Helena justina gave him a gracious smile. 'Then we are glad Falco made the speech! And what about the loss of Rubirius Metellus?'
Laco was terse. 'Donatus will make reparation.'
His children had accepted a payoff. Perhaps that was justice. Certainly the law would say so.
'So the family is content. But are you sure,' I asked him, 'neither Silius nor Paccius will want a formal verdict on the murder? Are their payments from Donatus enough to make them forget such a terrible crime was committed?'
'They are informers,' said Laco. Perhaps he forgot I was one. 'Pursuing money appeals to them more than pursuing wrongs.'
We had one last awkward question. Just when everything seemed over, Aelianus doggedly came out with it: 'There is just one thing nobody has explained yet. All the fuss has been because Negrinus is an interloper. So – who was his real father?'
Helena was too far away to cuff him round the ears. Rubiria Carina spoke up at once: 'That we do not know. And since my mother is now dead,' she continued wanly, 'I am afraid we will never know.'
Aelianus suspected she was lying. A raised finger from his own sister made him hold his peace.
I myself thought that Carina was telling the truth. Though, like the rest of them throughout this sad story, she was not telling all of it.
LVII
It was made apparent subtly that we were to take our leave. Falco and Associates withdrew from the white and gold salon, leaving the family of Rubirius Metellus to reflect on the end to their difficulties.
The Camillus brothers stood with Helena and me as we waited for our bearers. Canidianus Rufus, who had stormed out earlier, was already prowling the atrium; his wife's litter stood ready and he was hanging around for Juliana.
After a glance at the others, I walked across to him. 'All very enlightening!'
He grunted. As a mode of expression it was minimal, but suited his personality. Even amongst a family he approved of, this man would have been restless and abrasive. Today he was ready to boil over. He glared at me through eyes like slits.
'Of course they have not admitted the whole story.' I implied that I knew anyway. 'I don't care for letting a murderess get away with it – and they haven't thought about Lutea. He intends trouble, depend on it. He needs money far too much to stop.'
Canidianus Rufus was hopping from foot to foot, praying for his wife to arrive and free him. But they had brainwashed him into keeping their secrets and he managed to remain silent.
I pretended not to notice his discomfiture. 'I do applaud Laco for sewing it all up with Donatus – Laco must have been working his arse off over all this… Curious family,' I commented. 'Though strangely loyal. And now they will get away with it -'
'It stinks!' Rufus could no longer hold back.
I shrugged. Thinking of how old Donatus was now taking on little Lucius, I suggested, 'So much could have been avoided by a quiet adoption process, surely?'
Helena had crossed the atrium to join us. She slipped her hand through my arm. 'Oh no, Marcus. Adoption is for families of good birth only. The Metelli never had that option.'
'Because his father was unknown?' I pulled a face. Canidianus Rufus stood silent, either unaware how we were playing him, or helpless to escape. 'Negrinus would take his mother's rank, Helena – what's the problem? Adultery is the fashion; there is no stigma nowadays.'
'Keep your voice down!' Helena hushed me, drawing Rufus into our gossip. 'Marcus is so innocent. Not knowing a father is awkward, love, but common enough. But their situation is just unworkable. They have only admitted half of it. Rubirius Metellus was not his son's father – but nor was Calpurnia Cara his mother! Am I right, Rufus?'
Canidianus Rufus was desperate to share his anger: 'Oh you're horribly right, young lady!'
'Did Calpurnia bear three children?' hissed Helena. 'Two girls and a boy?'
'Yes,' said Rufus.
'And the boy died?'
'Yes.'
'So Calpurnia obtained a substitute from Euboule?'
'Yes!'
'But that's appalling.' I joined in as if the thought had only just struck me. 'Such a child was a disaster. Negrinus could be anyone!'
