Saturnalia Part 26

Slight embarra.s.sed pause.

'And Marcus darling, there is something I should tell you Olympus! What was this about? 'I know it is not what we planned--' Any fool could work this one out. 'You mean, the priests were upset because neither neither of you needed the expensive ritual baths and the votive-sellers? You are of you needed the expensive ritual baths and the votive-sellers? You are both both expecting?' expecting?'

'Yes. Me too, sweetheart.'

I kissed Helena ruefully. 'Life is getting expensive. If your deputation to the Emperor fails, I'll have to drag Veleda to the Capitol and strangle her myself We'll definitely need the mission fee.'

Pause.

'So are you pleased then, Marcus?'

We already had two children. Like every father who knows what a pregnancy means in short-term and long-term trouble, I had learned from practice how to lie well. 'Helena Justina, you do me an honour. I am delighted, of course.'

The senator sent his carriage to fetch our large group to the Camillus party. Praetorian Guards, looking nervous, did a stop and search, but only found Helena and me, our two over-excited children, and Nux, who bit a Guardsman. The Guards pretended they had a routine road block to monitor all traffic on the A ventine embankment, but I guessed that the Spy had ordered them to check anyone who left my house. Too bad they never noticed that a carrying chair with Albia and Veleda had crept out via the back exit while they were occupied with us, and sneaked the other way up the Embankment under cover of a pa.s.sing high-piled empty-amphora cart. (I can't bear to think how much it had cost to bribe the driver of that cart.) We arrived first at the Capena Gate. We were able to witness, therefore, the moment when the priestess was greeted by Julia Justa. She looked Veleda up and down. It was a simple gesture, but killing. I don't know how Veleda felt, but I had sweat crawling all over me.

'Welcome to our house.'

'Thank you.'

Claudia Rufina stood at her mother-in-law's shoulder, holding the baby in her arms. 'This is my son's wife.'

'We have met.'

'Welcome to our house,' repeated Claudia, making it sound like a death threat.

As we moved to the interior, towards sounds of music and revelry, Helena squeezed my arm and whispered, 'I'm starting to wonder if it was wise to bring Veleda for food and drink here!'

'Don't worry. Poisonings are my favourite kind of case. The descriptions of the death agony are always so colourful.'

Veleda already sported a spine taut as a bow and a rictus, though it had nothing to do with anything fatal in her food bowl. Claudia, who had been wearing her legendary emerald parure, disappeared and rejoined us after adding extra gold bangles.

Julia Justa ran a Saturnalia feast on surprisingly traditional lines. Her slaves were in charge. King for the Day was a terrified boot-boy with sticky-out ears and a regal display of pimples, who waved his mock sceptre bravely but never uttered a word. A battalion of slaves were lounging in the various dining rooms, including a few brave souls outside on the garden couches, where they were ceremonially served by the n.o.blewomen of the family. The senator and I were deputed to be wine-waiters, with muttered instructions to make sure anything consumed was well watered. I joked with Decimus that more slaves were here than I realised they owned; he said he had never seen half of them before either. As soon as he could do it surrept.i.tiously, he was planning the male householder's traditional role at this festival: hiding by himself in his study, while the merrymakers got on with it. I said I might join him; he said I was welcome, but only if I helped him barricade the door. We set about choosing which wine to take with us.

After a certain amount of enforced obedience to the slaves, who gave us impossible orders with a fine imperial manner, things relaxed (the slaves were now too busy eating their unaccustomed banquet to do much, and some were suffering biliousness because of the rich food). We managed to fill our own bowls from the laden comports. Julia and Favonia had learned their roles as inferiors and were scampering to and fro, delightedly trying to clean everybody's shoes for them. Claudia was showing what a wonderful maternal type she was by allowing my insistent daughters to keep running back with squeals of laughter to buff her gold sandals. Veleda watched snootily. 'I suppose even the girls among your tribes are so busy learning to be warriors, they have no childhood,' sneered Claudia. 'In Rome we would regard warmongering as a little unfeminine.'

'Your women sound rather feeble!' countered Veleda, venomously. 'Oh we Baeticans know how to fight back.'

'Surprising then, that you allowed your country to be overrun!' Helena and Julia separated them.

