Death at Pompeia's Wedding

by Rosemary Rowe

  ‘He made sure that it was delivered to me here. I would obviously receive it in the company of you or Livia. I’ve heard that Antoninus had a little trick of taunting people with the evidence he had – and I think that writing tablet was a case in point. He let this household know he had it, and that was itself a threat.’

  She looked at me stonily. ‘It was no threat to me. I simply knew that Livia had lost one like it, at one time – through her own stupidity. Carelessly left it where a thief could get at it, though it was a rare and valuable thing. She never did appreciate the fine things in this house . . .’ She broke off as hurrying footsteps echoed in the court and Minimus came hastening back to us, nodding to signal that his mission was complete.

  I gestured to him to remain where he was, beside the figure of Minerva in the court. I turned to Helena Domna. ‘Fine things? Like that statue where my servant’s standing now?’ I said.

  That silenced her. For a moment, anyway. She slashed at the pathway in frustration with her cane, and when she spoke again her passion frightened me. ‘Get out of my house – you tradesman – before I throw you out. Mourners or no mourners, I will have it done. What right have you to come here and insult me in this way?’ Her voice was rising to an impressive pitch. ‘Get out, do you hear me? Seize him, page, and thrown him out of doors.’

  Given that page was no more than eight years old, and that even Minimus could have felled him with a single blow, it was not a realistic prospect. The poor lad gazed at me, then galloped off towards the atrium as fast as he could go, shouting as he did so, ‘Mistress! Steward! Come!’ It echoed round the courtyard, and even the tuneless wail of the lament, which had been issuing from the atrium all this while, momentarily faltered before it rose again.

  Livia burst into the courtyard, from the little passage to the front part of the house. She was accompanied by Pulchra and the steward too. ‘What is this disturbance? Libertus, is it you? And mother-in-law, whatever is the meaning of this irreverence? You, of all people, to disturb your son’s lament!’

  Helena Domna had recovered a little of her lost patrician poise. She glared at me with baleful hatred in her eyes. ‘This upstart pavement-maker is accusing me of personal involvement in this sordid affair concerning Antoninus. He insulted me. I simply ordered that he be removed, but all that useless little page could do was shout for help. But now that you have come you can throw him out yourself. You should have had him locked up yesterday, when I suggested it. I will not be insulted in my own home like this.’

  Perhaps it was that last remark that saved the day for me. Livia bridled. ‘But, Helena Domna, I am mistress here. If Libertus has accusations, then we should hear him out. But not here in the courtyard. Let us go inside. In the triclinium would be the best, I think, where there are seats enough for all of us and the steward can bring us some refreshments while we talk.’

  And with quiet dignity, she turned and led the way.

  Twenty-Three

  The feasting room had been returned to something like its normal state by now. All the additional seating had been whisked away, leaving only the main table and the three enormous dining couches round three sides of it. I wondered what had happened to the other furniture – no doubt it would be required for the funeral feast: Honorius’s household would be careful to observe the traditional three days between a man’s death and his cremation pyre. I smiled. Given what I had to tell the family, I was unlikely to be invited to the feast.

  Livia took the top couch, rather self-consciously, and indicated that I should sit down on her right-hand side, which left Helena Domna in the inferior seat. We were sitting, not reclining, obviously – since there was no question of a proper meal – but we were grouped around the table on three couches all the same.

  The steward had already gone to fetch the ‘refreshments’ that were spoken of, but Livia signalled that the page and Minimus should leave. ‘This is clearly private business – not for servants’ ears.’ And the two of them reluctantly withdrew to wait outside. Pulchra however, made no move to go.

  ‘I’ll go, mistress, if you insist, of course,’ she said, but I held up my hand.

  ‘I think there are matters which you could help us with, if your mistress will permit it?’

  Livia nodded. ‘Very well.’ The maidservant looked pleased and took up a position behind her owner’s chair.

  ‘Now then, citizen Libertus,’ the young widow began, but she was interrupted by the steward bursting in.

