Deadly Election (27 page)

I thought an odd expression crossed his face. ‘There was a brief period of thaw once,’ Primus said, ‘which quickly ended. But Julia Laurentina became a loyal wife, to her mother’s intense irritation. She has been pregnant before, though sadly none survived. Should a child be born safely now, all connections with Verecunda will terminate. None of us would want her evil influence to affect an infant.’ He was hard and definite about that.

Completing my survey, I said I knew Primus himself had a daughter.

‘I do.’ He did not elaborate.

Nevertheless, I asked whether his daughter had been close to her missing grandfather. At that point, Callistus Primus had to choke back tears again. He told me that his daughter, Julia Valentina, had nearly gone to the country also. She and her grandfather were extremely close (she had been named after him) and she would have been company for him.

He found it ghastly to contemplate. If his young daughter had gone for this holiday, she would probably have suffered the same fate as Valens. Had the girl been travelling in the litter with her grandparent, she too might have ended up trussed with rope, with her frail body also shoved into the old strongbox. I recalled the inoffensive, normal thirteen-year-old I glimpsed on my last visit here, and could understand her father’s agitation.

I did wonder about the girl being yet another Julia, but I had already asked too many questions. Twiglets in the Callistus family tree hardly had bearing on my enquiries.

The two men I interviewed that morning, Primus and Trebonius, had similarities. They were of a type, typical plebeians. Both men ran businesses, with all the masculine bonhomie that brings, solid men, self-confident. They knew their work; they also knew it was necessary to act well, to impress colleagues and customers. I recognised that – I played the part myself, in a quieter, ‘more suitably female’ way. Trebonius Fulvo had carried himself well today, as ever; Callistus Primus was deflated, temporarily crushed by bereavement. I liked him more, more than I cared for Trebonius, and more than the first time I met him.

Before I left, I reminded Primus of that. ‘I came to ask you about the body, immediately after we found it. You said, “Why don’t you just shove the remains on a rubbish heap like anybody sensible?” I think now you understand why.’

Callistus Primus agreed sadly.

He said if I could help discover anything about his father’s fate, the family would be grateful. I promised to do all I could and to tell them anything I found out.

W
hat I should have done next was brace myself to invade the government office of the man who had come looking for me last night. If you call on somebody who is not there, always leave a message written on a tablet. Busy people like me need something physical to remind them to follow up. So I forgot all about him and instead I would nibble at details, retrace steps looking for missed clues, make mental checks on whether my deductions were logical – and, frankly, look for lunch.

People sneer, but I say that much of an informer’s useful work is done at lunch. You spend the morning struggling to add to your store of knowledge; when you relax over your chunk of bread and salad ingredients, bright new ideas flood into your brain. At least, they do until you spot that the kitchen-hand has left a slug on your lettuce.

Since I was on the Caelian, where everybody seemed to live, it made sense to stroll round to the Vibius house to see if Faustus was there. I was pleased to find he was. Sextus had gone out canvassing, but my friend was talking to his mother, Marcella Vibia, and his father, though as always the father made no contribution. They happened to be having lunch. I exclaimed innocently, ‘Oh, is it that time?’ at which I was politely invited to join them.

To begin with I kept quiet. Muted slaves served me a bowl of light food, then topped up everybody else. Today the two grandchildren were at home. Playing in a far corner of the courtyard, they were quite absorbed, though they ran over to us and were given filled flatbreads, which they carried back to their game.

Once the slaves had retreated, Faustus explained, ‘We were talking about Sextus’s wife just now.’ It was the turn of Marcella Vibia to look unhappy, though she did not try to change the subject. Faustus said, ‘Sextus is at the Forum, but heckling other people today. I was explaining that he is likely to garner more attacks about Julia Optata’s absence. Without going behind his back, I was asking his mother if she can explain the situation.’

He
was
going behind his friend’s back. Still, Sextus could hardly blame him.

