The Accusers

XLVI

NEXT DAY, I was still preparing for my ordeal with the praetor when Honorius turned up. He had done some smart work with Marponius, persuading him to call a full adjournment for today.

So Marponius was on our side. All the more reason to press on, and not to be held up by distractions like imagined impiety. Marponius might be with us now – but if we left him stewing too long, somebody would get to him. I had always distrusted Paccius and Silius, but now I had seen just how they worked. Marponius thought himself incorruptible. He wouldn't last five minutes.

Honorius loved my news about the Second examining slaves.

`This is excellent, Falco. Juries love a case where the slaves have been tortured. Some prosecutors deliberately try to drag in a treason charge so they can do it.' He looked thoughtful. `Actually, treason is an aspect we could introduce. Am I right that after the original corruption case, the Metelli made a clemency appeal to the Emperor?'

I nodded. `Where's the treason in that?'

`Vespasian refused them?'

`Yes.'

`And so they were angry… any chance you can find me a letter they wrote afterwards.'

`What letter?' Nobody had mentioned letters.

`Any letter. It needs suspicious marks alongside the Emperor's name. Well, no. It needs to be in a suspect's own hand, that's all. We can blur in some suspicious marks ourselves; I have a friend who can match ink -'

I laughed. `That's fraud, you idiot!'

`Evidence of suspicious conversations would be even better.'

`Honorius, compose yourself please. We are not that desperate.'

`Well how about a suspicious trip somewhere…?' He tailed off. Cheery thoughts frolicked behind those handsome eyes. `Did we ever find out why Birdy went off to Lanuvium?'

`Seeing the land agent, we think. Justinus is supposed to bring back details.' That reminded me: where was Camillus Justinus? His absence was becoming suspicious -too. I hoped he had not run into some voluptuous Lanuvium barmaid.

`Well anyway,' Honorius stopped speculating so wildly. 'Interrogating the slaves is good. Even if they never say anything.'

Helena was watching me, so I tackled Honorius: `Isn't that a waste of effort – not to mention cruelty?'

Honorius patted my arm. He had a very cold hand. `Falco, the point is to have it known that they were tortured.'

`So we need not really cause them pain?'

Honorius had sensed our antagonism. He replied rather carefully: `A few screams never come amiss. Rumours of the screaming soon reach the jury.'

All this time, Helena had been listening with a set expression. She was patiently holding my toga across her outstretched arms, ready to deposit the garment around me. The glint in her expression needed no interpretation. Her look was so hostile that a bronze lamp (a winged bootee, a tasteless Saturnalia gift I had not yet dumped) was shivering against its stand. Finally my tight-lipped female dresser had to speak: `Honorius, would it not be better to stop relying on supposition and cheap legal tricks – and gather a solid trail of evidence?'

Honorius looked startled. Helena glared at him. He decided he had things to do elsewhere.

`Oh by the way, Falco – this will tickle you. My old senior seems impressed by us… Silius carne to see me last night.' He blushed, already regretting this confession. `I can't imagine how he found me; I was at my ex-wife's house -'

`What,' I demanded curtly of the reminiscing lover, `did Silius want?'

`Oh… He tried to buy me off, that's all.' I kept my temper. `What did he offer?'

`My old position back.'

`You walked out, remember.'

`And a large cash welcome… Don't worry,' Honorius assured me quietly. He met my eye, looking confident. `It didn't work.'

I let him go.

Growling to herself, Helena draped me in my toga for the praetor. With care, she positioned the first end on my left shoulder, brought the bulk around me from behind, tucked in the front, placed the free end back over my shoulder, tidied the pleats neatly and checked that my hem lengths were not ludicrous. She kissed me, very gently. Only then did she comment.

`Next time, Silius will offer him more.'

Worse was awaiting me downstairs in my reception hall. The one person who would unfairly believe Procreus' impiety charge accosted me: `Well, you look awkward! Is that your brother's toga? He knew how to wear it.' If Paccius and Silius were trying to demoralise me, they were amateurs.

