rugs.
`Have the Second actually started?' I enquired quickly.
Petro winced, as Julia burst in on us and flew at me. `Believe so.'
`Anything come out of it?' I coughed, from a prone position at floor level, with my daughter bouncing on my chest. I was thinking of putting her forward to the army as a new type of artillery. The dog was trying to kill my boot, even though I was wearing it. Helena pretended to think I liked it, and let them both carry on with their attack.
`The usual.' This would be confidential, but Petro trusted me. `Most swear they knew nothing about anything. One croaked that we should 'Ask Perseus'.'
`Door porter. I already know he's no good.'
`Missing. The Second are hunting him. No luck so far.'
`He's a sassy wretch – and leaning on the family -' It sounded as though the Second Cohort were working along lines I liked. Besides, my old friend was keeping an eye on them. `They could try for him in Lanuvium.'
`Yes, they've gone there looking.' Io! Things were moving fast. Suddenly it seemed too fast.
I grabbed Julia, holding her off me while she squealed and thrashed in ecstasy. I kicked feebly, failing to shake off Nux from my leg. `Who was the slave who pointed at Perseus?'
`Some kitchen greaseball.'
`Probably the doodle who gets to stand in when Perseus fancies a rest.. I assume they are pressing him for more?'
`We know our job!' Petro grinned. His face grew more serious. `Well, the Second seem to enjoy it too much. I'm sure they were careful – but the slave who talked is currently out of it.'
`Crazed?'
`Raving.’
`Oh really, Petronius!' Helena hated rough stuff. `Marcus knows about Perseus – there was no need to damage some innocent!'
I held Julia still, and hauled myself upright. `Can you ask them to be gentler if they ever tackle Perseus?'
Petro nodded, wordlessly.
`Try the steward,' I suggested, after a moment's thought. `I reckon he's ripe – and he would have ordered lunch that day.'
I liked the steward, but he had had his chance. He could have talked to me. Now he would have to take his chance with the heavy-handed Second Cohort.
XLVI
NEXT DAY, I was still preparing for my ordeal with the praetor when Honorius turned up. He had done some smart work with Marponius, persuading him to call a full adjournment for today.
So Marponius was on our side. All the more reason to press on, and not to be held up by distractions like imagined impiety. Marponius might be with us now – but if we left him stewing too long, somebody would get to him. I had always distrusted Paccius and Silius, but now I had seen just how they worked. Marponius thought himself incorruptible. He wouldn't last five minutes.
Honorius loved my news about the Second examining slaves.
`This is excellent, Falco. Juries love a case where the slaves have been tortured. Some prosecutors deliberately try to drag in a treason charge so they can do it.' He looked thoughtful. `Actually, treason is an aspect we could introduce. Am I right that after the original corruption case, the Metelli made a clemency appeal to the Emperor?'
I nodded. `Where's the treason in that?'
`Vespasian refused them?'
`Yes.'
`And so they were angry… any chance you can find me a letter they wrote afterwards.'
`What letter?' Nobody had mentioned letters.
`Any letter. It needs suspicious marks alongside the Emperor's name. Well, no. It needs to be in a suspect's own hand, that's all. We can blur in some suspicious marks ourselves; I have a friend who can match ink -'
I laughed. `That's fraud, you idiot!'
`Evidence of suspicious conversations would be even better.'
`Honorius, compose yourself please. We are not that desperate.'
`Well how about a suspicious trip somewhere…?' He tailed off. Cheery thoughts frolicked behind those handsome eyes. `Did we ever find out why Birdy went off to Lanuvium?'
`Seeing the land agent, we think. Justinus is supposed to bring back details.' That reminded me: where was Camillus Justinus? His absence was becoming suspicious -too. I hoped he had not run into some voluptuous Lanuvium barmaid.
`Well anyway,' Honorius stopped speculating so wildly. 'Interrogating the slaves is good. Even if they never say anything.'
Helena was watching me, so I tackled Honorius: `Isn't that a waste of effort – not to mention cruelty?'
Honorius patted my arm. He had a very cold hand. `Falco, the point is to have it known that they were tortured.'
`So we need not really cause them pain?'
Honorius had sensed our antagonism. He replied rather carefully: `A few screams never come amiss. Rumours of the screaming soon reach the jury.'
All this time, Helena had been listening with a set expression. She was patiently holding my toga across her outstretched arms, ready to deposit the garment around me. The glint in her expression needed no interpretation. Her look was so hostile that a bronze lamp (a winged bootee, a tasteless Saturnalia gift I had not yet dumped) was shivering against its stand. Finally my tight-lipped female dresser had to speak: `Honorius, would it not be better to stop relying on supposition and cheap legal tricks – and gather a solid trail of evidence?'
Honorius looked startled. Helena glared at him. He decided he had things to do elsewhere.
`Oh by the way, Falco – this will tickle you. My old senior seems impressed by us… Silius carne to see me last night.' He blushed, already regretting this confession. `I can't imagine how he found me; I was at my ex-wife's house -'
`What,' I demanded curtly of the reminiscing lover, `did Silius want?'
`Oh… He tried to buy me off, that's all.' I kept my temper. `What did he offer?'
`My old position back.'
`You walked out, remember.'
`And a large cash welcome… Don't worry,' Honorius assured me quietly. He met my eye, looking confident. `It didn't work.'
I let him go.
Growling to herself, Helena draped me in my toga for the praetor. With care, she positioned the first end on my left shoulder, brought the bulk around me from behind, tucked in the front, placed the free end back over my shoulder, tidied the pleats neatly and checked that my hem lengths were not ludicrous. She kissed me, very gently. Only then did she comment.
`Next time, Silius will offer him more.'
Worse was awaiting me downstairs in my reception hall. The one person who would unfairly believe Procreus' impiety charge accosted me: `Well, you look awkward! Is that your brother's toga? He knew how to wear it.' If Paccius and Silius were trying to demoralise me, they were amateurs.
`Hello, Mother.'
`Will my troubles never end? – Oh, the shame of it. Now I hear that somehow I produced a blasphemer!'
`Ma, just tell your nosy friends: I have been incorrectly called a slacker by troublemaking slanderers.' I waved the tablet with the carefully concocted record of my movements. `Your boy is innocent.'
`We'll see!'
