Roman Dusk (34 page)
Authors: Chelsea Quinn Yarbro
Tags: #Fantasy, #Fantasy Fiction, #Fiction, #General, #Historical, #Horror, #Occult & Supernatural, #Historical Fiction, #Vampires, #Rome, #Saint-Germain
“Until the last two years, when her hands became knotted with age, she was the finest help I could have asked for,” said Natalis with earnest pride and slurred words.
“And you continued to provide for her, when she could no longer help you,” said Sanct-Franciscus. “Commendable.”
“Until you found work for her,” said Natalis, and swallowed hard. “And you arranged for an honorable burial for her.” His hands gathered and his face contorted in grief and self-loathing. “I know I should have come to you at once. You have been a most upright employer, and my dealing with the decuria is shabby, I know. I know.” He bit into the cheese as if to force himself to stop talking.
Sanct-Franciscus held out the cup to him. “This will make it easier.”
Natalis took the cup with both hands, and drank. He sighed as he put the cup back on the tray. “Empty.”
“So I see,” said Sanct-Franciscus.
Natalis stared at the far wall, his eyes glazed, his features slack. Finally he looked over at Sanct-Franciscus. “I suppose you’ll be rid of me now.”
“No—unless you want to go,” said Sanct-Franciscus.
“I don’t,” said Natalis, his manner at once more animated. “I want to stay here, in your service.”
“Then you shall remain,” said Sanct-Franciscus. “But instead of doing the bidding of the decuria, you will do mine.”
Natalis sat up. “How do you mean?”
“I mean,” said Sanct-Franciscus patiently, “that whenever Batsho makes a request of you, you will inform me of it—privately, of course—and you will follow my instructions, not his.”
“But if he finds out—” Natalis said in a new rush of fear.
“He has other spies in this household: I know,” said Sanct-Franciscus. “I think you will find I am able to deal with them so long as you are forthright with me.”
Natalis was far from comfortable, but he tried to put on the appearance of satisfaction. “I think it will be satisfying to catch this bird in his own net.” He belched and tried to cover his mouth with his hand.
“Yes; so do I,” said Sanct-Franciscus, getting to his feet again, and motioning to Rugeri to approach as he addressed Natalis. “You have told me what I want to know, and for that I am grateful. But I warn you now that if you continue to compromise my interests, you will be cast out into the street.” He saw Natalis blanch and went on more cordially. “You will want to rest a while now, I presume, so Rugeri will assist you back to your quarters. You will not be disturbed until you rise of your own accord.” He stepped back so Rugeri could assist Natalis out of the chair. “Once he has lain down, come back and you and I will consider how to proceed.”
“Yes, my master,” said Rugeri as he tugged Natalis to his feet, supporting him with his shoulder.
“Tell me what more you learn from him,” Sanct-Franciscus said as Rugeri maneuvered Natalis toward the door.
“I doubt there will be much to learn the rest of this day, or evening,” said Rugeri as he reached for the latch on the door.
“Probably not,” said Sanct-Franciscus as he watched Rugeri get Natalis out the door, then he crossed the room to close it behind them. Left by himself, he went to the brazier and added more wood to the wedges already burning in it; he noticed that the smoke was beginning to dull the painting on the ceiling, and decided he would put the chamber-slaves to cleaning it as soon as the rain ended. Returning to his trestle table, he set his case of medicaments on the end of the table, then took one of the fan-folded sheets of vellum from the pigeon-holes above the table and spread it open, studying its contents with careful attention. He was still going over household records when Rugeri tapped twice and stepped into the room.
“He will sleep for many hours,” said Rugeri as he entered the study, taking care to check the corridor before closing the door.
“With what he consumed, I would suppose so,” said Sanct-Franciscus, turning from his work.
“What was in the wine?” Rugeri inquired.
“Spices; anything more would have lacked finesse. There were herbs in the cheese that promoted a loose tongue along with a sense of repose, and will let him sleep deeply.” He gave Rugeri a contemplative stare. “What do you make of this predicament, my friend?”
Rugeri weighed his response. “Assuming he was truthful, I have to say that it appears Batsho has decided to make an example of you.”
