Death at Pompeia's Wedding (26 page)

‘Antoninus was blackmailing my mother-in-law?’ She sounded more incredulous than shocked.

Helena Domna set her wrinkled face. ‘So this man alleges. He has no proper proof at all.’ If I had hoped that she might break down and confess, then I was wrong – the old woman was clearly made of sterner stuff.

I returned to the attack. ‘Then what was your gold necklace doing in his flat? I noticed it when he was lying dead. It was looped around the water clock. I saw it at the time, and simply thought that it was decoration round the base – a beautiful and intricate festoon of gold and jet. I should have realized earlier what I was looking at. It was not until this morning, when I saw you in the court, and realized that you were not wearing it today, that I put two and two together.’

‘And made five,’ she snapped.

I forced myself to smile. ‘Then demonstrate your innocence. Send for your necklace, and you prove me wrong.’

Angry red colour washed up her cheeks and neck. ‘I have mislaid it temporarily . . .’

I shook my head. ‘I think you sent it to Antoninus yesterday when you affected to be sending out to the musicians’ guild. You used the doorman as your messenger. I thought I glimpsed the fellow in the street outside the flat, but I did not pay much attention to him at the time. Shall we ask him? I have sent for him.’

She glared at me again. ‘Do so, if you want to. I know what he’ll say.’

‘Do you, Helena Domna? Are you sure of that? We’ll offer to pay him good money for the truth, and you might be surprised.’

Patrician matrons do not often spit, but Helena Domna came very close to it. ‘Well, if you mean you’ll bribe him, of course it’s different. In that case he might say anything at all.’

‘And what might he say about that statue in the court?’

The old face crumpled slightly. ‘What do you know of that?’

‘Only that it came illicitly from Rome, and that Honorius was probably aware of it,’ I said.

‘So that cursed Antoninus did tell you, after all?’ She had lost her calm. She was white and shaking and her eyes were bright with tears. ‘And after I . . .’ She stopped, and glared at me, aware that she had already said too much.

‘And after you had sent him your gold necklace as a bribe? Just as the citizen suggested?’ Redux said, before I had the time to make the point myself. ‘And I can confirm what Libertus said about the clock – I noticed the gold chain around the base myself. Fine gold – it must have been worth a tidy sum.’

Livia was shaking a bewildered head at me. ‘What’s this about a statue?’

‘That Minerva in the courtyard – it’s a stolen one. Probably from the palace of the Emperor himself,’ I said. ‘Zythos arranged it when he was alive, and Redux shipped it and delivered it to you. It was disguised beneath a plaster cast, I hear.’

‘The Emperor?’ She was horrified. ‘I had no idea.’ She shook her head again. ‘It came when I was out, and when I got home it was already in the court and looked exactly as it does today. Honorius was always buying statues for the house, and I thought no more about it – except to wonder how much it had cost. He will have used my dowry money to pay for it, of course.’

‘I suspect it cost him even more than he had bargained for. Antoninus had discovered the details of the sale – he had been blackmailing Zythos all along, and now he was demanding money from Honorius as well. That’s why he came the other night – as I think Helena Domna can confirm.’

All eyes turned to the mother-in-law at my words, but she said nothing.

I was forced to speak again. ‘You told me, Livia, that she came along and prevented you from listening to the men yourself. But I think she stopped and eavesdropped, on her own account. And what she heard appalled her. She discovered that Honorius – her son – was guilty of dealing in illegal goods, and more than that – Imperial property. She spoke to Antoninus at the wedding yesterday – I saw them whispering together in the hall. She must have been unwise enough to tell him what she knew, and he, of course, demanded bribes to keep the secret safe.’

Helena Domna had started to her feet.

‘We can ask the doorkeeper if he took that necklace there or not,’ I said.

She looked at me bitterly, and sat down again. All the fury had ebbed out of her, and she almost seemed physically smaller all at once. ‘Antoninus didn’t keep his word,’ she muttered. ‘I wanted to protect our reputation, that is all – and now, I suppose, the whole colonia will know. You were quite right, citizen. I knew when that note arrived for you – in that writing case that looked so much like Livia’s – that it was intended as a veiled hint to me. He’d already told me he would be in touch.’

‘So you made a point of reading what he wrote?’

