“Both dead. I live with whoever will have me. I get passed around quite a bit.”
It would not help that she was so awkward, so loud, so hard-edged when she spoke.
I had been a street child, at the mercy of anyone; I was around her age when rescued from that life. I, too, had been self-reliant and stroppy, though it hid my terrors of the world. Of course she struck a chord with me.
I did not believe this young girl was being seriously mistreated, although I recognised her loneliness. She had come to think life held nothing good for her. She might sound brash, but she had no real self-confidence.
“All right,” I said. “Let me tell you what I suspect. Gabinus had let everybody down, but they were desperate. He looked at you, he made some innocent-sounding suggestion. ‘You seem like a bright girl. Would you like to see some interesting temples, Susuza?’ Your people thought maybe there was a chance for them after all. They struck an unspoken bargain with him about you, which you perhaps did not understand, or not immediately. Perhaps they are good people at heart, so they blinded themselves to what they were doing. When they left the Capitol, you stayed behind. I guess that was because you did not know how to escape the situation—”
“Anyway,” Susuza broke in, “I did want to look at the temples. I thought he meant it. He knew how to behave with the old folk, so he sounded safe. He had already told us he was going for a drink later, so we thought he wouldn’t spend long with me.”
Internally, I sighed. “What happened?”
“He started off nice, after the others went out of the gate. Then, quick as a wink, he jumped on me. I’m not daft, whatever you think. When I saw what his game really was, I kicked out. He wasn’t expecting that. I hauled myself out of his filthy grasp and ran away, fast as I could. He was too surprised to stop me. It was dark on that hilltop. I didn’t know where I was going.”
“Somebody found you?”
“I found them. I ran into a tent. I nearly sent it flying. There were two men inside and I was scared I had just dived into the same problem with them. But once they stopped cursing me for spoiling their sky-watching—which was what they were doing, though they had a pie and picnic cups—they let me explain about Gabinus. They were very angry over what he had tried to do to me.”
When she ran out of story, I took it up for her: “The man called Lemni led you down off the Hill to safety. He brought you to where he lived, calmed you down, wrapped you up so no one could see who you were, then took you to where Ostorius and Cincia were staying.”
“How do you know all that? They were so glad to see me,” Susuza said. “They must have had a change of heart. I think they had been arguing about it. Cincia started being really nice to me. She is still doing it, when she remembers. Mostly she just treats me the same as usual, like everybody does. I’m Susuza. I look like trouble. What are they going to do with me?… Lemni said some very stern words to Ostorius before he left our inn. Ostorius looked shocked at the way he spoke. After that, no more was said about anything and we all came home first thing next morning.”
“You never saw Gabinus again?”
“No. Thank goodness.”
“Or heard anything about him?”
“No, why would I?”
“Has anybody told you he is dead, Susuza?”
The girl stared at me. Her eyes, in that soft-featured milky face, were dark brown, flickering as she thought about what I had just said. It would be wrong to dismiss her as a bumpkin. She was bright enough: she saw at once that something about Gabinus’ death was significant. She was busy interpreting my tone. But she waited for me to explain.
I told her he was murdered the next morning, which she accepted without excitement. Then I said Lemni had been killed, too, more recently. She went rather pale over that, looking unhappy. I made it plain these deaths were being investigated, so anyone who had had contact with both men might come under suspicion.
“I never killed that Gabinus,” Susuza argued, in a low voice, immediately aware of the threat to herself. “He was a filthy lech but I never did anything to him. Why would I? I had run away. I got myself in the clear. And that old Lemni, he was kind to me. I wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to him. I’m sorry if it did.” She paused. “Was that my fault?”
I reassured her. So far, I had no idea whose fault it was. Although I felt Susuza’s adventure might be tied up with both murders, I could see no direct connection between them and no obvious link to her.
“Do you remember anything about that night with Gabinus? Anything Lemni and the other man in the tent said to you, or to one another, after you burst in?”
