The Accusers

by Lindsey Davis

  His clerks sniggered. We all grinned obediently. I waited for him to dismiss the accusation.

  'I take it you are writing your memoirs, dear Paccius, and need a lively chapter for the next scroll?' The man was thoroughly enjoying himself.

  Paccius made a modest gesture. He managed to imply that when he did write his memoirs, the praetor would receive a free copy of that startling work. There was a strong sense that the magistrate and the informer were old colleagues. They had obviously been involved in many previous cases, and perhaps dined together privately. I distrusted them. There was nothing I could do. No point worrying that they fixed verdicts. Of course they did. It would be hard to prove - and anyone of my new rank who did expose it might as well sail into exile on the next tide.

  'What do you have to say for yourself?' the praetor asked Birdy. 'Can you tell me all this is untrue?'

  That was when Negrinus damned himself. 'Not all of it,' the witless flake muttered, sounding meek.

  'No point denying it, is there?' exclaimed Paccius. 'You realise I have been talking to your mother!'

  'Is she to be jointly charged?' the praetor interrupted.

  'No, sir. Calpurnia Cara is a woman of some years, who has lost her husband recently. We believe it would be unfeeling to inflict her with a court case. In return for her complete honesty, we are waiving the right to accuse her.'

  I heard myself choke with disbelief. The praetor merely shrugged, as if forgiving highborn widows who had poisoned spineless husbands was an everyday courtesy.

  'Will she make a statement?'

  'Yes, sir,' said Paccius. Negrinus closed his eyes in defeat. 'I shall produce her written evidence that her son administered the poison to Metellus senior.'

  'Negrinus will deny it,' I said.

  The praetor gave me a sharp look. 'Well, of course he will, Falco! Paccius intends to show that he is lying.' Paccius gracefully thanked the praetor for stating his case.

  So if this came off and Negrinus was convicted, Silius Italicus would once again be able to grab compensation in the corruption case, because we were back with the angle that Metellus had not committed suicide. Any money that remained in possession of the Metellus family afterwards would be there to pay off Paccius, for his defence of Juliana and his attack on Negrinus - the remainder to be enjoyed by the heirs to the dead man's estate. I had no doubt now that Paccius was in league with Calpurnia in some way. Maybe her daughter or both daughters were involved too. My one-time joke that Paccius Africanus might be Calpurnia's lover now seemed less amusing. One thing was clear: Negrinus had been used, disowned - and now was to be unfeelingly dumped by his family.

  The story was still fantastic. I was still waiting for the praetor to dismiss the charge.

  'So you are in agreement with some of the facts,' he asked Birdy. 'Which ones?'

  'We did once discuss a plan such as Paccius described.' He was out of control. He must have had an education but nobody had taught him to use logic, even when his reputation and his life were at stake. At this rate, he would truss himself up and hobble single-handed into the arena full of lions, smiling a feeble apology. 'It was just after the trial verdict. My father didn't want to die, my mother was angry, she did suggest us taking matters into our own hands. I cannot deny the conversation happened; my ex-wife was there.' So that was why Saffia Donata had mentioned hemlock. 'But of course we didn't do it,' Negrinus whined.

  Too late. It had no force. He was damned.

  'No choice is available to me, I fear.' The praetor maintained the pretence that he and Negrinus were civilised equals. He pretended that he hated to see a fellow-senator brought to this. 'I have heard enough evidence to allow the case against you to proceed. Parricide is a crime we Romans hate above all others. A man of noble birth has been murdered in his own house. Shocking! I am prepared to summon the Senate to judge this.' Perhaps his voice softened. Certainly he stopped enunciating edicts temporarily: 'Metellus Negrinus, get a grip! You are in serious trouble; you need the best defender you can persuade to speak for you.' Ah, what a good sport. He wanted the trial to be fun for spectators!

  At the last-minute interjection, which was caused by guilt no doubt, Negrinus shuddered. His head came up and he looked the magistrate full in the face. 'What's the point, praetor? I am lost, and we all know it!' His voice became harsh. 'I stand here accused of murdering my father - and my own mother condemns me. I am an embarrassment. She just wants to get rid of me. I never had a chance,' he groaned. 'Never, never! Nobody will defend me. There will be no justice at this trial!'

  I could see why he felt that way. Worse followed. I had assumed that in view of the reported feud between Paccius Africanus and Silius Italicus, Silius would act in Negrinus' defence. But then, Silius also wanted him convicted, in order that his father's alleged suicide would be disproved. So it turned out that Silius and Paccius for once had ganged up.

  Even the praetor seemed slightly embarrassed as he explained the situation: 'I have another application for charges against you. Silius Italicus has petitioned too. I have decided it is not necessary for you to be present before me a second time when he states his evidence.' After this magnanimity, he turned to Paccius. 'We shall move to a pre-trial hearing in two days' time.' He looked back at Negrinus. In a routine manner, he explained: 'This will be where I decide who has the greatest claim to prosecute. I shall adjudicate on who can bring which charges, and perhaps make a pronouncement on how they are to divide the compensation if you are convicted.'

