JUSTUS LOOKED UP sharply as Monostades came into his study. "Where have you been?" he demanded as he thrust a letter aside impatiently.
Monostades winced but said in an even tone, "You gave me orders several days ago and I have been attempting to follow them. You indicated you wanted to speak to someone who has knowledge of deadly herbs." He smiled insolently. "You remember, do you not?"
Ordinarily this would have offended Justus and the rods would have been called for, but not now. "You have found such a person?"
"An old woman, master, a very old woman. She lives away from Rome, near Tusculum, in the hills. I heard of her from the body slave of a wealthy young widow. It took ten golden denari to bring her to Rome. That, and a covered chariot."
"Covered? Very wise. Where is this...woman?" His tongue flicked over his lips and for a moment he was frightened. The plan, when he had conceived it, seemed to be the most effective he could invent, but now, facing the actual execution...He would not call it an execution. He studied Monostades. "Whom did you send to get her?"
"The mute," Monostades replied as if to a child. "I am not stupid enough to send a slave who can speak." He chose one of the cushioned benches and sat, a liberty that Justus knew was an intolerable insult. Monostades waited for the objection that never came. "He will return her, as well, and meet with an accident on his return. Only after he gets to the Via Appia, so that there will be great difficulty in knowing where he has been."
"Excellent," Justus said in a rather distracted tone. He knew he had entrusted too much power to Monostades, and he resolved to change this as soon as the current problem had been settled. There were more important matters at stake, but after, it would please him to chastise Monostades personally, unhurriedly. "When may I see her?"
"She is in the kitchen now. She is eating and investigating your resources. A very able woman, from what I have learned. You can put your faith in her."
Once again Justus faltered. It was a drastic move, he told himself, and though it would rid him of Olivia at last, so that he would be free to ally himself with the Flavian House, it was a drastic course and might go badly. He stared at the far wall where a lavish mural depicted the heavily chained Andromeda being attacked by a sea monster. He had always liked that mural, he thought inconsequently.
"What do you want me to do with the woman, master?" Monostades asked somewhat later when Justus still had not spoken.
"Bring her in here. Make sure that only the kitchen staff sees her. Be quick about it. I'll have to talk to her, at least." His hands moved nervously and it was an effort to still them. Though Justus hated to admit it, even to himself, he had reservations about this course. It was wise, certainly it was wise, and he would be rid of Olivia at last, he reminded himself.
Monostades left the study, returning shortly with a wizened, monkey-faced woman in fantastic dress. Every conceivable color of cloth was represented among the tunicae, stolae and pallae she wore, one on top of the other, hems at any length, all held together with a series of brooches and fibulae no two of which were alike. She smelled strongly of camphor and cloves.
"Good day, old woman," Justus said without rising, though her great years demanded that respect. He pointed to one of the uncushioned chairs. "You may sit there."
"Generous of you, Senator." She chuckled in a voice as deep as a man's, and vibrant with life. She took the chair and stared at Justus. "Well, what is it to be, Senator? Is there a rival or a lover you want to be rid of? A political enemy? Is one of your unmarried daughters in need of a little lightening?" There was no embarrassment in her, only a rich, sad amusement.
"I haven't got any daughters," Justus said curtly. "My slave there"-he favored Monostades with a contemptuous nod-"tells me that you know something of poisons."
"I thought that was why you sent for me, Senator." She folded her thin arms, adding in her forthright way, "I don't haggle and I don't blackmail. There will be one price. If you think to denounce me, you may find that is difficult. There are those higher than you who will protect me. For their own reasons, of course."
Justus did not respond at once. "Is it possible, old woman, to poison someone so that it is clear he has been poisoned, but have him live?" He had picked up the letter he had been reading and began to fold it.
"Certainly it is possible. But do you want this to happen over a time, or at once? Is this person in good health? If he has shortened breath or pains in the stomach, it is much more difficult." There was a calculating look to her now that her curiosity was aroused.
"No shortness of breath, no stomach pains," Justus said crisply, committed now to his plan.
"How old a man is this? Is he athletic? How much does he drink? What are his habits? Does he often dine in company?" The questions came quickly, incisively, and the little currant eyes sparkled.
"The man," Justus answered with a sigh, "is in his fifties, of regular but not athletic habits, drinks heavily upon occasion, dines in company quite often. He is, in fact, myself." He was pleased with the startled look in the old woman's eyes. "So you see why I am anxious that the poison should not be fatal."
"I fail to see why you should want it at all," she snapped.