Susuza shook her head. Her reaction was quick enough to be convincing. “No. When I was sounding off about Gabinus, they just kept shooting looks between them. They knew who he was. It was like they were never surprised by anything Gabinus did. It was like they had already talked about what a rotter he was. Then the tall one took over. He told Lemni to take me down the Hill and find my people for me.”
“His name is Larth. He acts as an augur. He understands omens. Is that all, Susuza?”
She hesitated. “No. Lemni didn’t want to go, not at first. Larth said leave it all to him. I could tell he was the one in charge. Lemni had to follow his orders while Larth was going to deal with things. He would go to find Gabinus and speak to him. So does that mean…” The girl was even sharper than I had thought. “Does that mean Larth went over to where his hut was, and he did Gabinus in?”
I told her it seemed unlikely. Larth was an important man with a special position in Rome. Anyway, Gabinus was not killed at his hut.
* * *
Tiberius had taken as long as he feasibly could, pottering with dog and donkeys. He joined us, then pointed out that he and I needed to return to Father’s villa before nightfall. Since he saw Susuza and I were still talking together, he suggested Susuza come along, in case she had anything else useful to tell me.
She rounded on him in a flash: “I have a job, you know. I don’t want to leave them in the lurch. You will have to make it worth our while!” Tiberius looked rueful, but nodded patiently. Susuza then said, rather eagerly, “You might have a bit of work I can do, nicer than the murex shells?”
“That’s quick, even for you!” Tiberius said to me, with mock admiration.
Scrambling to my feet, I told the girl openly, “He thinks, whatever case I am on, I pick up helpers. I was a stray soul myself once. A couple took me in to look after their children. But don’t get ideas, we have no children. You come along if you want, Susuza, so we can talk some more about Lemni and Gabinus. If you do, your people must be told where you are going, so they are not anxious.”
At once, Susuza jumped up too. She marched over to where the group of boys were still hanging about, then loudly ordered them to tell Ostorius and Cincia she was needed to give evidence in an important inquiry.
While she was out of earshot, I murmured to Tiberius, “According to the porter’s description, I was expecting her to have a lovely face.”
He grinned. “You are so innocent.”
“Rarely said!” I snipped back.
“Ah, no,” he replied fondly, tickling under my chin. “The others make superficial judgements. I’m the man who knows you, Albiola. As soon as you first bumped into me, then bounced off down the street pretending you had not noticed nearly cracking my ribs, I saw through the carapace.”
Carapace? Not a word you expect to hear while trying to round up a donkey on a deserted beach.
Susuza was back.
“Right. That’s settled. I’m going to come with you in case I can be helpful.”
“Thank you,” I said.
“He wanted me,” she asserted suddenly. “That Gabinus. But just because they think they’re getting something doesn’t mean you have to give it them, does it?”
I told her that was a very fine attitude to hold. Then the girl jumped up behind me on Pollux and we set off for home.
XXXIX
For Tiberius and me it had been a long day. After a modest supper, we retired to bed.
Susuza was different. She darted about, exploring the house as much as the slaves would let her. From time to time we heard her voice, questioning them about who lived here and the family’s way of life. Eventually she must have gone to sleep somewhere. I felt sure no one had given her a guest room. Grumblings about our mollusc-fragrant guest would reverberate for a long time.
Mother would understand. Father would have the time of his life thinking up wisecracks. My twelve-year-old brother would ask her straight out why she stank so badly and how many seashells it took to produce the ingrained pong …
Postumus would have his chance to sniff the girl, then keep little spidery notes about her, because Susuza intended staying. In her way, she was as unworldly and single-minded as my brother but normal life was her dedicated aim. Overnight she planned not only her next move as my witness, but her full career thereafter. She told me openly: “I shall have to come with you to Rome. You need to ask that Larth about what he did that night after Lemni had gone to look after me and find my people for me. Larth said he was off to sort Gabinus out. You need me to say I heard him.”
