Master and God

20

It was a quiet afternoon on the Via Flaminia. There were no big fires, last night’s prisoners had been processed, very little was happening at the vigiles station house. For Scorpus, things perked up when Gaius Vinius arrived. After ten years, he strolled in as if he had never been away. He had even arrested a criminal.

Jupiter, he looked different. Scorpus decided that some of the heavy expression was acting, in order to demoralise the suspect. Not all of it, mind. Talk about gaunt; talk about moody. Once, Vinius took care of himself physically, but now he had lost all his muscle tone.

Heavier these days, Scorpus had less hair but was still clipping it short. He was now chief investigator. The interrogation room had been swapped from the right to the left hand portico at the whim of the tribune, but they had moved the contents exactly: table, writing tools, officer’s seat, witness bench, map, nothing else to cloud the issue. Scorpus sat sideways to the door, the way Vinius had done. He, however, leaned back against the wall, with his boots on the table; that way, he could balance a scroll on his knees but whip it out of sight if the tribune strolled in when Scorpus was secretly reading an adventure novel.

Vinius had brought some frowsty businessman of the type Scorpus knew he loathed: pugnacious, oozing with cash that was probably ill-gained, flashing loud hand jewellery. At least seventy, he smelt of myrrh, garlic and unpleasant sexual habits.

Vinius shoved the man onto a stool. With their old teamwork, he and Scorpus settled either side so he could not see both simultaneously.

‘How’s life in the Praetorians?’ Scorpus asked Vinius, ignoring the suspect. Let him sweat.

‘I upped to the staff office.’

‘Sounds important! Top contacts?’ Scorpus, squinting at Orgilius, knew how to wind up pressure. ‘Thick with the Emperor?’

‘Oh best cronies!’

‘So what’s this bugger done?’

The ex-investigator clearly remembered how to insult witnesses: ‘He is a child-raping, slave-bribing, house-invading, wife-assaulting debauched pig.’

‘Nothing too bad then!’ Scorpus commented.

His manner bleak, Vinius started to interrogate Orgilius. ‘Your name is Orgilius. Ten years ago you were the paying paramour of Flavia Lachne, the mother of a young girl called Flavia Lucilla — Scorpus, you remember her.’ Scorpus had no idea what he was talking about. ‘Complainant. Poor little scared strip of a thing, all on her own, very immature for her age, which was about fifteen.’

‘She was just a slave,’ shrugged the suspect.

‘Wrong. She was a freedwoman’s free daughter. Unmarried — and there is absolutely no doubt that she had kept herself a virgin. Only a pervert would interfere with her.’

Orgilius protested, ‘She was over twelve!’ Twelve was the legal age of puberty and intercourse for girls.

‘Irrelevant,’ Vinius snapped. ‘Virgins and widows — the crime is stuprum. As censor-for-life, his favourite role of course, our beloved Emperor is very hot against stuprum. We cannot, in our civilised society, have respectable women interfered with by filth.’

Scorpus sucked air through his teeth. ‘Defilement? That’s nasty! Public crime. Comes under the Lex Julia on Adultery.’

‘Doesn’t every bloody thing?’ The Augustan laws on marriage, regenerated by Domitian, were a byword. ‘Do we still have the original case records?’

‘Unsolved rape of a virgin? Be in the archives,’ Scorpus lied. Over Orgilius’ head, he shot a look at the Praetorian, trying to rein him in, but Vinius remained unmoved. ‘Anyway, Flavia Lucilla can renew her statement — ’

‘Certainly not!’ Vinius was terse. ‘She won’t be put through that ordeal again. I myself will write up the charge for the Praetor, as her guardian.’ He added as an explanation, ‘I am connected with the family, known them for years.’ Both other men immediately assumed he slept with Lucilla. That, they could see, only made him more dangerous.

‘Respectable, you say?’ asked Scorpus, since the distinction mattered legally.

‘Oh give it up!’ whined Orgilius. ‘She’s just a bloody hairdresser.’