  ‘I’m sorry to disturb you once again, madam, but there are three citizens out here. They have forced their way in past the mourning queue and say that Libertus is expecting them. The usual doorkeeper has been relieved –’ he shot a look at me – ‘and his deputy could not deal with them. They were making a disturbance, and he’s had to let them in.’

  I ignored the implied rebuke. ‘Three citizens?’ I murmured. ‘I’d been expecting five. Do you know who they are?’

  ‘Gracchus, and Redux and another younger man. I don’t know him, citizen, but he claims to be your son.’ The steward managed to convey polite affront.

  I frowned. Where were Vinerius and Maesta in that case? I was about to ask the question when Helena Domna spoke. ‘Oh, show them in, by all means. Let the whole of Glevum come. This house is no longer private property, it seems. This . . . pavement-maker,’ she said with real venom, ‘appears to treat it as his own inviting anyone he likes.’

  Livia looked rather doubtfully at me. ‘Is this connected with the accusations that you spoke of, citizen?’

  ‘I hope these gentleman will be able to help confirm the truth.’

  ‘Then we’ll have them in by all means. In any case – your son apart – they are not strangers here.’ The steward had bowed himself away and she turned to me again. ‘So you shall have your way. But I hope, citizen, that this is justified. Otherwise I shall be compelled to send out for the guard and have them throw you into prison for impugning our good name.’ She said it gently, but it was a threat – and a real one, as I was aware. Injuria was a criminal offence, and the punishments for it were surprisingly severe.

  I nodded wryly. ‘I am in danger of arrest in any case. I am due to report to the garrison at noon – and if I have not found a full solution by then to both the deaths, then the commander is threatening to imprison me. There has been a formal charge against me by that tribune that you saw.’

  ‘You see!’ The grandmother was on her feet again. ‘The man’s a criminal. How can you believe a single word he says?’

  ‘Perhaps, Helena Domna, I should be the judge of that – with the help of these three citizens, who are at the door.’ She rose to meet them, very graciously, and after greetings and introductions had been made, she indicated that they should find a seat. Helena Domna was compelled to shuffle up a bit and allow Gracchus a corner of the couch that she was on, while Redux and Junio sat down on either side of me.

  ‘What happened to the vintner and his wife?’ I asked my son.

  He shook his head. ‘They’re both under arrest.’

  There was a sudden hush. Everyone was looking at him now.

  ‘There were some documents discovered in Antoninus’s apartment,’ he explained, ‘which proved that Vinerius had been watering his wine, so that for every ten amphora of Rhenish wine he bought, he somehow managed to sell eleven on.’

  ‘Vinerius?’ Helena Domna muttered furiously. ‘And after all that wine we bought from him! I’ll see him flogged. I’ll go and see him tried and get our money back. He will be tried, I suppose?’

  Junio nodded. ‘It seems that the garrison commander sent to bring him in and Maesta was discovered in the act of making hemlock draughts – so she was taken into custody as well, on suspicion of abetting a conspiracy to kill.’

  ‘And Citizen Libertus has some views on that,’ Livia resumed. ‘He has some accusations that he wants to make. They concern Helena Domna, I believe?’

  I saw the three newcomers exchange a baffled glance. ‘
That is correct,’ I said. ‘Her dealings with Antoninus, in particular. He was a blackmailer of course – as I think other people around this table know – hence his sudden rise from nowhere and his undoubted wealth.’ Gracchus and Redux were both staring at their feet, and looking rather embarrassed by these words, I saw – and Livia had allowed her jaw to drop and was staring at Helena Domna with disbelief.

  ‘Antoninus was blackmailing my mother-in-law?’ She sounded more incredulous than shocked.

  Helena Domna set her wrinkled face. ‘So this man alleges. He has no proper proof at all.’ If I had hoped that she might break down and confess, then I was wrong – the old woman was clearly made of sterner stuff.

  I returned to the attack. ‘Then what was your gold necklace doing in his flat? I noticed it when he was lying dead. It was looped around the water clock. I saw it at the time, and simply thought that it was decoration round the base – a beautiful and intricate festoon of gold and jet. I should have realized earlier what I was looking at. It was not until this morning, when I saw you in the court, and realized that you were not wearing it today, that I put two and two together.’