Great bowls of nuts were carried in by the senator. Then, as the almonds and hazelnuts began to fly, we were joined by an unintended visitor. The jollity was at its height, which made the sudden silence more dramatic. The happy slaves all settled back, thinking 'Wey-hey! This is where the real party starts!' 'Wey-hey! This is where the real party starts!'

In a doorway stood Quintus Camillus Justinus. He looked like any family's dopy son who had just come home and was slowly remembering that his mother had informed him three times that the Satumalia dinner was tonight. He lived here: the no-good son of the house--vague eyes, rumpled tunic that had not been changed for days, bristling chin left unshaven for even longer, floppy hair uncombed, slouching and relaxed.

From his expression I guessed that n.o.body had yet told him that Veleda would be here.

Surprisingly, he appeared to be sober. Sadly, both Claudia and Veleda had drunk quite a lot of wine.

LXII.

For a moment they all stood, in a stricken triangle. Justinus was horrified; the women took it better, naturally.

Justinus straightened up. Veleda had last seen him dressed in a keenly-buffed tribune's uniform, five years younger, and fresher in every way. Now she looked stunned by his casual domesticity. He addressed the priestess formally, as he had done once before, in the depths of her forest. Whatever he said was again lost on the rest of us, because he used her Celtic tongue.

'I speak your language!' Veleda inevitably rebuked him, with the same pride and the same contempt that she had used to our party then: the cosmopolitan barbarian, showing up the inglorious imperialists who could not even bother to communicate with those whose terrain they invaded. It was a good trick, but I was tired of this.

He was staring at her, taking in that she looked so much more worn by time and life, and the despair of capture. Veleda's eyes were hard. Pity was the last thing any woman needed from a handsome lover. Quintus must already have struggled to cope mentally with the fact that the love of his young life was doomed to ritual killing on the Capitol. Would he turn his back on the Roman world--and if so, would he do something really stupid? We could see it was a hard shock to find the priestess here in his home, swaying very slightly from Roman wine in the cup that she still gripped unknowingly--a small silver beaker that Justinus must have known since his childhood, from which he may have drunk numerous times himself. He had found her being entertained among his parents, his sister, his wife and young child. He was not to know--or not yet--just how strained relations.h.i.+ps had been.

In the silence, his baby son gurgled. 'Yes, it's Papa!' crooned Claudia, nuzzling his soft little head. I wondered if anyone had told Quintus yet that a brother or sister was expected. The little boy stretched his arms out towards his father. The traditional gold bulla his uncle Aelia.n.u.s had given him at birth swung against the soft wool of his tiny tunic. He was a delightful, highly attractive child.

At once Quintus, the great sentimentalist, turned and smiled. Claudia thumped home the battering ram. 'Let's not bother Papa.

Papa doesn't want us, darling!' Despite being tipsy, she produced one of her well-practised stalking exits, heading off for her kingdom, the nursery. Once there, some women would have burst into tears. Claudia Rufina had a st.u.r.dier spirit. I had talked her through past moments of decision and anxiety; I thought she would simply sit there by herself, quietly waiting to see whether Quintus came to her. If he did, she would be difficult--and who could blame her?--but as on previous occasions, Claudia would be open to negotiation. Despite being tipsy, she produced one of her well-practised stalking exits, heading off for her kingdom, the nursery. Once there, some women would have burst into tears. Claudia Rufina had a st.u.r.dier spirit. I had talked her through past moments of decision and anxiety; I thought she would simply sit there by herself, quietly waiting to see whether Quintus came to her. If he did, she would be difficult--and who could blame her?--but as on previous occasions, Claudia would be open to negotiation.

Veleda looked as though she knew now that Justinus was too inhibited to abandon his Roman heritage. It was clear what she thought of that. She tossed the silver cup on to the mosaic floor, then with a broody glare she too swept out to take refuge in another room.

Quintus was left facing up to his tragedy. This was no longer an issue of whom would he choose? Neither of them them wanted wanted him. him. Suddenly he was looking like a boy himself, who had lost his precious spinning-top to rougher, ruder characters who would not give it back. Suddenly he was looking like a boy himself, who had lost his precious spinning-top to rougher, ruder characters who would not give it back.

