Kelli Stanley - The Curse-Maker

“This wasn’t a slave. A Roman-maybe an official, I don’t know. Vibia was very vague, and Flavia was uncomfortable with the conversation.”

“When did he die?”

“About two, two and a half years ago. A lot of people swear the mine is genuinely haunted-that’s why it’s still closed. Even an investor was scared off. He came up from Durnovaria, I think it was, and wanted to reopen it but was frightened away by the ghost.”

She shivered again. “I didn’t like hearing about it. There’s something- wrong -about Aquae Sulis, Arcturus.”

I grunted. “Curses. Ghosts. Murder … though murder’s nothing new in this town, not if we’re right about Bibax. Two years, three-who knows how long he could have been playing Sulis.”

“What would you like me to do?”

I took her hand in mine. “I want you to be careful. Killings and blackmail and whatever the hell else are rotting this town from the inside out. No one knows it, or maybe they just don’t give a good goddamn. It’s going to be dangerous to ask the right questions, and even the wrong ones. I’d like to get the hell out of here, today, tonight. It’s poison. A goddamn city of poison.”

“I can take care of myself, Ardur. I’ve told you that.”

“I know you can, but until Bibax turned up dead, things were running nice and smooth-and they all want to keep it that way. We don’t know what we’re waking up, and no one-not the innocent or the guilty-will like it. I gave my word or I’d move us back to Londinium tonight.”

She nodded. Nothing I said had frightened her.

“All right. What about tomorrow?”

“Do what any well-bred woman would do. Go back to the baths. If you get a chance to talk to that old woman-”

“I will. I’ll find a way, don’t worry. Anything else?”

I gave her what I hoped was my disarming grin. “I don’t have to tell you to keep an eye on Sulpicia.”

She frowned. “Better mine than yours.”

I bit my lip. “But Gwyna-I will have to talk to her tomorrow.”

“What? Why should you have to see that-”

“Because I’ll get better results than you will. I think a direct confrontation about the blackmail will work with her. Even if it doesn’t, it will set things in motion.”

Her lips stretched in a thin line. “As long as certain other things aren’t set in motion.”

I ignored her and poured myself another drink. I was congratulating myself on how well I’d handled it when a light flamed in Gwyna’s eyes that made me suspicious.

“Maybe I should talk to Philo.”

I nearly spat the wine across the room. “Philo? Why the hell should you see Philo?”

“For the same reasons you’re seeing Sulpicia. The weak spot, Arcturus. He’ll be less guarded, and as the leading doctor in Aquae Sulis he’ll probably know about these deaths. I can at least bring up Rusonia and Sulpicia’s dead husband, and find out the details.”

Logically, she was right-but goddamn it, I wasn’t logical. “No.”

“What do you mean, no?”

“No is what I mean when I say no. I don’t want you to see Philo. Besides, you’ll be in the baths in the morning.”

“I can go a little later. It’s more fashionable anyhow. You’ll have to get there midafternoon as well, if you want to catch Sulpicia somewhere other than the exercise windows. Or maybe you want to show her what big muscles you have.”

We glared at each other. I was trying to treat her like a real partner, and not like a jealous husband, but partners don’t look like wives. Philo would never try to seduce Bilicho.

“He’s sixty.”

“She looks sixty without her clothes on.”

We glared again. Both of us were breathing hard.

“All right. Talk to Philo. Just don’t let him get near you.”

“Same to you. If I smell any of her scent on you-”

One of the slaves came in to get the dinner leftovers. Gwyna straightened her tunic, smoothing it over her legs. I got up and paced for exercise.

* * *

Later I asked her to give me a shave. We changed and strolled into Agricola’s private baths. There were three small pools, with lovely mosaic work in the bottom.

I sat on a stool near the edge of the caldarium, and she took out some oil and one of the razors. She still wasn’t wearing what she usually wore-when she wore anything at all-but that was at home, and before I’d left for the North.

She grabbed my chin and forced my face up to look at her.

“Ardur-”

“Mmm?”

“Ardur-pay attention.”

My hands were crawling down her hips, and she fought not to arch her back.

“Listen to me! I-I can’t do this. Not now. Not-not yet.”

The blue of her eyes was too deep to see behind.

“I-when, Gwyna? What-what can I do?”

“Nothing. It’s not you. Please, Ardur. Please don’t be angry.”

I took a deep breath. “I’m-why don’t you just finish that side of my chin, and I’ll take a quick plunge in the cold pool?”

She nodded, her face white in the dim light. We didn’t say anything else, and after she was through, I waded in our private frigidarium until I was numb.

When I came to bed, she was still awake, and she took my hand. She held it to her lips and kissed it. “It won’t be so very long. I just-I just need a little more time.”

I held her close, and was surprised when she started to cry.

Breakfast was awkward. Gwyna avoided my eyes. I got up and walked behind her chair. She craned her head to look at me.

“Ardur-what-”

My hands on her shoulders silenced her. I massaged her neck and pulled her hair up. She leaned back against me, eyes closed. I kissed her neck, my lips traveling around to the front of her tunic, gently brushing her lips.

I said in a playful tone: “Just a reminder for when you see Philo today.”

She relaxed and smiled-a little wickedly-looking around to make sure there were no servants lurking. “Ardur-give me your hand.”

I held it out, and while I was still standing behind her, she calmly tucked it under her tunic. The breast strap she was wearing was very thin. I completely forgot why I was standing there. I also forgot my name.

She removed it-she had to be firm with it-and returned it to me, with another smile.

“Remember that when Sulpicia tries to climb in your lap.”

Breakfast suddenly tasted much better.

* * *

I decided not to take the litter, since walking helped me think, and I sure as hell needed some help. The weather was gray, as unsettled as my sense of purpose.

I walked down the hill to the gemmarius. The little shop clung to the dilapidated corner as if it were out of breath and tired of running. Not the moneyed area of Aquae Sulis.

Dirt streets, same yellow color as the baths. A fountain with a lion’s face, cracked, mended, broken nose, stood a few doors away in the center of the square, its drip unsteady. The smell of piss rose from the insulae above, carried on a breeze that would blow it into the marketplace, where it would disappear and be overwhelmed by worse.

The man’s son was standing in front, his hands on his belt.

“Yes? You want to buy something?”

“Necklace for my wife. I was here day before yesterday-asked directions. Your father gave them to me, thought I’d return the favor.”

Burly, dark complexion, wiry beard. He stared at me. Intense, but not hostile.

“Natta isn’t my father.”

“My mistake. I noticed you together at the baths yesterday and assumed-”

“Buteo? Are you-” The old man hobbled out from the darkness. He stopped when he saw me. “Good morning, friend. What can I do for you?”

“I’d like to buy a necklace for my wife.”