I said I did. I tried not to think about Andronicus while we were speaking.
"Fools for the men, so many of them!"
"Oh yes!" Me too, me too… "Tell me-is Venusia like that?"
"Not unless the silly thing has managed to keep her cupid well hidden."
Privately, I could see why Venusia would do that, and not just because she worked in an environment where the habits of slaves were minutely scrutinised by their elders, with stern rules prescribed by mean-minded owners. It's not only slaves who need to be discreet. Any woman who talks about her lover before she has known him for at least five years is asking to finish up by finding she's a fool.
I did pursue the issue of Venusia further, dutifully trotting over the Hill to the Temple of Ceres where the old woman said Gratiana had gone with the maid, but I just missed her there too. A certain class of witness can be guaranteed to be annoying. Rich blondes, for instance.
Time to write up my report.
For this, I did not return to Fountain Court as usual, but went to my parents' house and dictated it to Katutis, Father's highly trained Egyptian secretary. Often underused at home, he was thrilled. He penned it in ink on papyrus, to look good-perhaps the most expensive client report ever. Father saw the work in progress and almost laughed himself sick.
I climbed back up the Aventine, carrying the elaborate scroll, which Katutis had labelled on the outside Highly Confidential, tying it up with strings, to which he appended wax security seals. Luckily, I have a seal. It's an old coin set on a finger ring. It shows a British king, with horrible clumps of spiky hair, looking as if he can't wait for helpful Roman invaders to ship in some decent barbers.
By taking the Stairs of Cassius, I was able to walk down the Vicus Altus on my next errand: delivering the report. I was well swathed that day, since I had known I was visiting women who made much of being respectable. That morning I had even wondered whether to borrow the eldest daughter of the Mauretanians who lived on the first floor of the Eagle Building; I did pass off this silent ten-year-old as a chaperone occasionally. Today, I decided, as usual, that it was too much bother. Instead I had just lumbered myself with a huge stole, the kind that's as big and as warm to wear as a toga but shows oodles of respect when you visit smart women. Out on the streets I could snuggle in it unrecognisably-head covered, face and body attractions all neutralised, nothing but fingertips showing.
So, as I slipped up the Vicus discreetly, I was able to spot Tiberius, lurking. He had abandoned last night's noticeable white bandage and sling, and instead had his wounded hand in a grubby-looking, frayed piece of material, perhaps torn from a worn-out tunic. He was mooching, no doubt looking for our killer, just as I was. We had both made ourselves seem like slaves going about our business in the invisible way slaves do on Roman streets. Nobody else would have given either of us a second glance, though of course I saw him.
I could have handed my report to the runner, but I had better ideas. I wanted to go to the aedile's office in the hope of finding Andronicus.
Thrills! He was there.
We were both delighted at finally meeting up again. Andronicus amused me with choice words about Manlius Faustus, who had been keeping him on a short rein these past few days. I saw that my friend had the freedman's dilemma: on being manumitted from slavery, he could take himself off and be his own man, with whatever love life he chose, but then he would have to take big financial risks. Go into business with very little start-up capital. Face possible failure. If, instead, he wanted to remain in secure employment with people who knew him, he was stuck with the fact that his patrons, as they now were, expected to order him about. He had some rights to their protection, but in return his duty to them meant he must be obedient. I could see that Andronicus did not possess the necessary humble character to accept this. He found his position extremely frustrating.
I unwound my hot person from the confining folds of my stole. He greeted the process with the excitement of a child unwrapping a present. As soon as he saw the scroll, he seized it from me, chuckling over the confidentiality notice and the seals.
I explained: "Although your Faustus ordered the vigiles to deter me from my private assignments, the confused man has now hired me himself. That is my formal report for him."
"And you have given it," joked Andronicus, "to the one person who is capable of undoing the strings, reading the secrets, and replacing the seals undetectably!"
"Ah yes." I did have second thoughts, though briefly But I trusted him. "I suppose counterfeiting legal seals is the first thing an archivist learns!"
