Death at Pompeia's Wedding (9 page)

I marvelled at what must have been the cost of all of this. Most of the work was of such quality it suggested workmen and materials specially brought from Rome. I realized for the first time what a compliment it was to have been asked to contribute a pavement here myself.

‘Citizen?’ I realized that dumpy Pulchra was waiting up ahead. I had forgotten for a moment that we were hurrying. As I hastened after her she gave a knowing smile. ‘Impressive, isn’t it?’

I grinned, and fell into step beside her as she led the way, under the watchful gaze of stony eyes. ‘Honorius must have spent a huge amount on all of this,’ I said. ‘I knew he was successful, but I didn’t know how much. And such works of art . . .’ I indicated a particularly handsome statue of Minerva in a niche.

She gave a small derisive snort. ‘It was his weakness – perhaps the only one. That Minerva you’re admiring is just the latest piece. But this was all done with my mistress’s dowry, of course. I thought everyone in Glevum was aware of that. It would have been a poor thing for him if she’d ever wanted a divorce, though – Minerva bless her – she showed no signs of it.’

I nodded. ‘Otherwise by law he would have had to give it back. Or most of it, at least – unless she was proved unfaithful or immoral in some way.’

That caused her some amusement. ‘Livia? Believe me, citizen, he’d never have found that kind of an excuse. I should know, I was with her all the time. She could not have concealed that sort of thing from me. In any case, he was very fond of her – insofar as that pompous icicle was fond of anyone.’

‘So, it was a fairly happy marriage, then?’

She paused an instant to raise her brows at me. ‘If you say so, citizen.’

‘Meaning that it wasn’t?’ I enquired.

She folded her arms across her ample breast. ‘Now, I didn’t say that, citizen. She was content enough. I don’t believe she loved him – who does, nowadays? – but, as I said, he was fond of her. He actually indulged her, in all kinds of ways – not like his former wife, from what I hear, poor thing. So if you are thinking that she might have murdered him, I suggest you think again. Besides,’ she added, with a wicked grin, ‘if she was going to poison anyone, it would have been Helena Domna, I am sure. That woman was the source of any discontent my mistress may have felt. But hush . . .’

She stood aside to let a bunch of women past – stout red-faced women in coarse working tunics, each carrying a covered basket. They gave off a faint smell of oil and herbs and myrrh and something more unpleasant which I could not quite define. Obviously these were funeral workers come to prepare the corpse, and Pulchra gave them a superstitiously wide berth, as if their very presence might imply a curse.

We watched them as they skirted round the court from the back gate and went into what was clearly the master’s sleeping room, since it had a fine door and pavement and a shuttered window too. They shut the door behind them and Pulchra looked furtively at me, then dashed to the fountain in the court to rinse her hands and face as if she were scrubbing off the dust of Dis itself.

‘You know what they say, citizen,’ she apologized, shaking the purifying water from her hands. ‘The funeral women are a warning that the fates are watching you.’

I was impatient of the interruption. I had been rather hoping she might say something more about the family. I have long believed that servants know more than anyone about what is happening in a house and what the personal undercurrents are – though very often they are too loyal to tell you anything.

I tried to prompt her. ‘Was Helena Domna actively unkind?’ I urged, as she walked slowly back to me.

Pulchra, however, had decided it was time to be discreet. ‘It is not my place to comment, citizen. I really couldn’t say.’ She wiped her fingers on the hem of her tunic as she spoke. ‘Perhaps you should ask my mistress that herself – I see she is coming from her sleeping quarters now.’

I looked across and saw that this was true. Livia was emerging from the room next door to where the funeral women had gone in. Clearly, like most Roman couples of high birth, she and her husband had adjoining rooms. Just as Helena Domna had done earlier, she too had changed into her mourning clothes: a stola and tunic of the deepest black, and a long dark veil to shroud her face and hair – though it was so finely woven that I could see through it from here. But where Helena Domna had looked crushed and old, the dark clothes simply emphasized how fair and attractive the young widow was. She was accompanied by a pair of junior female slaves.

She saw us and came hurrying across the court at once. ‘Citizen Libertus, you are still here, I see. Come to see Pompeia?’ She stretched out her hands, as if in greeting – though she looked a little startled when I took them in my own. Perhaps it was not fitting, given who we were, and the fact that we had never met until today.

