Illegally Dead

3

I was down to breakfast late next morning: at Marcia’s, if the weather’s good, as it was that day, we always have it outside on the terrace looking towards Mount Alba. Me, I’m not a breakfast person normally, unlike Perilla, who can really shift it, or the Princess, who’s been known to eat five two-egg omelettes at a sitting, but the air in the Alban hills gives you an appetite, especially when the breakfast table’s out of doors. Marilla was ensconced already, shovelling in rolls and honey like there was no tomorrow while Bathyllus hovered with the fruit juice.

‘Morning, Corvinus,’ she said. ‘Did you sleep well?’

‘Like a brick,’ I said. ‘Or whatever. Bread and honey’s fine, Bathyllus, but wheel out a cup of the Caecuban, okay?’

‘Very well, sir.’ Impeccable butlerese: when we’re at Aunt Marcia’s, the little guy is always on his best behaviour. Aunt Marcia has tone, and Bathyllus is the snob’s snob. ‘I could ask Meton to make you an omelette, if you’d prefer.’

‘No, that’s okay.’ I reached for the rolls. Meton the chef and Alexis, technically our gardener, were the other two members of the Corvinus household we always brought with us; Meton because Marcia’s own chef, like Laertes the major-domo, was well past his sell-by date and you took your life in your hands with the canapes and Alexis because he was far and away the smartest cookie on our staff and a good set of brains was never wasted. Oh, and Lysias the coachman, but since his interests extended to horses and chasing the local bits of skirt, total, we barely saw him. ‘Got any plans for today, Princess?’

‘Clarus should be over any minute. We were hoping that we might, ah — ’ She stopped dead.

‘Might ah what?’

She grinned. ‘I’ve never been involved in a murder enquiry. At least, not properly. Nor has Clarus.’

‘And?’

‘So we were hoping that we might, ah, tag along. Sort of. If that’s okay.’

Hell. I set down the roll I’d taken from the basket. ‘Now listen, Marilla — ’

‘Oh, good. That’s marvellous. Here’s Clarus now.’ She waved. ‘Clarus! Over here! We haven’t finished breakfast.’

‘Marilla, watch my lips,’ I said. ‘You are not going to — ’

‘Good morning, sir. Did you sleep well?’

‘Morning, Clarus. I was just telling Marilla that there’s no way that — ’

‘I thought before Quintus Libanius arrives we could show you where the Hostilius house is. Then we could — ’

Gods! ‘Clarus, pal,’ I said. ‘Shut up. Please.’ He did. ‘Now. I was just telling this fugitive from a maenad pediment that you’re not getting involved in this. Neither of you, no way, never, nohow. Clear?’

‘But Perilla said we could,’ Marilla said.

I goggled. ‘She did what?’

‘Of course I did.’ I whipped round. The lady was coming out through the portico in her dressing-gown, which considering I’d left her flat out and dead to the world upstairs practically put her in the Bathyllus bracket for omnipresence. ‘After all, dear, it’s only fair. They started it and they’ve got a vested interest. Besides’ — she sat down and helped herself to a roll — ‘the suggestion came from Aunt Marcia. If you’ve any objections then you can take them up with her.Yes, thank you, Bathyllus, I will have a cup of fruit juice.’

I stared. Bugger! Double bugger! It was a conspiracy! ‘Now look here, lady — ’

‘You look, Marcus. How old were you when you forced the empress Livia to bring my stepfather’s ashes back from Tomi?’

Shit. ‘Uh…’

‘You were twenty-one. Which is only a year more than Clarus is now, and Marilla is only thirteen months younger than him.’ She broke the roll and reached for the honey. ‘Oh, Bathyllus, ask Meton if he’d make me a cheese omelette, would you? Clarus, have you eaten?’

Clarus nodded. ‘Yes, thanks,’ he said, and turned back to me. ‘We don’t expect you to carry us with you everywhere like useless baggage, Corvinus. It wouldn’t be practical, and it wouldn’t be sensible. But my father feels responsible for Hostilius’s death, and just staying out on the sidelines doing nothing doesn’t seem right, somehow. Can you understand that?’

