Lindsey Davis - Saturnalia

The senator was out. Gone to the gym. Perhaps to escape the stress at home. He and I were both members of Cassius' gymnasium by the Temple of Castor, so I thought I might drop in and find him there. Unfortunately, someone had reported my presence in the house to Claudia Rufina. She came flying downstairs, green stoles fluttering like yacht pennants, and accosted me. She was a good mother, and her arrival was punctuated by alternate wafts of a very expensive perfume and baby milk. One of her pendant pearl ear-rings was sitting askew; Claudia had a devoted Baetican maid and plenty of polished silver hand mirrors, so it had probably been playfully yanked by ninemonth-old Gaius Camillus Rufius Constantinus.

She grabbed at my sleeve. 'Marcus, don't go!' 'Ah Claudia-don't hit me!'

She lowered her voice swiftly to a quieter register. 'Don't ever joke about that, Falco.' Teasing was what this higWy anxious young woman needed, in my opinion. She needed to hand it out too. If she had let Justinus think she didn't give a damn, he would have come skipping home weeks ago. Still, not all women were like Helena

Justina; that was why Helena had been inescapably my choice. I was still being surprised by her. Whereas this one had had her fiery moments and was generally viewed as temperamental, to me she would always be straightforward and predictable. I knew what she thought of my talents, for instance: 'You are never going to sort it out, are you?'

'Claudia, don't be so pessimistic. Events are moving fast. Have you seen Quintus?'

'I don't care if! never see him again.'

'You do care-and, Claudia, you have to contact him. You and he must talk.'

Claudia fiddled with the bangles on her wrist. 'Well he knows where to find us. He could come home. He could visit the baby, at least. '

'Claudia, he really can't come at the moment. He is generously caring for a young soldier who is terribly wounded. Quintus and I are both fond of Lentullus, and he is perilously close to death. He saved your husband's life getting his wounds. Besides, I ordered Quintus to stay put. I had to. I'm trying to keep him out of Anacrites' clutches.'

Claudia stared at the floor. 'That man came to see me.'

He was back from Nemi then. 'I hope you didn't tell him anything. '

Claudia's face clouded. She had talked. Rats. At least she was now feeling guilty about it. That meant she was vulnerable to pressure.

'He's a bastard. Poor you. Was it awful?'

'Oh Marcus, I told him Quintus was hiding with the vigiles. Was that very wrong of me?' Just very, very stupid.

I sucked my teeth. 'Well, whatever comes of it, I'm sure Quintus will forgive you.' I let it sound doubtful. 'Given how much he loves you, Claudia…'

Claudia Rufina burst into tears. Oh, excellent. Or as Helena scoffed later when I told her about it, 'You swine, Falco!'

I was still trying to escape from Claudia when Julia Justa was brought home. The bearers carried the dilapidated Camillus chair into the hall, and she descended stiffly, looking weary, just as I was saying, 'Some men find it hard to show their true feelings, Claudia.'

Shedding her cloak, Julia Justa gave me a narrow look. She was as shrewd as Helena and would have spotted at once just how I was working on Claudia's feelings. My deviousness would not surprise her. The noble Julia had always seen me as unreliable.

We all moved to a frescoed salon. Then followed a delay while slaves-who were already getting into a slapdash holiday mood for the dinner that evening-were prevailed upon to provide pre-Iunch snacks to revive their mistress. Julia only toyed with the food, so I weighed in. Nobody should make a big fuss about obtaining service, then not use what they have demanded. Slaves take against that, and who can blame them? Julia, who was a strict, good-mannered woman, even nodded her approval as I munched.

The news was interesting. 'I saw Ganna as you asked, Marcus. She is well cared for and fairly content. The Vestals are taking the opportunity to teach her Roman ways.' This would be another side of Rome from that Ganna saw at Mother's house. 'Unfortunately-' I had to concede, my mother-in-law did have a sense of humour-'they have taught her to read and I suspect that she has read the letters my foolish son wrote to the priestess.' Julia was telling me this in a hurried undertone while Claudia made a temporary foray back to the nursery.

'Ganna has the letters?'

'Not any longer. I persuaded her that it was best for all concerned if we destroyed them. My first thought was to bring them away with me, but the Virgins are very much concerned with the confidentiality of documents, as you know.' Elevated citizens gave their wills to the Vestal Virgins for safe keeping. 'It is apparently improper for a mother to see love letters written by her son!'

'Well, I think most sons would agree with that.'

'So they were burned. And good riddance.'

Claudia returned, so without missing a beat we made the conversation more general. 'Were the Vestals present for your interview?'

'My friend supervised. It was a condition, Marcus.'

'Fair enough.'

Julia did take a small almond cake from the tray of titbits. She was allowing herself a moment of reflection.. After six or seven years, I now knew her well enough to trust her instincts and let her dictate the rhythm of conversation. For me, talking to my mother-in-law was always eerie. She and Helena were enough alike for it to feel like familiar territory-yet Helena took after her father in more ways, so Julia remained worrying.

Claudia, who seemed even more jumpy than usual, could not wait patiently, but burst out, 'So what did this Ganna have to say? I don't know her, but I think I hate her.'

By contrast, Julia Justa seemed increasingly rational. Unlike the night of the feast for Saturn, when her garments got the better of her, she was now stonily calm and in charge. Julia finished her cake, wiped away a few tiny crumbs, and leaned back in her basket chair. 'She is just a frightened girl, my dear. You have no need to be defensive. Marcus, with regard to your business, the person Ganna saw placing the severed head in the atrium pool was a freedwoman called Phryne.' 'What? Not the doctor, Mastarna?'

Julia looked as surprised as I was. 'Apparently not. How could a doctor be involved?'

'He killed his patient during an operation. Still, the freedwoman may have taken part in the cover-up, trying to protect her mistress.' I now wondered whether it was Phryne or Mastarna who actually cut off Scaeva's head. Phryne had showed enough hatred towards Veleda. She could have grabbed the doctor's knife and done the deed. 'The mistress had let the operation go ahead, even though her husband had forbidden it.'

Julia nodded. 'Drusilla Gratiana.'

'You know her?'

'No, but my Vestal friend does, naturally.' The Vestal Virgins know all the senior matrons in Roman society, where 'senior' normally means rich, with powerful husbands. Julia commented coolly, 'Apparently the woman is in poor health.'

'She drinks.'

'Oh Marcus!' This was from Claudia.

'True-fact of life.'

'Please! She has just lost her brother in appalling circumstances.' Back in Baetica, Claudia had lost her own brother to murder; she had obvious reasons for sympathy.

'Forgive me.'

'Well, those were my commissions.' Julia thought it time to shoo me off home. 'But I am the bearer of a good suggestion. Marcus, will you put this idea to Helena, please? I know she is intending to ask the Emperor to extend clemency to Veleda. My friend suggested we make a formal, old-fashioned deputation of Roman matrons. She even volunteered to accompany us. If Helena wants to do this, I will certainly join with her.'

'You mean, a group of respectable women in black, covering their heads, and confronting Vespasian with noble pleas to save the priestess?'