The Curse-Maker (10 page)

The litter bearers were waiting by the door. Ligur looked appalled when I asked him if he wanted a ride. By the time the chair was lowered again, I was almost asleep. I opened my eyes and stepped out and walked into a large, chestnut brown horse.

He was a stallion—obviously. He could also smell Nimbus—obviously. She was nickering to him, and when he answered her, everyone in Aquae Sulis could hear what he said.

I strode into the house. “What the hell—”

A tall, hearty looking man of about forty was sitting down, starry-eyed, admiring my wife. Join the goddamn fraternity. Maybe I should put her in the barn with Nimbus.

“Arcturus—I'm so glad you're home. This is Gaius Secundus. The
duovir
of Aquae Sulis.”

Of course. How could I forget there were two of the bastards?

I tried not to ask him what the hell he was doing with a stallion in my garden. I said: “We've already met Grattius.”

A look of distaste crossed his face. At least that was something in his favor.

“Well, Grattius and I run the town together, though we don't always see eye to eye. I'd heard you were here, and thought you might want to come to dinner tomorrow.”

I glanced down at Gwyna, who smiled bewitchingly. “Of course. We'd love to. Thanks for asking.” Another neigh nearly shattered a glass.

“Is that your horse?”

“Noble beast, isn't he? I understand you have a mixed Libyan breed yourself, a little gray mare.”

Ah. The horsey set. “Nimbus used to be a courier horse.”

“Fast devils. Good endurance, too.” He stood up. “Well, glad you can come. Not a lot to do in Aquae Sulis if you're not infirm. Got a theater, of course—the wife and I are avid for theatricals. No arena yet. Hopefully, that'll come. We could use a good gladiator show—liven things up a bit—but first things first. What we need is a good track. Run some fast circus breeds, have a little racing farm.” He clapped me on the back. “Always glad to meet a fellow who knows horses.”

I escorted him out, to make sure he left. Then made sure no one else was waiting around to make love to my wife. Then walked into the dining room.

The dinner was laid out. Gwyna dismissed the slaves so she could serve us herself. Lamb stew, peas, lettuce leaves with onions, and wine cakes. The food was almost as delectable as the sight of her pouring wine.

“Priscus was hiding this in the kitchen until Secundus left. I didn't think he ever would. He kept hinting around, hoping for an on-the-spot dinner invitation. Now, sit down, Ardur, and tell me what you found out.”

Her eyes were bright. I told her about my day, and ended with what Drusius and Calpurnius had told me—and not told me.

“It doesn't make much sense. People die in Aquae Sulis, and Bibax's curses came true. What does that mean?”

Gwyna was looking at me strangely. “Ardur—”

“Yes?”

“Ardur … what if it's in the wrong order?”

“What do you mean?”

“What if it's ‘Bibax's curses come true'… and
then
‘people die'?”

I stared at my wife. Why the hell hadn't I thought of that?

CHAPTER EIGHT

I leaned forward. “You mean, hire Bibax, curse someone you want to get rid of … let the goddess take the blame. Making Bibax and whoever he was working with murderers for hire.”

She nodded, her curling blond hair falling down into soft waves, and I was struck by how young she looked. She'd been so drawn when I came home from the North, so tired.

I tried to concentrate on Bibax. “Did anyone mention him at all?”

“No one admitted knowing or ever using him, but they were willing to imply other people did. When Prunella spoke of Bibax, it was … well, it was when we were talking about wanting things to happen. Do you see?”

“I think so. Who's Prunella?”

“You met her last night. Octavio's wife. The one with a laugh like a donkey. She was there early—her husband runs it, after all. She checked me over, of course. So did everyone else.”

“What do you mean, ‘checked me over'?”

She threw me a tolerant smile. “You don't understand women, do you? They had to inspect my clothes, what sort of perfume I wore, how expensive it was. Jewelry, shoes, hair oil—everything. Find out if I was keeping my figure. Or if I had a lover on the side.”

I drank my wine too quickly. Gwyna arched her eyebrows and smiled. I said: “That must be uncomfortable.”

