“You could blackmail people here. Leave notes. Listen to conversations while you scurried through the walls like a rat. I don’t know what Bibax remembered about you-maybe you embezzled some money, maybe you murdered a man-but he used you, didn’t he? Used you to murder.”
Prunella collapsed in a heap on the floor, crying and hanging on to his legs. He stared at me, looking straight ahead. Papirius drew away from him.
I said softly: “You killed them all, Octavio. You and your greed, your hate, your desire for power. Materna recognized it. She smelled it, rooted it out. She used it-and you-like everybody did. So you killed her.”
Ligur and Draco stepped behind and around Prunella and held his arms. Papirius looked at me. I nodded. He motioned with his hand, and slaves appeared from the other room. They took Octavio from my men. Still he said nothing.
“Arcturus-Arcturus-are you sure…” Philo sounded worried.
“Yeah, Philo. I’m sure.”
Papirius led Octavio away. Prunella screamed, throwing herself in front of them, and Draco helped pick her up. We all watched as if it were a play. Which, in a sense, it was.
Footsteps echoed on the stone, and we could hear the creak of the big door shut behind them. Voices erupted, and some-like Grattius and Sestius-took the opportunity to drift away.
Secundus and Secunda sniped and quarreled, voices filled with bitterness. They finally left, the daughter casting one more baleful look over her shoulder at me, before she gathered her mantle around her and glided out of the room.
It was about the sixth hour of night. The warm human bodies left the bath, and cold took their place, curling up against the yellow stone. I listened again to the lap of the water.
Sulpicia and Vitellius walked ahead slowly. Drusius kept behind them, sulking. As they crossed the opening-the window where she’d thrown her bracelet-she looked up. Her voice rose, panic in it, filling the room.
“What-what’s that-do you see it, Vitellius? That white thing…”
Drusius and Philo rushed to the window. The figure of a woman hovered over the spring. As white and cold as a good death. The mouth opened, and a sound came out.
“Philo … Philo…”
His hand crept up to his face. “Oh-my-God-”
“Philo-why? Why did you-did you make me-”
Tears welled and ran down his fine-boned face. He leaned as far as he could through the window, the others backing away. Stretched his long, dexterous fingers toward the vision.
“It was for you, Fulviana-the temple-don’t you see-it was for you-”
His back arched suddenly, as stiff as if he were already dead. He turned around, light burning behind his eyes.
“You see her-don’t you? You see her, Arcturus? You understand. The temple. I could make it up to her. I-I waited, all these years, until I could start over, and I found Aquae Sulis, and I was happy. Until … until Bibax came.”
He turned his head to look again, to make sure she was still there. She said nothing to him, but her gown was still billowing on the wind. A gust blew in from the spring where she hovered, floating.
He looked again at me, excitement contorting his face. “But I found a way to make it better. He remembered me-from Hispania. But the money-I could get money, and build the temple-for her. I only agreed on sick people. Or old people. The boy-he was better off. And I could build it, Arcturus, and she would come to me-and she has-don’t you see? Don’t you understand?”
He turned back to the vision, but it wasn’t there anymore. He swung his head in a panic.
“I understand, Philo.”
“But where is she-she isn’t there-where…”
Then the horror of it hit him, and hit him hard enough to make him crumple, and his long, lean body folded like a lady’s fan. There was nothing left in Philo. The delusion, the hope, the guilt, the love, the hate. All gone.
Papirius came out of one of the other rooms with Octavio. They looked at him. He was still kneeling on the floor.
He raised his face to mine. “Where’s Gwyna?” He asked it with tenderness.
“She was-she was outside, Philo.”
He nodded, his fingers playing with a ring he always wore. Papirius and Octavio didn’t know what to do. I heard light steps and looked up to see my wife, a gray mantle covering the filmy white gown. She was staring at Philo, her eyes full of tears.
He sensed her before he heard her. A smile lit his features again.
“Fulviana,” he said softly.
She held a hand out to him. He took it and stood up.
“You have to go with Papirius and Octavio, Philo.”
“Yes, my love. You’ll be with me?”
She looked at me. I nodded. Then she stared into Philo’s eyes. “I’ll be with you, Philo.”
He nodded, and almost looked like himself-but the eyes weren’t the same.
For a moment, he seemed to see Gwyna as she really was. He looked at Papirius, whose face was longer and graver than usual. Draco and Ligur were waiting in the background, but he wouldn’t run. Not Philo. Not even this Philo.
Then he looked at me, and his forehead creased with recognition. He reached out a hand, touching her green necklace. He gave Gwyna a smile-a smile of triumph, even of happiness. A smile of love.
Then he twisted the top of his ring and shoved it in his mouth. He was dead in less than half an hour.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Even in death the bastard craved drama. Trust Philo. Always playing god, down to the end.
“He justified everything in order to build that temple. He bought most of the property down there to make it happen. That’s what made me suspect him. He’d lied about not knowing where Bibax lived, because he owned the property.”
“Did he really-really kill everyone?”
We were at home, no sleep possible.
“Bibax probably killed Aufidio by himself. Philo-at first, anyway-only agreed to kill people who were already sick or old or infirm. You remember what he said at dinner? He told himself they were better off-that he was helping them.”
“You mean like Sestius’s aunt?”
“Exactly. No one thought she was sick. Sestius made a comment about it-said she was more ill than anyone knew. A woman like that would always go to the top doctor in town. Who was Philo.”
She folded her hands in her lap and stared at them. “Ardur-do you think Philo wanted you to find out?”
I shrugged. “Maybe. He lied about the strychnos, pretended not to be sure about Materna’s symptoms. He knew the drug-it’s used in temples like his Endovelicus all the time. The worshipper eats a little and thinks she sees the god. Maybe he wanted to be caught, wanted it to be over. I know he didn’t want to kill us. Or at least you.”
“So he killed Materna instead.” She shivered. “How he must have hated her.”
“The slap that day was real. She took over Bibax’s role-and made him pound nails into Faro’s skull. And he was protective of you. Wanted you.”
“Because I looked like Fulviana.”
“Not only that, Gwyna. I think Philo loved you for yourself.” She leaned over and kissed my lips. It had been difficult to say. “He could never kill you. Or see you suffer. I think that’s why he tried to help me. If he had more time, of course, he might’ve convinced himself you’d be happier with him. Then he could’ve gotten me out of the way. Materna hated you, and was cruel to you, and that made him hate her all the more. That’s why he made her suffer.”
“What did Bibax remember, to get him involved in the first place? He must have blackmailed Philo with something.”
I hesitated. “I think something to do with Fulviana.”
“But he loved her!”
“And was responsible for her death.”
She shook her head. “I don’t understand it. What about the young girl? The one that met Faro?”
I scratched my chin. “I’m glad you were the only one who remembered that. I left it out with Octavio. Philo’s servant girl.”