Vinius disagreed coldly: ‘Flavia Lucilla is a trusted servant of the imperial family. She tends Flavia Domitilla, and our August Empress, and she looked after the late, deified Julia. Any jury will warm to her reputation. She is a hardworking and popular young woman, whose integrity is widely admired.’

‘You obviously admire something!’ The businessman tried turning nasty himself: ‘You are not her bloody guardian. She is a married woman.’

‘Next charge!’ snarled Vinius. ‘Not content with ruining her childhood, Scorpus, I came across this piece of dirt attempting to rape her — in her own workplace, her safe haven. He can’t deny I witnessed the assault.’

‘Oho!’ Scorpus took out a notebook, then scribbled rapidly. ‘So once the husband hears this, the charge ratchets up to adultery-’

‘The husband is soggy seaweed,’ Vinius interrupted. ‘He won’t even use his right to beat the bastard up, or have him buggered by a bunch of slaves. But if he plays soft, we can charge Orgilius anyway then get the husband too-’

‘-For statutory pimping.’ Scorpus finished writing with a scratchy flourish. ‘The lovely “brothel-keeper” charge. Encouraging his wife to wander. I always enjoy that; scandal draws such a happy crowd in court! I hope you can afford a decent barrister,’ he told Orgilius. ‘We want a sensation, not a walkover.’

Vinius viciously grasped Orgilius by his left wrist. ‘Married yourself?’ He displayed a gold band that vied for attention on the wedding finger among shrieking gemstone signet rings; reluctantly the man assented. ‘And you’re loaded. Would that be your own money, or are you blessed with a rich wife?’

Scorpus joined in; he plucked at the luxurious nap of the suspect’s richly coloured tunic. ‘What are you? Seventies? Wrong time of life to give up your comforts, man. Your wife is not going to like this, not at all. If you’ve kept your habits secret, this will be a ghastly shock; more likely, she already knows, so a public revelation will be just the final straw. A wife can’t charge you with adultery, but she can ditch you, telling her reasons to everyone, and you’ll have to hand the dowry back, pronto. That’s normally the bit that hurts.’

Like all the landlords, thieves and arsonists that Gaius Vinius had reduced to water here in the past, Orgilius saw the game was up. ‘How much?’ he groaned. ‘How much to drop the charges?’

‘Not possible,’ sighed Scorpus. ‘Not for stuprum.’

‘I suppose it’s a domestic. They could settle out of court,’ Vinius speculated. The old colleagues were enjoying this. ‘Does the First still retain that pimply legal hack who knows the going rates for damages? Virginity must be sky-high.’

‘We use an informer,’ Scorpus confirmed. ‘He knows the value of everything; his livelihood depends on it. I’ll have to ask; I’ve no idea these days. We haven’t had a corrupted virgin in this office for absolutely ages.’

Probably never, and you know that, Gaius, my man!

I do; he doesn’t.

Vinius leaned down to Orgilius. ‘We live in a high moral climate.’

‘What?’

‘Domitian will jump on this. It’s not just informers looking for court pay-outs; Domitian wants the imperial share, to finance his building projects. You’re rich — so you’re good to prosecute. He’s fascinated by trials. I know all about it; the Guards have to escort him. He visits accusers, drops in at their homes the night before a trial, and nitpicks all the evidence with them, to ensure the correct verdict. This is the laudable side of our conduct-obsessed emperor. You are still foul, and Flavia Lucilla still looks like prey to you — but the ever-benevolent Germanicus, censor-for-life, has reasserted ancient rights for victims.’

Nothing was perfect. Without Vinius to defend her, she would have been just one more abused woman who suffered in silence. And Vinius was well aware that he had mixed motives. Even Scorpus suspected it. Orgilius was bloody certain. ‘What do I have to do then?’

Vinius helped himself to a note tablet. ‘I insist on disincentives. I can’t have you walking out of here, thinking you’ve got away with it.’ And planning to try again. ‘I shall make a witness statement, while you write a full confession. These documents will be locked in a vault — ’ What vault might that be? wondered Scorpus, as he gave Vinius another look that said he was going over the top — ‘guarantees of your good behaviour. As I said at the apartment, you are barred for life from ever approaching Flavia Lucilla.’

