Eight for Eternity

Chapter Twenty-Three

“Poisoned!” Rusticus gave a grunt of pain as he straightened up slowly from the bed to which Haik had been moved. The elderly physician’s tunic bore the marks of a day’s calls on patients. He pushed a spray of white hair away from his watery eyes and turned to face John.

“Are you certain?” John demanded.

Felix, stationed in the doorway, shook his head vehemently. “Impossible. No one’s been in the house who doesn’t belong here.”

“There’s no doubt about it,” Rusticus insisted in grave tones. “Considering the convulsions you described and the dilated eyes, it was belladonna. Ladies of the court use it to make their eyes look larger. Some call it Atropos’ plant. Enough taken and she cuts the thread of a man’s life. Not that it matters what it was at this point. If only I’d arrived earlier.”

“You might have saved him?”

“I can’t see how. But I would have been able to identify the poison more positively. As it is I have to go on what you tell me. I should have liked to be sure. Poisonings are most interesting. Tending to the court as I do, I could tell you about more than one poisoning. Oh, yes. Not as many as you’d think. Especially lately. Back in Emperor Zeno’s day things were handled more subtly. Now it’s just a knife in the back. And often enough, not in the back. All brute force and no guile.”

Felix gave an audible grunt. “Easier to guard against.”

John was almost relieved to hear that Haik could not have been saved. Although he had acted quickly it felt like a long time before the physician arrived. As soon as John shouted for a servant the whole household came on the run, along with Felix and a couple of his excubitors.

It was Hypatius who suggested sending for Rusticus. The physician had long treated the family. Once Haik was placed on the bed John ordered everyone but Felix out of the room.

He knelt by the bed speaking to Haik, listening to his breathing become shallower. The man did speak again before giving a few stentorian gasps and lapsing into utter stillness.

John looked down at Haik. The man’s great beak of a nose jutted up like a small peak from the dead face. He bent over and pulled the sheet over the corpse. “You can treat a knife wound more easily than a poisoning?”

“That depends on the kind of poison and which rib you put the knife between and at what angle. Now if-”

“Who would use belladonna?”

“An aristocrat, I’d say. It’s a very refined poison. Or else a gutter bred scoundrel who wanted to make it look like an aristocrat’s work. On the other hand, it’s easily derived from nightshade, so it might be used by someone from the countryside, or by a city dweller who purchased it at a shop, or from-”

“I see. Just about anyone might have decided to use belladonna.”

“Anyone who wanted to kill someone.” Rusticus wiped at his watering eyes. “These days I’m seeing more of the dead than the living. If it’s not the result of beatings and stab wounds from the riots, it’s certifying condemned men are definitely dead after their executions. Some of the deaths I’ve seen, no one would want to see. Oh, I could tell you things you wouldn’t want to hear.”

“I’m glad you can restrain yourself.”

Rusticus shuffled over to the room’s table, picked up the jug there, saw it was empty. He made a noise of disgust. “If the wine was poisoned there’s none left to tell the tale. Was there any food left lying about?”

“No. Not even an empty plate,” said Felix. “John and I searched the room while we waited for you.”

“That’s too bad. Years ago a senator was found dead in his garden. There was half a sausage left on a plate on the bench beside his body. I mixed it with chicken liver and fed it to a cat. When the beast promptly died we knew there was no doubt that the senator had been poisoned.”

“Did that enable you to identify the poison?” John wondered.

“Hardly, but the beast’s reaction was fascinating. One would never guess that muscles could spasm to that extent. By the time I see poisoning victims, they’re usually dead or nearly so.”

“What a shame,” Felix remarked.

“Yes, confirming that a man’s dead isn’t physician’s work. Not usually. Now, just the other day, there were those two faction members who survived hanging. You wouldn’t think a physician would be needed to certify that a man who’s been hung is dead, would you? But when you’ve lived as long as me you see a lot of strange things.”

“Are you referring to the Blue and the Green who were rescued and taken to Saint Laurentius?”

“That’s right. Now there was something I had never seen before although I have a large charioteering clientele who are always injuring themselves, keeping me busy setting dislocated shoulders and limbs broken in collisions or when the men are dragged by their horses halfway round the track before they can cut the reins, spectators crushed in the stands, that sort of injury.”

“You mean the condemned men were charioteers?”

“One of them was a team patron. And the strangest aspect of the affair is that I knew him.”

“Which one?” John asked quickly.

“The Green. Fellow named Hippolytus. He consulted me about a little problem he had with his waterworks. He had a lot bigger problem with the other end once the hangman got hold of him! I’m surprised Pompeius didn’t tell you all about it. I went straight from the execution to his house. Pompeius is a regular patient mostly because he keeps half the wine merchants in the city solvent single-handed. He had over-indulged the night before and there I was, trying to tell him about the executions, and all he could do was groan and order his servants to bring him more wine. Why, the tale I was telling would have gathered me invitations to dine for weeks!”

John thought again of how Porphyrius had denied knowing the identities of either of the men who had survived their hangings. If even Rusticus knew-especially if the loose lipped physician knew-what were the chances Porphyrius didn’t? “Did you know Hippolytus well?” John asked.

“Not at all. I only saw him once, recently, which is why I remembered. I think one of the charioteers I treat sent him to me. He seemed well acquainted with racing. We didn’t talk for long. I gave him a remedy and sent him away. I had no remedy for what ailed him the next time I saw him. There’s no cure for the condemnation of the emperor.”

“Perhaps the botched hanging was intended as a cure,” put in Felix.

“It’s true he was not properly hung. But things were getting chaotic. The spectators were pressing in and making threats. Even the guards were frightened. The hangman was in a panic so far as I could tell. He probably wasn’t thinking clearly and didn’t adjust the ropes properly. There’s no excuse for that. It could have resulted in a very cruel death.”

It wasn’t surprising that Kosmas had not mentioned making such an error, John thought. If, indeed, he had been responsible. The Urban Prefect Eudaemon hadn’t mentioned any unruliness amongst the spectators either. It was possible his guards had tried to protect themselves by not reporting their failure to keep the crowd in check. Or Eudaemon had said nothing in order to protect himself. His men had already failed to protect the two at Saint Laurentius. It would have been understandable if he had not wanted to admit to yet another fiasco.

John turned his thoughts back to Haik. “But as for my friend, is there anything else you can tell me, that might be helpful in finding out who did this?”

The physician glanced at the covered form on the bed. “I fear not. And nothing to be done for him. Considering the horses are out of the barn, and jumped the fences, and vanished into the woods, and died of old age, there’s no point in locking the stable door, is there? Whoever is responsible is long gone.”

“My guards were stationed at every door,” Felix said, his voice rising. “I was at the front entrance myself. No one could have got by us.”

“Guards can fall sleep, or neglect their duties,” John said.

“I picked these men myself, John. I know them. I trust them. Can you say the same of all the servants living in this house?”

“You have a point, my friend. But I see no reason why any of my servants would want to kill a complete stranger.”

“Maybe he made unwanted advances to one of the women. Who knows. I only know that your house has been well guarded.”

Felix was speaking too loudly. John thought he probably realized it could as easily been one of his aristocratic charges who was killed. And, besides, if someone could get into the house to murder Haik, he could return.

It was possible one of Hypatius’ family had been the real target. It was too obvious to need saying.