She nodded. ‘I knew that he would tell you everything, if I did not find some way of paying him. And – as you say – he set a later time, so I could find the money and get it to him first. I do have a little, but it was not to hand and all I could think of was to send him gold. That necklace is a fine one, the jet is good as well – Zythos imported it from somewhere in the East. And even when I sent him that, the wretch betrayed me and told you anyway.’

‘Antoninus would never have done that,’ I said. ‘If he once told the secret, he had lost his power. He would have gone on making his demands for years – if he thought you could be made to pay. He didn’t tell me anything. He didn’t have the chance – by the time I got there he was already dead.’

She stared at me. ‘So how did you learn about the stolen statue then?’

Redux answered for me. ‘I told him, lady – and, I think that you should know that I told the commander of the garrison as well.’ She half-rose as if to hit him, and he raised his hand. ‘I was being suspected of murder at the time, and I might have been tortured if I did not tell the truth. I did not steal the statue, and I do not know who did – but Antoninus knew that I had been involved in shipping it, and he was extorting money out of me as well. I don’t know exactly what evidence he had – I looked through the papers, but I couldn’t find a thing. No mention of Honorius or Zythos anywhere. That should be some comfort to you, madam, anyway. I rather think that somebody had burned the documents.’

Helena Domna brightened. ‘So there will be no proof?’ She shook her head. ‘Burned them, do you say? Let’s ask the doorkeeper . . .’

‘So, it was the doorkeeper you sent?’ Junio’s satisfaction was on my account I knew, because my deduction had been proved correct.

She didn’t answer.

‘Rather a bad choice, Helena Domna,’ I remarked. ‘I think that he was passing information on. You used him as a messenger, as your son had done. Perhaps you even heard him mentioned when you were listening in. It was clear to me already that he knew the place, and had carried things to Antoninus several times before – that’s how the blackmailer knew so much about this house.’

‘So that’s what you meant about the statue, citizen?’ Helena Domna had turned very pale. ‘He told Antoninus? And I sent him there . . .’ She paused to take in the enormity of this. ‘I’ll have him flogged for this. Flogged to within inches of his wretched life. Pulchra, send the slave to fetch him. I shall have him flayed!’ She sat down heavily on the couch again. ‘How could he betray me? The doorman is our slave. He owes us loyalty. We own him, after all.’

‘So you got the doorkeeper to murder Antoninus?’ Redux said, as Pulchra came back into the room again. He was addressing Helena Domna with a smile, which almost suggested that he felt some sympathy. ‘How did you do it? Put poison in the wine? Or even in that pot of garum that you sent back to him? But I suppose the doorkeeper was anxious to make sure, and thrust a knife into his back as well.’

Gracchus was listening avidly to this, though he had made no contribution up till now. ‘All the same – as a patrician lady – you deserve respect for making the attempt to save the family’s name. Though it seems you may have killed your son for nothing, after all. You tried to save his honour, but the truth has all come out. Nonetheless, I’m sure the court will understand, and not exact the highest punishment.’

Nobody answered, and he turned to me. ‘Well, it seems you have succeeded in your efforts, citizen. I salute you and agree to pay you what I owe. Pompeia is not guilty, and she can be my bride. An honour killing is not the kind of thing that would prevent one seeking alliance with a family. Honorius had already done the same thing with his eldest daughter, after all.’ He looked around the table, as if seeing confirmation of his words.

But Helena Domna was on her feet again. She was very nearly trembling with rage. ‘I did not instruct the doorkeeper to murder anyone. I did not touch the garum. It was returned intact – Livia herself is witness to the fact. She was the one who sent it back to him. And as for colluding in the murder of my son, of course I did nothing of the kind.’

‘But you admit the other allegations?’ Redux said.

She threw a furious look in my direction, then: ‘Oh, very well. The pavement-maker’s right. I did send a necklace to pay Antoninus off, because I’d overheard the conversation in this house that night, about the statue and its illicit past. I never had the chance to tell Honorius what I knew – I was going to wait until the wedding guests were gone and try to persuade him that he should send it back, and maybe even apply to Commodus for reward – but he died before I had the chance. All I could think of was the honour of his name – and the fear that Antoninus would publicize the crime and maybe seize the statue on his own account. I knew he’d want the money that he was asking for.’ She banged the table with her stick and glared around the room. ‘But I have never stooped to murder, and I’ve never planned to kill. The doorkeeper will tell you, when we bring him in. When he left, Antoninus was very much alive – tucking into a meal of bread and cheese and sending demands for further jewellery.’

