Deadly Election

60

As Ennius supervised the departure of his still-silent mother, the group began breaking up. The sisters swooped for farewell kisses; it would have been impossible for a stranger to tell which women were on good terms, which not speaking to one another. The girl, Valentina, was passed among them to be kissed. Sisters kissed brothers-in-law and vice versa. Brothers-in-law shook hands. Only Ennius made any gesture of farewell to Julia Verecunda who, oddly enough, accepted her son’s embrace.

A temple attendant must have been waiting until the council finished. A messenger was led up, wanting to see Faustus. While they stepped aside, I had a quick word with Sextus Vibius, wishing him well for the election. He puffed out his cheeks, a relief of tension after the meeting. Then he grinned and asked teasingly, ‘Made his move yet?’

It was really too painful to answer, but somehow I managed to laugh back at him.

His wife whisked up, looking peeved. ‘Leave my husband alone!’ She spoke lightly enough, but with an undertone I did not like. Sextus and I had barely spoken. Any familiarity was on his side. I would much rather he had not teased me.

The others were leaving. Julia Optata took her husband away, giving him a little biff on the arm as they went. It looked playful, though not playful enough. Something about her action, and how he moved out of the way, perturbed me.

I stood waiting for Faustus, thinking.

After he finished with the messenger, he came to collect me; he raised his brows in enquiry because he could tell I was puzzling. ‘Tiberius, why would you call somebody a grain bag?’

‘A what?’

‘A “human grain bag”? In a context where it was definitely an insult.’

Everyone else had gone. Just the two of us now, we started to walk through the high colonnade, our shoes striking clops on the expensive marble slabs. I explained how Trebonius Fulvo had once dismissively listed out his rivals to me: a drunk, a wimp, a prig and a human grain bag. Dillius, Ennius, Gratus – and that grain bag was Vibius Marinus.

Troubled, Tiberius suggested an explanation: ‘Trebonius is a gym-frequenter. Apart from its agricultural meaning, sacks of grain are used for training boxers. They are hung up to be whacked, sufficiently firm to take meaningful practice punches, but with enough give in them not to cause physical harm.’

I sighed. ‘Oh dear. I have a horrible feeling. Julia Optata just showed extraordinary suspicion when all I was doing was chatting to Sextus.’

Faustus whistled through his teeth, very softly. He knew what I was suggesting. ‘Now I am worried too. Did we have it wrong? Is the violent one not Sextus but Julia? Does she keep losing her temper and battering him?’

‘Sextus vowed to you he never hits his wife, and I don’t think he lied. We ourselves have seen what happens with them.’ I said. ‘It felt extremely unpleasant. In front of us, Julia Optata snapped at Sextus over the children’s schooling; when he went off to talk to her, he looked very anxious. Now I think he may have been expecting violence.’

Tiberius explored the idea. ‘If this is true, did she behave in the same way when she was married to Callistus Primus?’

‘Primus wouldn’t stand for it. That might be why he divorced her, and so rapidly,’ I said. ‘And why the circumstances were hushed up.’

Faustus agreed. ‘It’s why her sister, who must have known the situation, took away the newborn baby, saying Julia Optata should not bring up a child – and why Primus insisted on custody.’

‘He only lets Julia Optata see Valentina with careful arrangements,’ I said. ‘Mind you, he never acknowledges any of this. He blanks all questions.’

‘Because he has to protect the child from scandal,’ explained Faustus. ‘That’s why reasons for the divorce have never surfaced and the battle for his daughter ended with a private settlement.’

‘Julia Optata’s mother knows,’ I decided. ‘Optata and Verecunda share the same traits. Not only a violent temper but unjust suspicion, especially where men are involved.’

We began to descend the long flight of steps out of the complex, which was steep. Tiberius offered me an arm; for safety I took it. He was still working out answers. ‘This is why Sextus and Julia rarely socialise. This is really why she left Rome when Sextus kept saying obliquely, “We agreed it is best.” Julia may genuinely not like crowds and she clearly wanted to look after her sister Pomponia. But the main reason was to ensure that Sextus never had to appear in the Forum showing the marks of domestic injury.’

We reached street level and walked on, round the back of the Palatine, towards the Circus Maximus.

‘This is extraordinary.’ Tiberius seemed baffled.

‘It happens.’ I lifted his hand, ruefully showing him the scars where I had once stabbed him.

‘Ah, you would not do that now.’ True. I could never hurt him; indeed, I would fight to protect him. ‘Besides, the difference is, Albiola, I was seriously in the wrong on that occasion. I would never offend you in that way nowadays.’

I nearly took him to task on what his uncle had said, but this was the wrong time. ‘Tiberius, even when a husband hits his wife, the situation tends to be well concealed. How much more so, when the wife is dangerous? A man, letting a woman batter him? It makes him no more than a slave. Think of the shame for Sextus. For her too, if she admits her temperament.’

Tiberius sighed gloomily. ‘We brought her back to him. What have we done, Albia?’

I had no answer.

As we carried on past the great curve of the Circus, we fell silent. When we spoke again, Tiberius changed the subject. He told me the messenger at the temple had come to say the vigiles had found a body. It sounded like Aspicius. The corpse had been dragged out of the Tiber that morning, an apparent drowning. If no one came forward to claim ownership, the man would be cremated at public expense and all record of him discreetly lost.

We agreed not to pursue the matter officially. Tiberius would tip the nod to Ennius, and let him decide whether to warn his sister Pomponia that she had probably lost her husband. We could never prove how Aspicius had ended up in the river, but we knew three substantial, capable men with detailed knowledge of the Tiber. They might, if they thought someone deserved it, get together on the riverbank with him. One might hold his feet, one take his arms, the third push his head underwater until he stopped kicking …

If that was what the Callisti had done to Aspicius, there was nothing to gain by accusing them and we agreed we could not blame them.

In a muted mood, we continued to walk down the long, far length of the Circus, up the hill on the crooked Vicus Publicius, then onwards to my building in Fountain Court. There, when I went up to my apartment, Tiberius followed. I let him come in with me. All the way home, I suppose I never looked at him. Indoors, he turned me so I was facing him. Hands on my shoulders he stared at me. He knew I was upset with him.

Tipping his head, he simply asked me, ‘What have I done?’