Helena had failed to wheedle admittance to Saffia's apartment. The baby was still not born, after an already very long labour. This did not seem the moment to walk in and ask who its father was.
`Saffia must be exhausted.' Helena's voice was subdued. She meant the struggling mother was now seriously at risk.
Honorius attended the pre-trial hearing. Not trusting him, I went along too. The praetor agreed the case must be answered. Calpurnia had appointed Paccius to defend her and be her spokesman.
`Oh by the way, praetor,' Paccius murmured, just when it seemed all over. `The plaintiffs are alleging that Calpurnia sold her jewellery and went to an astrologer. Since magic practices are involved, may we seek trial in the murders court, please?'
The praetor glared. He was aware that he had heard this request from our side, on behalf of Negrinus, and that he had crisply denied it. This time he was not defending the right of a senator to trial by like-minded nobility. Calpurnia was merely the daughter, wife and mother of senators.
I could see why Paccius Africanus had taken up our ploy. The Senate had a long history of voting against women accused of murder by poison with mystical overtones; these sorceresses were packed straight off home to cut their wrists in a hot bath. While it was entirely in our interests that our accused should be put before the Senate, whose members would be outraged that one of their illustrious number had been slain at home by his wife, Paccius wanted to avoid it.
`Oh yes. Magic belongs in the murders court,' the praetor announced.
The chief magistrate in Rome may be a blithering incompetent, but when the magistrate makes a pronouncement, there is no appeal. We were stuck with it.
Aelianus came back cold and angry from the Via Appia. It had taken him hours to find the Metellus mausoleum in the strung-out highway necropolis. When he did identify his goal, the door was locked. Breaking into a tomb is a serious offence. By the time Aelianus, a terrible burglar, managed to effect entry, it was dusk, he was scared he had attracted notice, and he had cut his hand. Inside, he was thwarted: no proper inscription had yet been provided.
`Why, what did you see there?'
'Nothing. It was bloody dark.'
`Afraid of ghosts?'
`No, robbers. And spells. That vicinity is famous for witches and perverts. I wouldn't hang about as prey. I had a quick look. There was nothing that named Negrinus – nor his mother, come to that. I identified the glass urn that contains the ashes of Metellus senior. Over it, there was just a marble tablet erected by the two daughters. I guess the proper plaque is still lying in some mason's yard. Either poor old hopeless Birdy has forgotten to organise it, or more likely he can't pay for it and the mason refuses to hand it over.'
It fitted. We knew the impoverished son had had to beg for last minute inclusion on a freedman's plaque. Julius Alexander, who as a land agent would be able to afford a memorial to a patron, had allowed Negrinus to be tagged on to his own inscription. It must be hard for Birdy to see an ex-slave now prospering when he was so completely luckless.
Was there something else dubious here? Julius Alexander, the mystery man in Lanuvium, could be yet another uppity one-time household staff member who was preying upon this family. I made sure that Justinus was primed to investigate when he rode off there next day.
XXXV
WE MADE one last attempt to tackle the three Metellus siblings. Helena and I went to ask the questions. We had sent a message in advance, saying we would like both sisters to be present as well as Negrinus. The women were there when we arrived, and both had their husbands for back-up. This was the first time we had seen the whole group of five assembled together. Canidianus Rufus, who had seemed eager to stay out of things when I had interviewed his wife Juliana about her role in her father's death, now appeared more at ease. The presence of Verginius Laco may have encouraged him. Helena agreed afterwards that the party all knew each other well, and they seemed fairly affectionate.
It was out of the question to demand that Saffia Donata join us, but I had said it would be helpful to invite Licinius Lutea. If asked, he did not show.
`Have you and your dear friend quarrelled?' I murmured to Negrinus.
He gave me one of his self-pitying exclamations. `Oh no! He still speaks to me when I can be useful!'
`Does he touch you for money?' I threw at him. Unlikely, now Negrinus was disinherited.
Negrinus went very still. `No. Lutea has never asked me for money.'
I was not yet ready to retort, So he just uses his ex-wife, does he? Negrinus, with a flash of his understated intelligence, looked rueful, as if he knew exactly what I thought.
At a glance from Helena I fell silent. She was to initiate the discussion, while I observed the parties.
She sat on a couch, a little way from me. Tall and graceful, she had dressed in the style of a senator's daughter, adorned with favourite semiprecious jewellery over a long-sleeved white winter gown, formally wound with a voluminous dark red stole. Holding a note tablet, she looked like a high-class secretary – one keeping minutes for an empress who was plotting people's downfalls.
`I maintain the records of our enquiries, so my husband has asked me to begin.' She rarely called me her husband, though that was the state I had reported in my Census return. We lived together. It was accurate. But Helena knew it always gave me a shock.
She caught my eye and smiled slightly. I felt my lips twitch.
`Falco and Associates will shortly defend Metellus Negrinus. They intend to pre-empt the charge that he killed his father by showing that somebody else did so: Calpurnia Cara. This is hard for you – but I imagine it will not be a surprise.'
People began to speak, but I held up a hand and stopped them.
`At the trial we shall need to show motive and opportunity,' Helena continued. `Metellus provided a motive by his will: his connection with Saffia. It is very unpleasant, but the issue of adultery and incest will come out in court. So what about opportunity? We no longer believe,' Helena announced in her measured tones, `the story we have been given about when Rubirius Metellus died. All of you concurred in the fabrication – that he retired to his bed and killed himself, on the day that his body was witnessed by the seven senators. I have to be blunt. That is nonsense.'
For a quiet woman she could be acidic. When Helena spoke in that calm, unexcited way, it made the saliva dry under my tongue.
`Rubirius Metellus was presented to his seven friends, dead in his bed. But we know that the body had by then been lying somewhere else for days. So was any of your fable true?' She looked around the group. `Did Metellus really have a last lunch with some of you? Did he ever discuss suicide? Were you sent from the room, Birdy because you were upset? Were you there – or in Lanuvium? Did Calpurnia rush off in annoyance because Metellus changed his mind? And did you, Juliana, sit quietly alongside your father while he. passed away?'
Nobody answered.
`I think not!' Helena retorted scathingly.
There was complete silence.
It was my turn now.
I addressed Negrinus. `Our case against your mother will have two bases: your father was killed with hemlock, which was Calpurnia's idea and which was bought by an agent of her legal adviser, Paccius.' That did seem to surprise them. `Then she concealed your father's death for days – perhaps until you came home from Lanuvium – finally revealing the corpse in a staged deathbed scene. These details should condemn her and clear you. It will still leave that huge question: why ever did the rest of you, knowing about the fake deathbed, all go along with it?'
Birdy just looked depressed. It was Verginius Laco, the oldest man present, who said smoothly with authority, `It is reprehensible – but everyone decided to say that Metellus committed suicide so they could save the family money.'
