‘She is performing her lament for her father, even now,’ I said, as smoothly as I could, to cover the moment. ‘No,’ I went on, when the slave had put down the bowl and retreated at my command, ‘I thought it better to keep my suspicions private — though you seem to be doing your best to prevent it.’
Octavius had the grace to blush.
I moved to the bowl of water and began to wash my hands. In the light of where they had been, I took peculiar care, rinsing them carefully several times and wiping them meticulously on the napkin which had been provided.
Octavius watched me curiously. ‘You are going to take a place at the lament?’ he asked, at last.
For a moment I was surprised. ‘No. I am not expected to join the mourners — not until the funeral, at least. What makes you ask?’
‘I thought you were making ritual ablutions.’
I had to smile at that. I still felt a certain sympathy with this young man, and his appearance of clumsy guilelessness, though I was beginning to suspect that he was not quite as guileless as he seemed. ‘Nothing so dignified,’ I said. ‘I was merely washing my hands because I made them dirty.’
He was still gawping at me like a sun-blinded owl, and I added, more to put him at ease than anything else, ‘Raking through the waste-pile in search of evidence. Evidence about that secret you so nearly publicised to everyone.’
I intended to be merely facetious, but I had clearly failed. Octavius turned whiter than a fuller’s toga, and said in a hoarse murmur, ‘Did you find. . anything?’
I was about to answer candidly, but his manner was so awkward and furtive that I said instead, ‘I did. As you clearly knew that I would.’
For answer Octavius rested his elbows on his knees and buried his head in his hands. I could not imagine that a tail — or even a moustache — would cause him such manifest anxiety. So evidently there was something else out there that I should have noticed. I shut my eyes and gave an exasperated sigh. The prospect of digging about again in that odoriferous pile was not a welcome one.
Octavius misinterpreted my irritation. He raised his head wearily. ‘Oh, very well,’ he said. ‘Since you have found it, I suppose I must confess. I put it there. Last night after the banquet. Before Phyllidia arrived. Is there. . was there. . anything in it?’
This was, in the circumstances, a difficult question to answer. Whatever the woeful object had been, it was hard to image anything ‘in it’. I said carefully, ‘You put it there, Octavius. Should there have been anything in it?’
He buried his head again. ‘So it was empty! I should have guessed. Oh, merciful Venus — I should have prevented this. Well, I suppose there is no help for it.’ He straightened up, looked me directly in the eye, and got slowly to his feet. Then he stretched out his two hands, wrists together, like a captive waiting to be bound. ‘Very well, Libertus, you are too sharp for me. You had best deliver me to the magistrates. I confess it. I murdered Felix — slipped poison into his goblet and threw the phial on the midden-heap. Here.’ He thrust his hands towards me again. ‘Call for a slave and have me bound and taken.’
I looked at him for a long moment. ‘Why did you do it? Because he would not let you marry Phyllidia?’
‘Marry her? He would not let me look at her. And he half ruined me, besides.’ There was enough venom in the voice to have killed Felix twice over. ‘Killing Felix was not a crime, it was almost a public duty.’
‘I see. In that case. .’ I went to the door. ‘A slave here!’ The servant trotted obediently into the room.
Octavius swallowed and shut his eyes, his hands still outstretched.
‘Take it away,’ I said to the slave, indicating the water bowl. He did so, casting a startled look at Octavius as he went.
There was a silence. Octavius opened his eyes. ‘You didn’t. .’
‘No,’ I replied gently. ‘And neither, I think, did you. At least, not in the way you pretend. You were late arriving at the feast, I seem to recollect. When, exactly, did you manage to slip the poison into his drinking vessel?’
Octavius gulped, reddened, and gulped again. ‘I had help,’ he said sullenly. ‘That is. . one of the servants. . I did it before-’
He might, indeed, have told me the truth then and there and saved us all a lot of trouble later, but at that moment the door opened and Phyllidia arrived, accompanied by the fish-featured serving woman. Octavius leaped to his feet, like a startled sentry dozing at his post.
‘Phyllidia, I have confessed.’
Phyllidia paled. ‘Confessed?’
‘I poisoned Felix, and threw the phial away.’
‘Octavius! Surely. .? You poisoned him?’
‘This citizen found the phial,’ the young man said, running a hand through his receding hair. ‘So naturally I had to tell him.’
Phyllidia turned to me. ‘Is this true? My father was poisoned?’
I could personally have poisoned Octavius at that moment. There would be no keeping the secret now. The aged maidservant was gaping like a dead carp, but there was little I could do about it.
I did my best. ‘There is a rumour to that effect. Of course, most people have paid no attention to it. Perennis Felix choked on a nut, in front of witnesses. But if what Octavius says is true. .’
Phyllidia said, ‘Octavius! Why?’ just as he exclaimed to her, ‘But surely. .?’
The old woman pursed her lips. ‘I knew it!’ she declared, in tones of vindicated triumph. ‘I told my master that some of the poison was missing. But he wouldn’t listen. Thought he knew best as usual. He even refused to pay me for the information.’
‘What information is this?’ Marcus had come in through the interconnecting door from the next room. ‘What have you discovered, Libertus? I heard that you were looking for me.’
‘It is my information, most revered Excellence.’ The old crone was almost prostrate in her grovelling. ‘Octavius has just brazenly confessed to poisoning my master. I heard him do it. Yes, and the citizen here found the phial. And I can tell you where Octavius got the poison. From this ungrateful daughter. My master Felix sometimes dealt in poisons — infusions of hemlock and the like. It was intended for the courts, for those condemned to hemlock, but he would also provide it, at a price, for people sentenced to more painful deaths. And Phyllidia found it out, the last time he visited the house. She must have done. I told him there was poison missing, but he was too trusting. And now, you see, they have poisoned him — this pair.’
Marcus turned to the girl. ‘Is this true?’
‘Of course it’s true,’ the old woman burst out. ‘She brought a phial of it with her. She thought I did not know it, but I did. I am too sharp for her. Last night, I discovered it — she sent me away for water, but I spied on her through the door crack. I saw her unbind it from around her waist, under her clothing.’ She gave Marcus a wheedling smile. ‘That is the information, Excellence. That must be worth a sestertius or two.’
Marcus looked at her with distaste and then turned to me. ‘Well, Libertus? What do you say?’
‘I say,’ I said carefully, ‘that this is true. And, since the woman saw the phial last night, it cannot have been used to poison Felix.’
Colour came back to Phyllidia’s face, but Octavius looked drained. ‘In that case. .?’
Phyllidia looked at him sadly. ‘My poor, poor Octavius,’ she said. ‘I know you did it for me. But there was no need, in the end. And now see what you have done.’
‘Citizen,’ Octavius cried, turning to Marcus, ‘it was a mistake. .’
‘Indeed,’ Marcus said dryly. ‘A bad mistake.’ He turned to his slave, who had been listening, open-mouthed, at the doorway. ‘Send for the guard. I’ll have this young man under lock and key. In the meantime, secure him somewhere in the house. He has confessed to a murder. You agree, Libertus?’
I nodded. ‘I agree.’
Two burly slaves were by now approaching the door, and Marcus handed Octavius over to them. He turned to the young woman. ‘And you, Phyllidia. You were carrying poison. Do you confess it?’