The Governor's Man Page 8

  In the spacious airy kitchen he found his two colleagues inspecting hanks of dried herbs hanging from the ceiling over the big scrubbed kitchen table. There were amphorae stacked around the white-washed walls, and stoppered bottles and jars arrayed on shelves. Labels written in the same spiky hand had been stuck to each container, but beyond a few simples like lavender oil, honey, and marigold ointment, Quintus was none the wiser. There was a small locked cabinet on one wall, too. Tiro got the key from Silvanus. The cupboard contained a single glass jar, sealed and labelled Digitalis. The smell of the contents told them this was nothing but the truth. It seemed that Velvinna was as she had appeared to be: a wise-woman, herbalist and teacher.

  ‘Marcellus, can you call the steward back in, please?’

  The old man looked scared, but Quintus invited him to sit, saying, ’Don’t be frightened, Silvanus. My job here is to find out what has happened to your mistress. You were fond of her, I think?’

  ‘Oh yes, sir. We all loved her. So did everyone who knew our mistress.’ It had the simple ring of truth. Quintus probed further, asking about her friends, business acquaintances, any unexpected visitors in the past few days. One or two people had called to collect regular prescriptions; a pregnant neighbour popped in for raspberry leaf tea and a chat; a young visiting herbalist had borrowed a book and brought a gift of powdered ginger for the mistress’s cold. Nothing of obvious use there. The cook was summoned too. Had Velvinna been eating as normal, been given any gifts of food? None, said the cook firmly. In fact her mistress had been troubled with a cold for a few days and had lost her appetite, despite all the cook’s efforts to tempt her. In any event, like so many old ladies Velvinna ate like a sparrow, and much of her mostly plant-based diet was supplied from their own garden. The cook herself and the steward were both freed slaves who had been with their mistress since childhood. The cook’s assistant was her daughter. No strangers had called, no parcels of food or drugs had been received out of the ordinary. Her friends were for the most part herbalists and healers in the city, many of whom had attended Velvinna’s school in their youth. No new visitors or anyone unknown to the staff had been to the house in months.

  ‘The mistress retired from formal teaching and all but occasional healing consultations a few years ago, saying she was getting tired and old. She told me herself that her heart was failing,’ confided Silvanus. ‘It is thanks to the Lady Julia that she lived with us as long as she did.’

  ‘How so?’

  ‘Lady Julia had been treating our mistress for heart failure for several years. ‘

  ‘What treatment did Lady Julia prescribe?’ Quintus could feel his heart tripping.

  ‘Why sir, the powdered foxglove in the little flat bowl by her bed. Just enough for a few days - it’s very powerful, but toxic too, you know. The mistress warned us not to touch the powder when we cleaned the room. She’s been taking foxglove for at least ten years now. Lady Julia would often come to see the mistress and check the medicine dosage, or meet her in the baths or for a walk. Our lady always said Lady Julia was the best pupil she ever trained.’

  ‘When did Lady Julia last visit your mistress?’

  Silvanus thought for a moment. ‘Mmm, not since last week, sir, I believe. But the mistress went out several times in the past few days, and as she preferred to make her visits unaccompanied, I don’t know if she and Lady Julia saw each other after that.’

  ‘One last question. Where did Velvinna keep the rest of the digitalis, and any other dangerous drugs she had?’

  ‘In the locked medicine cabinet.’

  ‘We’ll take that bottle with us, then.’

  That was all. Velvinna must have either mistakenly taken too much of the digitalis, or had somehow been given an overdose to cause her heart to stop. Either way, Julia was now a potential suspect and would have to be questioned.

  Is it possible that Julia is a murderer? The mother of my child, and the only woman I’ve ever truly loved? Quintus felt himself shaking. He desperately wanted to sit down and take stock. He breathed in, slow and deep, and exhaled.

  What was it Cicero said? Cui bono? Who benefits?

  How would Julia benefit from the death of her friend? It was difficult to see. Unless the old lady had information that she had shared with Julia, information that threatened or incriminated the younger woman?

  Quintus compromised. He could take no further action about Julia before Anicius Piso had checked the body and confirmed how the old lady had died. There was no time to waste with moving on to Vebriacum. The mining fraud case was even more urgent since the death of the messenger boy, and his connection with the mine. The mines whistleblower was still their best bet to cast light on the plot. And if a Druid element was revealed, he would know then what to do about Julia.

