He found it ghastly to contemplate. If his young daughter had gone for this holiday, she would probably have suffered the same fate as Valens. Had the girl been travelling in the litter with her grandparent, she too might have ended up trussed with rope, with her frail body also shoved into the old strongbox. I recalled the inoffensive, normal thirteen-year-old I glimpsed on my last visit here, and could understand her father’s agitation.
I did wonder about the girl being yet another Julia, but I had already asked too many questions. Twiglets in the Callistus family tree hardly had bearing on my enquiries.
The two men I interviewed that morning, Primus and Trebonius, had similarities. They were of a type, typical plebeians. Both men ran businesses, with all the masculine bonhomie that brings, solid men, self-confident. They knew their work; they also knew it was necessary to act well, to impress colleagues and customers. I recognised that – I played the part myself, in a quieter, ‘more suitably female’ way. Trebonius Fulvo had carried himself well today, as ever; Callistus Primus was deflated, temporarily crushed by bereavement. I liked him more, more than I cared for Trebonius, and more than the first time I met him.
Before I left, I reminded Primus of that. ‘I came to ask you about the body, immediately after we found it. You said, “Why don’t you just shove the remains on a rubbish heap like anybody sensible?” I think now you understand why.’
Callistus Primus agreed sadly.
He said if I could help discover anything about his father’s fate, the family would be grateful. I promised to do all I could and to tell them anything I found out.
40
What I should have done next was brace myself to invade the government office of the man who had come looking for me last night. If you call on somebody who is not there, always leave a message written on a tablet. Busy people like me need something physical to remind them to follow up. So I forgot all about him and instead I would nibble at details, retrace steps looking for missed clues, make mental checks on whether my deductions were logical – and, frankly, look for lunch.
People sneer, but I say that much of an informer’s useful work is done at lunch. You spend the morning struggling to add to your store of knowledge; when you relax over your chunk of bread and salad ingredients, bright new ideas flood into your brain. At least, they do until you spot that the kitchen-hand has left a slug on your lettuce.
Since I was on the Caelian, where everybody seemed to live, it made sense to stroll round to the Vibius house to see if Faustus was there. I was pleased to find he was. Sextus had gone out canvassing, but my friend was talking to his mother, Marcella Vibia, and his father, though as always the father made no contribution. They happened to be having lunch. I exclaimed innocently, ‘Oh, is it that time?’ at which I was politely invited to join them.
To begin with I kept quiet. Muted slaves served me a bowl of light food, then topped up everybody else. Today the two grandchildren were at home. Playing in a far corner of the courtyard, they were quite absorbed, though they ran over to us and were given filled flatbreads, which they carried back to their game.
Once the slaves had retreated, Faustus explained, ‘We were talking about Sextus’s wife just now.’ It was the turn of Marcella Vibia to look unhappy, though she did not try to change the subject. Faustus said, ‘Sextus is at the Forum, but heckling other people today. I was explaining that he is likely to garner more attacks about Julia Optata’s absence. Without going behind his back, I was asking his mother if she can explain the situation.’
He was going behind his friend’s back. Still, Sextus could hardly blame him.
‘We understand it’s difficult,’ I told Vibia, trying to sound sympathetic even though I thought it was high time people came clean. ‘I know there can be good explanations for everything. For instance, I was confused yesterday when Sextus told the crowd that Julia Optata is visiting a sister who is having a baby − only for their mother to declare categorically that none of her daughters is pregnant. Verecunda maintains she would be the first to know! However, only this morning – and please keep this between ourselves – I learned that Julia Laurentina, the wife of Volusius Firmus, is also expecting her first child. She hasn’t enlightened her mother either. Indeed, I was told if that child is safely born, the Callistus family will cut themselves off, so its grandmother can’t exert a baleful influence. So Julia Optata is looking after another sister in a similar position?’
‘I believe they would prefer me not to say,’ said Vibia, unintentionally confirming my suggestion. ‘Our Julia is cagy on the subject.’
‘They come from a troubled family.’ Faustus wanted to explore this.
‘Yes.’ Vibia would not exchange gossip.
‘Where the mother seems aggressively unkind,’ I put in.
‘Yes.’
Marcella Vibia distracted herself, tempting her husband with sliced eggs. He was gaunt, only toying with food. You could tell he had lost interest in eating, and probably most kinds of personal care. Left to himself, he would fade away from self-neglect. His poor wife spent her days struggling with the problem.
I exchanged a veiled glance with Faustus. He eased the situation by helping me to something, then I spooned more for Vibia.
‘You, too, must eat, Marcella Vibia.’
‘Oh, don’t worry about me.’
‘We do,’ insisted Tiberius.
‘I have to look after my husband here, don’t I, darling?’ The old man responded, though in a vague, smiling way; he was not following the conversation. ‘I can always find myself a little bite in quiet moments. So …’ Finally, to avoid talking about herself, Vibia addressed our real issue. ‘… what did you want to ask me about our Julia, Tiberius?’
‘I don’t mean to pry. I am simply trying to understand.’
‘Yes, yes.’
‘Tell me about Julia and Sextus. They always seemed perfectly happy to me.’
I nearly chortled that how married couples seem is never a true guide, but we were trying to tease out information so I only asked gravely, ‘Was it a marriage of love?’ As a newcomer I could ask that, whereas Tiberius was supposed to know.
‘I always thought so.’ Vibia paused strategically before carrying on, ‘When they first met, Julia absolutely doted on him. He was everything to her. There was never any question that he was the centre of her world – and, of course, Sextus returned her devotion, if in a more measured way.’ Another of those pauses. ‘She is a lovely, sweet girl. They have two wonderful little children.’
‘Doesn’t Julia have an older daughter?’ Faustus asked.
‘Yes.’ Vibia gave another short response, not looking at him.
‘So Julia Optata was married before?’
‘She was very young. It must have been one of those disastrous liaisons that should never have been arranged in the first place. Luckily it was not allowed to drag on; there was a very swift divorce.’
‘Who was she married to?’ I asked, ever the informer.
‘Oh, someone connected to her mother, as I understand it.’
‘Ah.’ Sometimes a family are so keen on burnishing a connection, they convince themselves a marriage will work even though the couple are incompatible. ‘It sounds as if sense prevailed. And where is her daughter?’
‘Lives with the father. Julia sees her occasionally. Now that things have settled down.’
‘Settled down?’ asked Faustus, lightly.
‘How old is the child?’ I queried, when there was no answer.
‘At least twelve, she must be. The marriage was some time ago.’
‘Have you met her?’
‘No, she has never been here.’ As I gazed at this most hospitable, reasonable of women, Vibia felt forced to add, ‘I would welcome her, but it would upset Julia. We don’t press it. Of course I would invite the girl – she ought to meet our two.’ She glanced over to them, still happily lost in their private play. ‘It seems hard, but we do what Julia wants.’