David Wishart - Last Rites

‘Yeah.’ I was frowning. Sure, it was all possible, but there were too many grey areas. Still, Lepida was someone to think about.

I picked up the stuffed olive just as Bathyllus soft-shoed in.

‘I’m sorry to disturb you, sir,’ he said, ‘but a message has arrived from the deputy chief priest.’

Uh-oh. This looked bad: the little guy had his serious face on. ‘Yeah?’ I said. ‘What sort of message?’

‘It concerns the dead Vestal’s maid, sir.’

‘Niobe?’ Oh, hell. I knew what was coming next; I just knew it. I put the olive down again.

‘Yes, sir. She’s been found in an alley off the Sacred Way. Her throat has been cut.’

So it wasn’t going to be a quiet evening after all. Still, at least the sun was down and wheels were allowed in the streets, so we had time for an abbreviated dinner while Lysias got the carriage ready and then set off for Market Square. This time Perilla came too.

The Jupiter look-alike Lucius brought us through the chilly, formal atrium to a small well-lit sitting-room where Torquata and Furius Camillus were waiting.

‘Corvinus. I’m sorry to drag you here, especially at such short notice, but I thought you’d rather be told immediately.’ Camillus had stood up. He looked at Perilla. ‘Ah. Your wife, yes? Rufia Perilla. I’m delighted to meet you, my dear, even under such unfortunate circumstances. Have a seat, please. Some’ – he glanced at Torquata – ‘some liquid refreshment. Lucius?’

‘Not for me,’ Perilla said. ‘Good evening, Junia Torquata.’

Camillus was watching his major-demo pour wine into one of the two empty cups. ‘Also,’ he said, ‘I’m afraid I must apologise yet again for having to leave shortly. A dinner party this time, and rather an important one, although not one I’m particularly looking forward to since our new commander of Praetorians will be present.’ His mouth twisted. ‘I never thought that I would regret the demise of Aelius Sejanus, but Macro I find almost equally objectionable, and unfortunately my absence would be noticed adversely. However, I can let you have the salient points before I go, such as they are, and I’ve asked Junia Torquata if she will be kind enough to handle any questions or requirements you may have in my absence.’

‘Uh-huh.’ I tasted the wine. It was Caecuban this time; Camillus was doing us proud. Lucius poured a belt into Torquata’s cup, put the jug down on the nearby table and withdrew, closing the door behind him. ‘So. What happened exactly?’

Camillus glanced at Torquata. ‘The girl was found huddled against the wall of an alley by one of my own slaves some two hours ago,’ he said. ‘Luckily, he recognised her and informed me immediately.’

Torquata grunted as if someone had run a needle into her arm. ‘She’d left the House of the Vestals an hour or so before, Corvinus. She asked leave to go to the old market off the Argiletum.’

I took another sip of the Caecuban: that stuff you don’t gulp. It went down like liquid velvet. ‘And this would be her first time out since the… since her mistress died, right?’ I said.

Torquata’s eyes rested on me speculatively. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘As a matter of fact it was. Apart from the funeral.’

Hell. We should have thought of that angle and had her watched. But it was too late now. ‘No one saw anything?’

‘The alleyway is a short cut leading from the Sacred Way to the rear of this building.’ That was Camillus again. ‘It isn’t much frequented.’

‘You think there was a connection, of course, young man,’ Torquata said. ‘Between Cornelia’s death and Niobe’s.’

‘Yeah,’ I said carefully. ‘I think we can assume that. The girl knew something that Cornelia’s murderer didn’t want made public, and the guy knew she knew. Only until she left the House of the Vestals he couldn’t do anything about it. I’d guess that since Cornelia died he’s been watching and waiting for his chance to make sure she didn’t blab.’

Torquata closed her eyes. ‘That,’ she said, ‘is horrible.’

‘Niobe didn’t say anything over the past few days about what had been troubling her mistress, Junia Torquata?’ Perilla asked gently. ‘She gave no clue or hint? None at all?’

‘No.’ The chief Vestal’s eyes were still closed. ‘Not to me, at any rate.’

‘Would she have confided in anyone else? Had she a close friend among the servants, perhaps?’

Torquata hesitated. ‘I have seen her with one of the kitchen slaves, a woman called Perdicca. Niobe may have spoken to her. Certainly it’s worth asking.’

I glanced at Camillus.

‘All right, Corvinus,’ he said, getting up. ‘I’ll see to it.’ He went to the door and opened it. ‘Lucius!’ The slave appeared. ‘Send round to next door’s kitchen and tell the slave Perdicca that Valerius Corvinus here would like a word with her. Now, please.’ He came back and sat down. ‘So. Who is this killer of yours? Are you any further forward?’

‘I think so, sir, yes.’ I gave him a run-down of the case so far, including Thalia and the fluteplayer. ‘He’s a professional. But the one we really want is whoever hired him.’

‘Indeed.’ Camillus looked grave. ‘You honestly think the man’s a purple-striper? One of us?’ There was total distaste in his voice. That I could understand: to someone like Camillus only one thing could be worse than the murder of a Vestal, and that was that the murderer should be someone he knew personally. ‘I thought perhaps after young Marcus Lepidus was cleared that the person responsible would turn out to be… well, not a gentleman. I realise that sounds naïve, but there you are. You couldn’t be mistaken?’

‘No, sir. At least, I don’t think so.’

‘And you have no idea at all who he might be?’

‘No. Not yet.’

He grunted and stood up. ‘You will. And when you do find out, you make sure that I’m the first to know. Remember that, please. In return I guarantee that the ba-’ – he glanced at Torquata – ‘that the fellow will get the Rock, even if I have to drag him up there and push him off myself. That, or death by flogging. The emperor will agree, I’m sure.’ He set his empty cup down on the tray. ‘And now unfortunately I really must be going if I’m to avoid insulting his new lieutenant by arriving late. My apologies again.’

After he had gone we waited in silence. Finally there was a knock on the door and Lucius came back in.

‘Perdicca, sir,’ he said.

From what Torquata had said I’d expected someone about Niobe’s own age, but her best pal was a nondescript little woman in her sixties with mousey-grey hair and a moustache. She didn’t look too happy; in fact, she was nervous as hell.

‘Come on, girl!’ Torquata snapped as Lucius closed the door behind him. ‘Stand up straight and no mumbling!’

I winced.

‘Perhaps, Torquata,’ Perilla said, ‘I should ask the questions.’

‘Yeah.’ I gave a sigh of relief. ‘Yeah, good idea. Go ahead, lady.’

She turned to the old woman. ‘You know that Niobe is dead, Perdicca? That she has been murdered?’

‘Yes, madam.’ The voice was barely a whisper. I’d heard noisier mice.

‘You were a friend of hers? A close friend?’

‘Yes, madam.’

‘You want to find her killer?’

No answer this time, but her head nodded.

‘Very well. In that case you must answer my questions as best you can. Will you do that?’

‘Yes, madam.’

Torquata opened her mouth, but I held out my hand and she closed it again. Perilla ignored both of us.

‘Has Niobe said anything these past few days about something her mistress told her before she died?’ she said.