  Once they’d had left the house, Quintus held out the jar, the twist of paper and the wrapped cup to Marcellus. Then he changed his mind and handed them to Tiro instead.

  ‘Tiro, stow these carefully in one of your saddle packs.’

  Turning to Marcellus he said, ‘Get Surgeon Anicius Piso to examine Velvinna’s body as soon as he can. We need a confirmed cause of death.’

  Tiro looked enquiry at his boss. Quintus remained distracted, thinking about Julia and the drugs in Velvinna’s house before he spoke again.

  ‘We can’t delay the Emperor’s mission any longer. Marcellus, I need you to do the preliminary questioning of Lady Julia in my place. She needs to be ruled out as a suspect before we can safely cast the net wider.’

  It seemed to Tiro that Marcellus blanched at that; Quintus just looked calm and professional. Tiro scratched his chin, and marvelled. Had he merely imagined that recent heated scene between the frumentarius and Lady Julia?

  Quintus continued, even-voiced as ever. ‘Also find out whether Silvanus is correct about Velvinna’s medicine and dosage, and try to find witnesses to when Julia Aureliana last came to her house, or met her elsewhere. And see if the visits by the pregnant neighbour and the trainee herbalist raise any question marks, although I doubt it. I’m heading south, initially to Vebriacum. Where is the nearest post station to Vebriacum?’

  ‘Iscalis, sir, in the Great Gorge.’

  ‘Right. We may need to make enquiries there as well, anyway. Use the Imperial fast post to keep me informed, but I authorise you to use your best judgement in this case, for now. If there is any connection between this new death and unrest in the regional tribes, I rely on you to keep me posted.’

  He mounted his horse, urging the chestnut to a quick canter. Tiro scrambled to follow him. They were back to their main mission, on the trail of the Emperor’s silver.

  The road south of Aquae Sulis ran for several miles along a plateau, giving high views over the mist-filled valleys on either side. Tiro guessed their journey today would be barely twenty miles. They stopped at noon in Camerton, a small iron-smelting town whose only notable feature was a rough shrine to Minerva. Quintus paused for a moment to salute the Goddess of the shrine. This surprised Tiro, who had not thought Quintus a devout man. They found a tavern boasting glass in the windows and heating under the flagged floor. The tavern-keeper was watching the road anxiously. He bowed slightly to Quintus, who asked if all was well.

  ‘Yes… Nothing stirring here at the moment, sir.’ Quintus cocked his head in enquiry.

  ‘Oh, just foolish youths coming into town every so often, sir. Too much drink, the usual thing.’

  Quintus waited. The man said, ’You know how it is, sir, when idle youngsters have been drinking. Telling old tales, calling for the White Ones to come back and thrust all that’s evil from the world. Wanting what they call the good old days. Predicting the end of the world, such nonsense. Good old days, my arse.’ He gave a unconvincing laugh. Tiro smiled at him, clapped him on the shoulder. Quintus called for a table and two dishes of lamb stew. They sat in a dim corner, away from the busy entrance.

  Tiro was keen to hear what his boss planned to do at Vebriacum, but at first th
e Imperial Investigator was quiet, concentrating on the stew. Tiro’s mind drifted, thinking about some of the people who had crossed their path. To begin with, Marcellus seemed a worthwhile young officer. Then there was the household in Aquae Sulis. The fragrant and feisty Britta. And Miss Aurelia, who was certainly entertaining. His mind switched to Cerberus, still snug in the saddle bag. Was the pup old enough to eat bits of meat? He’d have a quiet word with the tavern-keeper, see what little scraps or maybe milk he could scrounge.

  ‘Tiro!’

  ‘Sir?’ Quintus had clearly been speaking without his noticing. ‘I beg your pardon.’

  What was that he’d just said? Begging the Italian toff’s pardon? Never mind; just this once.

  ‘I asked how your head was. Is it healing?’

  ‘Oh, yes sir.’ Tiro rubbed a hand along the itchy red line of the healing slash. It felt like a lifetime ago. ‘No problem.’

