The Silver Pigs

XLIII

I concealed my excitement, thinking fast.

"What do you think he had in mind, sir?"

"I have had men searching to find out."

"Anything there?"

"Nothing for us. For the lady, a lavish pantry of spices and enough perfume to bathe like Cleopatra every day of her life." He turned, with a changed tone. "Helena Justina, has this upset you? Pertinax had no family except his adoptive father; perhaps he retained affection from when you were his wife."

That did upset her. I sat still; it was not for me to tell her whether Pertinax felt affectionate or whether she should want him to.

Titus went on worrying her, while her startled brain spun.

"A traitor's goods are forfeit-but recognizing your assistance, my father wishes your legacy to stand. In due course, this gift will be released to you"

She was frowning. I would have liked to watch Helena demolish a Caesar, if only as a variation from demolishing me. Instead I advised sensibly, "Helena Justina, you ought to tell Titus Caesar now about the people who came to your husband's house, the ones we discussed at Massilia." Mentioning Massilia I tensed, trying not to think about the error I made at the inn. Helena received my encouragement as noncommittally as always.

Helena Justina repeated the story for Titus in her straightforward style. He demanded names; she stated her list. I remembered some of them this time, though they still meant nothing to me: Aufidius Crispus, Curtius Gordianus, Gordianus' brother Longinus, Faustus Ferentinus, Cornelius Gracilis…

Titus jumped for a notebook, making swift strokes with a stylus in rapid shorthand, omitting the bother or danger of calling in a secretary. He was famous for the speed of his own shorthand anyway.

While he studied the names I enquired, "Is it indiscreet to ask whether your brother was coerced?"

He answered me coldly, and without expression: "No material evidence implicates Domitian." He had been a barrister; it was a barrister's reply. Suddenly he became restless. "Do you know why I rushed home? Rumour!" he exploded. "I had attended the consecration of the Apis Bull at Memphis. I was crowned with a diadem it is part of the normal ritual so Rome decides I am setting myself up as Emperor in the East!"

"The word at my barber's this afternoon," I commented, "was that even your father had doubts!"

"Then your barber should have seen us both when I rushed into the Palace yesterday crying Father, here I am! As for my brother, in the civil war he nearly lost his life on the Capitol while the Temple of Jupiter burned over his head. My uncle, who would have advised him, had just been murdered by supporters of Vitellius. At eighteen, with no political experience, Domitian discovered himself representing the Emperor in Rome. It was completely unexpected. He made choices that were foolish, as he realizes now. No one can ask me to condemn my brother, simply because he is so young!"

I caught Helena's eye; neither of us spoke.

Titus massaged his forehead.

"What's the word at your barber's about this tangle, Falco?"

That your fainer hates disloyalty, but that he always listens to you. That while you were both at Alexandria, Vespasian lost his temper when he heard about your brother's intended foray into the German revolt against him, but you convinced him to be lenient with Domitian." Since he did not deny it I added cheerily, "You'll have spotted I choose my barber for his sharp information, sir!" Helena Justina glanced mournfully, I thought, at my lost curls; I tried not to look at her. "So what now, Caesar?"

Titus sighed. "My father has asked the Senate to award him a ceremonial Triumph. We shall celebrate the capture of Jerusalem in the grandest procession Rome has ever seen. If you have children, take them; they will view nothing like it in their lives again. It will be our gift to the city and I dare say in return the future of the Flavian dynasty is assured."

It was Helena who assessed the situation. "Your father's two grown sons are one of his attractions as Emperor," she remarked thoughtfully. "The Flavians are offering Rome long-term stability, so you and Domitian must both ride in the parade. Everything must appear harmonious"

Titus ducked that: "By the end of this week my father's position will be established. Falco, the word at my barber's is, neither the Praetorians nor my brother will cooperate now in opposing my father. These people will wish to run to earth and let bygones be done. Now I hold this list of names I'm inclined to let them run"

I gave him a long stare, then scoffed, "So you go to your barber for his cutting!"

Titus Caesar had a vigorous bunch of locks, snipped to look smart below his gilded wreath, but long enough to keep the handsome curl. I hate good-looking men, especially when they keep glancing at the woman who came with me.

"What does that mean, Falco?" Titus asked, not amused.

"On the strength of his information, sir, your barber's a villain."

"Falco!"

That was Helena, trying to save me from drowning again, but I careered on. "He's wrong for two reasons, as the fact that people felt it necessary to silence Pertinax should convince you." Titus quite mildly encouraged me to continue. "Caesar, neither you nor I can let these traitors go. Even with Triferus cheating them, they hold a handy baulk of Imperial silver, which your father needs. Another reason, with due respect, is a bright, golden, loyal, sixteen-year-old girl called Sosia Camillina."

Helena Justina was looking at me so steadily I felt odd. I stood my ground against them both.

Titus Caesar ran the fingers of both hands through his wellkept hair.

"You are perfectly right. My barber's a villain," he said.

He gazed at me for a moment. "People underestimate you, Falco." "People underrated Vespasian for sixty years!" "Fools still do. Let me tell you his instructions." They had tried to bamboozle me. Titus still wanted to shuffle me off and allow the case against Domitian to die quietly, but I noticed he had a speech ready in case the attempt should fail. He leaned forward earnestly.

"Omit my brother's name from your enquiries. Find the silver and the murderer of that innocent young girl. Most importantly, identify the man who planned all this."

I suggested increasing my rates; he decided that for the same enquiry they would pay the same. Always a fool for logic, I accepted it.

"But I cannot omit Domitian -"

"You must," Titus told me flatly.

Then the curtain behind us suddenly swung open. I began to twist round to investigate, when the person who had come in unannounced started whistling. With a shock, I recognized the tune.

It was a song about Vespasian; about Titus; about Berenice. Soldiers sang it with a slow, low, leery lurch at the end of the night. They sang it in bars and in brothels, with both envy and approval, but no soldier I had ever met would repeat it here. The words went:

Oh the old man smiled!

Then the young man smiled!

So the Queen of all the Jews

She really couldn't lose

All she had to do was choose When the old man, And the young man smiled!

Only one person would dare to whistle so outrageously in the presence of a Caesar: another Caesar. Vespasian was presiding over his banquet, so I knew who our rash visitor must be.

Domitian, Titus Caesar's younger brother: the imperial playboy who was implicated in our plot.