Kelli Stanley - The Curse-Maker

He guffawed, and a hammy hand slapped his freckled, quivering thigh, leaving a pink suffusion that slowly spread through the white.

“Arcturus-can I speak to you?”

Philo sniffed the air suddenly, and I wondered if I still smelled like Sulpicia. He took me by the arm and led me to the west end, in an alcove near Vitellius and away from Grattius. I could find everyone I didn’t want to see, but no Calpurnius. Where the hell was he?

I was impatient. “What is it?”

Philo studied me for a moment. “It’s your wife.”

My eyes narrowed. “What about her, Philo?”

“She came to see me this afternoon. She asked me not to tell you.”

“She did? But what-why-”

He shook his head. “She’s worried, Arcturus. Overly interested in this Bibax problem, and the Aquae Sulis gossip. It’s not good for her-especially in her condition.”

I tried to keep from exploding and to look like I knew what he was talking about. “What do you suggest, Philo? I chain her to the kitchen stove?”

He smiled and infuriatingly patted me on the back. “Every woman likes excitement, and she’s a woman of tremendous spirit. She told me what you’ve been doing-how you think you’ve stumbled on a series of murders, possibly connected to Bibax. It sounds fantastic, but I’ve seen enough of the world to expect the unexpected. I’ll help in any way I can.”

He looked into my eyes with intensity. “If it’s true, she could be in danger. If it’s not true, the excitement could overstimulate her. I would just-watch her. But there-I’m giving advice that isn’t wanted to a better doctor-and a husband, besides.”

“Thanks for the concern.”

He shrugged. “Not at all. I care about your wife. And you. I’m sure you find that hard to believe, but I do care. The welfare of everyone in Aquae Sulis-visitor or resident-is important to me.”

My back itched. I turned around, and a pair of rodent eyes were peering at me from the western room.

“Excuse me, Philo. Thanks again. We’ll talk soon.”

He stared at me and then turned back toward Vitellius, a slave trailing behind him with a bottle of scented oil.

I walked into the dimmer room with the smaller pool of magic water. Calpurnius was lurking in a niche on the end closest to the Great Bath.

“Where’ve you been? I’ve been waiting!” he hissed.

“You’re early. What’ve you got to tell me?”

He glanced around the stone, which in the murky light looked like the color of old cream.

“I can’t stay much longer. I have to empty the spring tonight.”

“When?”

“Sundown. Senicio and I.”

“Then talk. What did you mean about Bibax and his curses?”

He shrugged. “I think you already know.”

“Maybe I guessed, but you can tell me more. Like what happens to certain offerings-the ones made by former customers.”

His narrow eyes got bigger. “You-how did you-”

“It doesn’t matter how. I’m after three things. One-who Ultor is. Someone being blackmailed? Maybe. Or someone who figured out the game and didn’t like the score.”

He looked increasingly nervous. The pool around us was not quite empty, and someone standing at the other end could still see us talking.

“Two. Who’s behind the Bibax scam. He had a partner, or maybe more than one. The dead don’t collect blackmail.”

Calpurnius was breathing harder, and his knuckles were white.

“Three. I’d like to find out, before I leave, what the hell is wrong with this city. It’s got too many goddamn ghosts.”

He looked up from his lap, where he was holding on to his hands as if they might fall off. There was a curious light in his eyes.

He whispered: “Cui bono?”

I remembered my Cicero but still didn’t understand the reference.

“What do you mean?”

He bit his lip and searched the room again. “I can’t talk now. Meet me tonight. By the spring.”

“We’ve got a dinner party-”

“Make it late. The fifth hour of night.”

I nodded brusquely. “All right. Fifth hour. By the spring.”

Calpurnius got up from the wooden bench and faded into the stone like a small patch of mildew. Cui bono. Who the hell profits?

The walk home was drier but more uncomfortable. Calpurnius and his cui goddamn bono. Sulpicia, who made me feel like the new girl at the discount whorehouse. Then there was the small matter of strangers telling me what was wrong with my wife. Or, more specifically, not telling me.

I looked up and found myself at the door to the villa. I wasn’t in the mood to discover anyone else fawning over Gwyna, and I banged the door extra loudly.

Well-trained slaves appeared, as they always did in this house. Ligor melted back into them while a shepherd detached himself from the flock and ushered me into the triclinium. Gwyna wasn’t there.

“Where’s my wife?”

“In the bedroom, sir. I believe she is dressing for dinner.”

He gave me a look like I should be dressing for dinner, too, and wasn’t I just a wee bit embarrassed to be running around Aquae Sulis with a mud-spattered tunic and my hair unpomaded?

I grinned at him. “Thanks. What’s your name again?”

“Lineus, sir.”

“Well, Lineus, I will now go into my bedroom, with my wife, and change for dinner. Is that right?”

He bowed stiffly. “If you are going out to dinner, Dominus .”

I murmured, “Remind me when I don’t use the right knife with the appetizer.”

He raised his eyebrows, bowed, and withdrew. Damn good servant. I bet he knew what was wrong with Gwyna.

I walked down the corridor and softly tapped on the bedroom door.

“Is it you, Ardur?”

I said yes and heard some whispers, rustling, and a drawer being shut. The kinds of noises you always hear whenever a woman is behind a locked door and wants to make an entrance.

The door opened, and one of the other slaves skittered out. She looked at me and smiled. Thin woman, carried herself with a certain Gallic fashion. Probably a dressmaker.

“Come in, Ardur. I’m ready.”

No lutes, but the Muses were doing a group chorale somewhere in the garden. She was taller, wearing some sort of high-heeled cork sandals. Her hair swept up from her neck and was piled high in gently falling ringlets of golden blond.

The silk tunic showed off her collarbone and draped very low in the front. The purple glowed against her skin, and a red mantle clung tightly to her bare shoulders. Clusters of pearls were hanging at her ears. My mouth was hanging open.

She smiled at me. “I’ve done a bit of shopping. I hope you don’t mind.”

I shook my head and dug around in my tunic for the necklace I’d bought her.

“For me? Why, thank you Ardur!” She sat on the bed and started to open the small pouch. “Why don’t you get dressed? I found a toga for you-nothing special. At least it’s one of the shorter ones you like better-not as many folds. It’s on the other side of the bed.”

Still mute, I skirted around her, to where a gleaming white toga was lying on the blanket. It was stiff and uncomfortable. That made two of us.

Arms wrapped around my neck and lips showered the back of my head with kisses.

“I love it! It’s beautiful-thank you, Ardur, my love, my husband, my-”

I turned around and kissed her long and hard. She ran out of breath before I did. I didn’t need to breathe.

“Ar … dur. We-I missed you, too, and I’m glad you don’t object to the shopping. I got the prices down, but it was still a little expensive.”

I looked at the toga. My togas usually got dirty in proportion to how white they were when we started out together. This one was very white.