owned.
It was perfectly clear that what had occurred here was suicide. On a table beside her lay an open sardonyx box, mocking the scene she had staged previously for her dead husband. It looked to be the same box purchased all that time ago from Rhoemetalces for Metellus. Flimsy fragments of gold leaf were scattered beside the box, which was empty. There would have been four corn cockle pills left, after the apothecary swallowed one in court. Calpurnia must have broken open all four remaining pills and removed the outer shell of gold. Then she swallowed the corn cockle seeds, which she washed down with water from a glass that had afterwards fallen beside her hand on the coverlet.
A sealed letter addressed to her children was on the side table. I took it, then we left hastily. The side-effects of the poison were unpleasant and the corpse had deteriorated since she died.
Calpurnia must have killed herself the day she was last seen in court. That was when the charge against her had seemed likely to hold up, before we knew she was innocent. She never knew we had withdrawn the charge.
It would have been easy to blame myself. And believe me, I did.
We took the steward with us, making the house secure again behind us. To be certain all was in order, I asked Justinus to wait outside until the family sent someone. Helena went home, knowing I would join her shortly.
With Celadus silent beside me, I walked to the younger daughter's home. That was closest, and I knew Carina better than Juliana. I would have to speak to the husband first; I preferred to broach Verginius Laco rather than the ill-tempered Canidianus Rufus, who always seemed so irritated by his in-laws' misfortunes. I found Laco in. I told him the news, offered our sympathies, passed him the letter from Calpurnia (which I noticed was addressed only to her two daughters, not to Negrinus). I mentioned to Verginius Laco that I hoped this would mean the family secret could now be revealed.
Since Laco had always seemed a decent sort, and since within limits I trusted him, I brought him up to date on the murder of Metellus senior by Saffia. Licinius Lutea had been Saffia's associate in the blackmail and could have known about the poisoning, though he would deny all of it. Whatever Lutea knew about the Metellus family could still trouble them. The secret might come out anyway. I told Laco I thought both Silius Italicus and Paccius Africanus had known all along that Metellus had been murdered, and who really did it. Bratta was in custody over a related issue and might be persuaded to confess all sorts of things to the vigiles; Petronius would let Bratta think he would receive favourable treatment in the Spindex killing if he offered other information.
These points were important to Negrinus. The murder charge against him was still down to be heard in the Senate. As far as I knew, the two informers had made no move to withdraw their petition. So what would they do now? Silius still, after all this time, needed to show that Rubirius Metellus had not committed suicide. Would they now demonstrate that it was Saffia who killed him? `Laco, I have come to view these men as shameless in their self-interest. I had supposed Paccius was keeping Bratta at his house to stop me finding the man. But perhaps it was for more despicable reasons. Paccius may have been making sure he could turn Bratta in, if he needed to support a scheme to denounce Saffia.'
Laco pursed his lips, looking thoughtful. `The vigiles are holding this man. But will he clear Negrinus?'
`I have brought you Celadus, who can do that. Corroboration from Bratta would be useful, but it's probably not essential.'
Verginius Laco, as was his wont, heard me out in silence, thanked me politely, and gave away nothing.
Even so, I was not too surprised when, three days, later, Helena and I, and her two brothers, were invited to visit the Metelli that evening. Clearly it was not a social invitation, or we would have been offered dinner first. Hoping that somebody wanted to open up, we dressed carefully – Helena in a matching dress and stole in tawny shades, with a full set of silver jewellery; me in a clean tunic, one with itchy rope patterned braid cluttering up the edges. At Helena's pointed suggestion, I had had myself shaved. While I was submitting myself to the cut-throat blade, she read through all our case-notes.
We travelled in her litter, snuggling up under a rug, which helped the time pass as the bearers trudged slowly through the winter night. For reasons of her own, Helena had made them take a long detour, going up and over the Aventine above our house. It was a steep climb, apparently just so Helena could pop in with a bunch of winter celery for my mother.
Ma cannot have been expecting this treat, for she was entertaining Aristagoras. He was her eighty-year-old man-friend, a source of much curiosity and highly strung gossip in the family. When we arrived, the amiable fellow grinned a lot then tottered off like an arthritic grasshopper; Ma claimed that he had just called to bring her some cockles.
While I looked around for a new shellfish jar and failed to find it, Helena got down to her real business: ‘Junilla Tacita, we are on our way to see some people and I don't have time to track down Ursulina Prisca. I wondered if by any chance you could help me clarify something…'
`I know nothing about anything,' Mother moaned, in a pathetic mood. Evenings tired her. She was ready to nod off in her armchair, and probably glad we had driven out her admirer.
`Oh, you know everything! I was so glad you came with me to see that wet-nurse -'
`Euboule? Don't trust her!'
`No, I didn't care for her at all,' Helena agreed. `But one thing puzzles me. I have remembered that Ursulina told me not to take baby Favonia there because, she said, 'you might never get the little darling back' -'
`Have you done anything for that poor woman, son?' Swiftly distracted, Ma rounded on me.
`Ursulina? Our next job, Ma,' I lied.
`Oh you take your time, my boy! She's only desperate.'
`No, she's not. She's stirring up trouble in her family – something I would never do in mine, of course.'
`The woman needs help.'
Ursulina needed another interest in life. I just said mildly, `We will help her, but she may have to wait. I'm desperate myself. I have to find half a million sesterces for a vicious compensation claim -'
`So you let someone down?' sneered Ma, so unimpressed by my plight she had failed to take in the large figure.
`He was tricked by wicked men,' Helena defended me. She managed to get back to her original query: `It may help Marcus if he knows what Euboule and Zeuko have been up to. He needs to know tonight.'
Ma stared at her. Luckily she was weary, wanting to be left alone. Her normal readiness to spar was weakened. `Oh you know what those wet-nurses are like…' Helena waited. `Rich women dump their babies there, and half the time – so Ursulina says – they forget what the children even look like. They have no idea if what they get back after a year or two is even theirs.'
`I would recognise Sosia Favonia!'
`Of course you would. Then again -'Ma, who disapproved of wetnursing, went off into a rant. `Of course some of those women do it on purpose. They don't want another pregnancy so if they've got a sickly little thing they take it along and make sure the wet-nurse replaces it if misfortune strikes -'
`That's horrible.'
`Not if it suits everyone. I could have exchanged a few of mine quite happily!' Ma cackled, and made sure she glared at me.
Helena Justina rocked back on her seat and stared at the ceiling, her mouth pursed.
`Still,' said Ma crisply. `We know exactly what happened in this case of yours.'
`We do?' I asked.
Ma sounded complaisant. `Oh, Ursulina and I worked it all out for you.' I breathed slowly, keeping my expectation in check. `We could have solved it for you days ago.'
`Well pardon me, why didn't you say something? So, Mother darling, what's the dirty secret?'
`Son, it's obvious. Someone creeping up the stairs by moonlight.'
`What?'
`Euboule and her daughter probably know. That woman, Calpurnia must have put one over on her husband. Good for her!' chortled my mother. `She must have had a boyfriend. Don't ask me who – it's your job to spot the culprit. Friend of her husband's, or a pretty slave. So this young man the fuss is all about -'
`Her son, Negrinus?'
`You ask them, Marcus. I bet he was not her husband's child.'