Canidianus Rufus could no longer contain his true feelings. 'It's disgusting!' he roared, not caring who heard him. The Camillus brothers looked startled and came over towards us. 'She should have been divorced, the minute Metellus found out. Passing off a child on him? He should have charged the bloody woman with deception. As for the so-called son -' He was livid. 'Don't ask me to use his name again – he has no right to it. That sham! It's a bloody disgrace that decent people are expected to go on dealing with him. He should never have been allowed in the Senate. Never put up for aedile. Never kept in the family. I simply can't believe it! They should all stop cosying up to him – and kick him back where he belongs!'
Overcome with revulsion, Rufus stomped off. We four stood there stunned – not only by the revelation. The outburst from Rufus showed the full force of senatorial snobbery. And his self-righteous prejudice showed exactly why the Metellus family had been trapped.
After a moment Aelianus whistled quietly through his front teeth. 'Well?' he asked Helena.
She took a deep breath. 'I just guessed. Calpurnia Cara's own son must have died whilst being nursed by Euboule. Because fear or distaste made her not want to have another baby, Calpurnia chose not to tell her husband, but she let Euboule substitute another child. It worked. It worked for thirty years. But Calpurnia had to pay Euboule extortionately to keep the secret – and in the end Euboule or her daughter began to tell others.'
'It was always bound to happen,' Justinus observed.
'Calpurnia Cara made a terrible mistake,' Helena agreed. 'When Saffia told Metellus, there was no way out. Calpurnia wanted to keep the secret for her own sake, and Metellus knew he could not allow anyone in good society to know. Metellus may have stood by Negrinus – who was the innocent victim – but he raged at Calpurnia. I can even see why she lost any feeling for Negrinus. Well, she always knew he was not her child. She let him be falsely accused of killing Metellus. She came to hate him for the trouble he had caused, and must have wanted him out of the way. It's only astonishing that neither his father nor his sisters would abandon him.'
'That's the one good part of this.' I took up the story quietly. 'Metellus senior had brought up Negrinus as his own and could not reject him. Yet he had to keep the secret. No alternative. It's more than merely scandalous. This supposititious child could have any parentage. To blackmail Calpurnia, you can bet Euboule suggested the very worst.'
'What's that?' asked Aelianus.
'Well, Negrinus could be Euboule's own child, in itself no recommendation. There are terrible alternatives, as the poor man must know. To be slave-born will make him a slave too; in theory, an owner could still claim him.'
Appreciating the problem now, Aelianus chimed in: 'Either of his parents could be infamous. If he is the child of an actor, a pimp or a gladiator, he's a legal outcast. Rufus was right – he is completely disqualified from the Senate.'
'That's nothing. He has even lost his citizenship,' I added. 'He has no birth certificate, we can be sure. His marriage was illegal. His children are now nobodies as well.'
'However much his sisters want to help,' Helena groaned, 'they cannot give him any status. The worst of all is – he doesn't even know who he is. I bet Euboule won't tell him.'
'Whatever she does say, he won't feel able to believe her,' Justinus groaned.
What Verginius Laco had hygienically called the 'situation' was dire. There was no chance of passing off Negrinus as of senatorial rank now. He and his children were lost souls. He could only leave Rome and begin afresh. Many have done it. In the Empire, a man of character could achieve much. But it would be hard for anyone who had been brought up, as he was, with such vastly different expectations.
We had our own problems. This case had left us with serious troubles. But when our transport came and we said fare
well to her brothers, Helena and I went home that night in a subdued mood, not thinking of ourselves. 'Gnaeus Metellus Negrinus' had been a diffident, well-meaning young man, a good father with strength of character. Now he could no longer even use his name. To be born with nothing was grim. But to be born with everything, then to lose it, was far more cruel.
LVIII
I was reconciled to never knowing what happened to our client. Since we never defended him, because his trial was aborted, we could not even send a bill. I know, I know. Only a hard-hearted bastard – or an informer – would have thought of it. Still, I too had informers waiting for a payment. Unfortunately, my debt was a large one.