‘We understand it’s difficult,’ I told Vibia, trying to sound sympathetic even though I thought it was high time people came clean. ‘I know there can be good explanations for everything. For instance, I was confused yesterday when Sextus told the crowd that Julia Optata is visiting a sister who is having a baby − only for their mother to declare categorically that none of her daughters is pregnant. Verecunda maintains she would be the first to know! However, only this morning – and please keep this between ourselves – I learned that Julia Laurentina, the wife of Volusius Firmus, is also expecting her first child. She hasn’t enlightened her mother either. Indeed, I was told if that child is safely born, the Callistus family will cut themselves off, so its grandmother can’t exert a baleful influence. So Julia Optata is looking after another sister in a similar position?’

‘I believe they would prefer me not to say,’ said Vibia, unintentionally confirming my suggestion. ‘Our Julia is cagy on the subject.’

‘They come from a troubled family.’ Faustus wanted to explore this.

‘Yes.’ Vibia would not exchange gossip.

‘Where the mother seems aggressively unkind,’ I put in.

‘Yes.’

Marcella Vibia distracted herself, tempting her husband with sliced eggs. He was gaunt, only toying with food. You could tell he had lost interest in eating, and probably most kinds of personal care. Left to himself, he would fade away from self-neglect. His poor wife spent her days struggling with the problem.

I exchanged a veiled glance with Faustus. He eased the situation by helping me to something, then I spooned more for Vibia.

‘You, too, must eat, Marcella Vibia.’

‘Oh, don’t worry about me.’

‘We do,’ insisted Tiberius.

‘I have to look after my husband here, don’t I, darling?’ The old man responded, though in a vague, smiling way; he was not following the conversation. ‘I can always find myself a little bite in quiet moments. So …’ Finally, to avoid talking about herself, Vibia addressed our real issue. ‘… what did you want to ask me about our Julia, Tiberius?’

‘I don’t mean to pry. I am simply trying to understand.’

‘Yes, yes.’

‘Tell me about Julia and Sextus. They always seemed perfectly happy to me.’

I nearly chortled that how married couples
seem
is never a true guide, but we were trying to tease out information so I only asked gravely, ‘Was it a marriage of love?’ As a newcomer I could ask that, whereas Tiberius was supposed to know.

‘I always thought so.’ Vibia paused strategically before carrying on, ‘When they first met, Julia absolutely doted on him. He was everything to her. There was never any question that he was the centre of her world – and, of course, Sextus returned her devotion, if in a more measured way.’ Another of those pauses. ‘She is a lovely, sweet girl. They have two wonderful little children.’

‘Doesn’t Julia have an older daughter?’ Faustus asked.

‘Yes.’ Vibia gave another short response, not looking at him.

‘So Julia Optata was married before?’

‘She was very young. It must have been one of those disastrous liaisons that should never have been arranged in the first place. Luckily it was not allowed to drag on; there was a very swift divorce.’

‘Who was she married to?’ I asked, ever the informer.

‘Oh, someone connected to her mother, as I understand it.’

‘Ah.’ Sometimes a family are so keen on burnishing a connection, they convince themselves a marriage will work even though the couple are incompatible. ‘It sounds as if sense prevailed. And where is her daughter?’

‘Lives with the father. Julia sees her occasionally. Now that things have settled down.’

‘Settled down?’ asked Faustus, lightly.

‘How old is the child?’ I queried, when there was no answer.

‘At least twelve, she must be. The marriage was some time ago.’

‘Have you met her?’

‘No, she has never been here.’ As I gazed at this most hospitable, reasonable of women, Vibia felt forced to add, ‘I would welcome her, but it would upset Julia. We don’t press it. Of course I would invite the girl – she ought to meet our two.’ She glanced over to them, still happily lost in their private play. ‘It seems hard, but we do what Julia wants.’

‘You like Julia?’

‘Julia?’ Vibia blinked. ‘Of course I do.’

It was Tiberius who laughed and teased, ‘Come, come, isn’t it traditional to have bad blood between a son’s wife and his mother?’

‘A great many things are considered traditional,’ replied the mother of Sextus Vibius, coolly. ‘Julia Verecunda certainly makes herself unpleasant – although I think she is like that with most people, relatives or not.’ She hit back. ‘How did you get along with your mother-in-law, Tiberius?’