She reached around to gather her hair, twisting it at the back of her neck. “It is. But you get used to it, especially in this kind of company. The trick is to find out more about them than they find out about you.”

“Like what?”

She shrugged. “Lots of things, most of them unimportant. Prunella drinks, you know. I was glad I brought wine.”

“You brought wine?” I was beginning to feel stupid again.

“Of course. I saw last night she drinks too much. I thought it would be easier to get her to talk, and it was, as long as I kept her by herself.”

I shook my head. “You—you're—”

Her eyes opened wide. “Yes, Ardur?”

I hadn't forgotten the remark about lovers on the side.

“Go on. What did they tell you? And who was there?”

“Grattius's wife, of course—Vibia—and Prunella, and Flavia, the priest's wife—”

“Which priest?”

“Papirius, the head of the temple. She thinks she's some kind of bath duenna, and a terrible snob. I was quizzed on all my relatives—and yours, of course. That shut her up.”

She paused, and poured herself a drink, and then let it float like an afterthought. “And there was Sulpicia, of course.”

“Sulpicia? She was with you? But I—”

The blue eyes narrowed into arrow slits, and the arrows were loaded and ready.

“Did you see Sulpicia today? You haven't mentioned it.”

“She came by the
palaestra
while I was exercising. It wasn't important.” I gulped again and spilled some on my tunic. Nonchalance is difficult with wine dribbled down your front.

“Arcturus—whenever that cow pays you a visit, you're to tell me.”

“Of course. I didn't think it mattered.” I was stuttering like a boy in his first toga. Squirming, too.

Her voice was dry. “It matters to me. The bitch is trying to seduce you. If you had any sense where women are concerned, you'd realize my pride's at stake.”

I squinted at her. “I understand. Can we get back to Bibax?”

She bent forward and poured me more Caecuban.

“Where was I? Oh, right—Prunella. Some young tart was frisking in the pool. This was before the others arrived. Prunella got catty—said that Titus something—Sestius, I think—well, he wasn't getting his money's worth, was he? Here he fixed his aunt good and proper, inherited all her money three months ago, and now he was wasting it on this cheap little piece.”

“His aunt died?”

Gywna nodded. “Her name was Rusonia Aventina. Came out for a cure, never got back home.”

“Did she mention Bibax?”

“Not then, but something she said later made me think of it. It was when we were getting rubbed down—when you're with women like that, you have to do everything all at the same time. For your own protection—otherwise they'll look through your things while you're in the water. It's best to follow someone's lead. Vibia and Flavia practically wrestled over who was going to be the leader. One of them was always trying to tell us what to do.”

“So what happened?”

“Prunella was drunk. The others made bitchy remarks about Materna—wife of Secundus, the
duovir
you just met. Fat, ugly, red-faced woman. Her daughter is pretty, though. Still not married. Vibia mentioned something about Secundus scaring off a young man his daughter liked. Wants her to marry rich.”

She shook her head with feeling. “Always the same story.”

“What about Bibax?”

“I'm getting there, Ardur. We were watching this girl and her hulking mother—I don't want to end up on a couch with her, let me put it that way—and Vibia was saying how poor little Secunda was pining for her lover. And then Prunella said something about ‘losing a chance to fix it.' Flavia gave her a warning look, but Prunella was too far gone. Slurred something like ‘She coulda got ol' Bibax to help. Good ol' Bibax. He was real. Not like the res'.' Then Flavia hit her in the stomach and they changed the subject.”

“She said Bibax was ‘real'?”

“There's more. As soon as we were done with the rubdown, the other women left for a few minutes to talk to Sulpicia.” A distasteful look crossed her face. “She makes such a spectacle of herself. And her body's not that good.”

She shot a glance at me. I was innocently studying my nails.

“Anyway, Sulpicia was walking around, and she looks every bit of forty and then some. They left me alone with Prunella because she was asleep, but I got out the wine cup and held it under her nose. That woke her up.”

“What did she say? Did you ask her about Bibax?”

She took another drink and stared at me. “Of course I did, Ardur. I may not be Bilicho, but I'm not stupid.”

