Drakenfeld

Henbane

For some time I examined Maxant’s body, before walking further along the shore, scouring the immediate surroundings for any signs of disturbance, or for anything that may have been dropped. Nothing would change my original theory, which seemed to be the least illogical method, of murder. Nothing indicated that this was a suicide.

We made some hasty arrangements to have his body moved back to the house by the servants. According to his staff, this was not Maxant’s main residence. After the war, he had hoped to get the place into shape so he could move in with a larger household of servants. He had no wife – she had died many years ago while he was abroad – and their children had grown up and long moved from the city. Why he had little contact with his family, who could say, but I was hardly one to cast a weighty moral opinion on such matters.

Eventually his corpse was wrapped and carried inside, but I insisted the blade be left in place to be examined further. It seemed to be a standard-issue military blade, though I wondered if this was Maxant’s own, or if he carried something else.

Later, we were shown a much more ornate example. It was still around twenty inches long, double-edged, but this one possessed a wonderful brown and silver pommel, with intricate craftsmanship – a far superior weapon to the one that had been found in his body. This, I felt, enhanced my original suspicions – if Maxant was going to kill himself, he would surely have used his own blade. I guessed that if he had left it here to attend the Stadium of Lentus, which forbade weapons of any kind, then he would have been weaponless at the time the killer struck.

While Veron wanted to examine Farrum’s progress in interviewing the servants, I decided to explore the property with Leana. I was impressed, if not in dumbstruck awe, at the wealth on display here. Maxant had brought back treasures from around the known world: idols, trinkets, vases, bowls, objects whose function seemed beyond my comprehension. Many of them were strewn about the house, piled up seemingly with disregard, as if he no longer knew what he could possibly do with them all.

We wandered into the rear garden, which was not as tidy as the one at the front of the villa, though it was much larger.

Leana eventually stopped me, pointing to my left. There was a smile on her face. ‘Spirits save us. A little yellow flower with the dark heart,’ she said. ‘Henbane.’

‘Let me look at the leaves.’ The nearest plant was a knee-high specimen with identical leaves to the one we had found in Drullus’ hideout. The flowers possessed speckled yellow petals, which merged into something far darker.

‘Well,’ I said, ‘perhaps today we may have solved one murder at least.’

‘Lots of henbane plants here.’ Leana gestured around us, and I noticed that they were indeed scattered about the place. ‘Maxant walks in his gardens before he came to the city,’ she continued. ‘Perhaps a couple of leaves catch in his sandal or in his cloak and stick to him as he rode into Tryum. They fall out when he gets to Drullus’ hideout. It is nothing to do with making poisons – it is his inability to keep his garden tidy.’

I weighed up the options, slowly nodding. ‘We know henbane is rarely grown in this region. A man who has travelled far throughout his life would easily collect interesting species for his own gardens. In fact, there are hardly any plants growing in this garden that I recognize to be native. I can well believe Maxant killed Drullus, too. The murder was clean and professional, after all. A soldier would know how to do it efficiently. Drullus seemed to die without a struggle…’

‘When confronted by a famous general, Drullus might have thought it futile, and simply knelt on the floor before him.’

‘It might have been possible they knew each other,’ I added. ‘If Drullus had let him into his hideout so willingly. Did they see each other at the party? I would be inclined to think their paths crossed – somehow. Drullus’ submission indicated he knew something that, ultimately, would lead to the ending of his life.’

‘What could that be?’ Leana asked. ‘The king’s relationship with Drullus?’

‘We know that the king admired the actors, not that he was sleeping with one of them.’

‘Maybe Drullus had seen something on the night of Lacanta’s murder and had to spend his days on the run.’

We both turned to walk back through the bright garden, back into the house.

‘I’m convinced Maxant was involved in the killing of Lacanta,’ I whispered. ‘Perhaps he did not kill her himself, but he had something to do with it. Only he could have put the key in that door. And now it seems just as likely that he killed Drullus, too – an actor who may or may not have known something about the murder.’

‘The general can no longer talk to us about the matter,’ Leana said.

‘I’m not so sure,’ I replied. ‘His corpse has already informed us that his own death was not a suicide – and that, in itself, has given us much to think about. The dead may still talk.’

‘You mean like my spirits?’ Leana said and smiled.

I checked with the servants to see if there were any nearby villages where a boat could have been obtained, but there were none locally. It was only a hunch, and admittedly a poor one – we were, after all, dealing with killers who planned things efficiently, and so acquiring a boat at the last moment was perhaps not our killer’s style.

I did not tell Veron of my conclusions that General Maxant had been involved in the murder of an actor. I wanted to keep everything close so that a solution might present itself in my own mind. Besides, I knew better than to share a secret with him.

The senator rode back to Tryum, keen to pass on the news about the murder, and for immediate relatives to be located. He took Constable Farrum, whose interviews had not revealed anything out of the ordinary, back with him. I only hoped the poor man could cope with Veron’s snobbery towards him on the journey home.

Not long after, a steady trail of senators and officials from the city began to arrive at the house. A good deal of time was wasted explaining the situation to them. I stressed, several times over, that this was a murder and not a suicide, and that seemed to comfort them somewhat. My temper very nearly flared again when two of the officials refused to speak to Leana. One even refused to acknowledge her presence so I told his companions that I would no longer be able to speak to him.

