The Chariots of Calyx (11 page)

‘Oh, do not fuss so much, Mother. I don’t know why you insisted on making such a spectacle of me in front of the undertakers. With Father’s body lying there, too. His spirit won’t even have left the house by this time. He’ll think we have shown him disrespect, and then we shall be lucky if he doesn’t come back to haunt us.’ His lower jaw jutted defiantly. ‘Don’t blame me if the milk curdles and the slaves start dying. What else can you expect, making a scene in the funeral chamber?’

‘I didn’t make a scene!’ his mother said, with more animation than I had thought she possessed. ‘Monnius knows I would never offend his spirit. It was that woman, coming in and wanting to interrupt. Well, she can lament now all she wants. She didn’t begin the ritual, you did, and nothing can ever alter that.’

Filius – this had to be the famous Filius – brightened slightly. ‘There is one good thing about it, I suppose. I have done my duty now. I won’t have to go in and do any more lamenting till the funeral.’

He seemed to be quite serious. It occurred to me that only Fulvia appeared to feel any real emotion at Monnius’ death. I was about to step towards the pair, but at that moment Filius noticed me.

‘Is this the fellow the governor sent?’ he asked, looking me over from haircut to sandals, but addressing himself to Lydia, as though I had no ears.

‘Yes, Filius dear,’ his mother said. She had lost her animation suddenly, and was now speaking in the wheedling, apologetic tone I had heard her use before. ‘Your grandmother sent for him. Don’t scowl, dear. I expect the gentleman will want to talk to you. After all, you are your father’s heir.’

‘Well, I didn’t send for him, and I don’t want to talk to him,’ Filius burst out, his voice suddenly emerging in a squeaking falsetto, which rather undermined his dignity. ‘There’s nothing to tell him anyway. I was sleeping in the annexe with you. I didn’t hear about this rotten old murder till this morning – and then no one would let me come anywhere near the place. I didn’t see anything until you took me in there, and then they had him covered up, so there wasn’t anything to see.’ He turned his back on me and would have walked away.

‘So you are Monnius’ heir?’ I said, hastily taking Lydia’s lead. It occurred to me that if anything was going to capture this spoiled young man’s attention, it was likely to be the mention of money.

I had guessed correctly. Filius stopped and half turned back, although he still did not favour me with another glance. ‘There is no secret about that. It is all in the will, and that’ll be read in the forum in a day or two,’ he said, insolently twisting one of his chestnut curls in his fingers and looking pointedly at Junio. ‘Father is leaving his country house to Fulvia and everything else to me.’

I wondered what Fulvia thought of that. She had talked of
this
being her house. ‘Does your stepmother know of this?’ I asked.

He shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I should think Fortunatus would have told her. He told me – he was a witness to my father’s will. I suppose he might not have told Fulvia. She is only a woman, after all.’ He pulled the curl out straight and looked at it with a smirk.

‘Well, I shall have to find him and ask him,’ I said. ‘He’s racing in Verulamium, I hear.’

For the first time Filius looked at me, with something like animation on the pudgy features. ‘Not just Verulamium. They are going on to Camulodunum afterwards – there is another big exhibition there, in support of one of the magistrates. Fortunatus will win, of course. None of the others stand a chance against him – though lots of people back the Reds. They’ve been coming a good second for weeks and now they’ve bought Citus to appear for them – you know, the horse that won a hundred races. But Fortunatus says the Blues will win. You are an enthusiast for the chariots?’

‘Not really. I prefer the games,’ I said, untruthfully. In fact I much prefer a day at the circus, watching the races, to the more bloodthirsty diversions of the arena. ‘I wished to speak to Fortunatus about Fulvia and the will.’

He lost interest then, and plucked at the curl again. ‘Oh, that. Who cares? She’s welcome to the stupid country house. I don’t want it – it smells of pigs and sheep.’

‘Filius!’ his mother said. She turned to me. ‘We may contest it, citizen. There is valuable property attached to that villa.’

‘We won’t contest it, Mother. I say so, and I’m the man of the family now, so you have to do what I want. And what I want . . .’ he paused for a moment, as if trying to think of something truly dramatic, ‘. . . and what I want now is to lie down and have a servant bring me a goblet of warm milk and honey. I’m worn out with all this lamenting.’

So much, I thought, for observing a proper fast. In a house of mourning no hot food or drink should be prepared, except the grave-meats and the funeral feast, until the body is decently disposed of.