I tried to wag my tail and give her my paw. It always works for dogs. “Sorry. Go on.”

“Well, I asked her what she meant about Bibax. What he could have ‘fixed' for Secunda. She gave me this look, and a wink, and said to ask Sulpicia.”

“Sulpicia again?”

“Yes, Sulpicia. Then she said—well, she said some things about you.”

“Me? What could she say about me?”

Gwyna blushed a becoming shade of pink. “Nothing that you need to know. She seems to be under the impression—how, I don't know—that you're, well—that I'd never need to—shall we say—resort to anyone—or anything—else. Unlike Sulpicia, who did—and does.”

I grinned. I'd remember Prunella, and be extra nice to her next time we went to dinner. Gwyna was watching me, her lips pursed.

“She was drunk, Arcturus.”

I cleared my throat. “So what's this about Sulpicia?”

“That's what I wanted to know. So when Flavia came back I asked her how long Sulpicia has been with Vitellius.”

“Vitellius likes boys.”

“I know. Everyone knows. That's why she roams around like a cat. She'll stick her tail in the air for any good-looking man who gives her a sniff.”

“Maybe she's lonely.” I withered under my wife's look.

“Sulpicia?! Ha! Flavia said the old slut's rich, ancient-as-the-hills husband fell down and died just a year and a half ago. He was about thirty-five years older than she is, which made him roughly the age of Homer. And he was the severe type, against all so-called luxuries like clothes and jewelry, and of course couldn't give her what she wanted—and wants all the time. She's about as lonely as Messalina. Don't you dare feel sorry for her.”

“You think—”

“I think she hired Bibax to conveniently remove an unwanted husband who stood in the way of some fun. Though why she chose Vitellius as a lover is beyond me. Maybe he's bigger and better than he looks, if she can ever get him off a boy's back end. Oh, don't look so shocked, Arcturus. Women talk about all kinds of things—just like men.”

“I'm almost afraid to ask, but … anything else?”

She leaned forward. “There's more about Sulpicia. I watched her after what Flavia told me. She didn't bring a slave with her, which was odd. I thought perhaps she had to sell them or something, but she was wearing a beautiful necklace—gold and amethyst, absolutely stunning—so that didn't make sense. Well, when we were dressing in the
apodyterium,
Sulpicia left for a few minutes, heading back to the
frigidarium.
I thought it might be because she saw someone she knew, but it wasn't.”

Gwyna squeezed my knee.
“She threw it in.”

“Threw what in? Where?”

“Ardur, aren't you paying attention? The necklace. She walked to the
frigidarium,
to where those three big windows overlooking the spring are, and she threw it in.”

“She threw the necklace into the Sacred Spring?”

Gwyna nodded triumphantly. “Yes. Don't you see?”

I scratched my ear. “I'm afraid I don't. Lots of people throw all kinds of things in there.”

“But she didn't want to. I could see it in her face. What's more, she just dropped it, so it landed on the side of the reservoir, and not in the water.”

“So you think—”

“I think Sulpicia is being blackmailed, and someone at the temple is involved.” She leaned back and smiled at me as if I'd thought of it.

“If she's being blackmailed—”

“Other people are, too. Even though Bibax is dead—”

“He had a partner. Or partners. Maybe that's where
Ultor
comes in. Disgruntled associate not scoring enough of the take. Or maybe someone discovered the goddess's magic was just a curse-writer with a lucrative side business.”

I looked at her. “Gwyna—I thought I saw you throw something in the spring.”

She reddened. “I'm not being blackmailed, if that's what you're worried about. When I saw what Sulpicia was doing, I—I went to join her.”

“What did you throw?”

She avoided my eyes. “It's not important.”

I let it get away. “Was there anything else? This information—your ideas. They're invaluable.”

Her face flushed, and she leaned forward and squeezed my knee again. “I'm glad. I want to be useful to you. Be part of what you do.”

I met her eyes. She reddened, looked away.

“There was something else. What was it? Oh, yes—the mine—the haunted mine.”

“You talked about it?”

“Vibia likes ghost stories, and Aquae Sulis is full of them. Someone mentioned that the baths are haunted, too.”