Lindsey Davis - The Ides of April

When I finally stopped, shaken by so much revelation on a subject I never talked about, Andronicus asked in a subdued tone, "You think they had a good relationship?"

"I know they did. It was obvious when I talked to her."

"She is young. She will marry again."

"She cannot imagine that now."

Andronicus smiled. "And of course you did not remarry."

"I was a breakaway character. Viator's widow comes from a very conventional family. She is conventional herself. Her parents will come up with some new husband, suggesting that will be a consolation. I suppose she will go along with it. She is soft dough. They will push her into it before she is ready, long before she has stabilised. She will believe that is the right thing for her to do."

"You seem more upset about this young woman who at least is still alive than about the dead man," Andronicus pointed out.

"He is gone beyond the living world. He feels no pain."

"How did you know the widow is young?" I asked abruptly, though in fact it stood to reason.

"She came to our house when Viator had dinner with Tullius."

"Did she?" Tiberius had not mentioned that detail. I supposed he called himself a man's man. All he said was that he met Julius Viator. An accompanying wife was beneath his notice. "You saw her?"

"Pretty thing, not exactly stupid, but out of her depth when the men got talking. I discovered her moping in the peristyle, all dressed up in her rich clothes and fancy jewellery, dabbling her fingers in a fountain, bored to tears. You know-the men discuss contracts interminably, she's eyed up the pretty serving boys for long enough, she makes an excuse to use the facilities, then lingers in the garden for as long as she can."

"Oh I know that scene!" I, too, had enjoyed a breath of cold night air in a scented colonnade, on occasions when I wanted to go home, but had to stay at some grim dinner for what passes as politeness. I would amuse myself thinking up hideous ways to cause other guests' downfall-though in my assessment, Viator's wife lacked that much imagination.

"Luckily, along comes a handsome, debonair archivist to take pity and have a chat with her."

It was my turn to be jealous, though I was better than him at hiding it. "You think such a lot of yourself, Andronicus! Did you meet Viator too? Tiberius says he didn't care for him. What was your verdict?"

"Thick neck, even thicker brain. Big thighs, big biceps, even bigger opinion of himself. A bully."

"What makes you say that? Did he bully her?"

"No, I wouldn't say that. But he roared out from the dining room to see what was keeping her."

"Was she frightened of him? That was not the impression she gave me."

"Your judgement is ever perfect," Andronicus flattered me. I basked in his admiration, all too easily perhaps. I was used to people who gave compliments more teasingly, and who shaded them with irony. "She was definitely not scared. She returned happily enough to the dining room with him. He slung his hairy arm around her shoulders, she slipped hers round his waist." I nodded, reassured. After a moment Andronicus added, "Faustus then sent for the flute-player to lighten the mood at the party. Viator and wifey did not stay late. He'd had a drink, he'd concluded some matters with Tullius. I expect he dragged her home for a good shagging."

"You can be very crude!"

"I know these people," replied Andronicus. He made it plain he intended it as no compliment.

Not long afterwards, cold and stiffness convinced me it was time to move. Before Andronicus found me. I had worked through my rage and grief; talking to him had helped. I stood up-then quickly sat down again because I had spotted two pert ears above the boundary wall; Robigo, my favourite fox, was sitting there, as perhaps he had been for some time.

Andronicus noticed, and in his astute way, could tell I had a special interest. He too resumed his seat. We said nothing, while I waited to see what Robigo would do. I had put no food out for him, ' so felt surprised when he came down and rooted round; then there was no sign of movement for some time, yet I had not seen him leave. Eventually I walked over to the spot by the altar where I generally left scraps for him, and discovered the reason. A large animal trap had been positioned where I usually put his food bowl. Robigo was inside, going demented.

Squatting down nearby, I began to speak to him quietly. He froze against the far side of the trap. Andronicus came up behind me to see what was happening. He dropped to his haunches alongside. "They are catching foxes for the Cerialia."

"Well they are not having this one!"

Although he worked for the aediles, so closely connected with the Temple of Ceres, my friend was sufficiently maverick in his attitude to authority for me not to fear betrayal.

Speaking in a low voice to keep the trapped fox quiet, I told Andronicus about my hatred of the ritual with the burning torches, and my regular feeding of the animals here. "Someone must have known! They have played on his trust of me. It's my fault."

"What are you going to do?"

"Release him, of course. I need to calm him down first. They can give you a bad bite."

I stood and walked to the trap, still murmuring to Robigo. He now trembled violently, rolling the whites of his eyes at my approach. He jerked once, but did not run up and down in his prison as he had been doing before I found him. His beautiful coat was wet with frothy saliva; there was blood on his muzzle. He must have tried to bite his way free.

The trap was a long box-shaped wire cage. It looked old and rusty; they must use the same ones, year after year. They put raw meat in one end. When Robigo entered, which he had probably done only after much wary investigation, he stepped on a flap which sprang the door behind him. I had to pull a wire so the door could be drawn up again. I needed to stand to one side and back from the entrance, leaving his escape route clear.

When I ordered Andronicus to stay out of the way, he said, "Do you want me to do it?"

"No need."

"I deduce you have played with animal traps before?"

"I'll never admit that!"

This year and previously, yes, I had done it. I would wander the Aventine searching for the traps, and I set free as many captured animals as possible. If I found any traps empty, I left them with their doors safely shut.

"Their ritual is wicked. I do everything I can to stop them."

"They don't just trap creatures locally," Andronicus told me. He would be familiar with the arrangements. "A grisly old yokel, who sweats and stinks of pigsties, comes in from the Campagna in April, bringing a cartload."

"I know. It happens every year. They pay him a bounty for every live fox he supplies. If I can find out where they keep those, I will release them too."

"You mean it!" marvelled Andronicus.

"I trust you over this," I warned.

I did not ask him to help. That would have been a step too far. But he said of his own accord that he would see if he could find out where the Campagna foxes were being closeted by the aediles. They must be in Rome by now.

I had worked up the flap in Robigo's cage, and could open the door. The dog-fox watched what I was doing, soundlessly. As soon as he knew the way out was free, he streaked through the opening and fled, tail streaming behind him. As always when I set free a trapped animal, I felt the same rush of panic he must have, but then happy relief.

I spent much of the next day leading my own life. I had not abandoned the murders, but there were no obvious leads to follow and I had no wish to subject myself to more disparagement from Tiberius, so I was determined to avoid him. I collated my notes about various other cases for private clients; they had been neglected lately. I carried out domestic chores. That included even sewing braid around the neck of a tunic, one with a square neck that had developed the traditional run in the material, from the weak point at the corner. I was covering up the ladders by stitching on braid, which would also strengthen the neck and give the garment a longer life. It had been a good tunic, blue, which was always a favourite colour of mine, though it is expensive and fades terribly.