Sad but calm, I left the Armilustrium and made my way home.
Stepping into the cold gloom of the entrance to the Eagle Building, I heard male voices. Faustus was there. I saw him sitting on the bench he had bought for me, holding court with his slave, Dromo, and my porter, Rodan. They were discussing the elections, seriously, man to man. I stood out of sight, listening.
Faustus was reporting on the likely outcome of their campaign. ‘The lobbying is over and names will go forward to the Senate. Of course, the level of support they have managed to gather – or not! – will influence the vote. The hard candidates, Trebonius Fulvo and Arulenus Crescens, have streaked ahead.’
Rodan naturally thought that good. He had been a feeble gladiator, retired by his trainer because his only habit was losing. Still, he liked men who went to the gym. ‘Brilliant!’
‘Well, they have worked for it and deserve it.’ Faustus was a fair man. ‘After them is the woozy one, Dillius Surus.’
Dromo chuckled. ‘He’ll have good experience for regulating bars.’
‘I think he drinks at home,’ Faustus demurred, smiling.
‘What about the others, Master? What about that fellow you like?’
‘Trickier, Dromo. The last three are neck and neck. Ennius is about to be connected to a tragic scandal, bad enough to damn him. Otherwise, my man and his co-runner seem to be heading for a tie. If so, a helpful senator says he’ll get up and propose placing them in the traditional order – that is, precedence to married men with children. Vibius is married and a father of two. Gratus is getting married, but has no children.’
‘Can he adopt some?’
‘I don’t think it counts, Rodan. Otherwise people standing for election would all foster orphans just for the voting period!’
I stepped out into view. Watching Tiberius closely, I saw his face light when he saw me. ‘Albia, there you are!’
Expressionless, I walked over to them. Dromo slipped off the bench to make space for me, but I remained standing.
‘Who is your useful senator?’
‘Camillus Aelianus made the offer.’
‘Aulus!’ The surly one.
‘Yes, I was surprised. But your uncle seems to mean it.’
Faustus signalled to his slave and the porter to leave us, saying we had things to discuss. That was truer than he knew.
I did sit, at the other end of the bench. He held out a hand for me to move closer, but I pretended not to notice.
It was more than a day since we were last together, when we interviewed the vigiles about Valens’s slaves. I said I had no more news, so Faustus should give his catch-up first.
He stared at me curiously, but then began. He made no reference to his uncle. Tullius could not have said anything. ‘Yesterday first: I saw the Callisti. They owned up that their slaves say Valens recognised the leader of the group who attacked him.’
‘Aspicius?’
‘Yes. Valens told them to run home and warn the family, as we know. But with Valens dead, only the slaves are witnesses to who took part in the ambush. In law they have to be tortured to give usable evidence. The family do not want that.’
I sighed. ‘Can we squeeze a confession out of Aspicius? He could be offered a deal, if he implicates Julia Verecunda.’
Faustus pulled a face. ‘Unfortunately we can’t find him.’
Groaning at that, I asked, ‘What have you tried?’
They had started with a vigiles search of the hod-carrier’s workplace and home. Aspicius had not been seen in his usual haunts for days. He had left the site where he worked, and neighbours said he had not been home. They told the vigiles he had been brooding about his missing wife, claiming he knew where Pomponia had gone. Faustus feared Aspicius might follow her to Fidenae, so he had spent most of yesterday and half the night racing back there with mounted men to rescue her.
‘We brought the woman and baby back to a safe house in Rome. She made a fuss but I insisted.’
‘Does she admit to knowing what her husband did?’
‘There was no time to interrogate her. We came back in the dark. It’s a damned long way, even for cavalry.’
‘You can ride?’
‘Country upbringing.’
‘You looked whacked.’ He was tired out, and no wonder.
‘Yes, I am.’ My man was pleading to be comforted; it was hard not to respond.
Instead, I reported my own fears that the Callisti would go after Aspicius. Faustus had already thought of that: he had told the vigiles to send him word if any suspicious bodies turned up.
We discussed Julia Verecunda. I explained her history with Valens, her tireless jealousy and manipulative nature, her attempts to subvert her daughters’ marriages, and how Philippus and I thought she must have paid money to abort the election hopes of Volusius Firmus. Faustus said that yesterday the Callistus brothers and Firmus had evidently worked out who must have employed Aspicius.
I asked if anyone had interviewed her. Faustus had attempted it this morning. At her most old-fashioned, Julia Verecunda had claimed the full privilege of a Roman matron to have a male relative speak on her behalf.
‘Oh, no. Not Ennius?’
‘Yes, Mother’s Boy! But don’t despair,’ Faustus told me. ‘Ennius came good. He surprised me. He must have amazed his mother.’
‘What with?’
‘Well, whether or not Julia Verecunda intended that Valens should die, ultimately she organised the ambush and caused his death, which cannot be ignored. Ennius asked me not to put her to a public trial. Instead − and I agreed this, so I hope it meets with your approval − he has called a full family council in the ancient tradition. You know what that means, Albia?’
‘The charges against his mother will be judged by her assembled family. The family will give their verdict; the family will decide any punishment.’
‘Exactly. Ennius will preside. He gave the impression he is going to be tough on her. It takes place later today. I shall be present as an observer,’ said Faustus. ‘You can accompany me, if you would like.’
I nodded.
It was the hottest part of the day. We were burning up in the courtyard. I stood and said I would see Faustus later. I was going indoors, and made it obvious that he was not invited. He stood up too. He looked hurt, but made no attempt to follow me.
A while later I looked out. I saw Faustus sprawled dead asleep on the stone bench, in full sun.
I called up Dromo. ‘Your master will catch sunstroke. Wake him and tell him to come indoors to rest in the cool on my reading couch. Then go to his house and fetch him a clean, dry tunic for when he goes out later. Better bring two, formal and informal, because I don’t know whether he intends going as an aedile or a private citizen.’
I put out a pillow and a jug of water. I heard Faustus come in. I stayed in my bedroom with the door firmly shut.
All the same, I was glad I had taken care of him. Glad, too, simply knowing he was here close by.
59
The Verecundus council was held at the Temple of Claudius. Temples are used for special meetings, of the Senate, for example. The family wanted a place with solemn religious significance, somewhere large enough to hold them all, and on the Caelian Hill where they lived. I presume they did not consider the fact that this temple had been begun by Agrippina, widow of the Divine Claudius, after she had killed off her imperial spouse with the fabled dish of poisoned mushrooms. How divinely appropriate that she, too, had been a domestic murderess.
Agrippina, the tigerish mother of Nero, eventually met retribution at the hands of her son. Also apt!
Lack of interest in Claudius meant it had taken several emperors to complete this temple, which stood high on an enormous man-made platform. The cost of its earthworks and engineers had not helped. Massive arched colonnades surrounded the huge sanctuary, with rows of trees shading its interior enclosure. Partly encircled by the crook-backed line of the Aqua Claudia, which brought the waters of the River Anio to Rome, in Nero’s time this area had been subsumed into his lavish Golden House. Elaborate nymphaea had once fed fountains and cascades that clothed half of the Caelian in sheets of sparkling water. It would have been a beautiful tribute to his adoptive father had Nero ever completed it, but he called himself an artist and artists notoriously abandon projects.