‘Badly.’ It was his turn to be brief. ‘She died years ago. I won’t insult the woman.’ I wondered if he blamed Laia Gratiana’s mother for how Laia had turned out. ‘How does Julia Optata get on with her own mother?’

‘We have never seen much of the woman, luckily.’

‘Julia Verecunda was very harsh on Sextus in the Forum yesterday.’

‘Yes. I thought he was undeservedly polite to her. But that is how I brought him up,’ said his own proud mother.

I moved the conversation forward as diplomatically as possible. ‘Whatever happened in Julia’s first marriage, she and Sextus now have a good partnership? This is what puzzles us, Marcella Vibia. Neither Faustus nor I can grasp why, in that case, Julia Optata should prefer the company of a sister when, if she cares about Sextus, her place is at his side. If her sister really needs her, why not have the sister here?’

‘She wanted to be in the country,’ Vibia explained, sounding feeble.

‘Yet how can Julia have deserted Sextus at this time? How can he agree to it, apparently without minding?’

His mother trotted out the standard line: ‘All I know is, the trip to the country was by agreement. “For the best” was how they described it.’

Impatient with being put off, I decided to speak the unspeakable. ‘May I be honest? This is not easy to say … Somebody told me there are shocking rumours that your son beats his wife.’

‘Never!’ His mother seemed startled and shocked. She looked to her husband for help, but found none. ‘That is a terrible accusation, Flavia Albia. Tiberius, help me out!’

Before he could speak, I took the burden on myself: ‘I only want you to see why we are so concerned. Bad things are being said. Faustus and I accept it may be a mistake. But Julia Optata’s odd absence has given rise to cruel stories, fabrications by worthless opponents. You have seen the rival candidates; some are dreadful men. But, Marcella Vibia, as friends to your son, we have to ask about it.’

Marcella Vibia was an old-fashioned type, who tried to resist having to talk behind her son’s back. Frowning unhappily, she told us in a low voice, ‘The marriage is volatile, I have to admit.’

‘Oh?’ asked Tiberius, speaking mildly but fixing her.

‘They are both strong characters.’

‘You mean they
fight?
’ He sounded amazed. Presumably that was because of his long-term regard for Sextus.

‘Oh, I don’t know what goes on upstairs. I never interfere.’

At that, I smiled. ‘Mothers who claim to keep out of things are generally covering up!’

Sextus’s mother was still upset by the accusation against him. ‘He has never had a temper. I taught him to respect even his slaves – certainly his wife! I cannot believe people are suggesting that he hits her.’

‘Please tell me honestly,’ said Tiberius, quietly, ‘have you ever seen Julia looking bruised?’

Vibia’s eyes widened. ‘People have accidents. Sextus had a black eye once himself. They have moods. Sometimes awkward little stand-offs. One person leaves the house in a rage. Someone refuses to appear at breakfast. Excursions are cancelled unexpectedly, with no real reason given. It happens to everyone in married life. We never discuss it. Oh, I feel so disloyal, saying this!’ Finally, Vibia admitted reluctantly, ‘I know there have been a few tempests that I did not want to hear about. Now! Who wants to finish lunch with fruit?’

She made it clear she would say no more to us on the subject.

I
watched the children for a while, struck by how little impact their parents’ parting seemed to have. People will tell you very young children are resilient, though in my experience they feel things deeply. Frightened at what may happen if they say the wrong thing, they hide it. Of course, there are plenty of adults, too, who hope that not facing up to problems will make their pain go away.

There could be a very good reason why this boy and girl played so happily at the moment, why they had been exuberant the other day with their father, even though their mother was missing. When their parents were together, was there too much strain? Did they hate it? Children like their home to be peaceful and organised. Quarrels are frightening. Constant stress makes their lives dark and fearful.

‘And what about your grandchildren?’ I asked Vibia. I still wondered at Julia Optata for leaving them behind. She must have felt sure they were safe with her husband’s parents. In fact, I had myself seen that, whatever the wife’s position, the
children
seemed perfectly safe with Sextus.

‘Oh, I am used to looking after them,’ his mother replied breathlessly. ‘Young people today − they expect to land everything on Grandmama and Grandpapa, while they go about their own concerns. We never mind. We love having them. It keeps us young.’

That hoary old myth!