When the doomed man went first to follow Veleda, n.o.body stopped him. I moved closer to the double door he had closed behind them, but did not interrupt. Quintus stayed in the room for a short time only. When he came out, he looked agonised. His face was drawn with misery, perhaps even tear-stained. He was grasping a small object tightly in one hand; I could not see it, but I recognised the dangling strings: she had given him back the soapstone amulet.

When he reached me, he made an impatient movement, wanting me to step aside. I grasped him and embraced him anyway. Apart from Veleda, I was the only person present who had been with him in Germany, the only one who fully knew what she had meant to him. He had lost the love of his life not once, but twice. He had never got over it the first time; he probably imagined it would be even harder now. I knew better. He had had plenty of practice in bearing his loss. Grieving a second time is always easier.

Camillus Justinus was a young man. Now he knew that his fabulous lover was an older woman, growing ever older than his treasured golden memories. Whatever he had said to her, from the short time she spoke with him it was clear to all of us that she had cut short any grand protestations. What was there to say? He could plead that his wife was young and needy, a mother; perhaps Claudia had told him she was again pregnant. Veleda would see the situation. Justinus had lost his innocence--not that starry night in the signal tower in the forest, but in the instant when he chose the Roman life he had been born into: when he turned and smiled instinctively at Claudia Rufina and his little boy.

Perhaps Veleda had also noticed that when it came to women, Justinus was an idiot.

He continued resisting contact. I released him. Without a word to anyone, Justinus began his lonely walk to find his wife and tell her the hard decision that maturity and good manners had now thrust upon him. None of us envied the couple their coming struggle to regain some kind of friends.h.i.+p. But he was by nature easygoing and she was bitterly determined; it was feasible. For now at least, the Baetican emerald set would stay in Rome. Justinus and Claudia would get back together, although like all their reunions it would be bittersweet.

SATURNALIA, DAY SEVEN, THE FINAL DAY.

Ten days before the Kalends of January (23 December)

LXIII.

I know the historians will not record how the priestess Veleda's future came to be decided. I am debarred from revealing it, for the usual pretentious 'security reasons'.

What occurred in my own house is my own to reveal or conceal. In the circ.u.mstances, Helena said it was understandable that the priestess was bad-tempered at breakfast. She had been deeply withdrawn since the moment the previous evening when Helena kissed both of her parents gently, leaving them to oversee whatever transpired between her brother and Claudia. The senator and Julia were sympathetic in-laws. I myself was intending to suggest to Quintus that since Claudia did have so much money, it was time they acquired their own house where their tantrums--which would probably continue--could take their course, un.o.bserved by relatives.

We had gathered up the children, Albia and Veleda and come quietly home. Anacrites seemed to have called off his useless spies. This morning everyone rose promptly. The Vestal Virgin had sent word to Julia that she had arranged an appointment at the Palace. She had made it clear this had not been easy. Although Claudius Laeta had given me this day as my deadline, most imperial business was suspended during the festival.

When it was time to leave, the Virgin sent a carpentum carpentum--the twowheeled formal carriage used only by empresses and Vestal Virgins, which can be out on the streets even during the wheeled traffic curfew. This unusual arrival caused a traffic jam on the Embankment as all my neighbours rushed to gawk. Julia Justa had already been collected; she leaned out and indicated, by that s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g of the face all women understand, that we were not to show amazement--but she had after all brought Claudia to take part in the deputation. This made it a squash, since the carpentum carpentum is not designed to carry three. Clad in black from head to foot, Helena pushed her way in anyway. We had a chair ready, with Veleda inside but heavily curtained, which then followed the carriage to the Palatine. It was flanked by Justinus and me, and escorted by Clemens and the remaining legionaries, all in burnished gear and, as far as I had been able to ensure, minus hangovers. is not designed to carry three. Clad in black from head to foot, Helena pushed her way in anyway. We had a chair ready, with Veleda inside but heavily curtained, which then followed the carriage to the Palatine. It was flanked by Justinus and me, and escorted by Clemens and the remaining legionaries, all in burnished gear and, as far as I had been able to ensure, minus hangovers.