  ‘And made five,’ she snapped.

  I forced myself to smile. ‘Then demonstrate your innocence. Send for your necklace, and you prove me wrong.’

  Angry red colour washed up her cheeks and neck. ‘I have mislaid it temporarily . . .’

  I shook my head. ‘I think you sent it to Antoninus yesterday when you affected to be sending out to the musicians’ guild. You used the doorman as your messenger. I thought I glimpsed the fellow in the street outside the flat, but I did not pay much attention to him at the time. Shall we ask him? I have sent for him.’

  She glared at me again. ‘Do so, if you want to. I know what he’ll say.’

  ‘Do you, Helena Domna? Are you sure of that? We’ll offer to pay him good money for the truth, and you might be surprised.’

  Patrician matrons do not often spit, but Helena Domna came very close to it. ‘Well, if you mean you’ll bribe him, of course it’s different. In that case he might say anything at all.’

  ‘And what might he say about that statue in the court?’

  The old face crumpled slightly. ‘What do you know of that?’

  ‘Only that it came illicitly from Rome, and that Honorius was probably aware of it,’ I said.

  ‘So that cursed Antoninus did tell you, after all?’ She had lost her calm. She was white and shaking and her eyes were bright with tears. ‘And after I . . .’ She stopped, and glared at me, aware that she had already said too much.

  ‘And after you had sent him your gold necklace as a bribe? Just as the citizen suggested?’ Redux said, before I had the time to make the point myself. ‘And I can confirm what Libertus said about the clock – I noticed the gold chain around the base myself. Fine gold – it must have been worth a tidy sum.’

  Livia was shaking a bewildered head at me. ‘What’s this about a statue?’

  ‘That Minerva in the courtyard – it’s a stolen one. Probably from the palace of the Emperor himself,’ I said. ‘Zythos arranged it when he was alive, and Redux shipped it and delivered it to you. It was disguised beneath a plaster cast, I hear.’

  ‘The Emperor?’ She was horrified. ‘I had no idea.’ She shook her head again. ‘It came when I was out, and when I got home it was already in the court and looked exactly as it does today. Honorius was always buying statues for the house, and I thought no more about it – except to wonder how much it had cost. He will have used my dowry money to pay for it, of course.’

  ‘I suspect it cost him even more than he had bargained for. Antoninus had discovered the details of the sale – he had been blackmailing Zythos all along, and now he was demanding money from Honorius as well. That’s why he came the other night – as I think Helena Domna can confirm.’

  All eyes turned to the mother-in-law at my words, but she said nothing.

  I was forced to speak again. ‘You told me, Livia, that she came along and prevented you from listening to the men yourself. But I think she stopped and eavesdropped, on her own account. And what she heard appalled her. She discovered that Honorius – her son – was guilty of dealing in illegal goods, and more than that – Imperial property. She spoke to Antoninus at the wedding yesterday – I saw them whispering together in the hall. She must have been unwise enough to tell him what she knew, and he, of course, demanded bribes to keep the secret safe.’

  Helena Domna had started to her feet.

  ‘We can ask the doorkeeper if he took that necklace there or not,’ I said.

  She looked at me bitterly, and sat down again. All the fury had ebbed out of her, and she almost seemed physically smaller all at once. ‘Antoninus didn’t keep his word,’ she muttered. ‘I wanted to protect our reputation, that is all – and now, I suppose, the whole colonia will know. You were quite right, citizen. I knew when that note arrived for you – in that writing case that looked so much like Livia’s – that it was intended as a veiled hint to me. He’d already told me he would be in touch.’

  ‘So you made a point of reading what he wrote?’

  She nodded. ‘I knew that he would tell you everything, if I did not find some way of paying him. And – as you say – he set a later time, so I could find the money and get it to him first. I do have a little, but it was not to hand and all I could think of was to send him gold. That necklace is a fine one, the jet is good as well – Zythos imported it from somewhere in the East. And even when I sent him that, the wretch betrayed me and told you anyway.’

