Saturnalia

IX

Had the soldiers not known more than was convenient, I might have taken them as an escort. I did try swinging into the room like a lad who had nothing on his conscience. Twenty years of practice should have taught me such a performance was ridiculous. My mother-in-law wanted somebody's liver chopped and fried – and the warm bread was already being sliced open to receive mine. She was accompanied by her daughter-in-law, Claudia Rufina, and if the rocks didn't finish me the whirlpool would.

The noble Julia Justa, wife of the most excellent Decimus Camillus Verns, was a Roman matron with the full rights of a mother of three children, an affiliate of the rites of the Good Goddess, the benefactor of a small temple in Bithynia and a confidante of one of the older, plainer, more prickly tempered Vestal Virgins. She ought to have expected a quiet life of luxury. Given that her husband tried to dodge his responsibilities, both her sons ignored suggestions to settle down respectably and her daughter had married an informer, Julia looked depressed. Only her little grandchildren gave her hope – and one of those was now at risk of being whisked away to Baetica by his angry mother.

Julia Justa owned outfits in all the colours in the fullers' dyeing range, but had chosen to come in crisp white robes that blazoned she was not in the mood for nonsense. These garments were held in place, as she swept up and down our salon, by exquisite jewellery. Julia's necklace, ear-rings and head-dress were heavy with Indian pearls of memorable size and lustrous good quality. Perhaps, I thought, this was an early Saturnalia gift. Probably, then, the gift of her younger son's extremely wealthy wife, Claudia Rufina. She was the only one in the family with real money, and the Camilli – though diffident people -were desperate to keep her married to their son.

Julia was venomous and sleek. Claudia enjoyed her wrath. While Julia prowled, Claudia sat very, very still. Claudia – aflame in saffron – had swapped her own favourite heavy emeralds for enough gold chains to shackle a complete set of galley-slaves. Clearly she wished her absent husband Justinus could be set to rowing on a trireme bench, under the lash of a very sadistic overseer.

'Ah Marcus! You have bothered to return!' Useless for me to say I had been working. I could not admit what I was working on, in any case. I had a nasty feeling they might know.

I managed to nip in close enough to plant a kiss half an inch From the mother-in-law's well-groomed cheek, but abandoned greeting Claudia. She was a tall girl with a habit of leaning back to look at people down her long nose. Justinus was also tall, so whenever they quarrelled they were able to do it eye to eye in a satisfactory manner; perhaps that had encouraged them. She had nice teeth and by the look of things would be gnashing them the minute her husband was named. 'You know where he is, of course?' Julia accused me. 'Dear Julia Justa, I have no idea.' She gave me a long, hard look, but was an intelligent woman and knew I did not waste effort on lies. Not with her. In a ghastly way, she trusted me; it made life very difficult. 'Quintus saw my father, Favonius, at the Saepta Julia this morning, I believe, but he has been nowhere near us here today or yesterday.' I turned to Claudia. 'Do you want to tell me about what happened?'

Pa had said Justinus hit her, but there were no visible wounds or bruises. I was familiar with the evidence of wife-beating, from many a sad soul I knew when I lived up on the Aventine and from plenty of battered witnesses I met through my work.

'We had a quarrel,' stated Claudia in a tight voice. 'As I am sure you know, Marcus Didius, this was nothing unusual.' With compressed lips, Claudia stared at me for a moment. She was a proud girl; it hurt her to say it openly. 'This was a particular quarrel?' 'Oh yes!' Oh dear! 'The woman Veleda is in Rome. Quintus is extremely agitated. I cannot bear it any longer. I told him if he attempts to see her, I will divorce him and return to Hispania Baetica. He has to choose. We cannot possibly continue as we are -'

Claudia was close to hysterical. I glanced at Julia Justa then suggested she go and help Helena deal with the soldiers. Julia glared but took the hint.

After she left, Claudia sat down on a couch, went into a short sobbing session which she ended of her own accord, then blew her nose, and sat up straight to discuss things. She had always been practical. It simplified the crises. 'How did Quintus come to hit you, Claudia?' Best to get this dealt with.

Claudia blushed. 'It was nothing. Just stupid. I was so furious and frustrated I must have accidentally knocked into him and he reacted instinctively. '

I had been told similar by many an abused woman, but in this case I believed her. Abused wives don't wriggle with embarrassment. 'You lashed out and belted him, he swiped you back, neither of you meant it? And then,' I said gently, 'both of you were terribly shocked. He couldn't cope, so he fled?' Claudia was staring at the ground. 'Look, I heard about it from my father. Quintus went to buy you a present to apologise – he was horrified and ashamed… ' Claudia was starting to look more cheerful. I didn't fool myself; she was probably just happy to hear of Quintus being ashamed. 'Was the baby in the room?' 'No.' 'Well, at least he didn't see the riot.' I gave her a grin. 'You're a dangerous woman! And don't blame Quintus; he has been taught by army trainers to react to an attack… It won't happen again. If it did, you would both have to worry – but it won't.' 'It certainly won't happen if he never comes home,' snarled Claudia. 'So you want him to come home?' I demanded pointedly. She fell silent. The narrow double doors of our pleasant turquoise salon slid apart quietly; Helena came in, closing the doors again behind her back and leaning against them momentarily. She had probably been listening outside.