Filius, though, seemed oblivious of this. He turned on his heel and marched off down the corridor, giving every indication of being very pleased with himself.

‘Well, make sure you have the servants strike a gong to keep away evil spirits, and make a little sacrifice to Vesta while you drink it,’ his mother called after him. ‘The rituals have already been disturbed, and you can’t be too careful.’ She flashed me an anguished look. ‘Excuse him, citizen, he is not himself. But it is true what he tells you. All of us were asleep in the annexe, and the intervening door was bolted. It was impossible for us to hear anything. I can vouch for that. He would tell you more himself if he were not so shocked at losing his father. The poor boy is thoroughly cast down.’

If I had a son like Filius, I though sourly, I would have had him ‘cast down’ long ago, preferably from some very high place, like the Tarpeian rock. However, I could not say that to Lydia. I did say, civilly enough, ‘I take it, lady, that since you were also in the annexe last night, you did not see or hear anything yourself?’

‘Nothing at all, citizen.’

‘And you have no idea who might have killed your husband?’

Her mouth hardened. ‘You know what Annia Augusta thinks,’ she said primly.

‘I was asking you, madam citizen,’ I said.

She flushed at this. ‘I have no other suggestions to make. Annia may well be right, but I know no more about it than she does. I was with her all the evening, as I am sure she’s told you.’

‘And you noticed nothing unusual earlier in the day?’ I was thinking about the sleeping potion in the servants’ wine.

She shook her head. ‘Monnius had a feast,’ she said, as though that explained everything. ‘So naturally Annia and I kept well away.’

‘And Filius? He was not invited?’

She gave a sigh. ‘I wanted his father to invite him, but Monnius refused. Banquets were for real men, he said, and Filius was still nothing but a spoiled child. He was always saying that, although Filius had his manhood ceremony almost a month ago. Monnius blamed me – said that I indulged the boy too much.’ Two small red spots of colour touched her sallow cheeks, but – in contrast to Fulvia – the effect was disagreeable. ‘Perhaps I did. I wish his father had taken more interest in his education.’

‘Monnius had no hand in his upbringing?’ I was surprised. After a divorce many fathers kept their male heirs – if not their daughters – in their own households, sometimes to be raised by their grandmothers. Of course! As soon as I thought of that, I knew what the answer would be.

‘Annia Augusta insisted that the boy was best with me. Monnius paid for his schooling, of course, but Filius, poor lamb, was never a great scholar. He has had several tutors, but none of them really suited him. Filius has always had a delicate temperament.’

I nodded in what I hoped was an understanding manner, but inwardly all my sympathy was for the tutors. Young Filius’ sulky, bovine face did not exactly suggest a lively intellect, much less a consuming interest in rhetoric and oratory. Any
paedogogus
engaged to teach him must have had an unenviable task.

I dragged the subject back to the night before. ‘Filius knew Fortunatus?’ I said.

Lydia’s pale face lit up. ‘Filius is like any boy of his age, citizen. He is a passionate supporter of chariot racing. My father used to take us to the circus, when the boy was young – of course it was a place where I could go with them. I never cared for it – the crowds, the danger and the speed – but Filius always loved it. I remember when he was quite small, he had a little wooden model of a horse, and he tied a blue ribbon round its neck and had a slave push it round the floor for hours. Filius would make him tip it over, and make it crash – just like the real thing. He would even lay little bets on it with stones. Of course there was only one horse in the race, so Filius always won.’

My tolerance for Filius anecdotes was limited. I said, ‘And Fortunatus?’

‘Filius supported the Blues, so Fortunatus was halfway to a god to him. When Annia brought us to this house to live, and Filius learned that Fortunatus sometimes came here to dine, naturally the poor boy wanted to meet his idol face to face. Monnius refused at first – I always suspected that Fulvia put him up to it – but poor little Filius begged and wept. He was so upset that he refused to eat, and even Monnius weakened in the end.’

So Filius had thrown temper tantrums till he got his way. I could imagine that. ‘Did he see him often after that?’

Lydia’s face softened. ‘I will say this for Fortunatus, he was always kind to my boy. He made a point of talking to him whenever he saw him, and Filius used to lie in wait for him. He was a real fan. He even keeps one of Fortunatus’ broken boots beside his bed. Though I don’t think Fortunatus really welcomes it. I think he was more concerned with standing well in Monnius’ eyes.’

