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Authors: Rosemary Rowe

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I stepped back, distrusting it.

Sollers noted my action with amusement. ‘You still fear we have a poisoner in our midst?’

‘Don’t you?’

‘I still ask myself about those bruises on the body. But in any case I have no fear of these dishes. Even if you are right, our poisoner is not indiscriminate. Only your tray was tampered with. Last night your patron ate the same food, without ill effect. These dishes are for the funeral feast. Poison in them would dispose of half Corinium.’

He was right, of course, and I felt duly chastened. I accepted a sip of the sauce – which was delicious – and said, to cover my chagrin, ‘Your father taught himself, you say?’

Sollers smiled. ‘What little he knew. He believed in carriage rides to rock the system and cabbage water for everything. He had strict ideas about which amulets and incantations it was proper to use at different phases of the moon, but he refused to accept more modern methods.’

I tried to look intelligent. ‘I know little about doctors. My experience of them is limited to having my slave brand removed from my back with hot irons. The operation did not incline me to further my acquaintance.’

‘Ah, cautery! That is painful.’ Sollers moved over to the table, where a female slave was skinning a half-cooked joint of beef. He picked up a piece of the bleeding meat and ate it. ‘But at least it does not draw blood. Do you know that blood flows in the arteries, as well as in the veins? Galen proved it, but my father wouldn’t accept that either.’

‘I didn’t know,’ I said, looking at the piece of meat with unease. This conversation was beginning to make me queasy, and I refused to taste anything further, but Sollers strode on, sampling a stew here and a sweet cake there, talking all the while.

‘Rats were different, my father said. Galen’s experiments might prove that they had blood in their arteries, but men have divine air in theirs. You cannot argue with a man like that. I left him and apprenticed myself to a Roman with more scientific views, and when he joined the army, I did too. A great surgeon. He taught me all he knew. How mandrake root will dull the pain, and pitch and turpentine will seal a wound.’ He used the spoon to taste one of the snails in tamarind sauce which a slave was simmering. ‘A little more pepper,’ he said to the cook, and then to me, ‘He had great skill with arrow wounds. I have seen him push back a man’s intestines after a sword thrust; he lubricated the loops in olive oil and sewed the stomach up again. The soldier lived for days. An impressive demonstration.’

I glanced at the
amphorae
of oil stacked under the cooking bench and blanched, but Sollers was oblivious. He poked at a pan of cranes, stewing with their necks out of the water so that the heads could later be pulled off whole. ‘I came to Britain to serve at the army hospital. When I had served out my commission I decided to stay here rather than go back to seek a civic appointment in Rome. I could turn my hand to most things by then, and I hoped to . . . well, to make a living here in a wealthy household. I hoped that in working for Ulpius, my reputation would spread. But now I shall have to start again.’ His eye lighted on a platter spread with a small selection of meats and breads. ‘Ah! Here are the grave meats I was looking for. I will go and offer them at once. And I must see to the provision of hobnails – Quintus will be buried in his finest shoes, but his spirit will need stout boots for the journey.’ He led the way back into the courtyard, where Junio was waiting for me.

‘Master!’ the boy cried, as soon as I appeared. ‘You did not . . .?’

‘Taste the food? Your concern is touching. But the medicus is right. If there was poison last night, it was on my plate alone.’

‘You think that someone tried to murder you?’ Sollers sounded horrified. Then he looked at me doubtfully. ‘With deference, citizen – I know your skills – but you are a pavement-maker. You did not even know Quintus. Why should someone want to murder you?’

‘I asked myself the same question, believe me. Urgently too, until an answer occurred to me.’

Junio looked at me anxiously, and Sollers stood stock-still to ask, hoarsely, ‘And that was?’

‘According to what Rollo himself told me last night, that tray was not intended for me at all. Until Maximilian countermanded the order, Rollo was taking supper to Marcus.’

It was as well that Marcus was not listening. I distinctly heard Junio mutter, ‘Thank Jupiter for that!’

Chapter Fourteen

There was a silence.

‘He must be warned,’ Sollers said, urgently.