"No, the first is how to hide your beaker of posca in a scroll-box quickly, if your master walks in."
Posca, which is little more than vinegar or wine spoiled by bad storage, is a slave's drink. I did not comment. I knew he would hate being reminded-and would hate me being too aware of his past.
Taking my right hand, he examined my seal ring. After comparing it to the marks in the wax, he kept hold of my hand. I like a masterful lover, but felt awkwardly conscious that we were in a public office. In Rome, only very low-grade people-or very drunk nobles- make love in public. For his part, Andronicus seemed to enjoy the danger of being discovered.
"Luckily," he said, gazing into my eyes from a rather close position, "I do know what is going on. People are being attacked in the street. There have been high-powered meetings involving all the aediles, occurring for some time now. Three out of four of them are hoping they can delay any action until their term of office ends, sticking the problem onto next year's stooges. Our Faustus has to be different. He has made this his personal mission. He wants to catch the Aventine killer, and if he fails, the idiot will be brokenhearted."
"Maybe he is right. Don't the public deserve protection?"
"Of course." Andronicus had his distracted look, almost as if he had been intending to give a different reply. I reckoned he had a low opinion of the public-for which I could not entirely blame him. The more of them I met, the more I despaired.
"Is Faustus here today?"
"No, thank Jupiter."
"Any of the other three?"
"Naturally not. You don't think these golden boys work, do you, Albia?" Andronicus pulled me close, beginning some gentle neck-nuzzling. He smelt of an attar that must be expensive; I was amused to find he liked such luxuries and had money to buy them. "So what have you discovered for the sad man?"
"Oh it's all there," I murmured back, still trying to keep one eye on the door in case someone came in. I do have standards. I have never liked smooching in public. I want to relax and give my all. I like comfort too. I was certainly willing to give my all to Andronicus, but not backed up against the money-chests in a magistrates' public office. Who wants a rusty old hasp in the ribs? "You will see, if you do break the seals … I was asked to interrogate Laia Gratiana."
"Over that incident where her friend's maid died?"
I was glad Andronicus had heard about it, without me needing to reveal a confidence. "Yes, I get all the wonderful jobs … I had to force myself to be polite."
"Poor you! She's a cow. I can't bear taking documents to the temple when she's swanning about in her Queen of Heaven mode."
"I managed."
Andronicus then mused, "Laia Gratiana, eh? — You know she and Faustus share a murky past?"
"Hence me being sent for her statement." Wonderful though it felt to be in his arms again, I had no intention of telling Andronicus that Laia Gratiana may have seen the killer. Nor would I pass on what Tiberius had confided in me regarding that ancient divorce.
"Yes, he will run vast circles to avoid any contact with the haughty Laia-and she won't ever approach him either. Something went on there, Albia. I would give a lot to know exactly what it was!"
To sidetrack my inquisitive friend (and to try to ignore where his hands were wandering), I mentioned my wise theory that if either of the maids had a secret liaison, she would have kept it to herself, given my view that any woman should avo
id boasting about her lover. We fantasised comically: "You know-either he's on the verge of dumping her unexpectedly, to fulfil his real ambition of joining the legions or of going on a long sea voyage-"
"— Or else," Andronicus finished for me, "her confidante, who was previously her best friend, turns out to be a deceitful bitch, the very woman with whom sonny has been two-timing her…"
We laughed. It was wonderful to have someone to share such zany moments in the midst of serious work. Andronicus was the master of the art of light flirting, of easy friendship. He made me feel safe. I sank into this pleasant sensation, even though I knew that much trust could be dangerous.
"So…" he suggested. "I gather you won't be boasting about me?" He couldn't help it. He was a man; he needed to be the centre of everything. I just smiled wisely.
We returned to the topic of my investigations.
"Are you supposing a boyfriend made this attack on the maids, Albia?"
"There is no evidence of that."
Footsteps sounded outside in the colonnade. By the time the damned runner entered, Andronicus and I were innocently sitting apart on separate stools.
