David Wishart - Last Rites

We walked along a different maze of corridors from last time until we came to a cedar-panelled door with brass hinges. The guy knocked, opened it, then stepped back to let me through and closed it behind me. Not a word throughout, but I reckoned if he’d had to go through the same routine with a cockroach as far as being shown due friendliness and respect went the bastard with the feelers would’ve had the edge, easy. Obviously as far as the Aemilius Lepidus household was concerned Corvinus was not flavour of the month, or even in the last five. Mind you, I didn’t blame him; when a visitor leaves the young master ready to commit suicide the family aren’t exactly going to put out the welcome mat a second time round.

If it was suicide, of course…

Marcus Lepidus Senior was sitting at his desk. He looked haggard as hell, sure, but even in that condition he was an impressive man, poker-backed, crag-faced and silver-haired, with a nose you could’ve fitted to a fighting trireme and skipped the extra bronze plating. And on the reading couch to his right lay one of the most stunning women I’d ever set eyes on.

‘Marcus Valerius Corvinus,’ he said. Just that. Not hostile, but a long way from friendly. And no ‘Please sit down’ tacked on, either.

I went into my prepared speech. ‘I’m sorry to intrude, sir, I know how you’ll be feeling, but I -’

He cut through me. ‘This is my daughter Lepida.’ The woman didn’t even nod. Jupiter! Curves like that shouldn’t be allowed! ‘Now. What can we do for you, Corvinus? Don’t bother with the politenesses, but I would ask you to be brief. If it’s of any help, I know your business. And what crime you suspect my late son of.’

I swallowed. Maybe I shouldn’t’ve come; I could’ve done this through Camillus. Still, it was too late now. ‘Very well, sir,’ I said. ‘Could you tell me what happened? Exactly?’

‘Exactly.’ Lepidus rolled the word around in his mouth like a sour grape. ‘Exactly, Marcus killed himself. Last night, just after sunset, with his own sword. He had come previously to tell me that such was his intention.’

I stared at him. Sweet holy gods! ‘And you didn’t try to stop him?’

‘No.’ I don’t think I’ve ever seen a face more lacking in expression. ‘Of course not. The decision was his, consciously made and logically reached. I tried to change his mind, naturally, but it was his right and in the end I accepted it as such. He died with great bravery, as I would have expected a son of mine to do.’

I glanced at the woman. She didn’t say anything, but her lip curled. I remembered what young Lepidus had said about her. ‘Did he tell you why?’ I asked.

‘He felt responsible for my niece Cornelia’s death.’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘Also, he had a message for you.’

‘For me? ’

‘“Tell Valerius Corvinus that there are worse crimes than murder.”’

My brain had gone numb. ‘What?’

He repeated it. ‘That, Corvinus, is all I know. He said nothing else, either about the events of that night or his involvement in them.’

‘Nothing? Nothing at all?’

‘Nothing whatsoever.’ Lepidus Senior’s mouth set. ‘I will swear to that, by the way. If you require it.’

‘No.’ My brain was whirling. Worse crimes than murder… ‘No, that won’t be necessary. Uh… I don’t suppose your son confided in you about anything that’d been worrying him recently? Something he’d heard or seen, maybe, that was preying on his mind?’

‘Marcus and I were not close.’ His eyes rested on the woman, then shifted back to me. She didn’t react in any way. In fact, apart from that one lip-curl I doubt if her expression had changed since I’d come into the room. I might as well not have existed, or her father either. ‘Neither of my children has ever been close, to me or to each other. Certainly not close enough to take me into their confidence. That may sound odd to you, Corvinus, but I ask you to accept it as I accept it. As a simple fact. The situation has worsened in recent years, with Marcus leading a life that I -’ He stopped. ‘Well, shall I merely say that it was one I did not approve of, although unfortunately I was not in a position to forbid the associations he entered into. The same goes for my daughter here. This is a large house, easily big enough for all of us to lead our separate existences without impinging on one another. Which is what we have done for some time now.’ The mouth twisted into something that wasn’t quite a smile. In fact, I wondered if Lepidus Senior could smile. ‘I trust that I do not shock you too much.’

Holy gods! I turned to the woman. She’d sat through that spiel with a face like a bored cat’s. ‘How about you, lady?’ I said. ‘Did your brother mention anything – anything at all – that he seemed concerned about?’ Going through the motions, sure, but this was the only chance at the family I’d get. If you could call them family.

‘Marcus and I didn’t talk,’ she said. She had a long patrician drawl that set my teeth on edge.

I waited, but it seemed that that monolithic statement was all I was going to get. Yeah. Right. Well, scratch that angle for a non-starter. ‘Uh-huh,’ I said. ‘What about the Vestal who died? Cornelia?’

‘What about her?’

‘Did you know her well? As an adult, I mean?’

‘I’d met her. Here and there, at parties and dinners.’

‘But you hadn’t kept up the relationship?’

‘What relationship? We never liked each other, Valerius Corvinus. Even as children. She was born a virgin and she died one, and I don’t just mean physically. I have no time for bred-in-the-bone virgins. The way my brother mooned after her was positively sickening. And if he expected to get anywhere by doing a Clodius Pulcher on the night of the rite then he knew women even less well than I thought he did. Which was not at all, the sad little pathic.’

I winced, and I noticed that Lepidus Senior did too, although he didn’t say anything. What had happened to ‘Of the dead, nothing but good’? Especially with the corpse still lying out there in the atrium. ‘Did he know the Galba house, incidentally?’ I said.

‘He took me there once, to see Aemilia.’ I looked at her. ‘Corvinus, Rome may be the capital of the world, but it’s still in many ways a small provincial town. Unmarried ladies are more smiled on if they do their visiting decently chaperoned.’

‘Aemilia’s a friend of yours?’

The corner of her beautiful mouth lifted. ‘Hardly a friend. She’s a distant cousin, of course, from another branch of the family. More of a twig, really. Her father was a consular but poor as a Suburan sparrow. Oh, and she thinks she’s the gods’ gift to men, which may be why she cultivates me. That sort are always so grateful for a tip or two.’

Well, I supposed if you ignored the size of the lady’s ego it was a fair comment. Even in a mourning mantle Lepida had every competitor in Rome beat six ways from nothing, and she oozed sex like a pedigree cat in heat. ‘You were at the rites yourself, of course, lady,’ I said. ‘You didn’t notice anything unusual?’

Her eyes opened wide. ‘Actually,’ she said, ‘I wasn’t. I had other commitments that evening and I find the rites of the Good Goddess so boring. All that all-girls-together nonsense, chanting and dancing around waving bits of greenery, really it’s -’

‘Lepida!’ Marcus Lepidus Senior snapped.

She turned to him with a dazzling smile. ‘Oh, Father, I am so sorry!’ she said. ‘Have I offended you, darling?’

But Lepidus hadn’t even glanced at her. He was still watching me. ‘If you’ve asked all your questions, Corvinus,’ he said, his voice level again, ‘then perhaps you would go. I wish I could help you more but I am afraid I cannot. And that is cannot, young man, not will not; please understand that very clearly. Venustus will show you out.’