woman? This lucky Saffia? A mistress of the deceased?'
`Daughter-in-law – divorced from Negrinus, however,' I stated. `One child from the marriage, plus a heavy pregnancy. She has a child from a previous marriage, so if she carries the latest safely, she gets rights as a mother of three.'
Fungibles nodded. `She will be hoping the baby survives. As for this curious will, her father-in-law must have taken quite a shine to her.'
`Why not make her the heir directly then? Aelianus asked. `Why this fideicommissum, dragging in Paccius?’
'That's a regular device,' exclaimed Fungibles. `I imagine we are talking about people in the top census bracket? At that level, large bequests to a woman are illegal. It is to keep important estates in male hands – and perhaps save potentially rich heiresses from predators.' I laughed. I was glad that Helena was not present; she would have been outraged. Fungibles smiled slightly and pressed on: `Your Metellus wished to favour Saffia Donata – for reasons we can only speculate – so he has instituted Paccius as his heir instead, to avoid the law. Paccius will have undertaken to pass on the money.'
`Instead of an illegal bequest, a perfectly legal gift?'
Fungibles was enjoying himself now. `Intriguingly, the fideicommissum makes no attempt to pass on Saffia's portion to the Negrinus children after her. I find that very odd.' Fungibles clearly disapproved. `Normally an arrangement would be made that if Saffia dies, the money then passes to her children; in fact, I would expect a deed of trust to be devised specifically with that intention. This wording here could leave the children in trouble. Saffia may make provision for them if she cares for them – but she may choose not to.'
`Negrinus is disinherited – so if their mother is hard-hearted, his children could be left with nothing?' Aelianus asked.
`Yes.'
`That's terrible. And it all seems dangerous. How binding is the fideicommissum? Will Saffia even get the money? Does Paccius have any real obligation to divert the money to her?'
`It is a promise,' said Fungibles. He was dry. `You know what happens to promises! If Paccius has a conscience, then of course he must pass it on.'
`He's an informer! What if he has no conscience?'
'Then Saffia could sue him in the trusts court. The fact that there is a trusts court tells you it is often needed.'
`Would she win?' I threw in, still smarting from the conscience jibe.
`She might. Let's not slander Saffia Donata over her father-in-law's fancy for her – but was he closer to her than to his own children – and his grandchildren?'
`I'd say Saffia was regarded as a nuisance by the whole Metellus family,' I said. `I'm not sure how far that goes back. She was first married to Negrinus' best friend, who is still very much on the scene.'
Fungibles looked up sharply, though he made no comment.
`What if Lutea – his name is Licinius Lutea – remarried Saffia?' I asked thoughtfully.
`He gets access to what Saffia gets -' Fungibles paused. `If she lets him.'
`All right.' Ideas were whirling in my head. I needed to think. `So what is your overall impression of this will, Scorpus?'
`I hate it. I would be ashamed to have helped produce it. If Metellus took legal advice, he was robbed. The formulae are all correct. But it's a weak will, immediately open to challenge by the heirs of right.'
`We could use that in Negrinus' defence,' Aelianus told me excitedly. `It is alleged he killed his father because he was disinherited – yet he has a good claim to overturn the will, so why commit murder?'
That was true. But Fungibles wanted us to look at the document in another light. `I cannot see what, but I would say there must be a secret. That usually explains why outsiders gain an unhealthy influence.'
His fee was tiny. But he had given good advice. Sometimes, in this disreputable world, you meet a man who disturbs the norm. Sometimes, you find somebody honest.
XXIII
AELIANUS AND I emerged from the hole-in-the-wall, heads reeling.
`That was dense – but you seem to thrive on all this legal stuff!' I commented. We started to walk. It was the kind of backstreet where you keep your hand on your purse and don't meet the eyes of passersby. Aelianus grunted. He was always terse on anything personal. `I like it,' I encouraged him. 'Honorius won't stick around after the case. We could use a legal specialist on our team. How about you?'
`What about Quintus?'
`What about him? His expertise is in languages.' Justinus was also much better than his brother with personality issues, though I did not say so.
`I thought he was your favourite.'
We reached the end of the street and turned a corner, into one that was if anything even dirtier and more threatening. I checked it out, looking left. Aelianus by now knew enough to do the same, looking right; I then discreetly double-checked his side. I wanted to trust my subordinates – but I wanted to stay alive. We took the direction we needed, heading back towards the Forum.
`I don't have favourites.' In fact, I had always warmed especially to Justinus, though I hoped I had not shown it. The two brothers fought continually, but I had been unaware that Aelianus harboured resentment about being shut out. `I respect good work, Aulus.'
He said nothing.
We were walking at a leisurely pace. The day was grey and heavily overcast, with a hint of snow in the air. It was bitingly cold; I wrapped myself deep in my woollen cloak, throwing the ends over my shoulders and snuggling my reddened ears into its folds, while Aelianus fastened his garment more pedantically, pinning it dead centre with a fibula beneath his chin. The way the front edges hung, he must have a frozen gap chilling his stomach up the middle of his tunic. He made no attempt to grip the material together. He was athletic and liked to pretend he was physically hard.
We passed neglected fountains, stalls where the vegetable-sellers stamped miserably, a small temple with its doors firmly closed to prevent vagrants snuffling into the sanctum to take refuge from the weather.
When I next spoke to Aelianus, my breath formed a damp area in my cloak where it obstructed my mouth. `Your parents would be amazed – and pleased – if you started studying.' I stretched my neck to show him a grin. `I'd get some credit for reforming you!'
`What do you mean – reforming?'
`Oh yes, you're an upright character!' He gave me a look. `Stories were circulating in Baetica,' I warned him. Helena and I had followed Aelianus out there after his stint working with the provincial governor. His life in Spain had been one of hunting and entertaining with the local wild young men; his dafter indiscretions seemed to include an unhealthy flirtation with the worship of Cybele. None of this had ever been mentioned at home by Aulus. He was secretive and had become quite a loner, once he was back in Rome. `Of course I haven't gossiped, but your father is alert to your rampant past. Decimus may seem in a world of his own, but he's sharp. If he thinks that your working with me now is a cause for relief, then he was quite worried about the alternatives.'
`He still wants to see me in the Senate,' Aelianus confided. `I know.'
`You discuss me?' He sounded annoyed.
`No. Trust me, Aulus. I won't rush to the baths and thrill your papa with some story that we've turned you into a barrister.'
He gave me one of his moody grunts. Our conversation paused as we sidestepped a man with flailing arms who was trying to detain us and sell us horoscopes; I foresaw that this was just so an accomplice could sneak out from behind a barrel of scallops and steal our belts. `Very nice,' I said, shoving the astrologer aside bodily. Insincerity is a Roman street art. We walked on. Curses followed us. We did not react.
`Well, I find the legal details interesting,' Aelianus confessed. From him it was quite an opening up. He added, `Helena says she's glad we're in this legal market now. She likes the fact it's all talk, so you are not involved in