‘And in Fulvia’s?’ I said. It was cruel, but I needed to find out.

Lydia looked at me with such reproach that I quite regretted my words. ‘On the contrary, citizen. She was impatient of the whole affair. She thought that Filius was “being indulged as usual”. She made no secret of the fact. It is hardly surprising. Fulvia has always resented me and my poor boy.’

‘Just as she resented your necklace,’ I said. She looked a little startled and I added, ‘You have one just like hers, I believe, that Annia Augusta gave you?’

She raised one hand inside her cloak and pulled aside the neck of it. ‘This one, citizen?’ She indicated a triple chain exactly like the one Fulvia had shown me, hidden by the folds of her dress.

I must have looked surprised. It is not usual for women to wear such adornments when they are in mourning. She let the cloak fall back and raised her bony chin defiantly, and for a fleeting second I saw a resemblance to Filius. ‘Annia Augusta gave it to me, citizen, but Monnius chose the pattern. That is why I elect to wear it now. I have nothing else to remind me of my husband – everything that was not my dowry I had to leave behind when he divorced me. So I wear this. No one can see it, it is nearest to my heart, and I intend to wear it in his honour till I die. Not even Fulvia can take that from me.’ Despite the whining, wheedling voice she spoke with so much feeling that I felt a fleeting sympathy for her.

‘And yet you were a friend to her?’ I said gently. ‘Making a sleeping potion for her when she needed it?’

Lydia’s sallow face turned the colour of brick. ‘She has never been a friend of mine, citizen, and I have never knowingly sold to her outright. I have sold things to her old nurse once or twice – I didn’t ask who they were for. Many people come here to buy remedies from me and her money was as good as anyone else’s.’

Hardly how Fulvia had described matters, I thought. ‘Did Monnius know about this trade in remedies?’

She looked affronted. ‘Naturally, citizen – he laughed at me for it, sometimes, but he knew. And Annia Augusta too. She was rather proud of my skills – she taught me all I know. I have no money of my own, and naturally Monnius gives me – gave me – no allowance now . . .’ She trailed off. ‘My remedies earn me a few sesterces now and then, that’s all, to buy bear’s fat and lamp-black for my lashes, or white lead and Illyrian irises for my complexion. Not that it did me any good – Monnius said it was like trying to paint over crumbling plaster.’ The red spots were burning in her cheeks again. ‘And now, citizen, you really must excuse me. I must go to Filius. He is upset, and he could easily do something to disrupt the ritual again. We should have to begin the ceremonies all over from the beginning, and think what a dreadful omen that would be.’

She clasped her bat-like cloak about her, and flapped away in the direction of the atrium.

Junio watched her go. ‘What will you do now, master?’ he enquired. ‘You wished to speak to the others in the household?’

I shook my head. ‘I do not think we have the time. You have told me most of what I wanted to know. I have spoken to Lydia and to Filius now, and with all this in progress’ – I gestured towards the inner rooms where we could still hear the lamentations rising – ‘I doubt if we can achieve much more here at present. I might inspect the study, perhaps.’

Junio grinned. ‘Lists of corn-dealers and suppliers, contracts for shipment and storage, and agreements for buying and selling grain. I had a quick look around the shelves while we were waiting for you.’

I smiled. ‘What did Superbus make of that?’

The grin broadened. ‘Not a great deal, master. He was reluctant to help, at first, and was blustering on about the law, but I reminded him that he was here on the governor’s orders, and was supposed to do whatever you told him to. Of course, you hadn’t actually asked us to look at the documents, but I didn’t mention that. I knew you would want to know what they were. In any case, from the way he was holding one of the tax-scrolls upside down, I don’t think he was making a great deal of sense of it. Though he would never admit he couldn’t read it – especially when he saw that I could.’

I had taught Junio to read, after a fashion, and it was something of which he was extremely proud. Poor Superbus must have suffered yet another blow to his precious self-esteem. I said, briskly, to hide my inward amusement, ‘So, nothing of any interest there?’

‘Just one thing, master,’ Junio said. ‘The lists talk of six grain warehouses on the river in and around the city, but I can find inventories for only five. There are records for the sixth up to last season, but this year there is nothing at all. Of course, I have not had the time to search thoroughly – but all the other records are up there on the shelf, on scrolls, all carefully stored in order. It occurred to me, if documents are missing, perhaps that’s what they were?’