  ‘Good.’ There was more silence, a pause that stretched till Tiro thought that was all Quintus had to say. Then, ‘I did get some further information… from Lady Julia in Aquae Sulis.’

  Tiro decided Quintus hadn’t realised how loud his conversation with the lady had been that morning. Truth to tell, it had been a full-blown argument. At the end, even through the solid front door, he had heard Quintus say sharply, ’I had no choice. I tried to tell you. I sent a message…’

  Then Julia’s higher voice,’ ...didn’t my ring mean anything to you? I thought…’

  ‘You never wrote. I left a message.’

  ‘Your message didn’t reach me. I had to go home, to hide … I knew my brother and sister-in-law would help. I came to tell you, that day. I couldn’t stay in Eboracum, my grandmother would have been so upset…’

  The voices softened; finally Quintus, in tones of palpable pain, had said, ‘So —a girl? What happened to her?…Yes, I see.’

  Shortly after, the Frumentarius had come out onto the doorstep and stood staring at Aurelia, rigid agony on his face.

  Tiro shook his head, paying attention again.

  ’Sir?’

  ‘Yes. Julia - Lady Julia Aureliana that is - thinks that the letter fragment we found in the dispatch bag was sent by a man called Tertius. He manages the mines at Vebriacum for Claudius Bulbo. Some sort of freedman, a clever Syrian accountant. And what makes it more plausible is the link with the boy Catus.’

  Tiro was puzzled. Being a Londoner, he could easily imagine a Syrian being here in Britannia, but he didn’t understand the close relationships and unexpected connections country people often had with each other. Quintus went on.

  ‘The Lady Julia’s housekeeper, what was her name …’

  ‘Mistress Britta, sir?’ Ah, the luscious, lavender-scented Britta. Tiro closed his eyes for a moment, breathing in.

  ‘Yes. Britta. It seems she is a close friend of Enica, the sister of the dead boy. They lived near each other as children on the Bo Gwelt estate, before Enica and Catus were sold into slavery. Enica went to work at the Iscalis villa. That’s the big villa downhill from Vebriacum. Enica became the property of Bulbo along with the house when he bought it, and she’s now a cook there. And with Bulbo’s sister Claudia married to Julia’s brother, Magistrate Marcus Aurelianus, Britta and Enica see each other whenever Julia is invited to Bulbo’s house. It was Julia who suggested to Bulbo that young Catus would be a useful apprentice to his mines manager. If Tertius is a talented man with numbers and languages, I suppose Lady Julia thought she was helping the boy into a good career and maybe towards his freedom someday.’

  That all made sense. But -

  ’So why was Tertius sending a message so dangerous that the boy was murdered to stop it reaching its destination?’

  ‘Why indeed? I think Tertius could be the whistle-blower who’s been passing on information about the loss of silver to the authorities in Londinium. If he is, he’s now a man in great danger. At all costs we must find out what more Tertius knows, and establish Bulbo’s involvement.’

  Something rang a far-off bell in Tiro’s head, but he pushed it aside and rushed on with his next question.

  ‘But the way the boy was killed, sir?’

  ‘Yes, it’s strange. There is a bad smell about that, Tiro. Fraud and rebellion often go hand in hand. The inn-keeper here is a worried man, and I haven’t forgotten the attack on you at Calleva. We might be about to uncover a bigger stink than even Governor Trebonius suspects. But first things first. We have to find Tertius and question him, in secret.’

  Quintus sat in thought, twisting the bronze ring on his finger and reflecting on his meetings in Londinium. Gaius Trebonius had been frank and welcoming, and Quintus knew where he stood with his old friend. But there had been that second meeting, in Southwark with the Provincial Procurator Aradius Rufinus. The pale-faced man had made an uncomfortable impression on the Imperial Investigator. He had spoken softly, but Quintus felt him watching with the eyes of a hawk. That sort of quiet could be ruthless.

  Quintus seemed to realise Tiro was waiting. He flushed faintly, moving his hand to rest on his scarred right thigh.

  ‘Right. Given what we’ve just heard from the host here I want to approach the mines unseen. We’ll go by a less obvious route, check the lie of the land carefully before we find this Tertius. But first Marcellus Crispus needs to know the flavour of what our host here has told us. Outside his normal jurisdiction, perhaps, but I think we should keep him informed of our doings in case we need his backup.’

