Octavio stepped forward, his eyes like two bright coals. “Can you get on with this? You ask us to come in the middle of the night-”
“There are a lot of dead people in this story. I figured we should talk at a time when they could hear us. They might say something useful.”
He mumbled something under his breath. Shrank into his tunic, shuffled closer to his wife.
“Where was I? Oh, yes-Faro. We could’ve used Faro Magnus tonight, but he only performs for Pluto these days.”
Secunda sputtered, and her father put a hand on her arm.
“He was strangled-like Bibax-but not by a self-styled ‘Ultor.’ Though somebody hated him enough to nail a mask into his skull. That brings me to Materna. Hate always does. It killed her, finally, master instead of servant.”
Secundus stared at me, said nothing. His daughter held her arms across her chest and looked away.
“In between I was attacked, my wife was humiliated-shamed and threatened-I was accused of murder, set up with so-called evidence, and finally … finally I became a target, too.”
“Gwyna-is she all right? Is she not coming?” Philo spoke softly, as he always did when repeating my wife’s name.
“Doesn’t feel up to it. She’s a little sick of Aquae Sulis. That’s the problem. It’s a health spa, a resort town. Only instead of feeling better you fall down and die.”
I looked around, holding their eyes when I could. “You see, there were other murders. A young man who fought a boundary line. An old woman with a profligate nephew. An old man with a short leash on a younger wife.”
Sulpicia turned white and shook off Vitellius’s hand. Sestius was trembling and leaned against the wall to support himself.
“Maybe the most tragic one-the one that seemed to start it all-was a boy. After he was killed-cursed, by Materna, for allegedly stealing a bath robe-the mine-the mine that would put Aquae Sulis on every map, the mine that would make everyone rich and everyone happy, give everyone what they wanted as long as they promised not to look-the mine found a ghost. Well, actually it didn’t find a ghost. It made one.”
The spring gurgled and lapped in the cold stillness. Their breaths made little puffs of smoke.
“The story begins with Bibax. He had a gift-the gift of memory. He remembered things, especially if they could make him money. He sniffed out the sickly odor of health spas, traveling from health resort to health resort, a funeral procession of murder for hire and blackmail right behind him.”
Another puff of wind blew in from the spring, making one of the torches sputter and spit. Prunella gasped, and Octavio put a hand on her shoulder.
“In Aquae Sulis, Bibax met somebody he remembered. Somebody he pushed and threatened, somebody who could help him. Curse-writers are cheaper than the whores down the street from your temple, Papirius-but Bibax was expensive. He’d give you what you wanted, what you dreamed about. Best of all, you could blame it on the goddess.”
Sestius crumbled to the floor. No one helped him up. The groups drew together in little clusters.
“So the murders started. And around the same time, a mine syndicate formed. Crime follows crime like flies follow shit. I happen to know the former procurator of Britannia, the man who awards mine contracts, and he was the biggest pile of shit of them all.
“You see, a lead mine turned into a silver mine, and when the vein was found, the miner wasn’t. He became the ghost. The syndicate wanted to make sure Rome wouldn’t hold her hand out and ask for more, and they needed a place to dump the lead and hide the silver and wash it until it was good and clean. They chose Aquae Sulis.
“They planted a figurehead on the council. That would be you, Grattius. Yet their real representive would stay behind the scenes, directing the drama. That would be Materna.”
Secundus was chewing something, his eyes glossy, not really looking ahead. His daughter’s face was red and sullen.
“Everybody agreed to play blind. The lead was dumped over by the other spring, and the curse-writers picked it clean like so many vultures. The silver passed through hands and workshops, and some of it fell into your pockets. The syndicate promised to build a temple, for you, Philo”-he nodded, his face pale-“and build a bath, for you, Papirius.”
The priest turned his cold eyes in my direction, looking at me as though everything I said were supremely unimportant.
“You’re the leaders of the town, one and all. You closed your eyes, and opened your palms, and you let it happen. In that sense, ladies and gentlemen … you’re all guilty.”
“We didn’t all kill Bibax, Favonianus.” The priest’s voice was icy. “I was under the impression that we were here to find out who did-not to be lectured like a pack of naughty schoolboys.” He looked around the room to the accompaniment of several murmurs.
My smile was enough to shut them up. “Very true, Papirius. You didn’t all kill him. One of you did. I’ll sort out the crimes for you, since some of you may not be able to count that high. One-the crimes of murder and blackmail. Committed by Bibax and an unknown partner.”
Vitellius leaned forward and licked his lips, his balding head glistening with sweat.
“Crime two. Bibax and his partner were employed by Materna-to get rid of Aufidio, and any other minor problems for the mine. Materna knew every dirty secret in Aquae Sulis and made them all that much dirtier. She used people, that’s how she got her kicks. She used Faro, who helped spread rumors about the haunted mine.
“Dewi was probably a test case. She suspected how it worked but wanted to make sure. So she cursed the boy, and when Bibax tried to blackmail her, he finally found something more foul and rotten than himself. Materna was a hulking mass of envy and hate. Power was her desire, and cruelty was her lover, and Aquae Sulis gave her both. For a time.”
I stared at Secundus. “I don’t think there’s a person in this room who isn’t glad she’s dead.”
He held his daughter and looked through the wall. I wondered what he saw.
“Materna was at the crux of every crime in this city-until Ultor. He’s crime three. Somebody killed Bibax. Was it his partner? Or someone else? Someone they were blackmailing, perhaps?”
My eyes lingered on Sestius. His mouth was open, froth on his lips.
“I was asked to solve Bibax’s murder, and do it in a hurry. Then Calpurnius was killed. He tried to join the murder team, the oldest business in the world. Still killed by Ultor-still crime three.
“Faro was next. Materna ordered him murdered. Seems her cock wouldn’t crow for her. She ate him instead.”
Secunda began to make noise. Her father hushed her, held her tight. She struggled. It was too late for that.
“The person who helped her was Bibax’s old partner. Remember him? Doomed to be used, to be blackmailed?
“She tried to frame me for Faro’s murder, stupidly, in a hurry. Then the mine pulled out, and we were next on the murder list. My wife and I. Instead of killing us, though, Bibax’s partner decided to get rid of Materna. To free himself. From a long history of bowing and scraping, always playing the master but living the life of a slave. First to Bibax, then to Materna, but always-always to … Papirius.”
I looked at him. “Isn’t that right, Octavio?” I asked. My voice was gentle.
Prunella needed a drink. Badly. Her hands shook as she held on to his arm. “What-what does he mean?”
“You needed money. You’re a gambler. It’s a disease with you, and it’s eaten away your life like a leper’s face. You sold land to Philo-for cheap, because you needed the money. But he won’t buy more. The mine’s gone. You were an orderly and knew enough about medicine and drugs to help Bibax. Above all, you had access. Access to the baths.”
He took a step toward me, but Ligur and Draco blocked his way. He looked from side to side, trapped.