I had been a prosecutor on other occasions; the process held no fears. What I had never done was to attack a man of such high rank as Paccius Africanus. If I accused him of conspiracy with Calpurnia, it would blacken his reputation – and he was far too powerful to accept that. Everyone in court today – including both Paccius and Silius – knew tomorrow would bring trouble to somebody. Most thought Paccius would try something devious. So whatever happened could only harm me.
By the time we had gathered our documents and made our way outside, Helena was waiting for me at the top of the steps. She was talking to her father. He was still togate, though endearingly rumpled; his sprouting hair stood even more on end than usual, as if he had been running his hands through it obsessively. Both of them had heard my coming speech announced; both looked apprehensive as I left the Basilica.
I wanted to go straight home to prepare. Instead, Camillus Verus gathered me up. `I'm taking this fellow to the gym,' he said nonchalantly to Helena.
`Oh, Father. Not 'going to the gym'? That's what Marcus says when he's off womanising and gambling.' Helena looked surprised by her father. So was I.
He winked at her, playfully. `Drinking bout. Don't tell your mother.'
`Hmm. A hangover won't help when he's in court tomorrow.'
`It's a ploy,' breezed Decimus. `It tells the opposition you are so confident you can go out to a party when you ought to be at home studying your notes.’
'I never heard that Demosthenes went on the wine when he had a big speech coming up…' Helena capitulated. `Look after him.'
`Of course. But Marcus may be late home.' Now I was worried.
Helena justina raised her eyebrows even higher. They were heavy, like her father's. 'I'll tell myself he is safely talking to you.'
`I shall be talking,' her father declared. `Marcus will be taking notes.'
His tone had changed. I had seen him serious before, though never quite so straight-faced. In fact I could not remember us ever going to the gym like this together; normally we met by chance. We saw each other in domestic contexts, but otherwise were not socially close. He was a senator and I was an informer. Nothing ever changed that.
We had not far to go. We both frequented premises at the back of the Temple of Castor. I had introduced him, for not even a senator could gain membership of this gymnasium without a recommendation. It was run by my trainer, Glaucus, on the lines of a club. Clubs were illegal, lest persons of inflammatory politics congregate in them to plot against the government. I like to avoid that sort of trouble. But a private gym such as Glaucus set up was seen as acceptably sociable. Exercise is healthy. Dumbbell clowns who can't even spell `republic' swing their arms about and heave heavy weights on to their mighty, hairy chests – don't they?
Glaucus admitted a certain quiet class. Some, like me, had professional reasons for wanting to train. Others just preferred the refinement of a place where rowdy or crass social monsters were barred. There were no loud voices, no roistering inebriates – and no oily bastards looking out for pretty boys either. There was little room for spear-throwing, but wrestling and swordplay were available. For a steep fee, Glaucus would give you a lesson that was almost as uncomfortable as being ridden down by murderous tribesmen galloping on wild horses – or you could relax in a small courtyard and read poetry. There was even a library, though nobody much used it. You could find a delightful young lady to trim your fingernails, or buy an excellent pastry adorned with toasted pistachio nuts. Perhaps the manicurist offered extra services, but if so, she didn't push it; I always settled for a nutty slice instead, believe me. I doubt if the senator even had that; his wife was making him watch his weight.
We bathed. Decimus usually had a slave to scrape him down, and today so did I. I stood lost in thought, while the boy expertly plied the strigil. Afterwards, Decimus swam in the tiny pool. I never did, though I carried out a few exercises, continuing after my companion hauled himself from the freezing water and huddled in a robe while he chatted to Glaucus.
`Your name is on a lot of lips,' said Glaucus, when I joined them. He disapproved. So did I. Fame may be attractive to many, but in my trade it is an encumbrance. Informers should keep anonymous.
`People will soon forget.'
`Depends what kind of fool you make of yourself, Falco.' My trainer never reckoned to keep his clients with flattery.
`Oh I'll be the usual fool,' I admitted.
He laughed harshly. `That's all right then!'
The senator had finished drying off and pulling on tunics. At sixty plus, he kept himself well layered up in winter. He hauled me to the library; now I knew what it was there for: plotting. Glaucus had arranged to have a brazier sent in. Snacks and wine followed.
`Should I fetch my note-tablet?' I wondered.
`Better not.' The mood was now distinctly sombre. It had nothing to do with winter's early darkness closing in. `Marcus, you'll prefer not to write down what I tell you.'
I settled on a reading couch. `And what,' I asked, still slightly askance, `will that be, Decimus?'
`All I know,' replied Helena's father quietly, `about the past careers of Silius Italicus and Paccius Africanus.'
My jaw dropped. `You can give me some dirt?'
`Remind you, maybe. It came up in the Senate.'
`I confess I don't recall either of them featuring.'
`Well, I was there. So that helped it stick. It was in the early sessions, when Vespasian first became Emperor.' Decimus paused slightly. `Had things worked out differently, I might have hoped to benefit from the accession. So I was a regular in the Curia – and it was riveting.' We both looked pensive. Camillus Verus had been destroyed politically, around that time, through the actions of a relative. He lost out on what could have become a big career; five years later, the taint still badly damaged him and his sons.
He rallied and continued: `Young Domitian was still presiding in his father's name; this was before he went too far and had his wings clipped.' Vespasian and his elder son Titus preferred not to dwell on the early career of Domitian. In fairness, the Emperor's younger son was only twenty at the time, representing his father five years before he would normally have been an acceptable face in the Senate. `This is dangerous material. I cannot advise you how to handle it, but Marcus, I'll do my best to give you all the history.'
I was impressed by the fact that Camillus had brought me here, rather than contaminate either of our homes with what he had to say. He was a man of curious refinement.
As I said, the library was rarely used. Tonight I thought that was just as well. It would not do for others to know we had held this conversation.
We spoke for a long time, until I was well rehearsed.
Afterwards, I returned home silently, my head thronging with ideas. Helena accepted my stillness. Maybe her father had hinted at how he intended to brief me.
None of what he told me was a secret. Six years ago I had despised the Senate and jeered at its day-to-day proceedings. Maybe I read about the relevant debates in the Daily Gazette columns, but it had little impact at the time. We were awash with news then. Vespasian's accession had come at the end of a long period of lurid events. Evaluating every one was impossible. Our main concern had been that the civil wars and city famine should end, along with street fighting, fires, destruction and uncertainty.
That night, I could not decide what to do. I was nervous about using this hot material in open court. I talked to Helena; she encouraged me to be bold. Some members of our jury would have been present when the debates happened, after all. Dragging up old sensitivities was dangerous, however. I would be reviving a political scandal, which in a highly political city is always sinister.
I slept all night. Long training helped. I was still undecided when I left home with Helena next morning. But as soon as I walked into the Basilica, saw the long rows of the jury and felt the hall humming, I knew: this was risky – but too good to ignore.
I glanced up at the upper gallery. Peeking around the corner of a curtain, Helena Justina read my thoughts and smiled at me.
The Accusation against Calpurnia Cara: M. Didius Falco on C. Paccius Africanus
My young colleague Honorius spoke to you yesterday with great eloquence. I have been impressed by his setting-out of the issues. I congratulate him on the way he has addressed difficult material. In describing Calpurnia
