Lindsey Davis: Scandal Takes a Holiday

There was the usual fuss, the usual standing around endlessly while men disputed theories of what might have happened. At last the corpse was carted into the station house, the vigiles went off to wash, the diver left.

I sat alone outside the adjacent wine shop, raising a sad beaker to the scribe's memory. Petronius Longus came down the side road when I was getting into my second drink. He held little Zeno by one hand. Petronius nodded, but they passed me without speaking. At the entrance to the station house, Petronius paused; I heard him say words of reassurance. Then he led the boy inside.

Zeno went with him sullenly, but with an air of resignation. He was used to being told what to do; someone here would entice him to co-operate. Treated right, Zeno would give the vigiles names and events. Perhaps later, if he was sufficiently helpful, someone would have the kindness to release his mother. I was expecting Petronius when he returned to the street soon afterwards. I knew he would not process Zeno himself. He had no taste for interrogating children. He sat down beside me. I had already obtained a second cup and poured wine for him from my jug.

We talked about the situation briefly. He asked me about Fulvius. I said honestly that the story of Fulvius working as an agent for the navy seemed convincing, but that I would not be surprised if his connections with the Illyrians from Dyrrhachium were murky. Given his history, I reckoned he had fled abroad again. This visit to Ostia would be one more confused sighting over which my family would mutter and argue all through Saturnalia.

Petronius then told me that the vigiles had been given a lead on Caninus' whereabouts. Gaius Baebius, of all people, had reported seeing him. When Gaius was taking his breakfast at the Dolphin in Portus that morning, Caninus had slunk into the brothel opposite, the Damson Flower. Rubella and Brunnus had taken a posse and would arrest the attache if he was still on the premises.

'Brunnus is still lusting for glory for the Sixth.'

'While Rubella is of course above such ambitions! Do we want to go and join the fun?'

'Let them jostle. We two have more sense.' We did not have to wait long. While we sat there, Rubella, Brunnus and an armed group brought the captured attache for his reckoning.

We remained at our post, merely pulling in our feet to avoid the dust they kicked up. The prisoner was almost invisible, at the centre of the escort. But I noticed that, perhaps to disguise himself at the brothel, Caninus was heavily painted. Of his fabled beaded slippers there was no sign. his feet were bare. His long tunic hung off him in rags. He slumped limply, as the vigiles held him by the arms. They must have started working him over at the brothel.

Petronius and I watched grimly as they dragged the prisoner backwards down the side street to the station-house gate. He was a corrupt official; the ex-slaves in the vigiles would be merciless. Vespasian had already had enough bad legions to clean up; he would not want a naval scandal too. The Caninus affair would be buried. No trial or conviction would feature in the Daily Gazette court reports. Caninus was due for silent elimination.

We saw him being hauled inside the station house. No one would know when, or if ever, he came out. The prisoner and escort vanished into the shadowed interior. Then for once someone hauled the mighty doors across behind them. The vigiles were seeking their own dreadful privacy for what would happen next. The thud of the heavy bar which clenched the tall doors shut echoed up the empty street. Petronius and I then sat on in the afternoon sunlight, two old friends with very long memories, sharing a quiet drink.