Deadly Election

41

I watched the children for a while, struck by how little impact their parents’ parting seemed to have. People will tell you very young children are resilient, though in my experience they feel things deeply. Frightened at what may happen if they say the wrong thing, they hide it. Of course, there are plenty of adults, too, who hope that not facing up to problems will make their pain go away.

There could be a very good reason why this boy and girl played so happily at the moment, why they had been exuberant the other day with their father, even though their mother was missing. When their parents were together, was there too much strain? Did they hate it? Children like their home to be peaceful and organised. Quarrels are frightening. Constant stress makes their lives dark and fearful.

‘And what about your grandchildren?’ I asked Vibia. I still wondered at Julia Optata for leaving them behind. She must have felt sure they were safe with her husband’s parents. In fact, I had myself seen that, whatever the wife’s position, the children seemed perfectly safe with Sextus.

‘Oh, I am used to looking after them,’ his mother replied breathlessly. ‘Young people today − they expect to land everything on Grandmama and Grandpapa, while they go about their own concerns. We never mind. We love having them. It keeps us young.’

That hoary old myth!

But there was no getting anything more out of Vibia: she made the excuse that her husband must be settled in his afternoon nap and left us, taking him.

Tiberius and I were silent while the slaves came to clear lunch.

I remained silent afterwards, fanning myself gently with one hand. Eventually he instigated a discussion by murmuring, ‘You don’t believe a word of it.’

I sighed. ‘He’s your friend. What do you think?’

‘I don’t want to believe it.’

I could not be hard on Tiberius. I merely said, ‘People never do.’

There was no strife between the two of us, even on this delicate subject. I knew what I thought about the situation and, even against his inclinations, Tiberius felt the same.

We sat on, quietly talking about other enquiries we had made that day. I reported on my two visits, to Trebonius and Primus. Faustus had been to see Arulenus, who stuck with the same story as his colleague: they had had no reason to attack Callistus Valens, and they had not done so. For their part, the Callisti had made aggressive legal moves to sue Arulenus for defamation and had also complained to the Senate that he offered threats of violence, in contravention of election rules. It had all gone quiet once Volusius Firmus stood down, so Arulenus was hoping to escape further trouble.

‘Collusion.’ I sniffed. ‘Exactly what Trebonius told me. We have a rare instance of two politicians agreeing on something!’

‘In order to further their own careers.’ Faustus was equally cynical.

He had also visited the wife of Niger. Her pompous agent now had his feet under the table, literally, and had made it impossible to re-interview her. He was using the ‘women must have guardians to speak for them’ throw of the dice. It found no favour with Faustus, I was glad to see.

‘How in Hades does that ridiculous fraud know what was said between the wife and her husband?’ he raged. ‘As far as I can gather, little was ever discussed at home − still, if I can ever manage a proper interview, there might be a useful detail to extract. Niger didn’t keep her entirely isolated. She certainly met this buffoon she is now employing.’

‘I want to ask her some time,’ I said, ‘if she knew another man who was seen at the auction talking to Niger. He bid on a statue. Intriguingly, he also fled without paying and has not been seen since.’

‘A ruse? A double ruse, if Niger concocted some plan with him?’

‘Not sure. They may have been mere acquaintances, who met that afternoon by chance. After all, Niger did not originally intend to default, and we know he was distraught when the Callisti changed their minds. Backing out damaged his reputation.’

Faustus winced. ‘Oh, I heard all about that again from the widow. She is not sufficiently prostrate with grief to stop her insulting the Callisti!’

‘I think she is wrong,’ I disagreed. ‘I am now seeing them as good sorts. The lost father seems to have been particularly well liked.’

At this juncture Sextus Vibius came home. He plumped himself down heavily on a seat, causing clouds of chalk dust to fly up. He seemed disgruntled.

To my surprise, Faustus at once tackled him, and head on. ‘What’s up? Let me guess – more hassle about your missing Julia?’

‘People can be such pigs.’ The words had force, yet Vibius spoke mildly.

‘Well, you have revealed a weakness,’ Faustus told him, none too sympathetically. ‘In politics, that is an invitation to attack. Look, we have to talk about this. It’s unacceptable that your rivals are harping on Julia Optata’s absence from Rome. They are making a really bad accusation about you, and how you are supposed to have caused her to go.’

‘Are they? What can that be?’ Vibius looked bewildered. Apparently he was one of those men who are wilfully blind. The more gossip about him became public knowledge, the less aware he appeared to be.

No politician can afford to be so obtuse. I was completely unused to it. All the men close to me were as bright as campaign medals. Father, uncles, and now Tiberius. Holding a conversation with them was like scuffling in a constant race to be first to the point. They might not agree with you, but they knew not only what you were saying but why you said it.

Either Sextus was dumb or he was hiding something.

‘Brace yourself,’ Faustus instructed bleakly. ‘People are saying Julia has left home in order to get away from you.’ His friend continued to look disingenuous. ‘All right, Sextus, I shall have to be blunt. People believe she has left you because you are violent.’

There was a silence. I stayed still, watching Vibius. He did not, like many violent men, instantly rage and deny it. He did not, like the clever ones, claim he could see why people might think that, then produce a slick, plausible explanation. He did not whine, thank the gods. Nor did he blame his wife for any behaviour of hers that had misled people.

Manlius Faustus held his gaze. His old friend looked straight back.

‘Vibius Marinus, please tell me you are not a wife-beater.’

Vibius spoke solemnly: ‘Manlius Faustus, I give you my word this is untrue.’

‘In that case, I am sorry to have raised it.’ Faustus was not letting up, however. I stayed out of the conversation. It sounded polite, yet must be painful. ‘I have a proposition then, my Sextus. We have to bring Julia Optata back to Rome.’

‘I can’t do that.’ Sextus was equally steady.

‘Either you do it,’ said Faustus, ‘or I can’t carry on as your mentor. I cannot and will not continue with a situation that is so pointlessly damaging to you.’

His friend leaned forwards on his couch indignantly. ‘I need you! You know the condition of my father. My mother is utterly loyal, but this is men’s work. I have no brothers or uncles. Where shall I turn, but to my oldest friend?’

‘Don’t blackmail me, please.’

‘Don’t you blackmail me!’

‘It’s not meant that way. This is what I must absolutely advise you.’

‘She agreed to go.’

‘Then she must agree to return.’

Vibius slumped back and looked glum.

‘What are you afraid of?’ I now asked him quietly. ‘How long has she been gone? When did you last hear from her?’ He looked grateful for my intervention, yet still said nothing. I risked more: ‘If you and Julia Optata have quarrelled, will you allow Tiberius and me to talk to her? … You would do that for him, wouldn’t you?’ I asked Tiberius.

Tiberius remained steely, but backed me up. ‘I am prepared to go out to see her, yes.’ Sextus was weakening. ‘You cannot leave Rome yourself, Sextus,’ he continued. ‘You’re a candidate and remaining in town is axiomatic. You should write her a letter. Ask her to come home. I shall go, taking your letter, and I shall speak to her on your behalf. You’re a good man and you ought to be elected. The Julia I have met will certainly see that.’

‘She understands!’ Sextus assured him.

‘Then I shall plead with her to come back to help you. If Albia is willing, I should take her along with me. She can address Julia woman-to-woman.’

‘I can do that,’ I agreed, despite surprise at being asked.

‘No time to waste, then. We’ll go tomorrow.’

I assumed that was in case Sextus changed his mind.