“That’s true,” I agreed, with caution, as I ate a breakfast roll. “My husband and I are returning to Rome today. It is certainly my intention to interview Larth again.”
Susuza had already piled so much honey onto her roll it was dripping in slow rivulets down all sides. She was licking them up greedily with a long tongue while she talked. “Well, you want to have me there with you. That way old Larth can’t deny he went to see Gabinus, because I can pipe up and say it’s what he definitely did. So then you can ask did the old fellow do Gabinus in, or what?”
Susuza bit into her bread. With her mouth crammed full, she immediately continued: “He’s bound to say no. You’ll have to nag at him, so he owns up.”
“Assuming he did it. Which I doubt. Chew nicely, Susuza,” I found myself saying. “Chew first, then talk.” I had turned into my mother, without noticing it happen.
Tiberius, who had been watching us quizzically, cut fine slices of cheese neatly. He handed them around, using a knife blade to serve. He beamed at me, saying nothing in a way that said it all.
Susuza took my intervention well. She had a fully formed agenda for her own advancement. As soon as she had swallowed her mouthful, or most of it, she pressed on unabashed. “I’m glad I met you yesterday. This is a useful turn-up for me. I ought to come to Rome and have a job in your house.” She looked me up and down. I was wearing the same brown dress as yesterday, with my hair loose. It was certainly not imperial-court fashion. “I can see you haven’t got a maid. You can have me to do things for you.”
I managed to ask whether she had any experience.
“No, but you can organise it for me. Send me to people who can show me. What I would like,” Susuza informed me, “is training in how to do hair. I am very interested in styles and fixing. I could be quite good at it. So this would entirely be for your benefit,” she said frankly. “I can choose your jewellery as well. You must own some. If not, he can buy it for you. Then I can tell you every day what you need to have on so as to match your outfit. You need some poshing up.”
“Flavia Albia does wear smart things,” Tiberius put in quickly, as if defending my appearance. “At home in the city, where smartness is appropriate.”
Susuza looked disbelieving. Still, for once she said nothing.
Most women who have decided to add a maid to their staff visit a slave market where they pick out some young, meek, virtually silent foreign girl who will do their bidding. It seemed for me things were different.
“If I give you a trial,” I imparted to my own new treasure, as sternly as I could with Tiberius grinning at me, “you need to understand this: I tolerate no one who bosses me about.”
“That’s the best idea,” answered Susuza. As my maid she intended to engage in honest heart-to-hearts. “I do the same, Flavia Albia.”
XL
Rome, on our return, was heaving. We had taken the usual route from the villa maritima to the city, travelling on the Via Laurentina. Our approach from the south should have been well clear of all the nonsense taking place in the northern areas in preparation for Domitian’s big event. But there was always heavy traffic coming up from the port. Uncle Tullius stabled his mules near the Ostia Gate because a wheeled carriage could not enter Rome in daytime. So we knew we would hit the inevitable slow-down where we joined the Via Ostiensis, though we had not anticipated quite such a jam.
By the time we could see the big dump of olive oil amphorae near the gate, and that odd old tomb called the Pyramid of Cestius, we were worn out. Throughout most of the journey, Susuza had been travel sick, which had not helped. Apparently, she had been almost as bad when she visited with Ostorius and Cincia, but had not thought to mention it so I could make her chew root ginger.
“Well, that’s it, Flavia Albia. I can’t go through that anymore. I am never going back again.”
“You can go home any time you want,” I assured her, though I knew I was losing the battle. “We can find a way!”
“No, don’t worry. Now I’ve managed to get myself here, you are stuck with me!”
Lovely.
* * *
We left the mules at their stable and went on foot. It took us a while to pass through the gate. It was gridlocked with bodies: the inbound stream of people was held up by seriously morose soldiers pretending to check them. Nobody seemed to grasp that these guardians of the state had stationed themselves there in the hope of backhanders. Half could not find their money because thieves by the gate were also preying on the stationary visitors.