‘Of course,’ I said. ‘I shall see that he employs a food-taster. And I shall do the same myself, and ensure that the whole household knows it. No killer is going to waste his poisons if an anonymous food-taster is likely to be the only victim. If you wish, when I have attended on my patron, I will go with my slave and attend to those errands in the town which Maximilian refused. I did not know Ulpius personally, so my absence will not be disrespectful, and you will need all the hands you can spare to manage matters here and ensure that there are no further attempts at poisoning. I can take the purse you gave to Maximilian and buy the necessary bread and wine – and no doubt find the funeral guild as well.’

Sollers looked at me in surprise, but it was Junio who voiced what he was thinking. ‘But that is slaves’ work, master.’

It was, of course. Sollers’s suggestion to Maximilian had been a deliberate provocation, simply to allow the doctor to demonstrate his point. But I was eager to go to the town, not least because the incessant lament was beginning to be irksome. If I went into the town I could pursue my search for Gwellia, and there were one or two enquiries I wanted to make on other issues too.

Of course, Sollers might think it was improper to allow a guest to go on such a humble mission. I gave him a rueful smile. ‘I have been a slave, physician, and such errands do not disturb me. Besides, I have business of my own to pursue. For instance, it would interest me to know exactly where Maximilian went, when he left us yesterday. And what happened to his toga? It was stained, I remember. I took it to be wine at the time, but I should like to be certain. I do not imagine the fullers have quite bleached it spotless yet.’ It had occurred to me, too, that Maximilian had been in the kitchens the night before.

Sollers looked at me with interest. ‘In that case, citizen, of course you should go if you wish. Though there is no need to run menial errands. I can spare a slave for that.’

Or the household can, I thought. No wonder Maximilian felt diminished by this man.

‘I could send Junio to the funeral guild,’ I said. ‘If someone will give him directions as to how to find it. But I will purchase the bread and wine, if you will give me the necessary coins. Since I am travelling with my patron I have not brought much money of my own.’ I did not add that what little I did have was likely to be dispensed in the town, to lubricate the tongues of the fuller’s men, among others.

He took the purse from his belt again, loosened the strings and shook out a few bronze coins – almost all that the purse contained. The medicus, who could have ‘commanded any price he wished’, had certainly not lined his purse with gold at Quintus’s expense.

‘A civilian purse,’ I said, opening the similar pouch which I wore at my own waist. ‘You surprise me. I thought you might have preferred an arm purse, military-style.’ Most veterans carry their coinage under their wrist-pads, as they learned to do on the march.

Sollers shot me a sharp look. ‘Indeed,’ he said, ‘I do. But this was a gift from Quintus. It is similar to the pouch he wore himself.’

That was interesting, I thought, remembering how swiftly Maximilian had dropped it, almost as if he had been stung. I recalled Sollers saying that he would not put it past Maximilian to have staged that robbery. I wanted a word with that young man. But not now.

‘Thank you, citizen.’ I dropped the coins into my own purse. ‘Rollo would be indebted to you. As the whole household is, Julia especially. She has told me about your work. She has nothing but praise for your skill.’

He looked at me sharply. ‘Has she, indeed? I am surprised that she should confide so much to you. But yes, I have been treating Julia. I was hopeful, too, that my treatment had worked, but now of course it is no longer important. At least, unless she should choose to marry again. She is still young enough for that.’

So, I thought to myself, he
was
treating her for childlessness. Aloud I said, ‘Julia told me that you were treating her, but she did not say why. Her praise was for your operation on her husband’s eyes.’

For the first time since I had met him, I saw Sollers look less than composed. ‘A thousand pardons, citizen. I thought she must have told you—’

‘That you were helping her conceive a child?’ I took a calculated risk. ‘A pity that such a beautiful woman should have problems in that way. But she must have known about it before – she was married to Flavius for several years.’

Sollers hesitated a moment, and then he said, ‘Citizen, you are a clever man, and I think you are an honest one. What I am about to tell you is a confidence between Julia and myself. I trust you not to abuse the knowledge, but I know that if I do not explain, you will try to deduce the matter for yourself, and perhaps come to worse conclusions.’ He stopped and looked at me expectantly.