Twenty-Four

A little hush greeted this impassioned outpouring. Gracchus turned to me. ‘So what do you think, pavement-maker? Have you earned your fee? You have managed to get Helena Domna to confess to paying bribes and being in possession of illegal goods – in front of four Roman citizens, too, which is sufficient evidence for a court of law – so there’s no escaping blame. So why is she denying the remainder of her crimes? Any magistrate would honour her for her protection of her son, and sentence her to exile at the very most. I would be prepared to pay the cost of a good advocate myself – Pompeia’s dowry would allow for that.’

‘I’m not interested in an advocate!’ Helena Domna sat down heavily. ‘I tell you, I am not guilty of the deaths. In fact, I would pay almost any sum myself, to see the person brought to justice who poisoned my poor son. But we seem no nearer to knowing who that was – though I have been humiliated for my lesser sins.’

‘On the contrary, madam!’ Junio jumped up. ‘I know that expression on my father’s face – I think he knows who did it, or he thinks he does.’

He broke off as the steward came in with the tray. ‘I’m sorry, citizens. I know you were asking for the doorkeeper, but he cannot be found. I’ve got every slave that can be spared searching the house for him.’ He set down a plate of nuts and dates, and put a drinking cup in front of each of us. ‘I will bring him, with the wine, as soon as possible.’

I waited until the steward had disappeared before I spoke again. ‘I believe the doorkeeper will tell us the same thing, when he comes. Helena Domna behaved unwisely, but she did not conspire to kill. I think we must look elsewhere for our murderer.’

‘So Antoninus’s murder was not connected with the statue, after all?’ Redux contrived to look relieved at this.

‘Indirectly, I think it may have been. It was what brought Antoninus Seulonius here the other night, and that’s what caused his death. But Helena Domna and her doorkeeper were not the only ones who feared what Antoninus could reveal. Zythos, for example, was a victim too.’

‘Zythos, dear man, is unfortunately dead.’ Redux’s plump face was pink and crumpling. ‘I think we can keep his reputation out of this.’

‘Of course he arranged that Minerva should be stolen, shipped and sold.’ Gracchus was attempting to be judicous now. ‘But he could hardly be responsible for what has happened since. Certainly not for either of the deaths.’

‘And yet, you know, I rather think he was involved,’ I said, as gently as I could. ‘Not only these deaths, but Honoria’s as well.’ I turned to Livia. ‘And doubtless, madam, you would agree with me – if you can be prevailed upon to admit the truth.’

Livia had risen to her feet. She was as pale as marble, though her eyes were bright. ‘Citizen Libertus, you have made your point. Helena Domna has admitted to every charge you raised. I cannot imagine what you hope to gain by blaming a dead man for my husband’s death – far less the death of a man I hardly knew. Let Gracchus pay you, as he promised, and we will say no more – lest Zythos’s spirit be offended and return to haunt us all.’

‘As he already haunts you, madam?’ I enquired. ‘The “fair-haired beauty” to whom he wrote his poem? Oh, don’t look startled – Redux told me that he had seen the verses though he did not suspect they were composed for you. No doubt he could also identify the lock of hair that you are wearing in that locket ring. I should have noticed at the time that you referred to it as “the dead man’s hair”, not “my husband’s”, as one might expect.’

I looked at Redux and he swallowed hard then said,
‘I only knew that Zythos had lost his heart – and that it was not to me.’

‘It was you, lady – I am quite sure of it,’ I said. ‘It was you that he was hoping to encounter on that night, when he was discovered in Honoria’s room – the bedroom that she usually gave you, when you came to stay.’

Helena Domna looked triumphant now. ‘So it was you, you hussy! Let me see that ring.’ But Livia simply went on gazing in a kind of trance, as if she were trying to read the mural on the wall.

‘It must have been convenient for a lovers’ tryst,’ I said. ‘The house was next door to an inn, and Honoria’s bedroom looked out on a tree. Zythos was young and vigorous – it was not hard to climb – once he had let himself into the grounds. And you left the shutters open, by arrangement too, so that he could come and find you in the room.’