Time To Depart

XXXIV

OH YOU REALLY made a mess of that!' Helena Justina was furious with me. `Is that how you normally conduct interviews?'

`Well, yes. With slight variations.'

`For instance, sometimes people throw you out right at the start?'

`Sometimes they never even let me in,' I admitted. `But it can be easier than that was.'

`Oh? Sometimes the women are all over you?'

`Naturally a handsome lad like me gets used to asking questions while fending off attention.'

`Don't fool yourself. She slaughtered you!' growled Helena.

`Oh I wouldn't say that. But what a hard-faced hag! At least she gave us the full flavour of life among the big-time crooks: lies, threats, and legal bullying.'

We were standing in the street outside Flaccida's house, having a warm set-to. I didn't mind. Arguing with Helena always cheered me up. So long as she thought I was worth fighting, life still held some hope.

`You leaned nothing from her, but you told her all the lines of enquiry you're pursuing – plus the fact you can't prove any of them! This is no good at all,' Helena continued crossly. `We'll have to go and see the daughter. We'll have to go fast, before the mother sends to warn her, and when we get there, leave the talking to me this time!'

Investigating with Helena as my partner was wonderful fun. I gave way gracefully and we marched off to see the girl.

Milvia and her gambling husband, Florius, lived pretty close to her parents' house. Perhaps that was how Balbinus had come to notice the young equestrian on whom he had foisted his daughter. At any event, this house was even larger and more elaborate than the one where Flaccida had seen us off. That probably meant we should expect an even more rapid dispatch here.

The husband was out. The girl saw us. She was about twenty, dark, sharp-faced, very pretty. Nothing at all like either of her parents. She was dressed in an extremely expensive gown of deep purple silk weave, with panels of silver-thread embroidery. None too practical for eating pears in a sloppy honey sauce, which was what she was doing. Somehow I doubted whether young Milvia had ever worried about a laundry bill. Her jeweller was more tasteful than her mother's; she was decked out in a complete set of antique Greek gold, including a neat little stephane on her crisply curled hair.

She saw us without any chaperone, so I could not check whether the maids who wielded the curling tongs in this mansion had to endure being thrashed if they misplaced a ringlet. Milvia had a bright, intelligent expression that suggested she could manage staff by guile. Or bribe them, anyway.

Taking charge firmly, Helena proffered a smile that would polish sideboards. `I do apologise for bothering you you must have lots to do. This is Didius Falco, who is conducting enquiries on behalf of an important committee. He'll be sitting here quietly while we have our chat, but you don't need to worry about him. It was thought that you might prefer to be interviewed by a woman, so that's why I'm here.'

`Anything I can do to help!' promised the bright-eyed, innocent daughter of gangsters, as if she was agreeing to assist in raising a subscription for a new shrine to Juno Matrona.

`Well, perhaps I can just make sure that I'm clear on one or two details… You're Balbina Milvia, daughter of Balbinus Pius and Cornella Flaccida, now married to Gaius Florius Oppicus?'

`Ooh that's me!' Apparently it was a great delight for little wide-eyes to find herself so well documented.

`Of course,' said Helena kindly, `your recent family difficulties are known. It must have been a shock to discover the serious charges against your father?'

The pretty face clouded; the sweet mouth pouted slightly. `I don't believe it,' Milvia protested. `It's all lies made up by wicked enemies.'

Helena spoke in a low, stern voice. `I wonder how you think your father made such enemies, though?' The girl shuddered. 'We cannot help our relations,' Helena sympathised. `And sometimes it's hardest for those who are closest to see the truth. I know this from personal experience.' Helena had had an uncle who dabbled in treason, not to mention the husband she divorced, who had been a maniacal social menace. `I understand that your father did ensure you had a perfect upbringing. I'm sure your husband thinks so too.'

`Florius and I are very close.'

`That's wonderful.' As this conversation proceeded I was more and more glad it was not me being obliged to maintain a sickly expression in the face of so much mush. I reckoned the girl was a complete sham. So long as she kept up the act consistently, it would be difficult to prove, however. `My dear, you're clearly a credit to Rome, and I'm sure,' smiled Helena serenely, `I can rely on you to help our enquiries…'

`Oh I'd love to be of use,' lilted the creditable citizen, stroking the lovely skirts that had been acquired for her with the proceeds of theft and extortion. `Unfortunately, I know nothing at all about anything.'

`You may know more than you think!' Helena informed her decisively. 'Let me just ask a few questions, and we'll see.'

`Oh whatever you want.'

I personally wanted to upend the innocent protester over a knobbly log and thrash a conscience into her. Helena restrained herself. `Let's think about your father's associates, Milvia. I'm sure you won't know this, but Nonnius Albius, who used to be your father's chief assistant, has just been found dead in rather ugly circumstances.'

`Oh goodness!'

`Have you seen Nonnius, or heard anything about him, since your father's trial?'

`Oh no!' burbled the dainty one.

`But you did know him?'

`He was a kind of uncle to me when I was small. I still can't believe the terrible things he's supposed to have done. And I can't believe he meant to go into court and make up those stories about Papa. His illness must have affected him. As soon as he did it, I knew neither Mama nor I could ever meet him again. Mama hates him.'

`Yes, she told us that.' Somehow Helena made it sound as if she thought Flaccida and Nonnius must have been having a torrid affair. Whether little Milvia was receptive to this much irony seemed doubtful, but I was enjoying myself. `Now,' Helena continued strictly, `I want to ask you about some of the other members of your father's business. What can you tell me about people called Little Icarus and – who else is there, Falco?'