We had left Lentullus at my house. Helena and I now knew why her brother had appeared at dinner: Marcus Rubella had finally kicked them out of the vigiles' patrol house, so we had acquired the invalid. His condition was much improved, though he did have a setback when I had to tell him he would have to leave the army. Lentullus rallied, however, when he knew that 'the tribune' was offering him a home.

So that Clemens did not return to Germany short-handed, I had suggested that I should formally free the appalling Jacinthus (he would have to lie and say he was thirty), then we would take him before a recruiting officer (to lie again and say he was twenty), enrolling him in the legions. Jacinthus was thrilled. So was Galene, who had convinced Helena that she should be moved to the kitchen as replacement cook. Once again we would be lacking a nurse for the children, but we were used to that. Once again we would have a cook who couldn't cook--but at least Galene would be interested in learning.

All these issues had been debated and resolved that morning, while Helena and I tried not to disturb Veleda's gloomy reverie. By the time the Vestal Virgin sent transport, we had been running out of bright ideas. Veleda had been dumped by Quintus and was returning to captivity. She hated all of us.

At the Palace, the women stepped down from the carriage. Helena led her mother and Claudia in a stately procession, in through the great roofed Cryptoporticus, along many corridors, to an anteroom, where Julia Justa and her Vestal friend met and exchanged dry kisses. I noticed that Claudia had managed to wear quant.i.ties of jewels, which drew disapproval from the Vestal. Claudia tossed her head defiantly.

We had brought the carrying chair indoors with us. Still guarding it, we men remained outside in a corridor. I kissed Helena. She shook out her skirts, straightened her stole, firmed up the pins holding her veil on her fine hair and led the formal deputation into a major receiving room. We had been told Vespasian was on his usual festival pilgrimage to his grandmother's house at Cosa, where he had been brought up. We could have been lumbered with Domitian, but we were in luck: t.i.tus was imperial caretaker, dealing with emergencies. They were a long time. I was sweating. Flunkeys were anxious to depart for lunch. It was clear that ours was the only business being thrust before t.i.tus that morning. It might be dealt with briskly and casually. I cheered myself up thinking that if Berenice really had been sent packing to Judaea, t.i.tus would have no calls on him during the festival and might welcome work.

Rubbish, Falco. n.o.body welcomes work when all of Rome is playing. t.i.tus would rather play solo draughts all day than be tied to the office.

Just as I braced myself to barge past the flunkeys and invade the audience, things became even trickier. Word of what was afoot must have reached the Chief Spy's office. Suddenly Anacrites appeared and demanded that we unload the chair and give him Veleda.

At the same moment, ten-foot double doors with gilded handles silently swung open and the women reappeared. t.i.tus was graciously escorting them out. He always looked fetching in purple, and today was bedecked with an extra-large Saturnalia wreath. His hair, normally barbered to a crisp, had been allowed to grow s.h.a.ggy as a sign of being broken-hearted at the loss of Berenice, but even so a careful valet had spent time positioning the wreath fetchingly on the curly mop.

'You've lost the game--hand her over, Falco!' the Spy was commanding, as he dragged open the half-door and started pulling Veleda from the chair.

He was stopped in his tracks by the frigid tones of the elderly Vestal Virgin: 'Tiberius Claudius Anacrites--Unhand that woman immediately!'

t.i.tus Caesar had an eye for a beautiful foreigner. At once I saw him sizing up the priestess. As she recovered from the Spy's mauling, she gave a rapid a.s.sessment to the imperial prince who controlled her fate. In view of her reputation, t.i.tus thought better of flirting, though he inclined his head politely as far as a heavy wreath allowed. Perhaps Veleda looked more hopeful for the future--though I could see she thought t.i.tus a typical, s.e.xually voracious Roman male. Behind everyone's backs, Helena Justina winked at me.

Her mother had noticed, and smacked Helena's wrist playfully.

The Vestal was in charge. 'You are to be sent to a shrine at Ardea,' she told Veleda. Thirty miles from Rome, Ardea was close enough to supervise yet far enough away to be secure. I thought it had been used as an exile for political prisoners before. 'Your life will be spared. You will live out your days as a temple cleaner.'

