David Wishart - Foreign Bodies

‘Yeah.’ I stood up. ‘Well, maybe something will come. We just have to hope.’

‘It’ll have to come damned quickly, then. We’re running out of time.’

So, what next? I’d told Balbinus that I needed to have another look at the spot where the bodies had been found, and that was true: as I remembered it, there had been no real cover, none at all. That wouldn’t have mattered much in the case of the original theory, sure, – that Drutus and Anda had been engaged in a clandestine meeting on their own account – but it was crucial now. I had to check. I set out for the Moguntiacum Gate and the road beyond.

There was no sign of my goat-herder friend this time; presumably he was pasturing his charges elsewhere. I found the exact spot where the bodies had lain, but his time I went further into the hinterland.

Or started to, rather. The ground rose sharply for twenty-odd paces, then suddenly fell away in a steep scree that was practically a full-blown cliff. The broadish hollow at the bottom, eight or ten feet below, would be accessible on its other three sides but – as I’d just discovered by accidentally almost falling into the bloody thing and breaking a leg – tucked neatly out of sight and completely invisible from the direction of the road.

OK; so far, so good: if someone were to go carefully through the underbrush – crawling, even – to the top of the rise they’d be able to look down into the hollow and see and hear what was going on, without themselves being seen from below, even on a brightly moonlit night like the night of the murder had been.

Only they had been seen, hadn’t they? Or possibly whoever was in the hollow had known they were there all the time. Like I’d said to Balbinus, that side of things didn’t really matter; whatever the ins and outs of it, the killer had managed to sneak up behind them, take them by surprise, and do the business …

Which, come to think of it, was interesting in itself. There must’ve been something to watch, otherwise they’d’ve smelt a rat and been on their guard, and that meant there had to be more than two villains involved: two of them down below, to keep the conversation – and so the watchers’ attention – going while the third took care of the killing. Chances were, then, that the second theory – that it was a set-up – was the one to go for; that Drutus and Anda hadn’t known there was a third person involved, probably because they were being followed in their turn. Oh, sure, if they’d turned round to look they might’ve seen him, granted, but they weren’t likely to do that, were they? All their attention would be fixed on the guy ahead, to make sure he didn’t leave the road unexpectedly and mess things up for them while staying far enough back not to get themselves spotted. And the third man, if he was being equally careful to keep out of sight as no doubt he was, could well at a pinch have used the cover of the ditch, which was a good three feet deep and bone dry at this time of year.

Yeah. I’d go for that. It would work, and it made sense.

Getting down into the hollow from up top clearly wasn’t an option: another argument, if I’d needed one, for a third member of the party and an ambush, since if the guys down below had just happened to spot Drutus and Anda eavesdropping then climbing up to get them wasn’t a viable proposition; while by the time any would-be killer had come the long way round the pair would either be ready for him when he arrived – they both had their knives, after all – or would have legged it back to the road long before he got there.

I retraced my steps and went round the side.

Someone had been standing there, right enough: the long grass that covered the hollow’s base still showed signs of having been trampled flat.

Check.

So, that was about all I could manage at present. I set off back to town.

There was no sign of Perilla when I got back to the residence; scarcely surprising, mind, because we were still a good couple of hours shy of dinner time. I consulted Bathyllus when he brought a well-earned cup of wine through to me in the atrium.

‘The mistress went out, sir, shortly after you did yourself,’ he said. ‘With the Lady Julia Optima.’

Right; so the girls had patched up their differences after all, had they? Or just declared a diplomatic truce. Absolutely fine by me.

‘They say where they were going?’ I asked.

‘The shrine of Arduinna was mentioned.’

‘Who’s Arduinna when she’s at home?’

He sniffed. ‘I’m afraid I haven’t the slightest idea, sir. But she has a shrine in the hills, seemingly, about a mile outside of town on the Durocortorum road.’

I nearly swallowed the wine-cup. ‘Perilla’s gone out riding ?’ I said.

‘So it would appear.’

Gods! Next thing was, the sky would fall on our heads. The lady could ride, sure, but she didn’t do it for pleasure, any more than I did. Horses did not feature all that prominently in the Corvinus household.

‘Fair enough, Bathyllus,’ I said. ‘We’ll just have to possess ourselves with patience.’

She arrived back about an hour later, looking wind-blown and flushed.

‘Oh, you’re here, Marcus,’ she said. ‘Good day?’

‘Complicated.’ She bent down and kissed me. ‘I’ll tell you later. How about yours?’

‘Simply splendid.’ She undid her cloak and handed it to Bathyllus, who’d oiled in behind her. ‘Yes, please, Bathyllus. I’m absolutely parched.’

‘Certainly, madam.’ He looked at me and hesitated. ‘Sir?’

‘Ah …’

‘Oh, go on, Bathyllus, bring him another cupful of wine.’ Bathyllus exited. ‘I must say, dear, Julia Optima isn’t at all the dragon I expected to begin with. We had a lovely time.’

‘Yeah?’ Well, the lady certainly seemed in a surprisingly good mood. ‘The shrine of Arduinna, Bathyllus said. And riding.’

‘That’s right. Oh, I don’t do it often, I know, but Optima suggested it and I thought, why not? It wasn’t all that far, and it was a beautiful day, not too hot. I must say that when she arrived I thought she was going to drag me about on visits to the local society, but it turns out she’s more into old shrines and temples and local history. Surprisingly knowledgeable, too. I learned a lot.’

‘So who’s Arduinna, then?’

‘A forest goddess, more or less equivalent to Diana. The shrine was really quite quaint, very old and tucked away in a fold of the hills. I’d never have found it without her help.’ She lay down on the other couch. ‘So tell me. Anything exciting happen with you?’

‘Yeah, you could say that.’ I gave her the rundown.

‘But, Marcus, this is serious!’ she said when I’d finished.

‘You’re not kidding. No pressure, mind; Balbinus was pretty clear about that. So long as the case is solved before whoever zeroed Drutus and his servant has the chance to persuade the Treveri to throw off the hated Roman yoke and the emperor’s plans for Britain go down the tube, we’re home and dry. All we’ve got to do is find him, or them, before it’s too late, and there can only be a couple of dozen or so possible suspects to work our way through. Oh, of course there’s the Cabirus side of things as well, but since I haven’t the faintest fucking idea what’s going on there either that doesn’t matter all that much.’

‘Gently, dear.’

‘Yeah, I know.’ I sighed. ‘But it’s frustrating as hell. All we know is who it isn’t, and it damn well ought to be.’

‘Who’s that?’

‘My Burdigalan pal. Oh, sure, he was plausible enough, and what he said about himself and his plans makes perfect sense, as far as I can see, but the timing aside he’s just begging to be a prime suspect.’