‘Unless this has some bearing on the killings,’ I said, ‘Julia’s confidence is safe with me. I give you my word as a citizen and a Celt.’

He smiled, amused at this expression. ‘Then I will tell you. You guess correctly. Julia was desperate to have a child and create a new heir. I cannot blame her. Maximilian lacks both judgement and respect, and Julia feared that if her husband died – he was, after all, many years her senior – his fortune would be left at the mercy of his son. Ulpius has made provision for her, of course, and her dowry will revert to her; but she cannot do business or sign contracts without a legal protector. She feared that Maximilian would fritter everything away and leave her penniless in her old age. If she could provide a second heir, she could secure at least half the estate.’

‘I have heard it suggested,’ I interpolated doubtfully, ‘that the infertility might not have been Julia’s.’

He looked surprised. ‘Julia believed that it was. She was, as you say, married for a long time to Flavius.’

‘And did not manage to conceive.’

Sollers looked at me gravely. ‘And had no children, citizen. That is not necessarily the same thing. On the contrary. Once, after Flavius had forced himself on her, Julia discovered she was expecting a child. She was appalled. A child would give Flavius an emotional hold over her, and besides she had recently met Quintus and was contemplating leaving her husband. To do so, under the circumstances, was to invite trouble. She . . . shall we say . . . took steps.’

I nodded. It was not unknown. Many women took matters into their own hands if they found themselves carrying an unwanted child. I could see what Julia feared. The world would say the child was Quintus’s, Flavius might even have dragged Quintus through the courts for damages, yet Quintus himself would never have accepted the child – and that would have been the end of marrying Julia. She must have been desperate. All the same, it showed a ruthlessness in her which was not altogether attractive. ‘So, she went to a physician?’

‘I wish she had. She went to a wise woman, secretly. And since then she has failed to conceive. These forceful internal applications of brimstone remove the child, but they can endanger the woman too, and prevent her from future births. That was what Julia feared. And she still had pain. That is why she came to me. She wanted to take advantage of her husband’s illness to let me soothe the inflammation, and perhaps effect a cure. She could not guess, of course, that Ulpius would die before she could test the efficacy of the treatment.’

‘I see,’ I said. ‘You have been very frank. But there is something else I need to ask. It is a delicate matter, but it is important that I know. What form, exactly, did your treatment take?’

Sollers hesitated a moment, but then he answered. ‘I gave her herbs to drink, and a soothing douche of olive oil and milk. And, before you ask, it was the latter which I administered yesterday. Quintus was engaged with Maximilian, so we took advantage of the moment. So, if you are suspecting that Julia might have killed her husband, I can tell you otherwise. She needed to lie down to have the treatment, and for a little afterwards, and I was with her all the time. She may be embarrassed to tell you this, but it is the case.’ The medicus looked at me soberly. ‘Is there anything else, citizen, which you need to know?’

It was my turn, suddenly, to feel embarrassed. I was aware of having intruded upon a very private professional relationship, and of having forced the man into disconcerting candour. ‘Not at all,’ I said hurriedly, ‘you have been most helpful. I apologise for having felt the need to ask. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I will go and warn my patron. If I intend to visit the town I should do so before the morning is quite over.’

I turned back into the house and made my way to Marcus, with Junio again at my heels.

Marcus was in the blackest of moods. He had been given the best guest apartments, and had been provided with a pair of braziers, as requested. All the same, he had felt the cold. The house was draughty after his first-floor apartment in Glevum, and clearly the hypocaust was not as effective as the one in his country villa. He had scarcely slept a wink, he said; the couch was lumpy and the room was cold.

‘The sleeping draught which Sollers provided for you made no difference, Excellence?’ I asked solicitously. ‘I didn’t drink mine until it was almost light, but afterwards I slept like Morpheus.’

My enquiry did nothing to improve my patron’s temper. ‘It tasted foul,’ he replied testily. I guessed that he had hardly tasted it and that my testimony now added to his discontent. He was irritable with cold and fatigue and the provision of a bought pie for breakfast had not helped matters, despite the exquisite tray and silver platter on which it had been served. Unlike Flavius, Marcus preferred more delicate flavours in the morning.

BOOK: A Pattern of Blood
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