Spring was beginning to waft advance notice of its presence. Light breezes rustled the desiccated leaves that collected in the corners and crannies of fine buildings in the Forum of the Romans. Occasional shafts of sunlight reminded even hard-baked cynics that ours was a city of light, warmth and colour, any of which could reappear slyly any day now to disconcert us. The inconveniences of spring floods and flower festivals were waiting to make the streets impassable. The swollen Tiber oozed with murky silt. Birds were getting excited. Even I was, sometimes. And one fine, rather bright morning, when I thought the keen edge of their enmity might have mellowed, I took myself to the Porticus of Gaius and Lucius, to share a cup of cinnamon wine and a honey cake with two acquaintances.
Silius Italicus had lost a few pounds; Paccius Africanus looked a little greyer. I myself felt lean and sour, but that was old news. I was tough; we all acknowledged, they were tougher. Sitting at ease with morning refreshments on a napkin-laid tray and with their togas bunched over their shoulders ready for that day in court, they just hid their ruthlessness better than I did.
We exchanged courtesies. I asked after Honorius; he was at his ex-wife's wedding. He had expected she would return to him, but she dumped him and chose someone else. They said he had grown bitter. I said, I was glad he was learning. If the remark carried an undertone we all pretended otherwise.
I told them about Bratta. I had heard he was to be sent to the arena, for murdering Spindex. They were surprised, since they were unaware there had been a trial. I was able to tell them that sometimes the vigiles were so efficient with hardened criminals that killers were processed and condemned in the murders court before anybody noticed; the discretion was to prevent the populace becoming fearful that society was dangerous. Paccius asked why Bratta had not gone to the lions yet, and I explained that the vigiles were confident they could screw more confessions out of him. He had been told that if he coughed up enough information, he would be spared the wild beasts. Of course that was untrue. Murder is always punished, I said.
Which reminded me: I wondered whether Silius and Paccius had any plans to set their sights on Licinius Lutea? Silius told a funny story about Lutea recently buying (on credit) a highly expensive gourmet cook called Genius, whom those with inside knowledge believed to be a complete fraud. They cautiously admitted Lutea was a long-term prospect for them. His first wife had told them he was a real chancer; they were waiting to see what he chanced next. One way or another, he remained in their pending scroll box.
I told them that I did admire how they set up cases in advance, even if they had to wait years for a resolution. The informers smiled, hiding any indication that they knew what I was hinting.
'Do you ever see anything of Procreus?' I asked Silius.
Silius looked vague for a moment, then he pretended to remember who Procreus was and said, no; he had not had occasion to use him for a long time.
'That's sensible,' I murmured. 'There was a very disappointing outcome when he aimed that impiety charge for you, wasn't there?'
Paccius drank from his wine beaker, dainty as a bird. Silius flicked a cake crumb off his tunic.
I smiled gently. 'I had a narrow escape. I am grateful it was recognised that it was a fabricated charge. Of course damage has been done to me. Rumour ran rife. People were shocked…'
'What do you want, Falco?' asked Paccius wearily.
It was my turn to take my cup and enjoy a moment savouring the warm brew. 'My reputation suffered. Others, innocents all, have been stigmatised. My wife, who is a senator's daughter. My associates, her brothers, who hold the same noble rank. My little daughters, taunted as the children of an impious man. The slur does not die easily. My wife wants me to make an issue – sue for slander.'
'How much?' enquired Silius. He was blunt, though not unpleasant about it. I was dealing with decent businessmen. Paccius, pretending to be bored, knew it was Silius' sidekick who laid the charge, which he may have thought absolved him.
'Well, listen: I suggest we keep it neat. Save us troubling our bankers and paying their damn charges. How about the figure you were awarded in the Calpurnia Cara case? You pay me the same and it all negates nicely.'
'This is for you, dear colleague,' Silius observed, turning to Paccius. Neither of them quibbled about me assuming they had always worked in tandem, I noticed.
'Half a million? Falco, you're not worth the same as a senator's wife.' Paccius was calm, despite the amount involved.
'But you two are,' I answered. I was calm too. I had nothing to lose except my temper, and there was no point in that.
'Have I missed something?' asked Silius, paying more attention. My demand was outrageous, so why was I making it?
