Rosemary Rowe - A Pattern of Blood

I heard Julia catch her breath sharply. Sollers’s hands visibly trembled as they held the salve pot, but it was only for an instant. A moment later he had regained his self-possession, and was saying evenly, ‘In general, citizen, one carries it away and washes the cupping vessel in the stream.’

‘In general,’ I said. ‘But what about yesterday morning? What did you do with it then?’

There was a pause, during which Julia looked at Sollers and everyone else looked at me.

‘I should warn you, lady,’ I said, ‘I have been to the fuller’s. Your clothes had not yet been laundered.’

Julia turned so pale I thought Sollers would suggest another cupping. ‘Great Minerva, giver of wisdom!’ she exclaimed. ‘Sollers, you had better tell them everything.’

None of the servants moved. One could almost feel the expectation in the room.

Sollers looked at me steadily. ‘What Julia did was no crime, citizen.’

‘I did not suggest it was. The blood, after all, was withdrawn already, and you have just explained how that is treatment for a fever. All the same, I would like to hear her account of it. Or yours. A petition, was it, or a thank offering? Because the treatment you were giving her had worked?’

Julia gave a little sob. ‘A little of both. It was not the first time I had sacrificed to the goddess — though not usually with blood. But we always sent the servants away when I made an offering, and I know we were not observed this time. We did it so swiftly. How did you discover the truth?’

‘I examined the altar, yesterday, and the channel around the shrine was wet with blood. I wondered at the time if someone had used it as a way of disposing of inconvenient evidence. It was foolish of me, but I did not make the connection with cupping, until now.’

Julia opened her mouth to speak, and thought better of it.

‘Minerva,’ I went on, ‘giver of wisdom, as you pointed out — and guardian of women’s troubles, too. There are several statues of her in the garden. Of course you would make sacrifice to her. You were being treated by Sollers for just such a problem — he told me so himself.’

She turned to him, white-faced, and he burst out, ‘And you, citizen, gave me your word upon your silence.’

‘I promised not to betray your confidence to others, and I have not done so. The attendants knew already, since they told my servant about it. I have betrayed you to no one. And I won’t, unless the matter bears upon the killing. But I would have been glad to learn about it sooner. Blood close to a stabbing requires explanation, don’t you think?’

‘Oh, citizen!’ Julia raised her lovely eyes to mine. ‘You are right. It is my fault. I was too terrified, when Quintus was killed, and too embarrassed to explain. I made Sollers promise to keep silent too. After I left you yesterday I went into my quarters, as I said, and put a little rouge upon my lips. I knew that Quintus would be bad-tempered when I saw him, after his argument with his son, and I wanted to humour him as much as possible — partly so that he should greet you with civility. Then, as I came out of my room, I met Sollers in the court. He had bled my husband earlier, and since Quintus was still arguing with Maximilian, was taking the opportunity to carry away his equipment. I needed to wait for Quintus, so. .’ she hesitated.

Sollers finished for her. ‘We decided that there was time to make an oblation — and for Julia to have her final treatment, too. It takes only a short time, but it is hard to find a moment when it is discreet. This seemed an ideal opportunity. There was no one in the court, Quintus was busy, you would not look for her, and it was easy for Julia to dismiss her attendants. And once we were in her husband’s apartments we were safe.’

‘You weren’t afraid you would be seen at the shrine?’

‘It was a risk, of course, but not a great one. The grotto is hidden from the colonnade.’

That was true, I thought, remembering the bald-headed serving maid. ‘This was the final treatment?’ I enquired.

He nodded. ‘That was the reason for the thank offering. The inflammation was already eased. When Quintus was recovered, Julia could go to him again with every expectation of a child.’

I glanced at Julia, surprised at this disconcerting candour in front of a woman, but Roman wives are more forthright about sexual matters than Celtic ones. Or Celtic husbands, for that matter. She said, with only the faintest flush, ‘I had vowed a special sacrifice to Minerva when I was cured, and this seemed a splendid opportunity. What better offering could I make to the goddess than a libation of my husband’s blood, freely given? In gratitude and in petition for a son.’

‘You poured it from the cupping bowl?’ It seemed unlikely as a sacrificial urn.

She smiled. ‘No. Sollers was carrying his equipment in a bowl — a large bronze bowl which Quintus kept beside him. It is a fine thing — suitable for making a sacrifice.’

I looked at Sollers questioningly, and he gave an ironic bow. ‘It was not, I grant you, the most elegant of solutions. But I had just finished bleeding Quintus when Maximilian barged in. Knife, salve pots, bandages and a cupping vessel full of blood — it was more than a man could carry at one time. So when Quintus ordered me to leave the room, I put it all into the bowl, and carried it that way. When Julia wanted to make a libation it seemed an obvious vessel.’ He put away his salve and knelt down beside Julia to place a pad of cotton on her arm and bind it tenderly into place.

‘I see!’ I said, struck by a moment of illumination. ‘That answers a puzzle which has worried me. I wondered why Quintus had not summoned his slaves to his aid when he was attacked. I should have noticed that the bowl was missing from his room. Where is it now? You have not returned it to Quintus?’

‘You saw it yourself,’ Julia said, ‘supporting a vase of funeral foliage in the atrium.’

Where I had overlooked it, I thought. Sollers might compliment me on my perception, but I was not proud of what I had failed to see. ‘So you made the sacrifice? Together?’

Julia shook her head. ‘Not together, citizen. It was a woman’s sacrifice. There was not much time. I made the blood libation while Sollers rinsed the other equipment in the pool and then went to his room to get the treatment for me. He hurried back to help me complete the sacrifice, and then — as you know — we went to my husband’s usual room where we could be undisturbed.’

And where, I thought, she could lie down while he administered the treatment. ‘And that was when you discovered that you had splashed your stola with blood?’

‘I had, a little,’ she confessed. ‘The bowl was heavy, and I poured it badly. It was too heavy for me to lift it up to the focus on the altar. I had to pour it around the channel in the base. Sollers brought the water from the cascade for us to wash the bowl, as ritual demands. I could not carry it so far.’

‘And the clothes?’

‘I went back and took them off, as soon as the treatment was finished, but I had scarcely had time to change them before a slave came to my rooms with the dreadful news of Quintus. And there was I with blood on my clothes. Oh, citizen, I could not even grieve. I was too terrified!’ She shook her head as if the memory haunted her.

Sollers finished his ministrations and rose to his feet.

‘I thought that someone would see the bloodstains and blame me for the murder,’ Julia went on. ‘Once Quintus was dead, who would believe that we acquired his blood innocently? That it had been let to cure him, not to kill him? I made a parcel of my dirty garments, and as soon as my maidservants had helped me dress I sent them to the fuller’s straight away. Sollers came to get me, and I made him promise to say nothing about the sacrifice. Of course, I did not expect that you would guess the truth.’