David Wishart: No Cause for Concern

‘You obviously don’t know my father as well as I thought you did, Valerius Corvinus. He’d decided on Titus, so Titus it would be. If anything, the fact that Titus was fighting him every step of the way only made him more determined.’

Well, I’d believe that. Eutacticus wasn’t the kind of bastard who’d take ‘no’ for an answer. ‘Did Occusia know? About the terms, I mean?’

She was quiet for a long time. Then she said: ‘Father told Titus in private, so it would depend if he’d passed it on. I don’t think he did, but I’m not absolutely sure. And of course Father could’ve told her himself. A bit of moral blackmail. He’s not above using any lever he can lay his hands on.’

Said without the barest smidgeon of expression. There ain’t nothing like being popular with your family, and I reckoned that, daughter or not, young Sempronia’s opinion of Eutacticus wasn’t a lot higher than her stepbrother’s. She was smart, too. ‘So if it was private between Titus and your father then how do you come to know?’

‘Ah.’ She ducked her head. ‘That’s another piece of the picture you have to have. Another reason why Titus doesn’t want Father to adopt him is that it’d make us legally brother and sister.’

‘Yeah, well, naturally, but -’

‘That would mean we couldn’t marry.’

I stared at her. Oh, bugger; this thing was getting more complicated by the minute. ‘You likely to?’

‘Of course. We liked each other from the start, and it’s sort of developed from there. It wouldn’t’ve been easy swinging it even so, but as long as Titus was legally another man’s son there was a reasonable chance. If the adoption had gone through there would’ve been no chance at all.’

‘Did your father know about this?’

‘What do you think? No-one knew, apart from us, because we couldn’t trust anyone.’

‘Then why tell me?’

‘Because when you find him you can tell him that I’m ready to go ahead with a marriage now, as soon as he can arrange it. I’ll meet him anywhere he likes.’

‘Isn’t that, uh, a bit drastic?’

‘Yes. But you see I’ve no choice either. Titus wasn’t the only one being pressured. Father’s engaged me to a certain Lucius Statius Liber. Not a great catch in society terms, but his family’s big in Beneventum and it’s as high up the social ladder as someone with our side’s background and commercial interests can expect to get. The wedding’s in six months’ time, after the Spring Festival.’

Right. Right. Mind you, for all the young lady’s manner of cool determination – and Sempronia was no fluffy kitten, I could see that – I reckoned there was more than a bit of astigmatism here. The boyfriend’s choice of lifestyle might suit him and not be all that different from what he’d been used to before his mother married Eutacticus, but if she couldn’t somehow bring her father round to the idea then unless she had a private income of her own sweet Sempronia would have to make some pretty radical changes to her expectations. Still, that was no affair of mine, and to tell the truth my sympathies were with the kids.

‘So why didn’t he tell you where he was going before he went?’ I said. ‘Or even that he was going at all? Or did he?’

She frowned. ‘No, he didn’t. Not a word, not even a hint. That’s been worrying me. It isn’t like him just to take off, however angry he was with Father.’

Ah, well, there was probably a simple-enough explanation, and I didn’t know the exact circumstances. Maybe the guy had had to take his chance of escape when it was offered and hadn’t had the opportunity, or maybe he was waiting until he’d made definite arrangements and would get a message to her. Everything seemed pretty cut and dried, anyway. I stood up.

‘Right, then,’ I said. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’

‘You’ll give him my message? When you see him?’

‘Yeah. But that’s it, lady. No arm-twisting, not on my part. I don’t play Cupid, and I don’t play piggy-in-the-middle, either. Certainly not where your father’s concerned. That suit you?’

‘Yes. You won’t have to. I promise.’

‘Fine.’ I glanced over at the maid in the corner. She hadn’t moved, hadn’t even, from the look of her, so much as raised her eyes from the floor right through the conversation. ‘I’ll be in touch.’

‘Thank you, Valerius Corvinus. And I’m sorry about my father forcing you into this. It’s just the way he does things.’

‘Yeah. So I’ve noticed.’

I left.

‘But why on earth did you agree to do it, Marcus?’ Perilla said.

‘You’ve never met Eutacticus.’ I poured myself a refill of Setinian from the jug next to the couch: the first cupful hadn’t even touched the sides. ‘You don’t argue with guys like that. It isn’t healthy. Besides, it’s no big deal. I’ll just go down to the Aventine tomorrow, have a word with this Tullia and get details of her husband’s itinerary from her, then find the kid, talk to him and report back. Job done. Occusia or whoever can take it from there and they can all go to hell in a handcart as far as I’m concerned. Like the woman said, it’s the end of the season and Luscius’s troupe’ll be well on their way back, so they can’t be far away. If I take the mare three or four days should do it, max, and I can slum it in roadside inns for that length of time no bother.’

‘Hmm.’ Perilla sniffed. ‘I still don’t like it. Besides, I’ve arranged an appointment with Daistratus for the day after tomorrow.’

‘Who the hell is Daistratus?’

‘You remember. The wall painter. About the dining room mural.’

Oh, bugger. I did remember, at that: Daistratus was a protege of one of the lady’s poetry pals who was touting him around (possibly for private reasons of her own) in the hopes of fixing the guy up with a few lucrative commissions. One of which was to fill the empty space on our dining-room wall. ‘No problem,’ I said. ‘You’re the artistic one in the family. You talk to him. I’d just stand around making polite noises anyway.’

‘But Marcus! We have to agree on a subject, at least. That’s a family decision.’

‘As long as it’s not dead animals or birds I’m easy.’ I took another swallow of wine. ‘What’s he good at?’

‘Rutilia said he specialises in architecture.’

‘Fine.’ A nice tasteful picture of a lakeside villa at evening, possibly with a boat in the foreground drifting gently across the placid water, would just do nicely. ‘Architecture it is.’

‘You’re sure?’

‘Absolutely certain. You’ve got a free hand. Surprise me.’

‘He’s…well, Rutilia says he’s rather avant-garde. Years before his time, was how she put it.’

‘That’s okay. After all, how avant-garde can an architectural painter be? A villa is a villa is a villa. It’s not like we’re risking getting him to paint us a Bacchic orgy. Besides, your pal Rutilia wouldn’t know avant-garde if it bit her in the bum.’

‘All right. If you’re really sure. But -’

‘I told you. Absolutely certain. Subject closed.’

Bathyllus, our major-domo, drifted in. ‘The chef says dinner is served, sir,’ he said.

‘Great.’ I got up and hoisted the still-half-full wine jug.

I set off early next morning for the Aventine and Tullia’s place. Occusia’s directions were pretty straightforward, although I could see why she’d written them down for me in advance rather than told me there and then: having to admit face to face that her brother-in-law was an actor was bad enough, but she’d obviously felt that giving the contact address of his wife as a cookshop on the Aventine was something she couldn’t bring herself to do. Yeah, well: marrying into money does have its downside, not least that it can bring a sudden dose of snobbery with it. I felt sorry for the kid, mind: the chances of a bit of maternal support for his decision not to fit in with his stepfather’s plans would be slim at best. Maybe that was another reason why he’d cut and run without telling anyone.