‘I am a friend of her husband-’

‘You can bloody well end that.’

‘Are you going to tell him?’

‘Scared that Nemurus might stab you in the street like Paris?’ Vinius finished writing fluently then looked up to find Scorpus with raised eyebrows. ‘Yes, it’s true. Domitian murdered Paris. I was there. He used my sword.’

‘ That one?’ Wide-eyed, Scorpus indicated Vinius’ sword, cosily tucked under his right arm.

‘Lost mine in Dacia. This is the replacement Domitian personally gave me.’

‘You are laying it on thick!’ Scorpus reproached him.

‘No. I am telling the truth.’

After eyeballing Vinius admiringly, Scorpus shoved writing equipment in front of Orgilius. ‘I’ll fetch a clerk to help you write your story. He can sign it as a witness.’ One more person who would know. ‘Adulterers can be held for twenty hours while the wronged husband gathers evidence, so we operate the same time limit. I’ll keep you in the cells tonight, for your own safety. That way, Vinius may calm down and not kill you. I’ll escort you to your banker tomorrow morning — then what about the cash, Vinius?’

‘Bring it to me at the Camp.’

‘Oh, so you can pocket it!’ Orgilius scoffed.

‘Do not judge me by your standards,’ Vinius replied. ‘Flavia Lucilla will not want to touch money that has come from you but I shall invest it for her.’ Scorpus and Vinius went outside to the portico. ‘Try to lock him up with a vomiting drunk.’

‘Always feasible.’ Scorpus had now remembered Lucilla. ‘This is the girlie who came calling just before the big fire? Pasty, timid, flat as a board? But you liked her.’

‘The one. She’s not flat now.’

‘You cheeky beggar! You picked her up?’

‘She was far too young.’

‘You thought she was sweet… All this time you’ve been seeing her? — Ten years, Gaius?’

‘No. It’s not like that.’

‘What is it then?’

Vinius sucked in air slowly then expelled a long, enormous sigh. ‘What is it? — Scorpus old friend, I don’t think I know.’

Scorpus clapped him on the shoulder. ‘Apparently, you still like her… You look a bit lean. Fancy a Frontinian for old times?’

‘I would, though another day, if you can wait. Thanks for your help, but I have to see a man about a dog.’

Lucilla was crouched on the edge of a wicker chair, huddling, her eyes dark with misery, when the Praetorian came in.

‘I brought food. Relax now. When I’ve seen you eat some supper, I’ll take you home if you want.’

‘Home?’ Lucilla felt bemused.

‘To your husband?’ Vinius suggested pointedly. ‘At his parents, in the Third Region?’

‘Not tonight…’ She could not face a quarrel with Nemurus. ‘What if Orgilius comes back?’

‘He won’t.’

‘Gaius, I think he will.’

‘No. All sorted.’

‘How?’

‘If that man ever bothers you, go to the vigiles; ask for Scorpus, who will put him on trial. The statements are all there; you won’t have to do anything. Orgilius is fixed and he knows it. But we’ll take a few precautions.’ Vinius, with parcels beneath one elbow, was making his way to the kitchen. ‘That slave has to be sold, for starters.’

‘He is just a child!’ Though full of gratitude for her rescue, Lucilla still hated Vinius being overbearing. ‘No second chance?’

Vinius glared. ‘You must not have a slave who can be bribed to put you in danger. Promise?’ Lucilla resisted mutely. ‘Listen to sense. I have to be at the Camp. I can’t always stroll in and save you.’

She smiled weakly in consent. Gaius went out to prepare the food; Lucilla jumped up and followed. ‘I have not thanked you-’

‘Forget it.’ Clearing the work space, he came on the multi-blade she had waved at Orgilius. ‘I don’t recommend facing off intruders with a folding spoon… We keep this where?’

‘Shelf.’ Lucilla indicated. Gaius clipped various parts closed and replaced it. ‘Would you care to define your mention of a “snittering” knife, Gaius?’

‘Snicketing. Absolutely no idea, darling. Some gadget that men with hobbies use for hours in their den, making awful Saturnalia presents for their rich great-uncles.’