I wondered where her mother was. The thought of the noble and elegant Julia Justa showing a group of inept soldiers where they could set up their camp beds was piquant. She would do it without a qualm. Julia was competent, much more competent than the lads would expect. I lived with her daughter, so I knew how the Camilli had been brought up.

There had been plenty of past affection between Helena and Claudia. Even so, Helena came to sit by me. I knew her loyalty was to her brother rather than his wife.

This was the predicament of the foreign bride, when things went wrong. Even if the people among whom she had made her new life were taking her part, she could never entirely trust them. My common origins made me different and I could sometimes comfort the girl, but Helena would always be one of the Camilli. Justinus had been in the wrong more than once, and he was going to make a fool of himself over Veleda if he possibly could, but his wife would struggle to find allies. She knew it too. She also knew it was her own fault she had married him, and if she gave him a divorce notice everyone else would blame her.

Claudia Rufina was isolated in Rome. Her family, such as it was, lived far away in Corduba. Her parents were long dead; her younger brother had been murdered; her grandparents were very elderly. I was not even sure the old couple were still alive. She had had one close friend out in Baetica, a young woman called Aelia Annaea, but Aelia had stayed at Corduba and also married. Although they presumably wrote to each other, their relationship must have altered. For one thing, having announced that she intended to marry Camillus Aelianus (whom her people at home all knew because he had had a posting there), Claudia Rufina might have felt some reserve about telling them later that she had switched to his brother, Camillus Justinus. At the time, Claudia thought Justinus was more handsome than his brother and more fun. That was before she discovered just how much fun lay in his past.

'Tell me what happened in Germany.' Claudia was addressing me. Even Helena turned towards me expectantly; Claudia immediately noted that.

'It's pretty straightforward.' I kept my voice level. 'The Emperor sent me on a mission to persuade two bitter opponents of Rome to make peace. They were Civilis, a one-eyed Batavian turncoat who had served in the legions, and Veleda, a priestess who was stirring up hatred against us from a remote location in the forest. She lived in Germania Libera, where Rome has no remit, so that part of our trip was extremely hazardous. Quintus came over with me, as you know. We got into trouble – bad trouble. Most of my party fell into the hands of Veleda's tribe, the Bructeri, who loathe Rome. They were going to kill us. Quintus and a couple of others, who had escaped their clutches, came to rescue us. While the warriors were feasting and working themselves up for the massacre, Quintus had to win the priestess' confidence. He argued our fate with her for many hours; eventually he persuaded her to let us go. I don't know – and frankly, I don't care – just how he won Veleda over. We owe him our lives. It was the most difficult and dangerous thing he had ever done, and it affected him deeply.' 'He fell in love with her.' Claudia was wooden. 'We were only there for a night.' 'That's long enough!' murmured Helena. I glanced at her, curious. 'He only spoke with the priestess, as far as I know.' Both women thought I was lying. Mentally, I stuck with the strict truth: Justinus never had confessed to me that he slept with Veleda. Of course we all made assumptions. His behaviour afterwards made everything damned obvious. Besides, we all wished we had had the chance… 'Whatever Quintus did, was in the service of Rome.' That pompous declaration won me no friends. 'Obviously Veleda is a charismatic woman – that is how she controlled her tribesmen. And Quintus must have admired her. We all did. For him, it was the big adventure of his youth. He will never forget. But Claudia, he then came home to Rome and settled down to a normal Roman life. He married you because he loved you -' His wronged wife's expression stopped me. Claudia Rufina was a fatalist. 'Loved me? I dare say he did – but it was never the same, was it? And now Veleda is in Rome.' I tried not to comment. Helena said quietly, 'Please Claudia, you must not mention her in public.'

Claudia's voice was dull. I had to bend forward to catch what she was saying. 'If this had never happened, we might have managed. If she had stayed in the forest, we might have been all right. I thought Quintus and I had remained friends through all our problems. We were bound to one another by love for our son.' Tears wound their way down her pale cheeks, unheeded. I hate to see a tough woman demoralised. 'It is no use,' she whispered. 'He has gone to her. I cannot hold him any longer. I have lost him now.'