  Paccius looked put out. 'I claim the right of first speaking at the trial!'

  'Of course you do,' the praetor told him smoothly. 'And so of course does Silius!' Things were no longer going in Paccius' favour - though they were still firmly going against Birdy. He had no friends. I had come with him today, but had done so only to claim a bounty for producing him.

  The hearing was over. Paccius lingered for discussions with the magistrate. I won't say they were about to share a drink and a laugh at Negrinus' expense - but a stagnant odour of connivance followed us through the spotless marble-floored corridors as I propelled the accused on our gloomy way out.

  'It's not over yet, man -'

  'Oh yes it is.' Bare resignation filled his voice, though he was quiet in a way he had not been last night or this morning. 'Falco, this was settled for me a long, long time ago!'

  He was not going to explain, I could see.

  'Look, Birdy; go home -'

  I stopped. He looked at me. He let out a brief hack of bitter mirth. 'Oh no!'

  I sighed. 'No.'

  Home was where somebody had almost certainly murdered his father, though as we stood on the praetor's doorstep, for the first time I did feel that it might not have been this ineffectual son who committed the crime. Home was where the mother was, who had devised that crime but who intended to condemn him for it.

  I had no choice now. Negrinus had lost all hope - and he had nowhere to go. I took him back again to my house. As we walked there, a heavy feeling descended that I was being sucked into a bottomless black pool in the isolated wastes of the Pontine Marshes.

  Still, that must be nothing to the mood of the man beside me.

  XVIII

  THE CAMILLUS brothers had little expert knowledge, but they had skills to deal with Negrinus: they became lads about town together, though on my advice they did not get him altogether drunk. We wanted him capable of speech. They took him up on to my roof terrace, where the night air grew extremely cold. They began drinking slowly, chatting about nothing as if the day's business was over. Since there were two of them, it was easy to let him imbibe more than they did, while appearing to match him. While he still felt fairly sober, they decided it was chilly, so they all trooped downstairs to a salon, where smoky braziers had created a good warm fug.

  Negrinus became drowsy. Justinus had actually fallen asleep when I decided to join them. We all lolled about with winecups pretty much unused on the table. I had a scroll, which I did not bother to read. Ael
ianus used a soft cushion in an endless pursuit of a small moth, ultimately fruitless because he could not be bothered to raise his backside far from his couch.

  It was quiet enough to hear the charcoal sizzling in the braziers. Somewhere in the distance baby Favonia was wailing. I kicked Justinus awake. 'How's Claudia, Quintus?' I added for Negrinus, 'His wife is about to pod.'

  'Nothing's happened,' Justinus answered primly. 'She's fed up. I'm nervous... Is yours born yet, Birdy?'

  Negrinus shook his head. 'I suppose not. I suppose somebody would tell me.'

  'Someone would call on you for maintenance!' Justinus assured him.

  'Dear Quintus is not even a father yet,' his brother marvelled lazily, lunging again at his moth. 'But he has learned the rules... You had a stepson, didn't you, Birdy? Do you think your two will get on with him?'

  'Of course they will!' Justinus interrupted, slurring his words gently. 'Their fathers are best friends, after all.'

  As we had hoped, Negrinus was ready to say more than usual. He was sitting on his couch, feet stretched out, staring at his shoes and soul-searching. 'I do love my daughter; I shall love the new one. They are my children... None of this is their fault.'

  We all murmured sympathetically.

  'They are very young,' Justinus soothed him. 'They needn't know anything about it until it's all long past.' He too stared at the floor. Aelianus was hugging the cushion, keeping quite still now. Since they started to work with me, I had taught them to be synchronised at least when playing with suspects. 'It's curious, isn't it?' Justinus then mused. 'Would you ever have seen this coming? When you were a child? Were you happy?'

  'Oh we were happy,' Negrinus answered miserably. 'We didn't know. I didn't know,' he repeated. We all assumed he meant the current legal matters were unforeseen. 'I want my children to be happy,' he maundered. 'Is that too much to ask?'

  We gravely assured him the hope was reasonable, then Justinus went out for a pee.

  Aelianus nodded after him. 'Problems with his wife. All going bad. Same as you.'

  Negrinus was drinking again. Aelianus leaned forward and gave him a refill, but neither of us took up our cups. A brazier spluttered and the flame sank. I closed it down and let the room grow darker. 'Not me,' said Birdy. 'Never went bad - it was bad all along, see. I was set up. No chance. Set upon and set up...' He slumped even more. 'But I didn't know anything then.'

  Was this the same thing he didn't know, something specific? Or was he just tipsily rambling?

  Justinus returned. He must have raced to the kitchen latrine and back, desperate to make sure he missed nothing. Aelianus shot him a look, in case he had made our confider lose the thread.

  'Who set you up then, Birdy?'