After washing his hands at the tap, Gaius emptied two kinds of olives into bowls, placed a segmented loaf on a comport, ripped chicory and drizzled it with olive oil from Lucilla’s own long jar, pulling down dried herbs from a high hook. Lucilla had never seen him prepare food before, but she knew soldiers could cook. Everything was done fast and extremely neatly. ‘Being a man, I always buy too much when I’m shopping. All my wives have commented-’

Lucilla cut across the talk of wives. ‘How come the timely arrival today?’

She saw Gaius check. ‘Not sleeping. Dacia. Nightmares and flashbacks. It’s a known phenomenon. The Camp is noisy, so I thought I might manage better here.’ Lucilla started to speak, but he stopped her. ‘Don’t worry about me! What can we drink?’

‘Grape juice.’ She reached for cups from the shelf.

Gaius had a fresh mullet to fry; he was kindling the cooking fire, ready to heat oil in his square skillet. He had to use a flint to strike a spark, always a laborious process. Lucilla watched from the doorway; feeling herself sink back into gloom. He noticed she was so downcast: ‘Bear up. Could have been a disaster, but wasn’t.’

‘While you were out, I thought a lot about my life,’ Lucilla admitted, hugging a stole closer around her.

Gaius gave her a friendly poke with a spatula. ‘I don’t want to hear any grim stories.’ He filled a beaker, making the juice go further with water, and plonked it in front of her. ‘If you’re intending to snivel, let me do the talking.’

He poured for himself, with a larger proportion of juice. Lucilla reached for the flagon and levelled hers. Gaius tutted teasingly. The mood was light, a hint of how things could have been between them.

Lucilla studied him as he continued to work on the fire and the fish, while indeed talking. In profile, with the undamaged side of his face towards her, his original good looks were stunning. He spoke steadily and quietly, as if distracting a badly upset child with a story. He described his new work under the cornicularius. ‘It’s a big department, many clerks and orderlies. Registrars to maintain documents; copy scribes; accountants and debt collectors. I am curator for the fallen. When Guards have died in service, I secure their property and sort out their wills; sometimes I have to trace their families. I try to see to things properly; do a bit of digging to find out what the man was like. You have to be sensitive.’

‘You like it. You are good at it. Was it a promotion?’

Lucilla thought Gaius looked oddly shy. ‘Yes. Well, yes, it was.’

‘Recognition for Dacia?’

‘I’m no hero.’

‘You were to me today. And don’t forget, I know how brave you are: you left me your golden oakleaves, your civic crown.’

‘Oh that old thing. I hope you chucked it out. Come and have your food.’

They had just finished eating when knocking came at the door. Lucilla froze, flinching with fear again.

‘Sit tight.’ Gaius went. She heard men’s voices, clearly nothing untoward. Goodnights were called.

It was late. The apartment interior had grown dark. Gaius lit oil lamps before coming back. ‘Delivery.’

‘What?’ Lucilla’s face clouded with suspicion.

‘I thought you could do with a dear little heart-melting puppy. Handily, my brother had one. I bet you never owned a pet?’

‘No.’

‘Well, I had lots, naturally.’ He was talking to calm her again. ‘Motherless boy, two big brothers, doting female relatives; naturally I had pups, kittens, doves, goslings, a tame rat — my grandma would watch until I lost interest, then a sad demise would be arranged. Felix gave me a crocodile hatchling once. I didn’t take to the snapper at all. One of my aunts helped me carry him to the other side of Rome and we slipped him down a drain. He’s probably still somewhere in the sewers, eighty feet long and looking for revenge. I don’t hang about in a public latrine even now; just in case he pops up through the seat.’

His portrait of a happy family life that she had never had disturbed Lucilla more than Gaius realised. ‘Stop whiffling. You got me a dog?’

‘His name is Terror.’ Gaius acting blase failed to convince. ‘He is a guard dog. His father was a brutally expensive hunting hound from Britain, terrific, beautiful animal, ran like the west wind, breathtaking pedigree — ’

‘His mother?’ Lucilla asked astutely.