`Hello, Mother.'

`Will my troubles never end? – Oh, the shame of it. Now I hear that somehow I produced a blasphemer!'

`Ma, just tell your nosy friends: I have been incorrectly called a slacker by troublemaking slanderers.' I waved the tablet with the carefully concocted record of my movements. `Your boy is innocent.'

`We'll see!'

Once again I kept my temper valiantly. `Yes, we shall.'

I could not attend on the praetor while wound up with irritation. Besides, when I opened the door, I found rainstorms sweeping down the street. Helena made me wait while her litter was fetched to keep my precious toga dry. I stood on the step, feeling bitter, lashed by the weather anyway. Nux came and joined me, barking at the wind. `Stupid dog!' I picked her up to carry her in. Wet dog hairs adhered to my formal attire in unattractive clumps.

Helena tried to distract Ma. She was grieving that my father would love this disaster. She pretended he would say it was her fault. Helena suggested that they should blame Pa. That thought improved my mother's mood.

Meanwhile we had another visitor: Ursulina Prisca had come again to haunt us, hoping to bother Justinus. In his absence, her feelers had twitched out that Honorius was legal and she had detained him with the long story of her disputed inheritance. The short man's handsome face creased with apprehension as he tried to fend her off. Helena moved in smoothly. She retrieved the desperate Honorius, hooking a capable hand under his elbow and drawing him to safety.

`Honorius, Silius will not give up. He will increase his offer – and next time I dare say you will take it.'

`I told you -'

`I know.' Helena's smile was silken. `But you are a young idealist. You want to do good work, prosecuting bad people. The old fox will persuade you that work of such a high standard can only be found with him. Just remember what he really does – and why he is asking you.

Honorius may have hoped to hitch a lift with me, but Helena steered him straight outside and pushed him off into the storm by himself.

Now she turned her attention to Ursulina Prisca. `I am so glad to see you. I wanted to ask something. You were a midwife, weren't you?'

`Yes, she was!' cried Ma.

`I am trying to find a wet-nurse -'

`Not for our little Sosia!' Ma protested loudly. Even Ursulina sucked in breath. She must know we had a baby. She had been here enough times; she must have heard Sosia Favonia yelling.

`No, no; I'm still nursing her myself I wouldn't dream -' Helena realised that it sounded as if she wanted to abandon breast-feeding. (I knew she did, which added to her guilt.) The disapproval of two witchy crones fastened on her. To mention baby teeth and weaning on to porridge would just sound like special pleading. Helena battled on: `Marcus needs to interview a wet-nurse in connection with our case -' It was news to me, but I never argued with her hunches. `If I go, she may speak more freely…'

The concept of fooling some other woman pleased both Ma and our litigious client, Ursulina. Sisterhood was not their style. They were eager to help.

`Do you know Euboule's daughter?' Helena asked as they perked up. `I believe her name is Zeuko.'

Ursulina reeled back. She acted out horror like a creaking tragedian at the least popular day of some tired and dusty festival. `Far be it from me to insult people -'

`Oh go on!' urged my mother, wickedly. `These are bad women.'

`What's wrong with Zeuko?' frowned Helena. `Is she dirty? Lazy? Does she drink?'

`Oh she's competent, some would say.' `She has had high-ranking customers.’

'They are fools. Her mother's a legend and I wouldn't let Zeuko foster a dead rat.' Ursulina Prisca shuddered dramatically. `I can find her. But don't take your own along – you might never get the little darling back.'

Helena asked Ma to look after the baby and Julia – but Ma, playing against type, quickly claimed Albia could

No wonder I was an informer. Nosiness was in my blood.

The litter was brought. I was borne away on my hopeless errand. By now, the praetor would have a long queue of supplicants. And there were still dog hairs on my toga.