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.”

“By whom?”

“A boy—he died about three years ago. He’s supposed to haunt one of the baths on the eastern end. Flavia told the story and pointed out the boy’s grandmother. Old woman, no money. Still comes every day. Her grandson was accused of stealing some bathing clothes. He was the town simpleton, I guess, and couldn’t defend himself. She still swears he’s innocent.” Gwyna shivered. “It’s a sad story—and frightening, somehow.”

“Was he cursed by Bibax?”

“I was listening to Vibia talk about the mine. You think—”

“I think you need to speak to the grandmother.”

She rubbed her hand thoughtfully. “I’ll do it tomorrow.”

“And the mine?”

“The mine. The story is that a man died in a cave-in.”

“Slaves die in mines all the time without ghosts shutting them down.”

“This wasn’t a slave. A Roman—maybe an official, I don’t know. Vibia was very vague, and Flavia was uncomfortable with the conversation.”

“When did he die?”

“About two, two and a half years ago. A lot of people swear the mine is genuinely haunted—that’s why it’s still closed. Even an investor was scared off. He came up from Durnovaria, I think it was, and wanted to reopen it but was frightened away by the ghost.”

She shivered again. “I didn’t like hearing about it. There’s something—wrong—about Aquae Sulis, Arcturus.”

I grunted. “Curses. Ghosts. Murder … though murder’s nothing new in this town, not if we’re right about Bibax. Two years, three—who knows how long he could have been playing Sulis.”

“What would you like me to do?”

I took her hand in mine. “I want you to be careful. Killings and blackmail and whatever the hell else are rotting this town from the inside out. No one knows it, or maybe they just don’t give a good goddamn. It’s going to be dangerous to ask the right questions, and even the wrong ones. I’d like to get the hell out of here, today, tonight. It’s poison. A goddamn city of poison.”

“I can take care of myself, Ardur. I’ve told you that.”

“I know you can, but until Bibax turned up dead, things were running nice and smooth—and they all want to keep it that way. We don’t know what we’re waking up, and no one—not the innocent or the guilty—will like it. I gave my word or I’d move us back to Londinium tonight.”

She nodded. Nothing I said had frightened her.

“All right. What about tomorrow?”

“Do what any well-bred woman would do. Go back to the baths. If you get a chance to talk to that old woman—”

“I will. I’ll find a way, don’t worry. Anything else?”

I gave her what I hoped was my disarming grin. “I don’t have to tell you to keep an eye on Sulpicia.”

She frowned. “Better mine than yours.”

I bit my lip. “But Gwyna—I will have to talk to her tomorrow.”

“What? Why should you have to see that—”

“Because I’ll get better results than you will. I think a direct confrontation about the blackmail will work with her. Even if it doesn’t, it will set things in motion.”

Her lips stretched in a thin line. “As long as certain other things aren’t set in motion.”

I ignored her and poured myself another drink. I was congratulating myself on how well I’d handled it when a light flamed in Gwyna’s eyes that made me suspicious.

“Maybe I should talk to Philo.”

I nearly spat the wine across the room. “Philo? Why the hell should you see Philo?”

“For the same reasons you’re seeing Sulpicia. The weak spot, Arcturus. He’ll be less guarded, and as the leading doctor in Aquae Sulis he’ll probably know about these deaths. I can at least bring up Rusonia and Sulpicia’s dead husband, and find out the details.”

Logically, she was right—but goddamn it, I wasn’t logical. “No.”

“What do you mean, no?”

“No is what I mean when I say no. I don’t want you to see Philo. Besides, you’ll be in the baths in the morning.”

“I can go a little later. It’s more fashionable anyhow. You’ll have to get there midafternoon as well, if you want to catch Sulpicia somewhere other than the exercise windows. Or maybe you want to show her what big muscles you have.”

We glared at each other. I was trying to treat her like a real partner, and not like a jealous husband, but partners don’t look like wives. Philo would never try to seduce Bilicho.

“He’s sixty.”

“She looks sixty without her clothes on.”

We glared again. Both of us were breathing hard.

“All right. Talk to Philo. Just don’t let him get near you.”

“Same to you. If I smell any of her scent on you—”

One of the slaves came in to get the dinner leftovers. Gwyna straightened her tunic, smoothing it over her legs. I got up and paced for exercise.

*   *   *

Later I asked her to give me a shave. We changed and strolled into Agricola’s private baths. There were three small pools, with lovely mosaic work in the bottom.

I sat on a stool near the edge of the caldarium, and she took out some oil and one of the razors. She still wasn’t wearing what she usually wore—when she wore anything at all—but that was at home, and before I’d left for the North.

She grabbed my chin and forced my face up to look at her.

“Ardur—”

“Mmm?”

“Ardur—pay attention.”

My hands were crawling down her hips, and she fought not to arch her back.

“Listen to me! I—I can’t do this. Not now. Not—not yet.”

The blue of her eyes was too deep to see behind.

“I—when, Gwyna? What—what can I do?”

“Nothing. It’s not you. Please, Ardur. Please don’t be angry.”

I took a deep breath. “I’m—why don’t you just finish that side of my chin, and I’ll take a quick plunge in the cold pool?”

She nodded, her face white in the dim light. We didn’t say anything else, and after she was through, I waded in our private frigidarium until I was numb.

When I came to bed, she was still awake, and she took my hand. She held it to her lips and kissed it. “It won’t be so very long. I just—I just need a little more time.”

I held her close, and was surprised when she started to cry.