Kelli Stanley - The Curse-Maker

“What about Grattius?”

He shook his head. “A fat, slobbering fool, but he’s lived here his whole life, same as me. It was his turn to be duovir, I guess.” He coughed and spat on the floor.

“Do you think people are being murdered?”

He looked me full in the face. “I don’t know. I just know it’s not right. People are dying who shouldn’t. Those mine people-they had something to do with Aufidio, that I do know, and they’re supposed to be out-of-towners, not from around here. Plus there’s the development down the way, with the ordo wanting to bring more baths, more temples, more crooks.”

He shook his head. “It’s not right.” He poured himself another drink.

I reached across the table and grabbed his arm. “Did Bibax have anything to do with this? Was he a contact for-getting rid of people?”

He spilled the drink on the table and wiped it with the sleeve of his tunic. “I don’t know. Maybe. He didn’t have nothing, though. He wasn’t rich, or at least he didn’t look like it. Lived down by where the new baths will be-not much down there but a couple of apartment houses.”

“But you suspected something.”

His eyes got evasive. “Look, maybe I saw somebody see him who shouldn’t see him. And maybe somebody died. That don’t mean it was wrong, exactly.”

Sulpicia.

I stood. I’d gotten as much as I could hope for.

“Thanks for the ale.”

He looked up at me, spat again. “I’m not saying anything about Bibax. But I do know Aufidio was murdered.”

“Do you remember a boy dying at the baths a couple of years ago? Sort of the town simpleton?”

“You must mean Dewi. Some out-of-towner said he stole a bath towel. Dewi died a few days later. That-that was another one, shouldn’t have happened. Dewi was a good lad, couldn’t help the way he came out.”

“Do you remember how he died?”

“You know, there was something about it-but damned if I can think of it now. If it comes to me, I can let you know.”

“Thanks. And Drusius-”

He looked up from where he’d been staring at the floor.

“Stonecutting’s not good for the lungs. Mix some horehound and mustard leaves with honey, and put them in some wine. Not ale. Drink it every day. And think about getting a farm. You can grow your own barley.”

He looked surprised again, but didn’t say anything.

* * *

I left for the temple, walking through the precinct area. Papirius made me wait. Even if he was inside playing footsie with the incense bearer, he would make me wait. He had to. He was important.

A junior-grade priest finally fluttered down the steps and pulled at my mantle. “Papirius said he will see you now.”

“How accomodating of Papirius. Lead on.”

We walked around the temple and into a back building that adjoined it. Papirius was lying on his side on a couch, attended by two other priests, drinking some wine. I sniffed. It smelled like Trifoline. An underappreciated variety. Papirius must be a connoisseur.

He motioned for me to join him.

“No, thanks. Just had some ale.”

He raised his eyebrows as if to say he hadn’t been aware he was hosting a barbarian. After a long, savoring sip, he put the silver cup down. “What do you need, Arcturus?”

“Just some information. Understanding how the temple works might help me figure out who wanted to pollute your spring with a dead body.”

He said dryly, “It’s not my spring. It belongs to the goddess. But yes, I see your point. What would you like to know?”

“Is the spring ever guarded? Does anyone in Aquae Sulis have access to it at any time?”

“Actually, yes. We’ve been thinking about building a covering over it, especially after this, but that won’t be for some time. Buildings cost money.”

“So if someone, say, wanted to throw in-say-a necklace in the middle of the night, they could?”

His smile was tight. “Certainly. If they wanted the goddess’s favor.”

“Or a dead body?”

He picked up the goblet again. “If they wanted her curse.”

“I see. What about the offerings?”

He took another sip and stared at me over the edge of the cup. “What about them?”

My smile probably curled a bit on the edges.

“Forgive me if I’m wrong, Papirius, but with the amount of offerings Sulis collects, in a month her spring would look like a rubbish heap, and no one could see the goddamn water. That is, if it wasn’t cleaned out, and cleaned on a regular basis.”

His lips pinched together. The goddess was displeased. Or maybe just Papirius.

“That’s no secret. Of course we have to clean out the spring. Mud collects in the bottom, and would eventually prevent the water from even coming in. There’s a sluice in there we open, and the force of the water flushes itself and the mud down an outlet to the main drain.”

“Then what happens to the gifts? The donations to the Guild for Lesser Goddesses?”

“Kindly watch your tongue. You’re still on sacred ground.”

“I’ll watch my tongue if you watch my face. Take a look at it. It’s the face of an impious, impatient man, who is trying to solve a murder for you and your claque of upstart hicks. This is a business, we both know that, and the sooner I can get it all fixed for you, the sooner I can get the hell back to where I belong.”

He stared at me rigidly, the goblet midway between his lips and the table. Finally, he put it down. “Some of the offerings are collected by the drain cleaners and brought into the temple.”

“Only some? Why not all?”

“You’ve seen the spring. Heavier objects fall in the mud, and the mud is deep. The force of the water is very strong when we clean it. They can’t catch everything.”

“How many cleaners are there?”

“Four. All priests. Only those dedicated to Sulis’s service may touch the offerings.”

“What if something particularly pleasing to the goddess-a nice piece of jewelry, for instance-doesn’t hit the water?”

He shrugged. “If it lands on the reservoir wall and doesn’t slide down, one of the cleaners can go along the walkway and retrieve it. There’s enough room. Then they bring it to me, and it’s logged and deposited in the treasury.”

“What if someone else wanted to pick it up? Someone who knew it would be there?”

That surprised him. “Someone stealing from Sulis? In this town? I don’t believe it.”

That is, someone else stealing from Sulis.

“Why not? Isn’t it physically possible?”

“Physically, yes-I suppose so. They’d have to do it at night, or whenever they could snatch a moment and people weren’t looking. I suppose they could dress as a priest-or use some kind of rake to pick it up. But it seems like a great deal of trouble for a very undependable source of income. Of course, there’s also the risk of-well, the goddess’s revenge.”

“If you collect it, what happens to it? Where does it go?”

He sighed. “Into the temple treasury, which is stored inside the temple. It belongs, as I’ve told you, to the goddess. And I fear, Arcturus, I fear very much that you’ve already angered her past redemption.”

“I tend to do that with women. But thanks for the warning.” I stood up. “Can I see the temple treasury?”

“That’s highly irregular. But if you must-”

“I must. By the way, when do you empty the spring again?”

“Tomorrow. We do it at sundown, as soon as the baths are empty.”

He led me in silence from the plushly decorated room and back around to the front of the temple. I felt eyes on my back and turned around to catch a glimpse of Calpurnius.

“Calpurnius is a cleaner, isn’t he?”

Papirius turned to look at me. “Yes. Why? Do you know him?”