Deadly Election

25

Vibius disconcerted me, though I would not complain to his friend.

It felt urgent to see the fabled Tiberius, that refined man who never in fact made his move, in order to discuss his candidate’s missing wife. Whatever had happened, any separation affected Vibius’s electoral claims to be a happily married man, with the right to take precedence over the unmarried in the voting order. Judging by pointed remarks people had already made (including that missile Laia Gratiana had launched), he was close to being exposed. Any rival who caught wind of this could make a complaint to the Senate: Vibius Marinus was faking his marital status.

Even if it was not his fault his wife had left him, he could only lose. In the minds of the public he had tried to mislead them, while senators would love to denounce a man of such unsound background.

My brain throbbed as I rode Patchy at his leisurely pace back towards the Aventine. I should myself have challenged Vibius straight away, but I wanted Faustus to take up the matter. Let him ask the precious Sextus what he was playing at.

I was assuming Faustus was unaware of the situation. I hated the thought that maybe he knew, maybe he had known all along, but had not told me. Would his relationship with his close childhood friend matter more to him than being honest with me? The hard truth was, I wanted to be his confidante. I had fooled myself I was.

If he did not know, Faustus would want to be told immediately.

Since he was working, he could be anywhere. Faustus never stayed in the magistrates’ office placidly signing documents. He interviewed wrongdoers personally and if there were none waiting to be dressed down when he arrived, he would go out and try to catch some. I went to the office, by the Temple of Ceres, but he had been and gone. Staff thought he was expected back, but they could not be certain and they would soon be closing up for the day. I left a message anyway that I needed to speak to him.

I could have walked around looking for him, but he moved surreptitiously when patrolling his patch. In the crowded Aventine alleys I could easily miss him. Anyway, by now he had probably gone to the baths, then on somewhere to dinner.

In the street outside, while I was pondering what to do, the tricksy goddess of fortune placed a chance in my way. Up in the Greek-style portico of the temple, the temple where she had made herself a prominent member of the élite matrons’ cult of Ceres, I spotted Laia Gratiana. Normally I would have headed off fast in another direction. But I had heard Laia seeming to hint that she knew the missing wife had gone away. When shall we be seeing your wife, Sextus Vibius? … Darling Julia!

She knew. The nasty piece of work knew his wife was never going to appear.

I called out to her and marched up the temple steps. At first, Laia had the advantage, able in the most literal way to look down on me. She had been standing between the heavy columns, enjoying a survey of her realm, the Aventine. Meanwhile the Hill went about its business untroubled by her scrutiny.

‘Why! Here is Manlius Faustus’s latest bit of rough!’

She must have spoken in this insulting way about the woman with whom Tiberius had had an affair. That had been a rich man’s wife, very beautiful, and I guessed that whatever her morals, she had actually been cultured. Still, low-minded people were always snobbish about me.

Refusing to look wounded, I reached the same level and addressed Laia briskly. ‘I don’t like you, you don’t like me, but I believe in your affection for your brother, so stop being vicious and hear me.’

‘What an outburst! What has my brother to do with you, Flavia Albia?’

‘Nothing. I wouldn’t take his dog out for a shit. But he is partnering Vibius Marinus in a joint election bid, and I suspect they have a status problem, so listen.’

A row of silver bracelets tickled with indignation along Laia’s arm. Chin up, I looked her straight in the face; she probably thought I should gaze down deferentially. She had good bones. Her face could have been pretty, given a lighter expression. She glared at me, a cold-blooded soul, who was a punishment to herself. She had never had to suffer as I had, yet she would never be as carefree as I was. Perhaps she saw that. Perhaps that was what annoyed her.

‘Laia Gratiana, do you know the wife of Sextus Vibius?’

‘I have met her.’

‘My impression is that none of his friends have had much opportunity to get to know her.’

‘Friends? My brother only knows Vibius through Manlius Faustus and his uncle. Tullius suggested him as our campaign partner.’ Laia was forcing herself to answer, only doing it because she was consumed with curiosity. ‘What is this about?’

‘You see it as I do,’ I suggested. ‘The non-appearance of the Vibius wife has become significant.’

‘It detracts from our campaign. She should be ashamed! He ought to be ashamed too, standing for election when his personal affairs are in disarray.’

‘What disarray?’

‘You are the informer. Find out.’

‘I will! Before I start, do you agree you share my suspicion about Julia?’

Laia sniffed theatrically. ‘It only takes intelligence, Flavia Albia. One does not have to be paid to see what is amiss.’

I wanted to poke her eyes out but I let it pass. ‘You think she has left him?’

‘Well, I do not suppose he has hit her over the head and buried her in the garden,’ sneered Laia.

Neither did I. Even so, to be quite sure, I might walk around the courtyard next time I visited, and look for disturbed patches of soil …‘What do you know about their relationship?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Faustus says she is obsessively devoted.’

‘Huh! What would Faustus know about devotion?’ More than Laia realised, in my experience. ‘Well, I have heard similar. But maybe Julia learned something that changed her.’

