The Accusers

XLV

‘YOU MAY not want to hear this, Falco.'

`I'm low, lad. You can't make it worse.'

Petronius Longus was one of a long stream of visitors. Most were excited relatives, thrilled that I was in real trouble, trouble their neighbours had heard about. They had been barred by Helena. Petro was allowed in, though only because he said he had something to tell me about the Metellus case. He at least was not thrilled. He thought I was an idiot. Tangling with ex-consuls headed his list of untouchable social stupidities.

`Paccius was bound to turn on you.'

`Actually, my accuser works with Silius.'

‘- who works with Paccius! By the way, Falco, do you know you have people watching this place?'

He was right. I took a squint through a crack in the shutters. A couple of shady characters in bum-starver cloaks and woollen caps were lurking on the Embankment outside. It was too cold for them to be fishing in the Tiber. Incompetent burglars who were casing a house too openly? Clerks who wrote the Daily Gazette scandal page? Sidekicks of Silius, hoping to witness me march up to the Capitol and threaten the man who herded the geese? No chance. Earlier, I did consider telling the gabby gooseboy just how he had landed me in it – but I had been dissuaded by my level-headed wife.

`They are pretty obvious.'

`Want me to move them on?'

`No. Their masters will just send others.' Petronius did not ask me, what masters.

Helena came in to join us. I glanced at Petro, and we moved away from the window. Helena glanced at us suspiciously.

`Did you hear Marcus make his speech?'

Petronius sprawled on a couch, stretching his long limbs. Helena and he looked at one another, then at me, then they both beamed. `You and your mouth!' he commented, perhaps fondly.

Helena's smile faded slightly. `It all needed to be said, Lucius.'

`Well,' said Petro, drawling quietly, `our boy made a big impression.

I joined him on the couch. `You feel I should not have done it?' My best friend gazed at me. `You broke some rules today. I worry for you.' That was unlike him.

`If he wants to move among the big bad bastards,' Helena murmured, `I would rather see him break their rules and offend them, than become what they are.'

`Agreed. Nothing he said was safe – but nothing he said was wrong either.'

For some time then we all sat musing.

`So,' Helena asked Petro eventually, `Lucius, what is your news that affects the court case?' As if by chance, she went and straightened a window shutter, quickly glancing out to see what we had been looking at earlier.

Petronius massaged his scalp with both hands, then squeezed his fingers along his neck wearily. He watched Helena checking up on us. She spotted the observers. She shot me a glance of annoyance, but then came back and sat with us.

`Falco, I don't know if this is good or bad, but you need to know about it.'

I nudged him. `Cough up.'

`The lads in the Second Cohort have been following the news. It finally struck them that Metellus senior died in his house and the death may be unnatural. So somebody ought to have tortured the slaves.'

He was right: I did not know whether I was happy or not.

Whenever a free citizen – well, one of a rank the authorities admire – is murdered at home, the legal assumption is that his slaves may have done it. They are all automatically tortured, to find out. This is good in one way, because their evidence is then acceptable in court; slaves can only be court witnesses if they are speaking under torture. On the other hand, evidence extracted under torture has a large flaw: it is quite unreliable. `So nobody thought of it originally, because Calpurnia said the death was suicide and everyone believed her?'

`Nobody ever called the vigiles in. I can get you a sight of the report,' Petro offered. Then he pulled a prim face. `Of course, the Second are under their own pressure. I can't promise to show it to you before it reaches that bastard Paccius.'

`Well, thanks for trying.'

`What are friends for?'

I could hear small thundering feet. One of my children was heading my way. Nux was barking. Any moment now, the great orator full of lofty thoughts would have to crawl around the floor making a mess of the rag rugs.

`Have the Second actually started?' I enquired quickly.

Petro winced, as Julia burst in on us and flew at me. `Believe so.'

`Anything come out of it?' I coughed, from a prone position at floor level, with my daughter bouncing on my chest. I was thinking of putting her forward to the army as a new type of artillery. The dog was trying to kill my boot, even though I was wearing it. Helena pretended to think I liked it, and let them both carry on with their attack.

`The usual.' This would be confidential, but Petro trusted me. `Most swear they knew nothing about anything. One croaked that we should "Ask Perseus".'

`Door porter. I already know he's no good.'

`Missing. The Second are hunting him. No luck so far.'

`He's a sassy wretch – and leaning on the family -' It sounded as though the Second Cohort were working along lines I liked. Besides, my old friend was keeping an eye on them. `They could try for him in Lanuvium.'

`Yes, they've gone there looking.' Io! Things were moving fast. Suddenly it seemed too fast.

I grabbed Julia, holding her off me while she squealed and thrashed in ecstasy. I kicked feebly, failing to shake off Nux from my leg. `Who was the slave who pointed at Perseus?'

`Some kitchen greaseball.'

`Probably the doodle who gets to stand in when Perseus fancies a rest.. I assume they are pressing him for more?'

`We know our job!' Petro grinned. His face grew more serious. `Well, the Second seem to enjoy it too much. I'm sure they were careful – but the slave who talked is currently out of it.'

`Crazed?'

`Raving.’

`Oh really, Petronius!' Helena hated rough stuff. `Marcus knows about Perseus – there was no need to damage some innocent!'

I held Julia still, and hauled myself upright. `Can you ask them to be gentler if they ever tackle Perseus?'

Petro nodded, wordlessly.

`Try the steward,' I suggested, after a moment's thought. `I reckon he's ripe – and he would have ordered lunch that day.'

I liked the steward, but he had had his chance. He could have talked to me. Now he would have to take his chance with the heavy-handed Second Cohort.