  'Somebody!' An adolescent retort. He sounded drunk, but not for the first time I experienced a feeling that this man was armoured unexpectedly. He looked around our group with a challenge, though his attitude was amiable. 'Now listen, you naughty fellows - this is my private life!' He collapsed again. 'Private life... A man has to have a private life, if he is to have a public life. Have to be married. I had to get married. So I married Saffia.'

  'Your best friend's wife?' I queried lightly.

  'My best friend!' he exclaimed. 'My worst friend too...' We were losing him. Suddenly he revived again. 'Tested!' he barked. 'Knew what she was like, you see.'

  'Were you happy with that?' Was Lutea, I wondered. If Lutea's marriage to Saffia had foundered for some reason, would he have wanted to see his friend pick up his departing wife? Or did Saffia actually fall for Negrinus first, so causing the Lutea marriage to fold? It seemed unlikely. Lutea would not have stayed on good terms with her.

  'I was happy!' Negrinus retorted expansively. 'She was very happy!'

  'But it's over now?' nudged Justinus gently.

  Negrinus stopped. Now we really had lost him. 'Everything is over,' he explained to us in a hollow voice. 'Everything is gone for me. I have nothing, I am nothing -'

  'Bear up! I was wondering where you can stay,' I said, sounding as helpful as possible. I had decided I could not bear him filling our house with his unhappiness and his lofty attitude. Not now I knew how much he drank. I would not be put under obligations by a weak willed aristocrat whose name was a Forum byword. It was always possible this man made a habit of dropping hemlock into the householder's dinner. 'What about your pal? Wouldn't Lutea give you houseroom for a while?'

  'No, I can't go there -' His tone was blank. He gave no reason; he was unaccountable to us. I resented the way we were treated like his slaves sometimes. He was in my winter salon; he was drinking my wine. He was making away with a lot of it too.

  Justinus pushed him. 'But he is your best friend!'

  When Birdy just shrugged, Aelianus asked rather pointedly, 'Don't you have any other friends?'

  At last he responded. 'Oh, I'll find someone,' Birdy agreed offhandedly.

  After a moment, Justinus came at him again, wickedly. 'Your ex-wife has a nice apartment. Lutea arranged it for her, apparently. You should see if he can find another for you!'

  Negrinus gave us a swift, rather bitter smile. He dismissed the suggestion without bothering to comment.

  'Have you and Lutea fallen out?' I asked him bluntly.

  'Oh no. Lutea loves me!' The reply was ambiguous. It was said with some feeling, but could be either truth or a flash of rueful irony. 'Don't worry,' he assured us (trying to make me feel bad). 'I'll move on. I'll find a lodging. I won't be in your way - or anyone's...' His misery, or the drink, overcame him again. 'Oh gods - what am I going to do? I have nothing - I don't even know who I am any more!'

  'No, no! Stop saying that,' urged Justinus, our young idealist 'Don't give in, if you are innocent. Defend yourself!'

  Negrinus looked around our group. Like a man falling off a ladder I saw the impact coming. 'I need someone to help me. I think you people should take on my defence.'

  We were all silent momentarily.

  It was Aelianus who spoke first, saving the situation for us all. Having a traditionalist on the staff grated sometimes, but freeing us from nonsense because the nonsense broke rules was a useful business tool. 'It is inappropriate for us. We don't do court cases. I'm sorry. We do not have defensive expertise.'

  Negrinus laughed. 'Oh I know that! But here you are, you see. I have nowhere else to turn. You have to look after me.'

  He stood up. Now he was being positive again. He was thirty years old, a senator, a curule aedile. He must have been in the army. He had held other posts in government. We were mere curs in his social entourage - and he was certain that in the end we would beg for scraps.

  He went off to bed. When he left us, we argued there for hours. He must have known we would. It grew too late for the Camilli to return to their father's house; they were still arguing together when they dragged themselves off to the room where Helena let them doss on guest beds if they stayed over. I had told them, there was no way we could take on pleading Birdy's defence. They had declaimed some high-flown concepts, such as justice demanded it. I had disparaged Justice and her foolish demands. We all felt trapped. The bastard had nailed us to the wall with our own consciences.

  'It's not just that he needs help.' Justinus glared at me. I understood his feelings; he had a wife and was about to be a father. He was sick of being reminded that his wife Claudia was an heiress; he wanted money of his own.

  'I know. Silius and Paccius are about to make a great deal out of this. So, if Birdy asks us, why shouldn't we have a share in the proceeds?'

  'I'm off to dream of cash boxes,' Aelianus muttered blatantly.

  I checked the house. Doused lamps. Fastened shutters. I looked in at my children, one feverishly hot under a tangle of bedcovers, one snoring, with dribble all over her pillow. I straightened limbs and quilts. Fine. I found Helena, in our room, also sleeping, her pose strangely like that of my elder daughter, though in fairness she was not dribbling. I tucked her arm under the bedspread. Lifted up a scroll she had
been annotating...