‘Do you know for sure there is something to discover?’

‘No, I do not mean that!’ Laia became angry, suddenly uneasy about what she was saying to me. Spreading scandalous suggestions was unworthy of a devotee of Ceres. People might think badly of her. (Vibius might sue for defamation.) ‘There can be many reasons why a marriage ends.’

‘So, you share my suspicion it has ended? I had a quiet look around their home and she is definitely not living there.’

‘Remind me never to let you into my house, Flavia Albia!’ I ignored it. ‘This could be a disaster,’ Laia grouched. ‘My poor brother is fatally stuck with the man now. How can they campaign as respectable people if Vibius is covering up his marital split?’

‘Is your brother married?’ I asked, guessing not.

‘No. His wife died. They had no children. But my brother will be making a happy new wedding announcement shortly. He will time it so his engagement appears in the Daily Gazette on the day names go forward to the Senate.’

‘Perfect. How romantic!’ How clinical. ‘I would like to find out where Vibius’s Julia has gone. Possibly I’ll visit her.’ If only I could pinpoint her whereabouts, I would certainly do so. ‘Do you know her parents? I assume she has returned to them. Indeed, I hope so. If she has run off with a lover, it will cause an even worse scandal. It certainly will if Julia – Julia what? – if Julia has fled with a gladiator or an actor.’

‘I met her. She was perfectly sweet and decent, not that type at all.’ Laia was oozing more snobbery.

‘Oh, no fun!’ I shot back, feeling wicked.

Laia looked frosty, which she did with aplomb. ‘Her name is Julia Optata.’

‘That’s a start. Do you know her parents?’

‘No idea.’

‘Not even their names?’

‘No.’ Laia had answered immediately, being truculent with me by instinct. ‘Oh, of course I do! Her mother, anyway, is Julia Verecunda.’

‘Verecunda?’ Where had I heard that name recently? Married to Verecunda’s daughter? Has, therefore, the mother-in-law from Hades? That woman is loathsome, and all her girls are Furies … Thank you, Claudius Laeta! While complaining about how the candidates were linked he had mentioned this woman: ‘Volusius Firmus, the man who dropped out, is married to a daughter of Verecunda too. So Julia Optata is his sister-in-law?’

‘I hadn’t considered that,’ said Laia, seeming to think it unimportant.

‘It matters in one way. My sources call Julia Verecunda a loathsome woman. So it’s more likely Julia Optata would take herself off to a consoling lover, rather than go home to her hideous mother.’

‘Well, that would be extremely selfish!’ snapped Laia. She judged people and events on a simple basis: their effect on Laia Gratiana.

‘And do you have any idea where I can find Julia’s mother?’

‘None at all. That’s your job, isn’t it?’

She had no more to tell me, so I left her at the temple and decided to go home.

It was a warm, still evening, bright but no longer oppressive. Happy voices everywhere. Sociable smells and noises. I made my way to Fountain Court, deposited Patchy and his boy at a local place with stabling, then took the scenic route through our fabulous mud and rancid puddles to the grim hulk of the Eagle Building. We needed an aedile to take an interest in our alley. It had never happened yet, and I saw no chance of it.

I called hello to Rodan. He belched a reply.

I walked to my bench, its stone seat warm and comfortable after a day baking in the July sun. If I had a proper apartment, with a courtyard, I could go in and fetch cushions. Snacks. Whoever lived there with me would come out and talk before dinner …

Fantasy, Albia.

Here, if I wanted any dinner, I would have to go upstairs into my apartment and hunt for stale leftovers. Deferring that unappealing moment, I became lost in thought. I had had an intensely busy day and realised how exhausted I was.

Drifting, I had a new idea descend on me. As I leaned back, with the last pale sun on my tired face, I suddenly made an extra connection. Verecundus, Verecunda. These matching names were too much of a coincidence. Claudius Laeta had not mentioned to Faustus and me that, as well as several daughters, the woman called Julia Verecunda had a son.

Now I saw it. Her son must be the ‘mother’s boy’ candidate. ‘Ennius’ must come from his father’s name, then Julia had called him after herself. Her driven, protective support suggested to me that he had no brothers. Mother’s special. Poor unlucky boy! He might easily have turned into a cruel, pathological serial killer. He could have gone from pulling the wings off birds in attic rooms to sexual torture and perverted murder … Instead he looked like a weakling who never stood up for himself.

So here was a curiosity: the forceful mother of the constantly smiling Ennius Verecundus was also the mother-in-law from Hades, one of whose daughters was the wife of Volusius Firmus, Domitian’s temporary favourite, while another was the absent wife of Vibius Marinus, our candidate. I wondered whether she had any other daughters and, if so, who were they?

I had no clue whether this would be important or, if so, how.

The day had been long enough for me. I went indoors, found a few scraps to eat; then, while the Aventine bars were still thronged with merrymakers and the blackbirds still singing challenges to one another in the few old groves of trees, I took myself to bed.

Alone again. Too tired to care.

Wrong, Albia. I cared.