"You ditched the feeble disguise, I see," jeered Tiberius, nodding at my discarded stole. He had to let me know he really did see me earlier, in the Vicus Altus. I wondered if he then followed me here deliberately, to interrupt any fun with Andronicus. "When you two have stopped giving each other the glad eye … I presume that is your report? Shall I take it?" He glared pointedly at Andronicus, who had to part with my scroll.
"I pretty well covered everything," I intervened, trying to distract them from their mutual hostility. "I have still not spoken directly to the second maid, but a source told me she claims she saw nothing. Of course I want to check that. I will keep trying for a proper follow-up."
"Keep me informed."
I did not reprise my opinion about women and their lovers. Tiberius was not a man to joke.
Tiberius left us, clutching my scroll, and took himself off somewhere else in the building.
I mentioned to Andronicus how I had seen the runner patrolling the street where incidents had happened. "He seems obsessed."
"Of course, there could be another explanation," said Andronicus sombrely.
"What?"
"Does it never strike you that Tiberius is an odd character himself? A loner. A prowler. A cold, friendless, arrogant, unsocial person who cannot make anybody like him, even if he tries to-most times he does not bother to try. A man who has been given the task of moving among the public, exercising his judgement about their characters and their behaviour … So, might he have decided to impose a personal punishment on those he regards as being at fault?"
"Go on." I felt unhappy with where this was leading, but I let him add his finale.
"What a coincidence, Flavia Albia, if he turned out to be involved in what you are investigating! Suppose Tiberius is your villain."
XXVI
Romans were marinaded in suspicion these days. Our paranoid emperor had made us all too ready to distrust people. I said that I would think carefully about Andronicus' suggestion. I meant it. Normally I like to exercise my own judgement. But this idea about the runner had struck me too.
Tiberius had certainly known of Salvidia, because it was he who chalked up the advertisement for witnesses after her driver's accident. I knew of no connection between him and the old woman, Celendina, nor was I aware that he had ever met the oyster boy, though it was by no means impossible. He certainly knew a lot about Laia Gratiana. Given the official links between the aediles' office and the Temple of Ceres, which must include the cult, he probably knew her friend Marcia too. A trusted runner was not too disreputable to engage with such women, nor too lofty to have spoken to their maids.
Roaming the streets on the excuse of looking for public misdemeanours, Tiberius was perfectly placed to make attacks on pedestrians. He looked shifty. I had always felt something about him was wrong.
I began to discuss this with Andronicus, who was eager to share his own thoughts on the subject. We had to stop when Tiberius reappeared.
"A good report," he commented. Although I had had the scroll addressed to the aedile personally, the uppity swine had taken it upon himself to open and read it. Then, to my surprise, he added, "I am meeting up with Morellus tonight to review a plan of action. You could join us."
I said I would. Immediately I noticed Andronicus signalling that I ought not to. Tiberius naturally noticed too; he waited, sneering, for me to do what the archivist said. If they thought I was likely to be influenced, they were both wrong. I asked what time to arrive at the station house and since the appointment coincided with the normal hour for dinner, I advised Tiberius to bring his own food. "The vigiles have a terrible habit of sending out to Xero's for hot pies."
"Aren't they famous?"
"Legendary. Everyone goes to Xero's, has done for years. If your master ever wants to set up a public health investigation of pie shops, he could prevent a lot of food poisoning."
Andronicus looked as if he wished I had not given Tiberius the warning.
I saw no future in hanging around while the two of them locked horns. The runner had spoiled the moment for me and my friend. Giving Andronicus a polite goodbye kiss on the cheek, I managed to squeeze in close enough to whisper to him that the best way to monitor Tiberius was to watch what he was up to. Then I went home.
