A dying light in Corduba

LIV

Grief-stricken women seem to make beelines for informers. It must be our comforting manner.

'You have to help me!' wailed Claudia Rufina.

I was very tired. Normally I could mop tears, straighten a mourning veil, and stop hiccups by giving a sudden shock by way of loud noises, cold keys down the cleavage, or an unexpected pinch on the backside. Today I just sighed.

'Of course he will!' Helena soothed the distressed young lady. 'Marcus Didius is deeply sorry about what happened to Constans; he will help you if he can.'

I had been left to sleep in, but still felt like a half-stuffed cushion. After days in the saddle my spine, and all the parts attached to it, were on fire. I needed to be placed in the tender care of my trainer Glaucus and his fiendish masseur from Tarsus, but they were many hundreds of miles away in Rome, and a great deal of the distance between us was sea.

Worse, when I had crawled into the kitchen this morning the breakfast which the aged cook had lovingly prepared for me had been devoured by Quadratus. Of course the old dear rushed to bring me another plateful, but it was not the same. So let's be literal about this: my mood was absolutely foul.

I held up a hand like a masterful orator. Claudia Rufina fell silent, though Helena sniffed; she hated sham.

'Helena Justina is correct about the deep sympathy I feel towards you and your family. Nothing can mitigate the untimely death of a promising youth with the Empire at his feet.' And so much money, I thought. I was extremely tired. My mood was truly low.

'Thank you,' said Claudia, catching me out by responding with dignity.

'You are a sensible young woman and I believe you will respect frankness.' I was not normally this rough. I noticed Helena's eyebrows shoot up. Guilt increased my bad temper. 'Excuse me if this sounds harsh: I came to Hispania on a difficult mission. I received no assistance – no assistance at all – from the dignitaries of Corduba, including your own family. I have still to solve a murder in Rome, and write a long report on certain commercial matters here. I have to condense my efforts into far too little time, in order to be able to return to Italy before Helena Justina gives birth.' We all glanced at Helena; by now she looked so large it seemed likely we were expecting twins. 'Claudia Rufina, this is no moment for me to take on a private commission, especially when it's fairly clear we're discussing a very sad accident.'

'Besides which,' muttered Helena, 'Marcus has had his breakfast eaten by that young man of whom everyone thinks so highly.'

'Tiberius?' Claudia was looking down that unfortunate nose of hers. She still seemed drawn to the handsome and eligible quaestor – yet her expression had a closed look, as if her attitude might be changing.

'Yes, Tiberius!' Helena's smile was like the benign glance of a sibyl just before she prophesied universal war.

'Oh,' said Claudia. Then she added in her serious way, 'I came in Grandfather's carriage. Would you like me to take Tiberius away?'

'That would be extremely kind,' Helena answered. 'You see, I am being frank too today.'

'It's no trouble,' replied Claudia quietly. 'I would like a chance to talk to him anyway.' That was when I started worrying about Claudia.

I was surveying our visitor more gently. She wore a dark veil, though she had it thrown around her casually as if a maid had persuaded her at the last minute. She had left the maid at home, travelling to see us set-faced and quite alone. Her gown was the blue one I had seen before, less neatly cinched in. Her hair was dressed as normal in a tight, plain style that emphasised the large shape of her nose. As a wealthy heiress she ought to be enjoying herself in elaborate funeral drapes pinned together with onyx jewellery. Instead she could be genuinely abstracted by grief.

'I think we'll send Tiberius home in our own carriage,' I disagreed.

Helena looked annoyed. She was dying to be rid of him. 'Marcus, Claudia Rufina said she wishes to speak to him.' 'What about, Claudia?' I asked crisply.

Claudia looked me straight in the eye. 'I want to ask him where he was when my brother died.'

I looked straight back. 'He was here. He is too badly hurt to ride. When he first took his fall, Helena Justina insisted that a doctor look at him. We know his injury is disabling.'

Claudia's eyes dropped. She looked miserable and confused. She did not think of asking us why anyone should doubt that Quadratus had been hurt, or why we had already taken trouble to work out for ourselves that he had an alibi. She might have an inkling of our own doubts about him, but she still shrank from the full implications.

Helena linked her hands on her stomach. 'Tell us why you came to see Marcus Didius.'

'He investigates,' Claudia declared with a proud tone. 'I wished to hire him to discover how Constans was killed.'

'Don't you believe what you have been told about it?' I asked.

Once again Claudia defied me with her stare. 'No, I don't.'

I ignored the drama. 'Does your grandfather know that you have come to me?'

'I can afford to pay you!'

'Then be businesslike and answer the question I asked.'

Claudia was growing up almost before our eyes. 'My grandfather would be furious. He forbids any discussion of what happened. So I didn't tell him I was coming here, or why.'

I quite liked her in this mood. She was young and spoiled, but she was taking the initiative. Helena had noticed my change of expression, and she was looking less critical. As gently as I could, I explained to the girl, 'Look – people come to me all the time claiming that their relatives have died in suspicious circumstances. They are usually wrong about it. Most people who die unnaturally have been killed by close members of their family, so I don't get asked for help because they're hiding the truth. When I am asked to investigate I almost always discover that the person died because their time was up, or in an honest accident.'

Claudia Rufina took a deep, slow breath. 'I understand.'

'It will be hard to face losing Constans, but you may just have to accept that he is tragically gone.'

She was struggling to seem reasonable. 'You won't help me.'

'I didn't say that.' She looked up eagerly. 'Something brought you here today when you ought to have been grieving, and comforting your grandmother. Something troubled you sufficiently to drive you from home on your own; I take that seriously, Claudia. Tell me why you feel suspicious.'

'I don't know.' She blushed. At least she was honest. That was a rare treat in a client.

I had spent large amounts of time dealing with women who were holding back in one situation or another. I waited. I could tell Helena Justina thought I was being over-stern. I was just far too tired to be messed about.

Claudia Rufina glanced at Helena for encouragement then said firmly: 'I believe my brother was murdered. There is a reason, Marcus Didius. I think Constans knew something about what you are investigating. I believe he intended to reveal what he knew, so he was killed to stop him talking to the authorities.'

There were a number of questions I might have gone on to ask her, but just as she had finished speaking Tiberius Quinctius Quadratus (in a fetching blue tunic that I last saw in the bath-house) tapped on the door politely – in case we were discussing anything private – then as we all fell abruptly silent he strolled into the room.