‘We suspect,’ Gaius admitted, ‘his father bollocksed an old fur muff. That was the only reason Fortunatus could afford him, because admittedly Terror is a bit of a mixed pickle. My brother suggests don’t make any sudden movements.’

‘That scares me.’

‘ You have to feed him. So he will be devoted and will protect you.’

‘What does he eat?’

‘Raw bloody meat.’ Lucilla’s face was a picture. Gaius pressed on. ‘And really big marrow bones, smelly ones are his favourite. Never, ever try to take one off him, not even if you gave it to him. Ready to meet him?’

‘I don’t want him.’

‘Yes, you do.’

Terror was medium-large, with chunky shoulders, little more than a puppy, still lanky-legged. A wide leather collar hung heavy on his neck, full of metal studs. He had a dribbly snout, long tangled fur, pointed ears and no visible confidence. Fortunatus had washed him, so now he smelled damp. He was sitting up on his own rush mat just inside the front door, looking sorry for himself.

‘He has been a night watchdog, guarding tools and materials on a construction site. Fortunatus has to get rid of him. Terror can’t bear to be left by himself, so he barks and whines all night and the neighbours complain. He should be fine with you for company.’

‘I do not want him.’

‘We covered that. He is protection. I paid for him and he’s no use to Fortunatus; I can’t take him back. You must call him “Terror” out of doors. Let people hear it. Let them feel scared.’

‘Does that mean — ’ Lucilla nervously patted her unwelcome pet, who shrank away from her — ‘he has some other name?’

Gaius looked coy. ‘I believe that in the privacy of a home environment, this dog likes to be called “Baby”.’

Baby was sitting on his tail, but managed to wag it when he heard his private name.

The dog lay down and went to sleep. Gaius began to fuss around providing the animal with a bowl of water, then generally clearing up. He said it was late; he told Lucilla she should get some rest too. ‘You’re safe. I’m here. Leave your door open so you can call if you are worried.’ Lucilla was not moving. ‘Go to bed, woman.’

‘Will you come too?’

‘Best not.’

She had made a horrible mistake. Lucilla had acknowledged her desire honestly, but now hot shame rushed over her. Vinius answered at once, as if he had been dreading her request. He was a picture of a man who had taken a decision to distance himself from a woman whose interest in him was becoming tiresome.

He stood well away from her, arms folded defensively. ‘Look. I just spent all afternoon pointing out morality laws to your mother’s despicable lover. So, beautiful creature, although of course I want to rip your clothes off and throw you over the cooking bench — if I did it, I would be the same as him.’

Lucilla remained still.

‘You are very sweet…’ Gaius at last seemed awkward. ‘I am honoured to be asked — and heartbroken that you look so disappointed.’

Gods, I sound pompous.

You must be very proud of that.

Head high but stricken, Lucilla spun off to her room.

She still half supposed he would weaken and come to her. Stoically, he did not do so. She had closed her door. Even so, she remained so alive to his movements she heard him pottering for some time — a long time, in fact — he chinked bowls, washed his face, checked door locks; he blew out lamps; she heard him speak to Terror. She reckoned he left his own bedroom door open, but she also knew he then lay chastely in the darkness alone.

All night neither of them slept much. Stentorian snores filled the apartment, but it was the watchdog.

Dawn came. Creeping out to use the facilities and run herself a cup of water, Lucilla had thought the Praetorian was gone already. But he must have been waiting until she moved about.

He was by the front door. ‘I’m off to the Camp.’ He paused. ‘Friends?’

‘Of course.’ That was a lie. She had humiliated herself so much she would never be in the same room again if she could help it.

He came up to her. Placed his hands upon her shoulders. Dropped a light farewell kiss onto her forehead, the way people did in families. Fatherly. Brotherly. Unbearably.

From the look in his eye, he then changed his mind and was about to kiss her in a different way. Lucilla was about to let him.

The dog went mad. His bark, as promised, was scarily loud. The moment he saw two people even mildly embracing, he jumped up in frenzied jealousy and put a stop to it.