  ‘Antoninus would never have done that,’ I said. ‘If he once told the secret, he had lost his power. He would have gone on making his demands for years – if he thought you could be made to pay. He didn’t tell me anything. He didn’t have the chance – by the time I got there he was already dead.’

  She stared at me. ‘So how did you learn about the stolen statue then?’

  Redux answered for me. ‘I told him, lady – and, I think that you should know that I told the commander of the garrison as well.’ She half-rose as if to hit him, and he raised his hand. ‘I was being suspected of murder at the time, and I might have been tortured if I did not tell the truth. I did not steal the statue, and I do not know who did – but Antoninus knew that I had been involved in shipping it, and he was extorting money out of me as well. I don’t know exactly what evidence he had – I looked through the papers, but I couldn’t find a thing. No mention of Honorius or Zythos anywhere. That should be some comfort to you, madam, anyway. I rather think that somebody had burned the documents.’

  Helena Domna brightened. ‘So there will be no proof?’ She shook her head. ‘Burned them, do you say? Let’s ask the doorkeeper . . .’

  ‘So, it was the doorkeeper you sent?’ Junio’s satisfaction was on my account I knew, because my deduction had been proved correct.

  She didn’t answer.

  ‘Rather a bad choice, Helena Domna,’ I remarked. ‘I think that he was passing information on. You used him as a messenger, as your son had done. Perhaps you even heard him mentioned when you were listening in. It was clear to me already that he knew the place, and had carried things to Antoninus several times before – that’s how the blackmailer knew so much about this house.’

  ‘So that’s what you meant about the statue, citizen?’ Helena Domna had turned very pale. ‘He told Antoninus? And I sent him there . . .’ She paused to take in the enormity of this. ‘I’ll have him flogged for this. Flogged to within inches of his wretched life. Pulchra, send the slave to fetch him. I shall have him flayed!’ She sat down heavily on the couch again. ‘How could he betray me? The doorman is our slave. He owes us loyalty. We own him, after all.’

  ‘So you got the doorkeeper to murder Antoninus?’ Redux said, as Pulchra came back into the room again. He was addressing Helena Domna with a smile, which almost suggested that he felt some sympathy. ‘How did you do it? Put poison in the wine? Or even in that pot of garum that you se
nt back to him? But I suppose the doorkeeper was anxious to make sure, and thrust a knife into his back as well.’

  Gracchus was listening avidly to this, though he had made no contribution up till now. ‘All the same – as a patrician lady – you deserve respect for making the attempt to save the family’s name. Though it seems you may have killed your son for nothing, after all. You tried to save his honour, but the truth has all come out. Nonetheless, I’m sure the court will understand, and not exact the highest punishment.’

  Nobody answered, and he turned to me. ‘Well, it seems you have succeeded in your efforts, citizen. I salute you and agree to pay you what I owe. Pompeia is not guilty, and she can be my bride. An honour killing is not the kind of thing that would prevent one seeking alliance with a family. Honorius had already done the same thing with his eldest daughter, after all.’ He looked around the table, as if seeing confirmation of his words.

  But Helena Domna was on her feet again. She was very nearly trembling with rage. ‘I did not instruct the doorkeeper to murder anyone. I did not touch the garum. It was returned intact – Livia herself is witness to the fact. She was the one who sent it back to him. And as for colluding in the murder of my son, of course I did nothing of the kind.’

  ‘But you admit the other allegations?’ Redux said.

  She threw a furious look in my direction, then: ‘Oh, very well. The pavement-maker’s right. I did send a necklace to pay Antoninus off, because I’d overheard the conversation in this house that night, about the statue and its illicit past. I never had the chance to tell Honorius what I knew – I was going to wait until the wedding guests were gone and try to persuade him that he should send it back, and maybe even apply to Commodus for reward – but he died before I had the chance. All I could think of was the honour of his name – and the fear that Antoninus would publicize the crime and maybe seize the statue on his own account. I knew he’d want the money that he was asking for.’ She banged the table with her stick and glared around the room. ‘But I have never stooped to murder, and I’ve never planned to kill. The doorkeeper will tell you, when we bring him in. When he left, Antoninus was very much alive – tucking into a meal of bread and cheese and sending demands for further jewellery.’