Veleda bridled. Helena grasped her hand and muttered quickly, 'Do not despise the honour. Being housekeeper to the G.o.ds is a worthy occupation--the Vestal and her colleagues traditionally have that role. It is neither onerous nor demeaning.'

t.i.tus came forward. 'These three n.o.ble women--Helena Justina, Julia Justa and Claudia Rufina--have pleaded for you most movingly, Veleda. The Vestal Virgins, who see you as a sister, support them. Rome is pleased to accept their request for clemency.'

I stepped forward. I could see Claudius Laeta hovering. With Justinus at my elbow, I formally asked, 'Priestess, Helena Justina promised she would do her best for you. Do you accept these terms?

Will you live out your days at Ardea quietly?'

Veleda nodded her head, in silence.

Then Justinus and I formally completed my mission. We handed over Veleda into imperial control. Giving her up must have been as hard for Justinus as pleading had been for Claudia. I had insisted that Justinus accompany me, in his normal role as my a.s.sistant. I hoped this would reinstate him in imperial favour. Perhaps it would even impress his wife. We knew Claudia would make it a condition of their marriage that he never went anywhere near Ardea. As far as I ever knew, Quintus promised her, and he stuck to the promise.

When Veleda was taken away by the Guards, she kept her gaze cast down and did not look at him. Justinus stood quietly and sadly as she left. Only a cruel cynic would have pointed out that he had the air of a condemned man.

LXIV.

I had all of my sisters, and some of their husbands, and most of their children, in my house for the last night of the festival. We were also entertaining Zosime and the soldiers. To help Quintus and Claudia mend their marriage, we had asked them too. Helena had invited my mother, though fortunately she did not stay long; invited by me inadvertently, my father turned up, but he was late as usual. They must have pa.s.sed in the street. At least we escaped having their first confrontation in twenty years in our dining room. Who wants violent recriminations over the must-cake at a feast dedicated to reconciliation?

There were complaints. 'Everyone else had puppets or ghosts, Marcus. Couldn't you have made an effort to fix up some entertainment for the last night?' The troops had made plenty of mustcake, however. Nux thought it was wonderful and spent the day trying to steal pieces. We had a large log in a hearth, filling everywhere with smoke and threatening to b.u.m down the house, plus green boughs shedding pine needles and dust. My lamp-oil bill would take about three months to payoff. By a deft sleight of hand, I arranged that our King for the Day was my nephew Marius--a lad with a dry wit, who accepted the bean with a wink that suggested he knew he had been chosen on purpose for his discretion. He enjoyed the role, but kept the antics within acceptable limits.

It was a decent night. A night for generosity of spirit. Gifts appeared at appropriate moments, and n.o.body made too much fuss if their gift cost less than they had hoped. The men were allowed to come dressed as they liked; the women wore their newest jewels. Claudia was showing off the satyr ear-rings Quintus bought from Pa; Helena kept her more tasteful ones for another occasion so as not to upset Claudia. Everyone was comfortable. Everyone ate just enough, and drank only a little more than sensible. None of my family would ever remember it; there were no fights and n.o.body was sick on Junia's dog.

My dog Nux spent most of the time hiding in the little room that I was turning into a masculine study. As soon as I could, I joined her.

We were both there, doing nothing much, when Helena looked in, threw a nut at me, and said Petronius had just arrived. He had been invited with Maia, who was still being stand-offish, but had come with Ma and had stayed on. After he grabbed food and drink, Petro took me aside. He told me what he thought of my wine; it did not take long.

'It's leftover primitivum primitivum I cadged from Junia. And before you say it belongs to the cohort then, this will pay me back for the bribe I handed over to Rubella for help at the Quadrumatus house.' I cadged from Junia. And before you say it belongs to the cohort then, this will pay me back for the bribe I handed over to Rubella for help at the Quadrumatus house.'

'Oh we drank your cash up yesterday!' grinned Petro.

'That was for next year's party.'

'Nuts. As a bribe it didn't cover the aggravation that you've handed us at that villa.'

