would not want to be closed down. Unsavoury couplings would occur here only rarely (though some liaisons with drivers and second rate love-poets must have been arranged from these premises, if I was any judge).
Olympia kept us waiting, for form's sake. She had slim young girls to fetch and carry, and to lend an air of chaperoned propriety. They were too thin and too subdued to be attractive. Aelianus never glanced at them. I looked. I always do. I was checking to see if Olympia mistreated them, in case one of her woeful wenches might be met later behind the garden hedge and enticed to become a songbird for a few kind words. I was more badly bruised than they were, so I ruled that out.
When she appeared, a plump dark-skinned woman of mature age, she acted very genteel; to me she had all the appeal of mildew. Olympia had intense, pouchy eyes. She acted as if full of shrewdness, though I reckoned she was less intelligent than she supposed. Her well-spoken accent had one or two jarring vowels; she had taught herself polite Latin, but her past had followed her. She had probably worked her way into this position through several careers, careers she was keeping very quiet. Everything about her suggested a rich but sour experience of life, making her a businesswoman other women could trust. Once they did, no doubt Olympia simply preyed on them.
Aelianus smiled at the fortune-teller.
`Anything I can do for you, sweetheart?' she encouraged him, ignoring me. Suggestiveness from a woman scared him and he looked to me for help. I let him run with it.
`We have to ask about one of your clients,' he began. `Calpurnia Cara.'
`I cannot speak about my clients.'
`There's no need to snap – she is in serious trouble -'
`Nothing will pass my lips.’
'You may be able to help her.'
`No.'
`Now less of that.' Aelianus was a bad interviewer, getting desperate. Olympia knew he was at her mercy. `This is a legal matter. If we have to, we can subpoena you!'
I leaned forwards. Time for the man of experience to intervene. `Aulus, don't even try that one. Olympia has to think about her other clients – am I right?'
She raised an eyebrow. I did not like the way she sneered.
`The ladies who patronise Olympia's establishment,' I explained to my brash colleague, `must never suspect she would reveal a confidence.' I pretended to offer the fortune-teller a courteous get out: `Maybe we can arrange this so the ladies need never find out you helped us.'
`Yes – I won't tell you anything!' she retorted nastily.
`Alternatively,' I then said, `all your senatorial ladies could be made to think that you had talked to us…' Sometimes subtlety is worth a try – and sometimes you should go straight to threats.
Round-eyed with mock horror, Aelianus redeemed himself: `Oh but Falco, the customers would all run away.'
`Well, you're the bastard.' Olympia smirked at me. `Thanks for coming clean.'
`Yes I'm the bastard,' I agreed. `This sensitive young lad is ten years younger and he still expects good from people.'
`He'll soon turn into a bastard if he works for you.'
Aelianus had no sense of humour sometimes. He bit his lip, scowling.
We then had a more businesslike discussion – one in which I feared we were being misled.
According to this soothing soothsayer, Calpurnia Cara came to her for `friendship'. Horoscopes were prepared from time to time, always for Calpurnia herself The other services rendered were flattery, wise counsel, and foot massage with aromatic oils to relax the soul. (Apparently your soul is seated in your arches, so take care when buying cheap sandals.) Calpurnia, like many clients, was afflicted with bad bunions and few female friends. Well, I knew she had a limp, and was overbearing.
I told Olympia she could have made a wonderful source for informers like us. I suggested that if she helped us, we could return the favour with information on her clients. She would not co-operate. I asked if she already had a partnership with some other informer, but she denied it. I asked if she worked for the vigiles. She scoffed. I gave up on it.
`Straight questions then: Did Calpurnia ever ask you about poisonous drugs?'
`Don't expect me to comment.'
`No, of course not. I'm talking about hemlock. That was used to kill her husband, did you know?'
`I had no idea.' Olympia pursed her mouth. `Calpurnia Cara was weighed down by troubles. She never told me what they were. My ladies have needs – illness, unhappiness, husbands, children… I often read Calpurnia's future, and reassured her that everything would be resolved.'
`By her poisoning her husband?' Aelianus snorted.
`By time and the Fates!' whipped back the seer. He had stung her into reacting, however. `Hemlock, you say? Well once when she was very low a few years ago, she did ask me what produces a kindly death, and I told her what I had heard. As far as I knew, Calpurnia was asking for herself'
`Herself.' Now I was scathing. `That sounds like some well thoughtout excuse in the poison trade. A lawyer probably devised it. A litigation-proof contract term for the death suppliers' guild – if the woman was consulting you for solace, why should she need to do herself in?'
`Some unhappy moments cannot be smoothed away even with essential ointments,' mused Olympia.
`How did Calpurnia plan to ingest her hemlock?'
`I told her she could feed the leaves to quails, then cook the quails. That way she didn't have to think about what she was taking.'
`Or if she gave the quails to someone else, they didn't have to know anything!'
`You're a shocker, Falco.'
`I'm a realist.'
I then enquired whether Calpurnia sold her jewels just before her husband died, or was it about two years back? Surprised by both timescales, Olympia admitted Calpurnia had come for weekly consultations over several decades. Calpurnia had sold off her necklaces and rings many years ago – one of the `troubles' which had required consolation. The sale was not to pay the fortune-teller's modest fees. Olympia did not know who received the money.
`Maybe she gambled,' Olympia suggested. `Many of my ladies do. It's a bit of excitement for a lady, isn't it?' As I said to Aelianus afterwards, it would provide a lady's bit of excitement if sleeping with a boxer or with their husband's best friend in the Senate ever paled.
I could not imagine Calpurnia Cara doing any of those things. Nor could I see her ever being so depressed that she would end her own life.
`Calpurnia may have mistakes in her past,' Olympia insisted. `It does not mean she is a murderer. Put me in court and I shall say so for her.'
I did not remind her it is a tenet of Roman law that consulting a fortune-teller damns a woman automatically. Calling Olympia as a witness would guarantee jury votes for us. But as a matter of pride, I wanted to convict the accused with proper evidence.
`You're too idealistic,' Aelianus said. This was a rare, new insult for me. `You'll never make a lawyer, Falco.'
No; but I thought he would.
XLI
THE CAMILLUS litter had to be returned to the Capena Gate, but we had time to walk back to the Forum for the end of the afternoon court session.
As we came out into the major piazza in front of the Basilica, we were hailed from the corner of the Temple of Castor by Helena Justina. She had a lunch basket; I guessed it would be empty by now. Well, in our absence it made sense for her to eat everything, to save carrying the food home. What a scandal: a senator's daughter