Tiberius refused to hand over a bribe. He demanded to speak to an officer. Of course that was pointless because the officer in charge was planning on a big cut from the “donations for military heroes” that travellers had to offer. Tiberius said what he thought about us being locked out of our own city—a city with an all-welcome public policy. The troops grew chippy with him. I thought he would be arrested, but after half an hour of arguing, his grave persistence wore them down so they waved us through with sneers.
We then had a choice of what should have been a quick step up to the Lavernal Gate or the Raudusculana, either of which gave us a short sharp climb up the main Aventine peak, along the Vicus Armilustrium, and home. Of course, all the sailors, visitors, hopeful traders and petty thieves who were pouring into Rome had endured the same slog along the final stretch of highway so when they broke free of the soldiers they stopped in their tracks, right inside the Ostia Gate. Once arrived, none of them had any idea where to go. As they milled around searching for lodgings, or simply a snack bar at which to recover, we had to force our way through an unyielding mob.
If anybody asked us, Tiberius suggested they might be able to camp in the Grove of Stimula. It had fine river views, he told them. A few fed off leftwards in search of this haven, unaware it had once been the scene of Bacchanalian orgies and was even now sacred to Semele, the mortal mother of Bacchus. “For Heaven’s sake, you’re an aedile!” I raved at him. I was hot and tired, and had lumbered myself with an untrained maid I didn’t want. “Try not to encourage wild social drinking all over our neighbourhood!”
“It’s all goads and scourges nowadays. Serious stuff, not an orgy.” Tiberius tried to convince me. Suspecting he thought this claim was a joke, I would have kicked him, but was preoccupied. After we left the carriage, I had somehow ended up in the classic wifely role: carrying most of our baggage.
Travellers continued to block our way; they foolishly thought we people who really lived here were sneakily trying to jump the queue for bed and board. Crowds seemed to have surged up through the drains, as if Rome had some ghastly blockage in the sewers, which forced scum out of the manholes and into the streets, with no possibility that the human tide would seep away again by nightfall. Aimless, mapless, dehydrated and desperate, they moved
at a snail’s pace with their porters, donkeys, children, chickens, immeasurable quantities of luggage and oddly muffled-up associates. They had come in unsuitable clothes. They barely spoke Latin. If they had brought an address where someone at home had told them they might be given shelter, it was in some other part of town that nobody had heard of.
As our scrawny Aventine dogs barked at these frustrated people, mine picked up the idea and joined in. Even Susuza yelped. Thinking she had been groped, I swung around with the baggage packs I was lugging. I did not care who I aimed at. Never tangle with a woman who has been stuck with two garment bags, a picnic tote with a broken toggle, a satchel full of hard-cornered waxed tablets and a dog lead. Never feel up her maid. Not even if the girl has a phenomenal bosom and you thought she looked as if she’d let you. You thought wrong, buster.
Eventually Tiberius, playing manly, grabbed the impedimenta off me. I fought him for it, as you do. “I can manage!”
“Give it here, you idiot!”
Such a loving couple. Marriage is about sharing. Sharing the insults, normally.
I turned around for an angry exchange of views with the person I had bashed, only to notice Susuza had gone missing. Scylla and Charybdis, we had lost my best witness. Almost the only witness I had, in fact.
Tiberius and I pushed this way and that through the press, growing hoarse as we called to her. Suddenly we saw her by a shop where she had been staring at horrible trinkets. “Oh, there you are, you two! I thought you’d given me the slip!” While the shopkeeper leered, Tiberius grabbed her arm and pulled her away with us.
* * *
We reached our house. Nobody heard us knock. We went through the ritual of kneeling in the porch while we unpacked onto the ground two garment packs, a picnic hamper, a satchel, various purses and belt-bags, because nobody could remember where they had put their door key. As soon as all our belongings were spread over the doorstep, the double doors were opened from inside.
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