“An example of what, though?” Sanct-Franciscus asked of the folded sheets on the table before him.
“A foreigner with money,” said Rugeri succinctly.
“There are other foreigners with money in Roma,” Sanct-Franciscus reminded Rugeri. “Why choose me, when Solon Monandos has far more money than I, and displays it far more freely?”
“Batsho may feel kinship with Greeks like Monandos,” Rugeri suggested.
“Batsho is from Illyricum, hardly a region known for liking its neighbors, particularly the Greeks,” said Sanct-Franciscus, thinking back to the centuries of skirmishes along the edge of the Balkans, Greeks to the south of the mountains, Illyricani to the west.
Rugeri shook his head. “You mistake my intention: you are from Dacia but not a Daci. That means you have few defenders in Roma, and may be abused with impunity.”
Sanct-Franciscus laughed sardonically. “Rogerian, you have not lost your clarity of insight, nor your directness of speech.” He began to put the scrolls back in their pigeon-holes. “I think,” he went on in the tongue of Alexandria, “that we would be wise to step up our plans. I had thought I could remain here for another three or four years, but now I think a year-and-a-half is a more reasonable prognosis.”
“As you say,” Rugeri seconded. “But what of Domina Clemens? This is her house, and if you leave, she may find it confiscated.”
“So she might, if it is empty. I must make it my business to see that she has an occupant for it, and a good return on their presence.” He folded his hands. “I don’t want this to end badly.”
“No,” said Rugeri. “But that may be out of your hands, my master. This Batsho is determined to make his reputation on your fall.”
“It appears so,” Sanct-Franciscus said, and added, “I wish I knew what his next move will be.”
“No doubt he wishes the same about you,” said Rugeri.
“Hence the spies in my household,” Sanct-Franciscus agreed, and went back to speaking the Latin of the time. “He has set his gaze on me, and will not relent.”
“But why should he?” Rugeri asked.
“I suppose because he can—because he requires proof of the small power he possesses.” Sanct-Franciscus clicked his tongue in annoyance. “I must hope that we can discover some way to prevent the worst from happening.”
“Have you decided what the worst would be?” Rugeri watched Sanct-Franciscus carefully, knowing this calm remoteness concealed both anger and rapid thought.
“No. But I feel sure Telemachus Batsho has a vision for what is to come,” he said, sitting down at his trestle table, and reaching for vellum on which to write. “If you will spend time with the household this evening, I would appreciate knowing what they are thinking.”
“Why should they tell me anything?” Rugeri asked. “I am your manservant; they know I am loyal to you.”
“They may speak if you complain of my … my stubbornness, perhaps,” said Sanct-Franciscus, “Tell them that I am refusing to deal with trouble, and that puts you at a real disadvantage. Shared rancor can be most informative.”
“They will know I’m lying,” said Rugeri.
“Some may think so, but most will take complaint as being in accord with their own difficulties, and that should ease the way for you.” He began to rub the ink-cake with a smooth jasper stone; the water around the cake turned dark as he worked. “I will send this to Olivia tomorrow, by courier, so that she will know of what is about to transpire here.”
“Will you have Natalis carry it?” Rugeri kept his voice level.
“No; that would upset Batsho. I will hire a courier, since he will have to go a very long way. If I provide the horses and biga, I can undoubtedly find an experienced charioteer to drive the roads north.” He picked up his stylus and prepared to write. “I am going out later tonight.”
“To the Villa Laelius?”
“No; I will find a sleeping woman who will welcome a sweet dream. I have no wish to put Doma Ignatia in any more danger than I have already brought her.”
Rugeri ducked his head. “Just so,” he said as he withdrew from the study, leaving Sanct-Franciscus to explain to Atta Olivia Clemens how his plans had changed and how they would impinge upon her.
Text of a sworn statement by Egidia Adicia Cortelle, Domina Laelius, made to Janarius Amerius Garne, Prefect of the Curia.
Ave, Heliogabalus!