It was important for me not to create a scene when I depended upon people being open to me so, to avoid going too far with my anger, Leana and I headed outside to survey the buildings on site. There was little else to go on, and the place was becoming too busy.

Satisfied that we had learned all we possibly could, we rode back to Tryum as the sun weighed low across the landscape, bathing it in a hazy, vermilion light.

Four soldiers were waiting at my home, dressed in their civic clothing and leather breastplates rather than the considerably more intimidating metal of war.

The cohort had let them in and they were standing in the garden sipping wine. Before passing on the day’s messages, Bellona whispered to me, as I passed through the hallway, that they were rather high-ranking men who had served with General Maxant.

What on earth could these soldiers want? Leana slipped quietly into her room telling me not to get into any fights, while I headed out to the garden.

‘Greetings.’ They turned their attention to me and moved almost in unison to line up. They would have presented a fearsome presence to any host.

One handsome officer stepped forward and introduced himself as General Maxant’s lieutenant, and said that the gathered soldiers were his leading officers on the recent campaign. ‘We came here to thank you.’

‘For what?’ I indicated for them to sit on the couches, and stood facing them with my back to the fountain.

‘We heard you were the one responsible for revealing that General Maxant hadn’t killed himself,’ he replied. ‘You argued the case against his suicide.’

‘Yes, and I will argue against any cleric who wishes to record the death as otherwise.’

‘It’s a great honour to us,’ another soldier continued. ‘If he had killed himself, it would’ve tainted his name as well as those who followed him to the ends of the earth. It would’ve brought great shame upon us. You’ve given him honour in death.’

‘I’m grateful you came here to tell me so, but I merely sought a true explanation of events. Your commanding officer has been killed, which means we now have a hunt for his murderer on our hands.’

‘You’ll have our assistance wherever required,’ the soldier replied, and told me where they could be found should I need them. ‘Say the word, need information, and we’ll help.’

‘Since you’re here, I’d like to know if the general had any obvious or concealed enemies?’

‘Every man in Tryum had a right to be envious of him,’ the soldier declared. ‘He led us to Mauland and back.’

Another said, ‘He was loved because of his actions, because of what he’d done for us all. He gave Detrata back its reputation as a serious nation, not to be messed with. I bet every king or queen in Vispasia suddenly got worried. Licintius adored him. The Senate even more so.’

‘What about his political rivals, could they have poisoned him?’

‘Very probably,’ the first man grunted. ‘Politics isn’t for the squeamish, after all.’

The conversation went round in circles and the soldiers were growing frustrated with my questioning, so I decided not to press too hard. Despite the proud manner in which they spoke about their beloved general, it crossed my mind that someone in the military could have killed him because of some personal rivalry. No doubt if I had suggested this, it would have angered them further.

After they left, I consulted the messages that Bellona had given me, only to see a royal seal on one particular tube.

Hastily, I opened it up and read that the king demanded to see me, first thing in the morning after sunrise, for further updates. The password of the day was ‘Hexagon’. Sighing because we had to trudge yet again to Optryx, I put the letter down. Licintius was an impatient man, seeking answers quickly, so I could understand his frustration – especially as he’d now lost a sister and a close friend in so short a time.

In my study I began to compile my notes so as to make a clear report of events so far to the king. It was pleasant to hear the noise of others in the house. Though I did not suffer loneliness in any way, it pleased me to know I could wander out and engage in conversation on matters of the city. Besides, I remembered the mysterious stalkers who had been following us in the Stadium of Lentus yesterday – no doubt there would be others waiting somewhere, outside the walls of the property, or watching from beyond the gates.

Later, Titiana visited again and we ate olives and bread, and drank a little wine in the garden. Woodsmoke drifted on the evening air.

I began to open up about the Maxant murder and posited a few theories, none of which completely satisfied me, and her hands – without my asking – began to work on my shoulders, around my neck, soothing away the tension with every word spoken. She suggested a few ideas of her own, jokingly, though for all I knew they might have been close to the truth.

We moved to the bedroom, as we tended to do more often than not; I barely felt in control of the situation, and our passions often got the better of us. We had no direction, no future to plan for, and neither of us seemed to care in the slightest. In the light of a lantern I lost myself, enjoying her strong, gently perspiring body and forgetting momentarily all the pressures of the murders. The scent of her skin, her powerful kiss, the gentle curve of her hips, all helped me forget.

It was another hot night in Tryum. Only a stone’s throw from my door, a soothsayer screamed out the misfortunes of some poor soul. There was weeping, somewhere, then the groaning of the wind as it searched through the narrow, crowded streets. Again I lost Titiana to the city, though this time I was at least awake to watch her leave me.

‘Why must you go?’ I asked.

‘I’m a married woman. You should know better than to keep asking.’

‘Perhaps one morning I might wake to find you here, alongside me?’

Titiana hesitated from gathering up her clothes. ‘Perhaps.’

I lay there watching her getting dressed, observing the nuances of her mannerisms: the way she would always put on her left slipper before her right; her superb balance; the way she would carry a tiny vial of perfume to put on her wrists.

I led her to the door and she kissed my neck, slowly, before vanishing into the night.