We settled in for a discussion. 'Look, Petro, it's all very well saying there's no crime. My view is that Mastarna let Scaeva die--genuine accident, maybe--but then Mastarna is unlikely to have decapitated the corpse. For one thing, if he did, he's just a hired man and the Quadrumati would have had no compunction in exposing him. No, they are trying to s.h.i.+eld one of their own. I am sure the freedwoman, Phryne, was malevolent enough to grab a knife and do the deed--and then she carried the head to the pool.' I remembered now, how she had looked when I asked whether weapons or treasure were found in the atrium pool with the head: Should there have been? Should there have been? 'Even if that's all she did, somebody needs to tell Quadrumatus to stop looking away and deal with the woman. I thought I might write to Rutilius Gallicus and make him responsible for stiffening up his so-called friend.' 'Even if that's all she did, somebody needs to tell Quadrumatus to stop looking away and deal with the woman. I thought I might write to Rutilius Gallicus and make him responsible for stiffening up his so-called friend.'

Petronius shrugged. 'Well you do that, and I'll get Rubella to ram home the message too.'

'I think there was more to it, Petro. I think that the poor flute boy saw what she did. The family covered it up but he was terrified of her. That's why he ran. When he was brought back to the villa, he may have become hysterical; Phryne killed the boy to keep him quiet.'

Petronius looked troubled. 'It's not her.' 'Alibi?'

'Her mistress vouched for her... Surprised? I'm still baffled by this flute boy death, Marcus. Scythax is being a menace over it--he is sticking to his theory, that the boy was killed like the street vagrants. The freedwoman can't have been constantlyout of the house at night, killing runaways. I've explained to Scythax that the boy was found dead by you, indoors, and it just doesn't fit. Scythax wants to do more work on the corpse, but the Quadrumati won't allow it--'

'I told you; they are covering. They don't want a scandal.' 'Well, Scythax is rambling. There can't possibly be a link between that villa's household and what's happening to runaway slaves on the streets of Rome. We're stuck, Marcus.'

I had reached the mellow stage by then. I told him we could think about the flautist tomorrow, when everything returned to normal. Most likely, since there was nowhere else to go with the case, we would have to forget about it.

The night went on. Pa and some of my sisters went home. Zosime returned to her temple. 'Will you continue your work with the homeless?' Helena asked her as we bade farewell.

'Oh yes. I've been doing it ever since I was first trained.' 'Well, good luck to you!'

A few favoured people remained and we would probably stay up for hours yet; it was the soldiers' last night with us and they were melancholy to be losing domestic comforts. I sat fairly cheerfully among my family, waiting for the next angrily slammed door, the next whining child with a sore throat, the next tipsy woman to tread on the dog's tail...

I thought I was cheerful, but melancholy thoughts came drifting through my brain. I found myself thinking about the runaway who had told me his life story on the Via Appia--the ex-architect with the long tale of woe. I had learned that man's whole history, yet never even knew his name. I would never see him again, never know his fate. He had been sickly and could by now have died of December cold. His run of bad luck could even have ended with a final gasp, strangled by the unknown killer who bent over sleepers in doorways and choked the life out of them. I wished I could have asked him if he had ever seen the killer at work.

Then, as the oil lamps flickered and wine wafted me halfway to oblivion, the truth hit me: Scythax was right. There was was a link between the villa and the dead runaway slaves. The flute boy may have been killed at Phryne's instigation yet it was not one of the household who took his life, but somebody who came in from outside. One of the doctors employed by the Quadrumati had let a patient bleed to death by accident. That was nothing; another was far more menacing. a link between the villa and the dead runaway slaves. The flute boy may have been killed at Phryne's instigation yet it was not one of the household who took his life, but somebody who came in from outside. One of the doctors employed by the Quadrumati had let a patient bleed to death by accident. That was nothing; another was far more menacing.

I ordered Justinus to stop smooching Claudia and come with me after Petronius, who had left to go on duty at the patrol house. Once there, I asked Petro if his famous lists of undesirables included doctors. Since medicine is akin to magic, he had a list all right. He would not let me see it, but he found the address we needed and we set off to apprehend the man whom I was now convinced must be the killer.

'He hates all slaves. I've heard him disparage them--Hades, he even sneered at me when he supposed I was one--and people have been telling me about his att.i.tude ever since I first met him. He follows the same broad Hippocratic doctrine as Zosime and the doctors at the Temple of AEsculapius. Zosime, or maybe it was someone else, told me a long time ago that he trained her. She calls the way they work, "softly, safely, sweetly"--but he has foully perverted that...'