David Wishart - Foreign Bodies

‘Thanks,’ I said, but he was already dealing with another vine tendril.

I went round the side of the house to the back. That was laid out as a kitchen garden, with beds of carrots, cabbage, leeks, kale and beans bordered with thorn-bush hurdles. Half a dozen plump-looking chickens were pecking about the place, and the kitchen itself was a small building only partially roofed over, separate from the house itself, with a cloud of charcoal-smoke above the unroofed section. A girl with red hair bound up in braids was sitting on a stool outside the door, scraping carrots. She glanced up at me, and the knife paused momentarily. Then she lowered her eyes again and the scraping restarted.

If this was Titus’s girlfriend then he liked them big: standing, she would be six feet, easy, and built to match. Mind you, I remembered that Doirus over at the farm hadn’t exactly been a midget, either.

She was a looker, though.

‘Aia?’ I said.

‘Yes.’ She cut the carrot up into chunks, letting them fall into the stew-pot beside her, then picked up another from the basket and started in on that. Big hands, coarse and red, with nails that looked chewed.

‘My name’s Valerius Corvinus. I’m-’

‘I know who you are.’

There was another stool against the wall. I pulled it over and sat. ‘Fine,’ I said. ‘Then you’ll know why I’m here.’

‘That, no.’

‘You’re Titus Cabirus’s girlfriend, yes?’

‘What if I am?’

‘You been going out with him for long?’

‘About three months, give or take.’ She still hadn’t looked at me; nothing since that first glance. All her attention was on the carrot, and the knife in her hand.

‘You haven’t told your father.’

‘No. Why should I?’ The implication sank in. She stopped scraping, laid the carrot aside, and faced me directly. ‘Here! You been talking to him?’

‘I went over there yesterday.’

‘You got no right! It’s not your business!’

‘Yeah, well, the jury’s out on that at present,’ I said. She scowled. ‘So why didn’t you? Tell him, I mean? According to him, you’d always been close.’

‘Work that out for yourself. You know about him, you say you’ve seen him, talked to him. It shouldn’t be all that hard.’

‘I might’ve got it wrong. You care to tell me yourself? Just so it’s clear?’

‘All right. Three years ago the procurator’s men took most of our corn for non-payment of taxes. Dad hit one of them and old Cabirus had him flogged. You think I could tell him that I’d taken up with the son and expect everything to be all sweetness and light? Of course I couldn’t. No more than Titus could tell his family.’

‘He knows, then?’

‘Titus? ’Course he knows. Told him myself, didn’t I?’

Hmm. ‘So how did you meet?’

‘Old Ma Banona – that’s our cook – she has trouble with her leg, so I do whatever shopping’s needed. Titus lives just up the road, and we used to see each other regular between here and town. He’d always say hello in passing, then one day he offered to carry my basket for a bit and we got talking properly.’ She shrugged. ‘It started from there. I didn’t know who he was at the beginning – he just called himself Titus – and by the time I did it didn’t matter.’

Uh-huh. OK; now we came to the tricky bit. ‘The afternoon of the murder. You see him then at all?’

A quick sideways glance. ‘Yes. He was with me.’

‘Here?’

‘’Course not! The mistress’d have a fit!’

‘So where?’

She hesitated. ‘We went for a walk in the country, beyond the Gate. The family eat early, at noon. I’d done the washing up and I was free until an hour or two before sundown when I’d to help with the dinner, so Titus arranged to meet me at the Gate itself.’

She was lying, that I’d bet good money on. Still, I couldn’t very well face her with it. ‘He was on duty that day,’ I said. ‘But he called off sick halfway through. I checked.’

Her shoulders lifted and she looked away. ‘News to me,’ she said. ‘He never talks about his work. You asked me and I’ve told you.’ She picked up the discarded carrot and started scraping it again. ‘Now if that’s all you came for I got things to be getting on with.’

I didn’t move. ‘Did Titus’s father know you two were an item?’ I said.

The knife stopped. ‘No. I said: Titus didn’t tell him, no more nor I told mine.’

‘He might’ve found out another way.’

‘Another way such as what?’

It was my turn to shrug. ‘I don’t know. But it’s possible.’

‘Anything’s possible. Doesn’t mean it has to happen, though, does it?’

‘True. Even so, the chances are that Titus and he had a … well, let’s call it a difference of opinion just before the old man died. You know anything about that?’

‘No. If he did then he never mentioned it. But then we keep off the subject of each other’s families. It’s better that way.’

Yeah, I supposed it would be, under the circumstances. Still, I only had the lady’s word for it, and I didn’t trust Aia more than half.

‘He was himself that day?’ I said. ‘The day of the murder? Just as usual, I mean?’

‘’Course he was. Why should he be any different?’

‘You’ve got long-term plans, you and him? As an item, that is.’

‘Look.’ She set the carrot down, but she was still holding the knife. ‘I’ve no more to say to you and I’ve got the lunch to see to. I don’t know nothing, or no more than I’ve already said. So just push off, all right?’

‘Fair enough.’ I stood up. ‘Thanks for talking to me.’

She didn’t answer. I left her to her scraping.

Well, we were within a stone’s throw of the Cabirus place, so I might as well call in and see if Titus was around: I hadn’t asked, when I was at the procurator’s office, whether he was on duty that day, but then Aia had been the priority in any case. Now, though, would be a good time: when I faced him with the porky about where he’d been the day of the murder, I could check that their stories matched before they got together and made sure that they did.

He wasn’t at home, but he wasn’t on duty, either: Diligenta was out, which was fine with me because it avoided awkward questions, but the maid Cotuinda told me I’d find him at the baths down by the Narbonensian Gate. So that’s where I went.

I paid my copper piece to the guy on the door, collected my towel and rented oil-flask and scraper, deposited my purse in one of the lockers they had for hire – you don’t leave money lying around in those places, whether you’re in Gaul or Rome – and went inside. We were still too early for the usual busy time – most punters who can manage it have their bath in the afternoon, when work, at least for the lucky few, is over for the day and they can relax with a hot steam and a chat with friends before dinner – but it was pretty busy all the same, mostly with off-duty squaddies from the auxiliary barracks next door. There was no sign of Titus in the changing room, but I hadn’t expected it; Cotuinda had said that he’d been gone for a good half-hour before I arrived, so he’d already be in full bathing mode. I stripped off, leaving the rest of my gear in one of the few vacant cubbies, and went straight through to the sweat room.

Most of the benches were full. I looked around: no Titus as yet. Well, we’d give it a few minutes and then move on. I sat down beside two punters who obligingly shifted up to give me room – auxiliaries, evidently, because they were chatting away in a language that I didn’t recognize, but wasn’t Latin, or even close – and communed with nature.

So. What was I to make of the girlfriend? She’d seemed straight enough at base, barring the all-important detail of Titus’s – and her own – movements the afternoon of the murder, and even there I could’ve been mistaken. Not telling their respective parents about their relationship was fair enough too; I’d already seen Papa Doirus’s reaction when I told him about it, and no doubt if it transpired that their son was showing an interest in the daughter of a farmer with the scars of the council’s lash on his back Cabirus Senior – and probably Diligenta, too – would’ve hit the roof in the same way. Even the bit about keeping off the subject of family altogether made sense: if Aia were genuinely smitten with Titus then given the events of three years before it was an area she might not want to let herself think about. The same went for Titus’s job.