"It's a very delicate situation," he began, and then decided that he would tell this old woman what he intended to do. Once she had supplied his needs, it would not be too arduous a task to see that she disappeared from the earth. He gave her his most frank expression. "I am married. She is my third wife. The first I divorced when I learned that she had an unsound mind, though I have continued to support her, the second died when we had been married little more than two years. You would have thought that this was sufficient to teach me, but I married again, about ten years ago. My wife is a much younger woman, and at the moment we are living apart. I want to divorce her because she has shown herself to be given over to harlotry. I can disgrace her in the courts, but that might not effect the ends I most desire. She would still be in Rome, well-connected and in a position to cause trouble in my life. She is the sort of woman who would do that, I assure you. If, however, it was proven that she has acted against me, there would be no question about a divorce, and at the least she would be exiled. That, woman, is why I want poison, enough to hurt but not enough to kill. I plan to dine with my wife in a few days. It is my intention to fall ill after that meal, and after subsequent meals with her and to have it known that poison was the cause. That way my wife will be suspected of the crime. It is known that our marriage is not happy. If my plan is successful, she will be out of my life and I will be free to pursue other-"
"Game?" the old woman suggested nastily. "You're a truly vile creature, aren't you, Senator," she said conversationally.
Justus brought himself up as if slapped. "I will not listen to such-"
"You'll listen to whatever I tell you if you want the poison," the old woman informed him sharply. "I've heard what you had to say, and now you'll hear what I have to say. Otherwise I will return to my hut and you will get nothing from me."
"This is absurd," Justus said at his most condescending.
"Then find your poisons elsewhere." She made a move as if to leave.
"After all, I suppose I must give age its due." Justus sighed as he rolled his eyes upward. "If you find it so necessary, old woman, say your piece." He folded his hands and fixed his eyes on the Andromeda mural.
If this behavior daunted the old woman, she gave no sign of it. Her voice was as deep and firm as it had been the first time she spoke to him. "You want to make sure that your wife is deprived of her rights under the law, and perhaps exiled. What's the matter? Have you spent her dowry? Or do you have some other goal in mind?"
"She was not dowered," Justus said evenly. "Will you provide me the poison or not?"
"Oh, yes. I'll see that you have it. And you need not worry. It will be enough to do as you want and not so much that you die of it, unfortunately. You will be abominably sick for a day or so, and there will be weakness and flux for five or six days, but nothing that you can't survive."
"Survive and be strong?" Justus asked with a shade more anxiety than he had intended.
"Certainly. That is what you want, isn't it? Then you will be able to accuse your blameless wife of your own perfidy and have no calumny attached to you when you offer for the Emperor's niece." She laughed outright at the dismay on Justus' face. "Why are you surprised? Do you think that because I live in a hut near Tusculum that I don't know you, Cornelius Justus Silius? Do you think that I have not heard the gossip about you, not only from other Senators, but from the gladiators who come to me for the elixirs to keep them strong, and from brutish men wanting to sustain their potency through a secret assignation. Three years ago I would have been foolish enough to blame your wife, since it sounded as if she were a debauched woman. Then there came two men who told me how you helped them with her, and I began to understand."
"They lied," Justus said without a flicker of emotion.
"Did they? So you are no longer pleased with Atta Olivia Clemens, and are going to get rid of her? This is better than murder, I suppose." The little bright eyes grew flinty. She got to her feet and met Justus' furious gaze fearlessly. "You will have your poison, Silius, and it will be as you require. It will make you sick." She turned her head and spat.
"You are impertinent, old woman!" Justus exploded at last, his face turning plum-red.
"I'm honest, you mean," she answered him calmly. "You speak of impertinence, you, who are planning to ruin your wife. Well, the world changes little, and it is all made of dung. In my day, we murdered openly, but that's no longer the fashion."
"In your day," he scoffed in his anger.
"In my day, I stood higher than you, Senator." The small bright eyes held his and there was amusement in them. "I would advise against having me killed. Now or later. They've all tried and I am still alive."
Justus would have liked to know whom she meant. Which of his patrician associates had come to this strange old woman over the years? What had she done for them? Why was she still alive, if she had done so much? He kept these questions to himself, and instead glared at her. "Fine claims and talk are cheap. If the poison you give me is not as promised, a letter will go to the prefect of the Praetorian Guard and another to the Senate. If the poison is precisely as you've said it will be, I will send rewards to you in excess of your price...."
"Keep your gifts!" she cried with unexpected vehemence. "If I wanted luxury, I could have had it. I did have it once and it sickened me!" She went to the study door and looked back at Justus. "I will give the poison to your slave. At my hut. He can return here with it. If there is any attempt to interfere with me, you will regret it." She anticipated his objections. "If I had been unprotected, Silius, I would have been dead years ago. Remember that." She stepped into the open doorway.