'I was fortunate in that impiety issue,' I explained frankly. 'I had imperial support; I don't know if you realised. Titus got involved. That was why the praetor barred the case.' I saw the two men glance at each other. 'My honour at the Temple of Juno was an imperial gift; casting doubt on my suitability was a thrust at Vespasian, you know… I thought it best to warn you,' I said, in a genial tone.
I sat back and sipped my spiced wine, allowing them time to adjust their thoughts.
'If I insist on a public hearing to clear my name,' I pointed out, 'with Titus Caesar backing me, your reputations will be shredded. You may be hoping for further advancement in the cursus honorum – surely two ex-consuls must be hoping for governorships? I know you won't want Titus screwing up your postings with a veto… Half a million is a small sacrifice to secure your next honours, don't you think?'
After a long silence, the sacrifice was made.
I ate my cake, then walked away from them across the Forum. I hid a smile. I knew that Titus Caesar had told the senator he would intervene with the praetor only on condition that the charge died, with no repercussions. Titus would never have backed me publicly. Still, Silius and Paccius must both be aware that sometimes in legal bargaining it is necessary to bluff.
My post as Procurator of the Sacred Geese was abolished shortly after all this, in a round of Treasury cutbacks. I was disappointed. The salary had been useful; losing it curtailed Helena's plans to build an out door dining room with a shell-lined nymphaeum and miniature canals.
Besides, the Sacred Geese of Juno and the Augurs' Chickens were good layers. When I was looking after them, I used to enjoy my omelettes.
I had begun this enterprise disenchanted – and had all my prejudice confirmed. I would wait in vain to see the grizzled old legals come good despite their cynicism. It was equally futile to hope that their idealistic apprentice, Honorius, would stay clean. I had escaped harm, more or less. Perhaps in some circles I had even increased my reputation.
Nobody was ever convicted of the murder of Rubirius Metellus, but nobody was wrongly condemned either. Saffia was dead, so she was beyond the courts. If Licinius Lutea escaped temporarily, he had become a target for the most patient of predators. So perhaps despite the efforts and machinations of my prosecuting colleagues, justice would one day be done.
The state had its own perspective. The following year, Ti Catius Silius Italicus was awarded a powerful post as proconsul of the province of Asia, while C. Paccius Africanus became proconsul of Africa. These were the Empire's chief prizes – honourable governorships where unscrupulous men could, by applying the right kind of dilige
nce, acquire enormous wealth.
But that would be only greedy and corrupt proconsuls, of course.
OTHER PRINCIPAL CHARACTERS
M. Didius Falco: a principled informer (who needs the money)
Helena Justina: the guardian of his ethics
Julia Junilla and Sosia Favonia: their children (never ill; never naughty; never loud)
Albia: a British visitor, who has seen nothing yet
Nux: a dog, who owns Falco
The Sacred Geese of Juno | and The Augurs' Sacred Chickens | religious poultry's free range omelette producers
Ma: a mother shamed by impiety
Verontius: Falco's brother-in-law, as straight as a Roman road
D. Camillus Verus: Helena's father, a senator with memories
Julia Justa: her mother, a matron with connections
A. Camillus Aelianus | and Q. Camillus Justinus | Falco's Associates, on a long learning curve
Ursulina Prisca: a valued client; very litigious
L. Petronius Longus: Falco's friend in the vigiles, a useful contact
Anacrites: Falco's enemy, a useless spook
Glaucus: Falco's trainer, who has seen it all
Ti Catius Silius Italicus: a high class lawyer (with a dubious past)
C. Paccius Africanus: a trusts expert (with a shady reputation)
Honorius: a legal idealist (heading for disillusion?)
Marponius: a judge with encyclopaedic knowledge
Bratta: an informer's informer
Procreus: an accuser's accuser
Euphanes: a sickly herbalist
Rhoemetalces: an apothecary who takes his own medicine.
Claudius Tiasus: a funeral director with a chipped nymph
Biltis: a professional mourner, taking an interest
Spindex: a funeral clown; not laughing much
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