“Well, it was no riding accident,” said Marinus. “The body’s a good half mile from where they left the horses. And why would his companion, whoever it was, just bury him and leave him?”
“They must have been out here looking for something,” Pliny mused. “Your men have been all over here, Aquila, is there anything?”
“There’s a bit of a path that runs along nearby. Easy to miss. The lads followed it up that way.” He pointed toward a stony hillside above them. “It just petered out. They poked around, didn’t find anything. According to the villagers, no one lives out this way.”
“Right.” Pliny stood up. “Aquila, get the body wrapped up and loaded on the wagon, we’re taking Balbus home. I particularly want to see Fabia’s face when I deliver it. And for the time being, all of you, it was a riding accident, you understand. There must be no word of murder. Aquila, I want no loose talk from the men about what they’ve seen. I hold you responsible.”
***
Pancrates bent his hawk-faced head over Calpurnia’s hand and brushed it with his lips. His dark ringlets spilled over his shoulders. “Your maid brought me your message this morning, matrona. It’s been too long since we spoke. How can I help you? You do not look well. Have you been sick?”
She pulled him down on the couch beside her. “Sick? Yes, I am sick. Here.” She touched her hand to her breast. Her voice sounded to her own ears faint and far away.
“Ah. The heart. That is the cruelest sickness of all. Tell me.” He took her hand in both of his and squeezed it.
“You told me I would meet someone new. I didn’t believe you, but I have. A man. And I love him.” Her chin trembled. “I fight against it but I’m too weak. Ione only encourages me. I have no one else to turn to. And then last night…”
“Last night you took a step that you cannot take back. I see it in your eyes.”
“And it felt-I can’t tell you. But now…”
“You’ve never done something like this before?”
She shook her head.
“You’re a woman of rare virtue.”
“I thought I was. I always imagined that one day they would inscribe univira on my tombstone as they did my mother’s. But no more.”
“And now what? Do you imagine a future with this man?”
“That is madness.”
“But love is a kind of madness, as the poets tell us. I see a handsome man. Older perhaps…?”
“No, young. So very young.”
“Just as I thought.”
“And he looks like a young god, and he’s an artist and sweet-natured and he makes me laugh and…” She looked away.
“But what could be more natural? A beautiful woman like yourself deserves to be loved passionately. You have no reason to reproach yourself. Of course, you honor your husband, but he’s preoccupied with high affairs of state, is he not? Look how he has dragged you from your home, your friends, and family to this alien place and then he neglects you. You have a right to feel as you do. We are all creatures of temptation. And your husband suspects nothing?”
“He sees only what he wants to see. He’s so clever in some ways and so innocent in others. Sometimes I’m furious at him for being so blind.” She began to cry. “What am I to do? It can’t live like this. You are a seer-what do you see?”
“Spit in your hand.”
“What?”
“Do as I say.”
She spat and Pancrates touched her palm with his finger and put it on his tongue. He frowned. “I see what has been done to you. You are the victim of magic, lady.”
“What, you mean a love potion? No, he would never-”
“The signs are unmistakable. Do you doubt such things exist?”
“No, but-”
“And do you want to be restored to your senses, to the love of your husband, that good man?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Louder. You must mean it.”
“Yes!”
“I can devise a spell against it. But I must know your lover’s name.”
“His name? No, I couldn’t…” She snatched her hand away from his.
“If you’re going to keep secrets from me, lady…” He made to stand up.
“No, don’t, please. Don’t go. His name is Agathon.”
“There are many with that name.”
“Son of Protarchus, grandson of Neocles.”
“Well, well. I don’t know the young man but I know the family. Very prominent, very rich.” He reached for her hand again. “Now calm yourself, Calpurnia. I tell you again, you’ve done nothing wrong. I can cure you, and your husband need never know a thing. I gather he is away at the moment?”
She nodded. “First it was the assizes and now this business with the procurator. They’re out in the countryside now looking for him.”
Pancrates black eyebrows shot up. “Are they indeed? And does your husband confide in you about his business when you’re together?”
“He always has.”
“And quite right too. You’re a woman of good sense.” He leaned closer, his deep-sunk eyes seemed to bore into her. “If he tells you about this missing procurator I want you to tell me, you understand? We must have no secrets if I am to help you. You have already trusted me with your lover’s name. I wonder how the father would react to knowing of his son’s adventures.”
She recoiled from him. “What do you mean? You wouldn’t…”
“Well, of course, I wouldn’t like to.”
Her eyes widened in sudden fear. “Why do you care about the procurator? It doesn’t concern you.”
“Everything concerns me.” The voice was like silk and like steel all at once.
She leapt up, her bruised knee nearly buckling under her. He tried to hold her back but she tore away from him. She saw the chasm opening at her feet. “Filthy Greek spy! Get out!”
He stood slowly and smoothed his spotless white gown with his long-fingered hands. “As you wish. We’ll talk again.”
“We will not!” she screamed at his back. Then she fell weeping on the couch.
In an instant Ione was beside her. “I saw him leave, ’Purnia. He looked at me with a murderer’s eyes! What happened?”
“Ione, I’ve done a terrible thing. I’ve put myself in that man’s power. And Agathon, and my husband too. I want to die!”
“Darling, don’t say that.”
“I mean it. But first I will tell Gaius everything, everything, the minute he returns. I swear I will.”
Ione turned a stricken face to her. Old Baucis’ words came back to her in a rush. This could all come crashing down on your head. She sank to the floor and grasped Calpurnia’s knees, a supplicant. “Everything? And what about me? Your husband may forgive you but he won’t forgive me.”
“But I won’t-”
“He’ll get it out of you. He’ll know you couldn’t have done it alone. He’ll throw me into the street to starve, and Zosimus too, and the child. He must. Everything I did, I did for your happiness, mistress. Will you betray me too?”
***
“Mehercule, it feels good to be home again. I was never one for camping out.”
They reclined at dinner: Pliny and Calpurnia, Suetonius, Nymphidius, Marinus, and Zosimus. The meal was finished and the wives, except for Calpurnia, had been excused. Pliny would keep no secrets from her. He grimaced. “What a business this is!”
“Have you written to the emperor yet?” Suetonius asked.
“As soon as we got back. One copy to go by sea, the other overland. It could be a month before he gets either one of them, if then. Rough seas in the Aegean, an early snow in the mountain passes of Illyricum-I ’ve often thought that our empire effectively ceases to exist between October and May. I’ve written him four times since we arrived and haven’t had a reply yet. We’re on our own here, my friend, and must make the best of it.”
“And the body?” Calpurnia asked.
“Is here in the palace. An army carpenter’s knocking together a box for it and tomorrow I’m taking it to Fabia.”
“Gaius, I’m frightened for you. You must wear a cuirass under your tunic and carry a dagger.”