"Old woman," Justus called, genuinely curious, "why do you do it?"
The smile she gave him was colder than any Justus had seen. "Because I hate you all. I should have thought that was obvious." The door closed behind her.
"Follow her," was Justus' terse order to Monostades. "Don't let her wander about the house. Don't let her out of your sight."
Monostades obeyed slowly, a slight, sarcastic grin on his full lips. "She's probably right about the protection, master," he pointed out.
"Probably." He did not want to discuss it with this slave.
"You would not be wise to put it to the test," he went on unpleasantly. "If she informed on you, it would go badly."
Justus regarded Monostades with open hostility. "I am still permitted to discipline my slaves for disobedience, Monostades. No one would question me if I took the skin off you with a flagellum if you continue in this way. I would enjoy doing that." He looked Monostades up and down once as if sizing up an animal for slaughter. "You're not weak. It would be a long time to hurt."
"I'm obedient," Monostades said quickly, rather pale, though whether from fear or rage, it was hard to say.
"Then follow that old woman." He sat still while Monostades bolted from his study.
Once alone, he sat down to draft a letter to Olivia, informing her of his intention to dine with her in four days' time. He selected his phrases with care, wishing to frighten her without causing her to refuse to see him. He worked on a wax tablet so that he could have the underlying threat perfectly expressed when he copied it out.
He was completing this letter when the houseman knocked timidly at his door. "I'm not to be disturbed," he said without looking up from the sheet in front of him.
The knock was renewed. "Master, there is a gentleman...He says that you will want to see him."
"I'm not to be disturbed," Justus repeated sharply. He was out of patience with his household today.
"The man insists, master," the houseman whined, waiting on the other side of the door.
"Tell him I cannot see him." He picked up his tablet and set it aside, then reached for his ink.
"He says it is urgent." The voice had risen almost an octave, and hearing it, Justus ground his teeth.
"Very well, then, he may have a few moments. If this is a capricious interruption, I will have him thrown out of my house and beaten." He turned toward the door. "Hurry. I am busy and this is an unwanted interruption." From beyond the door he heard his houseman scurry away.
He did not have long to wait: there were crisp, quick footsteps through the atrium, a knock and then the door to Justus' study was thrown open and a harshly handsome young man dressed in elegant Armenian brocades stepped into the study. "You are Senator Silius?" he asked perfunctorily.
"I am. You may tell me what you want quickly." He was somewhat impressed with his guest.
"My name is Led Arashnur," said the newcomer. "I am an Armenian scholar studying in Rome. I have been investigating the movements of one Ragoczy Saint-Germain Franciscus, who, among other things, is your wife's lover." He waited for a response.
"My wife's lover," Justus repeated as if to himself. He motioned to the high-backed, silk-cushioned chair on the other side of the room. "Sit down, Arashnur," he said.
TEXT OF A NOTE SMUGGLED FROM THE SLAVES' PRISON TO SAINT-GERMAIN, WRITTEN IN THE SYMBOLS OF ANCIENT EGYPT.
To my master, from Tishtry, Kosrozd and myself, respectful greetings:
We have learned today of the sentence that has been handed down from Caesar Vespasianus, and we are not surprised. It was that or the galleys, and since we are suspected of planning rebellion, they could hardly put us on warships. So it is to be the arena. It will be a new experience for me, but for Tishtry and Kosrozd it will be familiar. Kosrozd said that he is disappointed.
Many of the Roman slaves who have already been executed were crucified as common felons. That is probably what will happen to us, as well. At least, that is the current rumor.
You will be able, I think, to claim our bodies, which ought to keep us from any awkwardness. Kosrozd even jokes about it, but Tishtry is doubtful since she has yet to make the true change. It has been fortunate that we have been together. We all understand each other so well. Tishtry had chided Kosrozd for his eagerness and says that it will be a very long time before he matches you. It is probably just as well that I am not of your blood as they are. To be bound to you by the life you returned to me is quite enough.
We are prepared for our ordeal and wish to do you credit. Kosrozd is becoming impatient, though I have reminded him that he will have to leave Rome immediately after you claim our bodies. It would not do for him to be seen walking around unfettered after all Rome watches him die in the arena. I have warned him that you will probably forbid him to race chariots anywhere for a few years. There is that estate of yours in Gallia, and we could live very privately there. Whatever your plans for us are, we are ready to do as you wish. In a few years we may return to Rome, when we have been sufficiently forgotten. A century should be enough. It was the last time.
Until our reunion, then, this from our cell in the slaves' prison.
Aumtehoutep
on the twenty-seventh day of March,
the 824th Year of the City