I let them go, embarrassed. ‘Your mother-in-law has kindly given me permission,’ I replied. ‘And we are in haste. Pompeia has been given a sleeping draught, I understand.’

She gave a bitter laugh. ‘I would have suggested that you came to her myself, but I did not think that my mother-in-law would sanction it. Nor would I have given the girl a drug to make her sleep, but – until my husband’s will is read, at least, and there is a proper guardian – Helena Domna has the final say in what becomes of Pompeia, since she is the only living blood relative she has.’

I was in a hurry, but I could not lose the opportunity to ask, ‘Honorius has appointed a guardian for the girl? I heard that he was planning to amend his will.’

‘You heard?’ She looked surprised, then nodded. ‘I suppose it was no secret – all the household knew – and of course, there were seven outside witnesses as well. And I can see it might be relevant. It’s true, he had made another will quite recently, disinheriting his elder daughter and her heirs. He has made a good provision for Pompeia, I believe. I don’t know all the details – I am only a woman after all, and he rarely confided his business plans to me – but Honorius knew that I was carrying his child, and he assured me that we two were well provided for. And the house would revert to me in any ca—’ She broke off, interrupted by the sound of running feet, and the little page came hurtling down the colonnade from the direction of the passageway.

He was so intent upon his headlong dash, he almost rammed straight into us, but when he saw us he skidded to a halt. It looked as if he were about to turn and try to skirt around the other way, but at that moment the chief steward came pounding after him, his face as red as fire and already out of breath.

He gestured to the handmaidens who were still loitering at the rear. ‘Well, girls, don’t just stand there. Seize that page for me. The little wretch is trying to run off and escape.’

The girls looked startled and set off half-heartedly, but Livia had already reached out a hand and had him by the shoulder. The page did not resist.

‘A thousand pardons, madam,’ the steward panted, coming up and taking charge of the boy. ‘He’s got it in his head that he’s likely to be flogged. Afraid that Helena Domna is going to punish him, because he wasn’t at his master’s side – fetching those dratted walnuts from the store.’

Livia looked very gravely at the boy. ‘Of course, there will be no such punishment,’ she said. ‘As I was just saying to this citizen, I understand the house and contents have been left to me.’

‘So you will inherit most of the estate?’ I said. ‘All these works of art and everything?’

She smiled. ‘Not exactly that. It is left in trust for us – the child in particular – if we survive the birth. There is a legal guardian appointed until the child – if it is male – should grow to be of age in which case he inherits my husband’s whole estate. If it is a girl she shares it all with me. Pompeia has her own provision, which is separate.’

I glanced at the unhappy little page. ‘And Helena Domna?’

Livia gave the faintest of triumphant smiles, which the flimsy veil did not entirely obscure. ‘She is not named at all. In this will, anyway. My husband did not expect her to outlive him, I suppose, and she has a little money of her own in any case. Of course, I shall tell her she is welcome to stay here – until she can make more suitable arrangements somewhere else.’

I should not care to be a witness when that interview took place, I thought. ‘Is she aware of this arrangement?’

That little smile again, then she dropped her voice, as if the statues might be eavesdropping. ‘She will find out soon enough – when the will is given its public reading on the steps of the basilica. Of course, that won’t be till after the funeral – and the provisions won’t apply till then. A pity, or we might have had our legal guardian close the eyes. As it is, it will be the steward, I suppose.’ She nodded to the fellow, who bowed and left – still clutching the tunic collar of the little page.

‘Do you know who is nominated to be your guardian?’ I said, when they had gone. ‘It isn’t Marcus Septimus by any chance?’

She shrugged. ‘I don’t think so, citizen. Marcus may be residuary again, in case arrangements fail, but Honorius will have named a proper guardian, I’m sure. One of my husband’s council friends, I expect. Or it might be Gracchus possibly, since Honorius expected him to marry Pompeia, and that would make him part of the household, so to speak.’

Gracchus as guardian? After what I’d overheard about his debts? Having the management of a substantial legacy might make a considerable difference to him. Enough to make him think of homicide? I shook my head. Why would he be so anxious to marry Pompeia, I thought, if he could have the use of the money anyway?

‘He might still join the family – if I can clear her name,’ I said.

