impatience in it. I knew from the way he was tapping his baton on his hand.

I chose my words with care. ‘It is only, Excellence, that Lupus is an old man. Of course, you have evidence now that he can use his arm, but that dagger was driven in with dreadful force. You remember Sollers said it had chipped a bone.’