`The Miller, Julius Caesar – no relation, I'm told – and a couple of thugs called Verdigris and the Fly.'

`Ooh, I don't know any of them!' I knew from Petro that Balbinus used to run his empire from home; the thugs I mentioned must have been in and out of his house all the time. Milvia was either lying, or very dim indeed. `They sound horrible -'

`They are,' I said tersely.

Milvia turned to Helena, looking flustered and seeking protection. `Tell him I don't have anything to do with such people.'

`She doesn't have anything to do with such people,' Helena told me dryly. Milvia had the grace to look worried that her interrogator was so-unmoved. Helena Justina possessed natural politeness (when she chose to employ it). Underneath she was shrewd and tough. Normally it was me she liked to screw to the floor with the toughness; watching her tackle someone else made a pleasant change. I had to admit she was doing it well-even though the answers were disappointing. `Tell me now,' Helena continued relentlessly, `have you ever met a rather exotic businesswoman called Lalage?'

`I don't think so. What business is she in?'

`She keeps a brothel.' Helena's voice was calm.

`Oh no!' shrieked the shocked moppet. `I've never met anyone like that!'

`Neither have I,' said Helena reprovingly. `But one ought to be aware that such places and people exist.'

`Especially', I interjected, `when such places have funded one's education and stocked one's dowry chest! If she denies knowledge of rents from brothels, ask Balbina Milvia where she thinks her family's money came from?'

Helena gave Milvia a questioning look, and the girl muttered, `From some kind of trade, I suppose.'

`Very good. From selling stolen property, and percentages on prostitution.'

`Excuse me, Falco.' It was Helena's interview; I subsided quietly. `Is trading your husband's background?' Helena queried thoughtfully.

`I believe his father was a tax-farmer.'

I nearly burst out laughing. For the first time ever, I felt tax-farming was a clean occupation.

`And what does Florius do?' asked Helena.

`Oh Florius doesn't need to work.'

`That must be nice for him. How does he spend his time, Milvia?'

`Oh this and that. Whatever men do. I don't need to set spies on him!'

`Why? Don't you care?' I challenged her. `He might be with women.'

She blushed prettily. `I know he's not. He's socialising with his menfriends.'

`Any chance the menfriends he's so pally with might be criminals?'

`No.' Again. Milvia threw an anguished appeal at Helena, as if she hoped for protection from my unjust accusation. `Florius goes to the baths, and the races, and he talks with people in the Forum, and looks at art in the porticoes -'

`Nice!' I said. It did not preclude a career in crime as well. All those activities were routine features of Roman life – and all could provide ideal cover for organising a major network in the underworld.

`So Florius is a man of the world,' mused Helena. `A man of affairs.' Florius kept his hands clean while he spent what his own forebears had earned and what his wife with the nasty relations had brought him in return for sharing his respectability. He sounded a typical middle-class parasite.

`Who is your father's heir?' I asked abruptly.

`Oh goodness, I have no idea!' Thanks, Milvia. Well up to standard.

At that point a slave entered bearing a salver on which were presented the young lady's mid-afternoon tipple and the dainty bronze cup she was to drink it from. Milvia handed over her empty fruit bowl (a heavy gilt item with finely chased bacchanal scenes). The maid poured her a dash of rich-looking red wine, headily infused with spices that clogged the strainer that filtered them. Cold water was added from a glass jug. We were invited to join her, but we both refused. Helena drank only with me; I never drank with other women when Helena was present. I also hated to have my wine thinned down so much.

`What a wonderful water jug!' cried Helena, who rarely commented on chattels when we visited strangers' homes.

'Do you like it?' Milvia grabbed it from the tray, poured the contents into a vase of flowers, and handed it to Helena. 'Do accept it as a present!'

The offer was so spontaneous I found it hard to think she was bribing us. The maid looked unsurprised. Balbina Milvia must be one of those girls who showered over-expensive gifts on everyone she came into contact with. The only child of people who moved in a restricted and secretive circle, a circle from which she herself had been shielded, she probably found it hard to make acquaintances. Her husband had little to do with her. Their social life was no doubt limited. If we could have believed she was genuinely ignorant of her father's world, we might have felt quite sorry for the girl.

Even I managed a smile as Helena turned to show me the beautiful jug. 'You're very generous. This is a fine piece. Did you buy it in Rome?'

'A family friend gave it to my husband.'

'Somebody with excellent taste. Who was that?' I kept my voice light as I took the article from Helena.

'Oh just a well-wisher. I don't know his name.'

'Won't your husband mind you giving it away?'

'He didn't seem to like it much. We haven't had it long,' replied Milvia.

About two days, I reckoned. I decided not to press the point until I had consulted Petronius, but sooner or later guileless little Milvia would have to supply the well-wisher's name. When Petro saw what she had handed over so gaily, he would probably want to search her house for more – and it would not be because he admired her choice of wineware.

What I was carefully holding was a delicate glass water jug in a translucent white, around which trailed fine spirals of dark blue; it had a twisted, twin-thread applied handle and a neat, pinched spout.

`Very fine,' Helena repeated. 'I should say that it was Syrian, wouldn't you, Marcus Didius?'

`Undoubtedly.' I could say more. Unless it was a double, this was one of the pieces Helena had bought at Tyre for my father; one taken in the Emporium raid.

I would not normally have permitted a stranger to make a present to Helena Justina. On this occasion there was no argument. We took the jug away with us.