It was Pulchra who seized my meaning instantly. ‘And – excuse me mistress – he had better go at once, if he is hoping to do anything of the kind.’ She had put her hands upon her hips again and was almost chiding us – more like a
paedogogus
talking to a child than a handmaiden addressing the mistress of the house. ‘If Pompeia takes that potion she will be fast asleep and he won’t be able to get any sense from her.’

Livia laughed. ‘You will have to excuse Pulchra, citizen. She’s been with me many years – in fact she was my wet nurse when I was very small – she stayed to be my nursery maid and has served me ever since. But sometimes she forgets that I’m no longer two years old. Honorius has had her punished quite severely once or twice, and Helena Domna thinks that I should sell her on. But I would be lost without her.’ She patted Pulchra’s arm. ‘I really believe that she’d do anything for me.’

‘And can you wonder?’ Pulchra said. ‘You see how kind she is.’

Livia, however, ignored the flattery. ‘She is the only servant I brought with me when I wed – my husband already had a household full of slaves. Like those who helped me change into my widow’s clothes just now.’ She gestured to the two girl slaves, who were still loitering by Romulus and Remus at the rear.

Pulchra scowled. ‘And a poor job they have made of it, as well! I don’t know why you used them, madam, and didn’t wait for me. I’d only gone out to see the sweet cakes stored – because you asked me to.’

I was beginning to get anxious to get to Pompeia by now, but I could hardly interrupt Livia, who was saying, with a little laugh, ‘Pulchra, this is the same outfit that I wore to Helena Domna’s brother’s funeral last spring, and you seemed to think that it was satisfactory then. Helena Domna has her own, of course, though I shall need to arrange some mourning tunics for the slaves. I’ve sent the spare ones to the fullers to have them cleaned and dyed, while the sewing girls have orders, as soon as possible, to stitch dark bands round the hems of the ones that are in use. Your own included, Pulchra.’

Pulchra sniffed. ‘I’m perfectly capable of doing mine myself – and I’ll alter that stola for you at the same time. Later, perhaps, when I’ve put you into bed. I’m sorry to say it, mistress, but you really need it done – you don’t want everyone in Glevum guessing you’re with child, when otherwise it doesn’t need to show.’

Even the veil could not disguise that Livia had turned pink. ‘You see what I put up with, citizen? And I was the one who thought her beautiful and nicknamed her Pulchra when I was very small!’ She turned towards the slave and said with mock severity, ‘But, Pulchra, I am a Roman matron now, and a widowed one at that. If you don’t show a little more respect, I shall be obliged to do as Helena Domna says and put you up for sale.’

Pulchra had the grace to look utterly abashed. ‘I’m very sorry, mistress. I only thought . . .’ She stopped and then went on in an altered tone, ‘I’d better take this citizen to Pompeia’s room at once.’

Livia gave a nod. ‘Very well. Then come and find me in the atrium afterwards. I’ll want someone to go down to the forum later on to see the silversmith. I’ve had a lock of the dead man’s hair cut off, and I want a mourning locket that I can wear it in. Oh, and you may alter my stola later, I suppose, since you’re so anxious to. Though it will scarcely make any difference to the gossips, I’m afraid. The news that I am carrying a child will be all over Glevum once the will is read.’

The plump face fairly beamed. ‘I’ll do that, mistress. This way, citizen.’ And, moving the bar that they had pushed across the door, she led the way – at last – into Pompeia’s sleeping room.

Nine

The girl was lying face down on the bed, still in her pathetic wedding clothes, with one of her servants standing over her.

‘Come on Miss Pompeia, just a little sip. You don’t want to have them hold you down and force it down your throat.’

The slave girl held a cup which she was evidently hoping to put to her mistress’s lips. But Pompeia’s face was resolutely buried in the pillow which she was lying on. She was obviously crying, though she made no noise – the heaving of the saffron veil gave evidence of sobs.

‘It’s all right, Pompeia, it won’t do you any harm. Only make you sleep for just a little while. And it won’t taste nasty, I can promise that – not like the mixture that I gave you for your warts.’ The voice from the corner took me by surprise. I looked over and saw Maesta sitting on a stool. I had been so interested in the figure on the bed that I hadn’t noticed that she was in the locked room too.