On this day, the 11
th
of December in the 972
nd
Year of the City, I, Egidia Adicia Cortelle, Domina Laelius, before Jupiter, Minerva, Consivius, Astraea, and Nemesis, swear that all I say here is truthful, that I will stand before the Senate and proclaim the same to them, under penalty of beating should I in any way prevaricate or wrongfully accuse an innocent.
th
of December in the 972
nd
Year of the City, I, Egidia Adicia Cortelle, Domina Laelius, before Jupiter, Minerva, Consivius, Astraea, and Nemesis, swear that all I say here is truthful, that I will stand before the Senate and proclaim the same to them, under penalty of beating should I in any way prevaricate or wrongfully accuse an innocent.
It gives me profound distress to have to come forth with this complaint, because it reflects badly upon our family, the lares, and our gens that these crimes have taken place under our roof. Because I am confined to my bed, it required my son, Marius Octavian, to inform me of what had taken place. My son, being only fifteen, cannot officially testify to what he saw, and therefore charges me with speaking for him, with the assurance that what he says is truthful.
As I have mentioned, I am confined to my bed. My physician is one Ragoczy Germainus Sanct-Franciscus, who has been ministering to my suffering for more than three years. Of all physicians I have engaged over the years, he is the one who has most consistently alleviated the worst of my anguish, so I am doubly distressed to have to make these misdeeds known, for his care and devotion as a physician have been beyond criticism. Yet he is the one who has so grievously trespassed against our good name and the rectitude of the gens. Little as I may want to lose so excellent a physician, I realize it is my duty to do so.
Within the household I have an unmarried daughter, now twenty-five, Doma Pax Ignatia Laelius, who has been tasked with my routine care. She has often come in the way of Sanct-Franciscus, and I have observed that she has become fascinated with him, seeking reasons to visit his house—ostensibly on my behalf—and to require his company when the household is asleep, and I am not in any need of succor. I must lay some responsibility upon her for what has taken place, for had she not thrown herself at him, I believe Sanct-Franciscus would have confined himself to my care and left my daughter alone.
My son has informed me that he surprised Sanct-Franciscus with Doma Ignatia in the spring house at the back of our garden, where they were engaged in debauched practices, she being completely naked, he about to ravish her, but still clothed, for which I must be grateful. My son did not speak of this for many days, fearing it would have a detrimental impact on my health, but he reached a point when he could no longer contain himself, for he was worried that my daughter was going to meet with Sanct-Franciscus again, and clandestinely.
I charged Doma Ignatia with her brother’s suspicions as well as his account of their meeting in the spring house. I was taken aback when Doma Ignatia did not deny any part of the account I repeated, and added that she was only sorry that more had not taken place. I ordered her not to speak to him again, and to absent herself from this house on those occasions when he is here to treat me, and she refused. This defiance has led to a most lamentable rancor between us, and has contributed to my most recent crisis, from which I am only now emerging.
It is painful to say this, but my daughter, being intractable, is now declaring she will leave this house and apply to Sanct-Franciscus for his protection. This would be intolerable. Many illustriata may conduct themselves licentiously, but those of us who uphold the old values of Roma cannot countenance such dishonor: if my daughter attempts to leave this house, she must be confined to my brother’s estates in Asisium until such time as she renounces her attachment for my physician. He must also be enjoined against attempting to see her or having any contact with her whatsoever.
Little as it pleases me to say it, Doma Ignatia is an ungrateful daughter, and a woman inclined to headstrongness. She cannot be reasoned with in regard to Sanct-Franciscus, and for those reasons, I fear to what excesses she may go if she is not now checked in her wildness. You have it within your power to compel her to submit to wiser minds than hers, and I urge you to do this.
Dependant as I am upon Sanct-Franciscus for what little health I now enjoy, I cannot ask you to punish him in any way, for I would surely endure agonies without his help. Once my laughter is forcibly removed from this household, he will have no reason not to resume his customary care of me, without the distraction of my heedless child. I know whatever lapses of conduct he may have committed began with her importunities: he is astute, sympathetic, and dedicated to his work. Once Doma Ignatia is beyond reach, his attention will be all that it ever has been. This is a complete and accurate transcription of the charges made by Egidia Adicia Cortelle, Domina Laelius, so I swear
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