That evening, after the baths, I walked to the vigiles' local barracks. The last watch party was going out on patrol, so the building was silent and empty yet to me felt much safer than when the troops were there. I found Morellus in his interrogation room. This was the luxury suite at the station house-a grubby nook with a table that bore suspicious burn marks, a couple of three-legged stools that had had their fourth legs pulled off for hitting suspects, and an old cloak on a peg. The table was for Morellus to put his boots up on while he cleaned his nails with a knife he had once taken off a prisoner.
Morellus seemed puzzled to see me, so as I fitted back a leg on one of the stools to make it usable, I explained I had an invitation.
"Really? Has Tiberius taken a fancy to you, or something?"
"No, he thinks I'm a useless amateur. I've no idea why I was favoured tonight-unless he knew I would come with a packet of garlic squids." I placed it on the table. Morellus immediately swung more upright so he could have a look. The vigiles respond to very simple stimuli.
"I didn't know it was a bring-an-amphora party." He need not have worried because in fact nobody did bring one.
Since the runner had yet to arrive, I asked how well they knew each other. According to Morellus, he and Tiberius regularly shared information, and had done since Manlius Faustus took up his post in January.
"I'm finding this runner a baleful presence," I commented.
Morellus gave me a sharp look. "Oh, Tiberius is all right!" Normally I found the enquiry officer quite astute, so this surprised me.
We heard steps approaching across the yard outside and Tiberius turned up. "Quiet tonight!"
"I've got them all out looking. Even the ones who are off-shift."
"On a bonus?"
"No, I just promised not to punch their heads in." Morellus lowered his voice. "Funds are tight."
"I might be able to help?" offered the runner, as he went through the routine of temporary repairs to a stool. Presumably he could ask to break into the aediles' fines box for some petty cash.
Morellus waved this away. "No, no. The devious Scaurus is putting together a budget. Maybe for once our tribune will make himself useful."
At that time of night in April, the room was already dark; Morellus lit pottery oil lamps, most with pornographic scenes, of course. We gathered round the table. We munched as we worked. Tiberius had brought a fancy little picnic basket containing bread rolls, enough for all of us, and cheese, which he said Metellus Nepos had supplied. I presumed this was a gift to the aedile but Tiberius had snaffled it.
I grinned. "
I suppose if you live in a large household, especially if it's a bachelor den, there must be competition to snaffle titbits from the kitchen staff. ."
"I find appearing in person with a starved look generally works," Tiberius conceded.
As I had feared, Morellus had equipped himself with a big rabbit pie, from Xero's. With an obvious wrench, he offered it round. Tiberius took a sliver politely. I was tempted, but held back.
Ignoring the danger of dripping gravy from the pie still in his hand, Morellus stretched out a crackly map skin of streets in our area. It looked decades old; I pointed out where parts were out of date.
"Oh it gets us from Alpha to Omega," Morellus mumbled.
"Well, maybe from Alpha to Phi. ." suggested Tiberius, almost letting himself smile.
I have to say that the next hour of three-way collaboration was an unusual session. It went better than I expected. The two men accepted me; I could work with them. Nevertheless, they seemed a slightly mismatched couple and it was unheard of for such men to consult with a woman. But we all approached the problem with the same level of seriousness.
First we had a round-up of known facts. Morellus contributed surprisingly useful background: "I have found out this is happening in other districts of Rome, and the word is, in other parts of the Empire. That might mean a global conspiracy, if you like such theories. Myself, I don't reckon to that. More likely, some pervert commits a rash of random street attacks in one place, then however much those at the top think they are in control, word gets out because the public are not fools."
"And a rumour gives some other madman the same idea?" I put in.
"Copycats?" Apart from this question, Tiberius was letting Morellus lead, or at least he was so far. Somehow I failed to see Tiberius as a hang-back subordinate.
"It's a known phenomenon. Well, if we can catch ours, that will still leave the others, but to be frank, I just want to clean up my own patch. I really do think," Morellus said defensively, though at his most convincing in fact, "if we concentrate on our particular perp, if we apply sound procedure directly to him and do manage to cop him, it will be more useful than haring about pointlessly, trying to tackle a whole city-wide scare and, let's face it, getting nowhere."
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