Hell’s teeth; yeah, I could understand it easily, and what was more Perilla had a valid point about the Ovid business. Maybe I was just getting middle-aged and crotchety. Besides, like I said, I’d a lot of time for Clarus, more time than I’d’ve had for myself at his age. He might even be a steadying influence…

Ah, well. When you’re beat, you’re beat, and with Marcia and Perilla both slugging for the opposition I didn’t have a hope in Hades anyway. All I could do was cut my losses.

‘Invitation only?’ I said.

He grinned. ‘Invitation only.’

I held out my hand and we shook. ‘In that case you’ve a deal, pal. Starting this afternoon, if and when Marcia fixes things with Libanius, and at points as and when I say thereafter. No beefing, no arguments and no comeback, especially from Penthesilea here. Agreed?’

‘Agreed.’ He gently removed the roll she’d just picked up from between Marilla’s fingers and put it back in the basket. ‘Okay, Marilla, plan B.’

‘Plan B?’ Marilla said.

‘We keep out of Corvinus’s hair pro tem. Go and fetch Corydon and we’ll ride up to Caba.’

Perilla and I watched them go off in the direction of the stables. Perilla was smiling.

‘We really will have to put our minds to a dowry,’ she said.

‘Yeah.’ I’d just been thinking that myself. I picked up a roll, tore it in two and dunked it in the honey. ‘Marcia’ll miss her when she goes, mind.’

‘Oh, I think Aunt Marcia’s thought of that already. Marilla’s always been far more hers than ours, she hasn’t any living relatives now, and this villa’s easily big enough for two households. I doubt if either Marilla or Clarus would think of moving from Castrimoenium. Besides…well, Hyperion’s had a word with me. He’s Aunt Marcia’s doctor too, remember.’ I glanced at her, but said nothing. ‘She’s eighty-four, Marcus. That’s older than anyone expects to live to. And despite appearances she isn’t well. Not well at all.’

Oh, hell. ‘Does she know?’ I said.

‘Of course she does. She isn’t a fool, and she’s never been one to settle for half-truths. It isn’t obvious yet, but it will be, soon.’

‘How long?’

‘Hyperion says six months. A year, at most, all told. So’ — she took a sip of her fruit juice — ‘we’d best get them married quickly. Aunt Marcia would like that.’

‘Yeah.’ Shit. Well, it came to us all, I supposed. And like Perilla said, the old girl had had a good innings. Still, she’d been one of life’s fixtures, and I’d miss her when she went.

‘She doesn’t mind, if that’s what you’re thinking. And she doesn’t want anyone else to, either.’ Perilla was turning the cup in her fingers. ‘Oh — Marilla doesn’t know, though. Marcia’s been very careful she shouldn’t, and she’d like to keep it that way as long as possible. So please watch what you say.’

‘Right. Right.’

‘Now.’ Perilla set the cup down. ‘That’s enough gloom and despondency for one morning. What are your plans?’

‘I thought I might go into town, drop in at Pontius’s, catch up on the local gossip. Maybe put out a few feelers in advance of meeting Libanius. That suit you, lady?’

‘Fine. I wanted to have a quiet chat with Aunt Marcia in any case, and she won’t be up and around for a few hours yet. Take your time, Marcus.’

Bathyllus reappeared with Perilla’s omelette and my cup of wine — well watered, which was fair enough since there’d be more in the offing at Pontius’s, especially if he’d got the local gang in. Like Perilla said, there was no hurry: the town was an easy half-hour’s walk away, Libanius wasn’t due until afternoon, and if Marcia wanted the time and space to soften the guy up without me breathing down her neck — which she did — then the longer I stayed away the better. Besides, the first-morning-of-the-holiday visit to Pontius’s had become a tradition at Aunt Marcia’s. Not, from what Perilla had just told me, mind, that that was going to continue much longer…

Well, there was no point in dwelling on it. Like the lady had said, eighty-four was a good age, better than I could expect to notch up, anyway, and there was no sense in grieving over something that hadn’t happened yet. I finished my honeyed roll, took the last swallow from the cup and set off towards town.