possible of the people she loved well out of the way of trouble.
VI
it was at this dark moment and because of it- that Pa and I turned up that corpse his treasured builders had left behind.
Maia had gone to live on the Janiculan, swearing it was temporary (hating the whole of idea of moving in with our father). Her children were terrified; she herself was now desperate. Maia Favonia tried to give them all ordered lives. She stuck to normal mealtimes and bedtimes and since facilities were there, she insisted that her children were clean. Then little Rhea became hysterical every time she was led to the bath house. And eventually we smashed a hole through to the disgusting grave.
I knew what would happen.
As we recovered outside in the fresh air, Pa managed an aggravating prayer. 'Well, thank you, Jove! You have given me a son in a useful profession Marcus, I rely on you to sort this.' He did not need to tell me he had no intention of paying fees.
I stalked off, telling him to send for the vi giles so he just had a slave fetch Petronius. I watched my crony curiously to see how he would approach it. 'Geminus, stick this one up your arse.' Good lad! 'It's no use asking me. The vi giles only deal with crud inside the city boundary. Call in the Urban Cohorts. Give those sleepy wastrels something that stinks.'
'Oh come on, boys,' whined Pa. 'Don't wish the bloody Urbans on me…'
He had a point. I felt us weakening. The three Urban Cohorts were the inferior rump of the Praetorian Guard. In theory they had a remit to solve serious crimes within a hundred-mile radius of Rome but their expertise (I mean their lack of it) made us weep. The Urbans were a bandits' charter. Towns in the Campagna and Etruria that were seeking law and order quietly made their own arrangements. Most could produce some ambitious magistrate who wanted to gain fame by cleaning pickpockets off streets. If not, they had the sophisticated alternative: many bandits are available for hire as protection, often at quite reasonable rates.
Petronius relented slightly. 'You'll have to dispose of the body, Geminus. You won't even get an undertaker to face this- I'll send up a man we use for clearing obscene remains. I warn you, he's not cheap.'
'The bill belongs to Gloccus and Cotta, surely,' I said. Then I had a rethink. 'Unless this is Gloccus or Cotta,..' A pleasing idea.
None of us wanted to go close enough to check. In fact, I would not have been able to identify our two useless contractors anyway. They believed in site management from a distance; I had cursed them for months, yet never seen either face to face. Their workforce had been depressing enough: the usual string of inadequates called Tiberius or Septimus who never knew what day it was all irritating drips who had problems with hangovers, backaches, girlfriends and dying grandfathers. The two things that united the labour force were feeble excuses and a complete lack of building skills.
If you think I sound harsh, just you sign a contract for extending your workshop space or refurbishing your dining room. Then wait and see.
Pa did eventually report the corpse to the Prefect of the Urban Cohorts. They wandered out to his house and first tried their usual trick: since the victims and presumed suspects were Romans, Pa should pass the problem to the city vi giles Pa stamped on that idea, and Petronius was there to state the case with real authority. Authority was a new concept to the Urbans, who caved in and borrowed lights. Inspecting the burial after nightfall was a great help.
Acting as if they had never seen a corpse before, they took note of the fact that a man (even they could tell that) had croaked and been dumped under a new mosaic floor. Petronius steered them into working out that someone stove in his head with a building tool. 'That might be a spade,' he explained rudely. 'Or a heavy pick, maybe.' The Urbans nodded wisely.
Their corpse was of average age, height, weight and appearance. As far as they knew, there were no missing persons reported with that description. They thought themselves very clever for noticing the dead man had been bearded and was barefoot.
'Someone stole his boots after they topped him,' suggested my father (it was the kind of thing he would have done).
The Urbans then stumbled about the garden in the dark, looking for clues. Surprise! They found nothing. The contractors had been gone a couple of weeks now. One thing they had done really well was to sweep clean the site before they left. 'That must have surprised you!' I commented to Pa. He laughed grimly. We knew now why they were so careful.
The dumb cohort boys caused themselves a lot of confusion when they discovered the tools Pa and I had been using earlier in his garden. After a bit of arguing, we managed to deflect them from that little byway, then they lost interest. They convinced themselves they knew who had killed the man. I pointed out that while somebody working on the bath house might be responsible, there was no proof. They saw me as a troublemaker, and ignored that. They sauntered off into the night, believing this one was easy.
Two days later a sad officer called on Pa at the Saepta Julia. By now the Urbans were greatly miffed that no solution had been dropped into their laps by the gods. All they knew was that Gloccus and Cotta had both left Rome. While this seemed to confirm their guilt, it meant no arrest. Were we surprised? What do you think?
The Urban Prefect wanted to clear up the case and the situation was even worse for me. Pa expected me to take over when the real I
investigators feebly dropped out.
Well, at least it could be a training exercise for my bright young assistants.
Young, yes; bright, perhaps. Assisting- no chance. I got more help from Nux. The lads were an unlikely pair for informing. Friends of mine thought they would quickly tire of me. I reckoned I would soon be dumping them.
Helena Justina had two well-brought-up patrician brothers: Aulus Camillus Aelianus and Quintus Camillus Justinus. When I first knew her, both had looked promising citizens Justinus, the younger, especially. He and I shared some foreign adventures; I liked him and although he could behave like an idiot, I was impressed by his abilities. I never expected to work much with him because he seemed cut out for higher things.
Aelianus, two years the elder, had been on the verge of standing for the Senate. To look respectable, he became betrothed to an heiress from Baetica, Claudia Rufma. A nice enough girl, with extremely nice financial assets. Then Justinus stupidly eloped with Claudia. They were in love when they ran off, though probably not now.
The abandoned Aelianus felt a fool and refused to go through with the Senate election. He had a point. The family had already survived a political crisis when an uncle tried some dangerous plotting. Now public scandal gathered again. All the chalk-white robes in Rome could not really make Aelianus look a pristine candidate, one with illustrious ancestors and blameless modern relatives.
Deprived of his expectations and in retaliation, while Justinus was away marrying the heiress in Spain, Aelianus wormed his way in with me. He knew Justinus was planning to come home to work with me, and hoped to steal the position. (What position? sceptics might well ask.)
Justinus reappeared in Rome early that spring, not long after my daughter Sosia Favonia was born. Claudia had married him. We had all thought she might lose interest (mainly because Justinus already had), but they were both too stubborn to admit their mistake. Her rich grandparents had bestowed some money on the pair, though Justinus told me privately it was not enough. He appealed to me for support, and since he had always been my favourite, I was stuck.
I did escape one hairy proposal: Helena had talked about Justinus and Claudia coming to live with us. But their first visit on their return to Rome coincided with one of our nursemaid's days off. While Hyspale was gallivanting on yet another shopping trip, Julia was racing about our new home's corridors with Nux. My dog thought being 'good with children' meant pretending to savage them, so that was noisy. Nux smelt too. Mico's Valentinianus must have rubbed bits of gherkin into her fur. At the same time, the baby who picked up tricks very quickly- had just learned how to turn herself blue with hysteria. Dear Favonia was well tended, but an unkind father might say babies
