Marilyn Todd - Virgin Territory

‘Why did you kill Utti?’

‘It’s my poor neighbours who have to worry about weevils in their corn sacks, I just let my sheep graze in their stubble fields.’

‘Let me rephrase the question. Why did you kill Utti?’

‘Where’s Acte?’

‘Who are you covering up for?’

The accusation rattled him. ‘Eugenius Collatinus doesn’t cover up for anybody, my girl, and you’d do well to remember that.’

He drained his glass so fast, wine dribbled down his chin, staining his tunic crimson. Claudia waited. As so often happened with this old man, she met with the unexpected. He banged a wax tablet several times on the table, and a slave came running.

‘Did I hear that red-haired trollop has returned?’

‘You did, Master.’

‘Clap her in irons then.’ When the slave had gone, Eugenius turned to Claudia. ‘You want to know why I executed that ugly, fat bastard? Because he killed my granddaughter.’

A paper-thin hand drummed gnarled fingers on the woodwork. Claudia’s eyes followed them up and down, up and down.

‘Those filthy hands of his had been all over her, he got what he deserved, which is more than my Sabina did.’ The drumming stopped and he leaned forward. ‘She rode in carriages, you know. Fine, fancy carriages whenever there was a special festival.’

‘How do you know?’

‘Eh?’ He looked at Claudia as though she was stupid. ‘We got letters, of course.’

‘Of course. You were saying?’

‘Sabina devoted thirty years of her life to Vesta, that’s a hell of a long time to spend doing nothing except offer sacrifices and make sure the Eternal Flame never whitens to ash. She deserved better.’

‘I agree. You haven’t answered my question.’

Again the change in direction. ‘You were right, it’s not colic. I’ve got ulcers in the intestines, and sometimes it feels like red-hot claws tearing out my liver.’

‘Why won’t you tell the doctor?’

He looked up sharply. ‘None of your damned business! Where’s Acte, have you seen her? Didn’t bring me my breakfast, y’know.’

This was odd. Extremely odd. Surely someone had told the old man about Acte…?

‘Eugenius, look, I’m not sure how to say this-’

‘Probably excited. I’ll let you into a secret, Claudia, just between you and me. I’ve asked her to marry me.’

What? ‘Have you told the family?’

‘She knows how to look after me, I don’t need a bloody charlatan poking about in my innards.’

Claudia was having to absorb so many different shocks, she was in danger of having mental indigestion. To play for time, she bent down and gathered up the rolls and scrolls from the floor.

‘That’s very kind of you, my dear.’ So many shifts of mood, no wonder he was a devil to do business with. He began to arrange them neatly on his desk. ‘I like to keep my accounts in good order,’ he said, ‘and naturally I’ve made provision for Acte.’ He leaned forward and whispered. ‘Another year’s the best I can hope for, but she makes me happy. Don’t tell Dex.’

Still this present tense…

‘Why not?’ The old man cackled. ‘He’s jealous of her, so I wrote the will myself. Find it for me, will you?’

Claudia shot him an old-fashioned look, but was glad of the opportunity to rifle through his papers. Unfortunately there was nothing startling or contentious among them, and she handed him the paper making provision for Acte.

Did he, or did he not, know she had been killed? Had his grief-stricken mind blocked out what it couldn’t bear to face? It happened all the time, but the question was, did it happen to a man like Eugenius Collatinus?

‘I’ll get it witnessed later,’ he said, glancing through the document. ‘You can sign your own contract at the same time.’

‘Oh, can I?’ she asked smoothly, settling herself in the seat Dexippus had vacated.

Eugenius laughed appreciatively. ‘You’re a clever woman, Claudia Seferius.’

She widened her eyes ingenuously.

‘Didn’t take my hint of dismissal,’ he explained unnecessarily. He pretended to fiddle with the scrolls in front of him. ‘You want to know about Utti?’

‘Right.’ At last. We are getting there at last.

He ran his hand sensuously over the lionhead carving on his chair. ‘Let’s start with that little trollop claiming to be his sister.’

‘Claiming?’

Eugenius shrugged. ‘Who knows? Who cares? She stole a horse of mine.’

‘She went to fetch help.’

‘Pah! This has happened before, mark my words. Trace their footsteps and you’ll find a score of butchered women, just like my Sabina, and every time that little whore’s covered up for him.’

‘How do you know?’

‘Tell me what she was doing there yesterday.’

‘Where?’

‘Said she was out for a stroll, but why weren’t they together? How come Utti’s already there?’

‘Where?’

‘The birch grove, where my little Sabina was killed.’ Claudia waited a moment, marshalling her thoughts and resisting the temptation to state the obvious. Finally she said, ‘How do you know he was there?’

‘Utti? Someone saw him.’

‘Who?’

‘Can’t remember.’ He saw the expression on her face. ‘Does it matter?’

Claudia’s eyes continued to bore into his.

‘All right, Marius saw him there. But you can’t convince me it wasn’t that big bastard, because I know it was. Two women have been murdered, both in exactly the same…’

His voice trailed off and the look he gave her was of inconsolable bereavement. He had remembered. What he had spent the day trying to block out had come back to him. Tears scoured his thin, papery cheeks.

‘Acte,’ he wailed. ‘Acte!’

He was still rocking himself when Claudia closed the door behind her, wondering why she felt no pity for the old man, only contempt. In spite of the fact that he’d held the will upside down and pretended to read it.

It was Junius who discovered the man, delirious and barely alive, on the road above the villa.

‘You’re kidding!’ Claudia said, when he told her. ‘The same chap?’

The young Gaul nodded.

‘Well, I’ll be damned. I presume you haven’t left him there?’

‘No, madam. I carried him down to the clipshed.’

The more I hear about you, Junius, the less I know you. The clipshed. Deserted this time of year. In other words: ‘So no one else is aware of his existence.’

The Gaul gave a sheepish grin. ‘He’s in a bad way, though.’

‘Hmmm.’ Claudia placed her palms together and pressed her fingers to her lips. ‘Look, you go and disinfect yourself, you’re probably crawling with lice, and I’ll send Diomedes to look him over. No, hang on. What was it you wanted to tell me about Dexippus?’

She listened, and it was clear to Junius that she didn’t like what he had to relate. It did, she confided, tie in with a rumour she’d heard earlier, explaining why she’d taken such pains to transport Drusilla and co. to Agrigentum which, at the time, was planned as only a day’s visit. She dismissed him, wondering what strange motivation drove the boy to be so utterly conscientious. He was, after all, only a slave and did not, as far as she was aware, have a lover. His job was his life, it seemed, and if that was the case, good luck to him. One day he’d find out there was more to life than work, but in the meantime, this was all to Claudia’s good.

The physician’s mouth turned down at the corners as he straightened up. ‘It’s difficult,’ he said. ‘I’ll know a lot more, of course, once I’ve got him cleaned up, but right now? A fifty-fifty chance. Do you know who he is?’

Claudia shook her head. ‘When Junius found him he was mumbling some girl’s name, Sulpica I believe, and whilst our friend may be dirty, I don’t think underneath those scabs and incrustations we’re likely to find a woman’s body, do you?’