‘Bad boy!’ Gaius was appalled, mostly at the dog suggesting he had devious motives. Terror wagged his tail, simply entranced to be spoken to.

‘Good doggie,’ murmured Lucilla. ‘Good Baby!’

Gaius left for the Camp.

Flavia Lucilla curled up back in her bed and thought about men’s fallibility.

She was profoundly aware of the legal position regarding adultery. As a hairdresser for ten years, her clients had often lamented aspects of the legislation which was, to put it mildly, one-sided.

A wife whose husband cheated on her could not prosecute him; she might divorce him and return to her father, but otherwise she had to endure the situation.

Women’s adultery was a crime, however. A man whose wife cheated on him not only could take legal action, he had to. There was a special court for sexual offences; it was always busy.

A betrayed husband must immediately divorce his wife. If he tolerated an affair he was guilty of encouragement and, as Scorpus had told Orgilius, he could be accused of pimping. If a husband delayed, after sixty days anyone could lay charges against the lover or the adulterous wife, as a public duty.

The law aimed to protect families from illegitimate children; hence the bias against loose women. Penalties were severe. An adulterous wife lost half her dowry and a third of her other property. A convicted woman could not remarry a free citizen. Her lover lost half his property and suffered public infamy, which meant he lost his rights to give evidence in court and to make or inherit from wills. Both the guilty wife and her lover would be exiled — though to separate islands. Nice touch! thought Lucilla grimly.

She buried her head under her pillow and thought about the added wrinkle that she knew applied to Vinius. A soldier who committed adultery with another man’s wife faced dishonourable discharge. All over the Empire soldiers were sleeping around with enthusiasm, but the law was there, if anyone ever made an accusation. A betrayed husband might. So, when Gaius Vinius made love to Lucilla at Alba even though he was married, it was tough on his wife Verania, yet legal. If he slept with Lucilla now she was married, it was a crime. Vinius could lose his position, its accrued financial rights, his good name, his legal standing, his ability to receive bequests, his capacity to remarry and, therefore, his right ever to have any legitimate children.

This, Lucilla bitterly decided, accounted for the man’s swift rejection of her gauche invitation.

She tried to forget what had happened, yet she went over the incident obsessively.

Vinius had no need of her. For sex he could freely associate with any prostitute, waitress, actress, gladiatrix or slave. If he wanted a regular arrangement, he could remarry.

Neither of them had mentioned Alba. Lucilla never supposed Vinius regretted that. Yet for him, it was a once-only. An opportunity to grasp, but a relationship to shun. He might still speak of Lucilla as attractive and beddable, but men always defined women in those terms. A man with a strong will, who guarded his position and was particularly careful about his money, would not repeat the experience, however powerfully he gave himself up to it at the time.

As he had done. Lucilla knew that. Gaius had been completely overcome, just as she was. If she had stayed in his arms the next morning, she could have asked him for anything.

But Alba would remain just a memory, and not solely because it happened five years ago. He could tick her off. A conquest. Wonderful, but done with. To sleep with Lucilla again was now far too risky.

Only one aspect puzzled her: his loyalty whenever she was in trouble, together with the effort he was prepared to expend on rescuing her. Of course he had saved her from Orgilius. As soon as he unlocked the front door, such a decent man was bound to. Then there was no obligation to involve himself; he could have, should have, passed the culprit to her husband for punishment. He need not have made Lucilla dinner; calmed her with his quiet conversation; left his door open because she was terrified; provided a watchdog, at his own cost.

Sometimes he seemed so affectionate. They had an odd friendship, and the only way Lucilla could make sense of it was to think Vinius was drawn to her, but that he did not want to be.

She had to avoid him. She considered giving up their shared apartment, but because of her lease on the ground floor shop, where Glyke and Calliste did so well now, a move would be too complicated; it was not worth doing just to escape her embarrassment.

The awkward incident, combined with unwelcome memories of her early years that Orgilius had brought back, made Lucilla reassess her current life. Men and their deficiencies had put her in a hard mood. She needed none of them. She would be better on her own, which she could tackle now with more confidence than when she was younger.

This, then, was when Flavia Lucilla took her decision to leave her husband.