  He called to the tavernkeeper for a writing materials. Tiro watched, something scratching away at his memory while Quintus signed the note, bound it round and sealed it.

  ’Have this conveyed immediately to the nearest post station,’ he told the tavern-keeper, showing him the hasta token on his baldric, and dropping a few extra coins into his hand. ‘It’s to be sent urgently to Aquae Sulis, for the attention of Centurion Marcellus Crispus at the garrison.’ The innkeeper bowed, assuring the investigator it would be dispatched immediately with his best groom. ‘Ah, another thing — ‘ the man turned back, enquiringly. ‘My stator here has care of a pup. It’s too young to come further with us, but it is beloved by a … lady friend of his. Could you arrange to have the dog cared for and conveyed to the Bo Gwelt estate for the attention of the Lady Aurelia Aureliana?’ Again the man bowed, and left them. No doubt he hoped they would go quickly, before any more onerous tasks came his way.

  Tiro shuffled his feet.

  ‘How long did you think I wouldn’t notice the whimpers and snuffles coming from your saddlebag?’ Then turning serious, Quintus said, ‘Tiro, I don’t like this combination of fraud, deaths, murder, restless local tribesmen. There’s too much going on. It’s more than coincidence. And talking of your saddlebags — have you got Velvinna’s cup and dish still safe?

  Tiro nodded.

  ‘I asked Marcellus to send on the results of Piso’s examination, as quickly as possible. I’ve been thinking about Velvinna’s cold.’

  Tiro was lost. ‘Velvinna’s cold, sir?’

  ‘Yes. It might turn out to have been a very convenient time for her sense of smell and taste to be blunted. Velvinna was apparently a Wise Woman of influence and connections. She was interested in the old Druids, at a time when there has been another murder with possible Druidic links, and whispers of Druid-inspired rebellion across the region. We don’t know her affiliations, but if she was mixed up in something she could have acquired deadly enemies who decided to get rid of her influence. I’m thinking about that drink with the ginger we found by her bedside, as well as the possible foxglove overdose.

  ‘Tiro, perhaps you should go back to Aquae Sulis to support Marcellus. He hasn’t got your experience, and may need help with his investigations and his interview with Lady Julia. What do you think?’

  Tiro thought that he was amazed that Quintus would trust him with this task, especially given which lady was involved. He was also very taken with the chance to see Britta again. On the other hand…

  �
��Well sir, what if you go getting yourself into bother at the mines without me? I mean, with Tertius being such an important witness and all. There are bound to be guards, and who knows what there. Plus I speak the British lingo; you might run into yokels there in the Summer Country who can’t speak Latin.’

  ’True enough. We go together then. The mission at Vebriacum must take precedence, and where there is fraud on this scale, there will be people who will stop at nothing. All the same … I can’t make the links join up yet, but I would bet a crate of best Falernian and a year’s pay that this tribal unrest has something to do with the deaths of Catus and Velvinna.’

  Tiro grinned. He was as fond of pay as the next Roman subaltern; and a sincere lover of any wine. Falernian, watered gut rot, and anything in between.

  Quintus sat a moment longer.

  ‘Right. On with our original plan. I hope you’re up for more danger, Tiro?’

  A rare smile appeared on the frumentarius’s face, gone almost as soon as Tiro spotted it. Tiro grinned too, trying to remember how much he disliked his boss. As they stood to leave the taverna, Quintus lifted the red leather baldric off over his head, twisted the leather strap, and replaced it with the miniature hasta hidden.

  Chapter Eleven

  ‘Those must be the Mendip Hills. Vebriacum is over that ridge.’ Quintus pointed south-west, directly into the sinking sun. ‘Further along the Fosse Way there’s a crossroads with the main road running west to Vebriacum.’

  Tiro rubbed the healing knife-wound on his forehead, looking troubled.

  ‘Cheer up, Tiro. We’ll take the older British trackways. The main road is likely to be watched. I want to approach the mines from an unexpected direction so we can take stock before we enter the operations centre. It’s a cross-country route, and you’ll learn more about the history of your country, I’m told. A brisk night under the stars in the company of your ancestors. What could be better?’