Faustus looked embarrassed. ‘Show Flavia Albia more respect, Sextus. Her father is an equestrian. He outranks us – and therefore so does she.’
I countered that gently: ‘Falco remains a plebeian at heart – and therefore so do I … Your opponents will be checking on you too,’ I pointed out to Vibius, wanting to demonstrate my skills. ‘Try to spot who their informers are. Ask me, in case I know anything against them. Then use my father’s trick – march straight up and greet them by name, cheerily suggesting they question you directly. Since openness is your policy, you will gladly supply the full facts.’
‘And shall I?’
‘Olympus, of course not! If you are to be a politician, your natural medium is lying. Surely your agent has explained that?’
Again, Faustus had to control a smile. ‘So, what should we be looking for, Albia? And what will the opposition try to uncover against Sextus?’
I had plenty of ideas. ‘A good informer will closely shadow a rival candidate, monitoring his life. The informer will be very persistent. Where does this man have lunch – does he go home, or slip down a quiet side-street to a pretty apartment that is occupied by a vivacious young woman, not his wife? When he attends a harp recital, does he take his honoured spouse − or does he spend time in close conversation with the wife of his best friend?’
Both men nodded gravely. Faustus had not always been pure and I wondered about Vibius. There would be no point in criticising his opponents if they discovered worse things done by him.
Personally, I would not think Vibius Marinus was worth a rash affair. Still, other women constantly surprise me with their crazy choice of lovers.
Faustus, on the other hand … But I had tried to get him into bed. No luck.
‘For really juicy titbits,’ I went on, ‘winkle out who the candidates bank with. Have a quiet word. Are they in debt?’ More nods. ‘When they parade their so-supportive family in the Forum, who is quietly missing? Have they behaved badly to a sibling, wife or child? Do they have a complicated history of divorce?’ I tried not to look at Faustus, who himself had that. ‘We must cosy up to their slaves and ask how popular they really are. And don’t be fooled by the business associates who are supporting them. Look for associates who have stopped doing business with them. Then we’ll find out why.’
Faustus exclaimed admiringly to Vibius, ‘I told you! Flavia Albia is superb. She has even more gristle than Quintus Cicero. You see why I want her with us.’
‘Oh, you just want to supervise my convalescence,’ I murmured.
He quickly gleamed at me, not denying it. ‘Sextus, listen to her and don’t let me see you slipping down any side-streets for libidinous lunches! You must have an immaculate reputation. Which, of course, you do,’ he assured his friend, sounding as if he fully believed it. A true politician.
I was privately glad of this chance to work with Faustus. I asked who the other candidates were, the men I had to lumber with grubby reputations. Faustus supplied names. I wrote them in my note tablet. Vibius mentioned someone else, Volusius Firmus. ‘No, he dropped out,’ Faustus said. ‘Don’t know why. Run out of money? Salvius Gratus is pooling resources and working with us,’ he told me.
‘A joint ticket?’
‘A coalition.’
‘Is that legal?’
‘No, but everyone does it.’
‘What is Gratus like?’ I asked.
‘Surprisingly amenable, given he is your ex-brother-in-law,’ chuckled Vibius to Faustus. That was unwelcome news.
I knew how Faustus had come to be divorced. I had had recent dealings with his ex-wife, Laia Gratiana. She was bound to be supporting her brother but her grudging presence as a campaign collaborator held little appeal for me.
I wondered how much Vibius knew. Faustus had confided in me the story of his split from Laia: his fault, due to a fling with the wife of a patron. Ten years ago, he must have told his best friend something, though the scandal was hushed up. Had he been as frank with Sextus Vibius then as he had been more recently, after his wounds had healed, with me?
Faustus looked uneasy so I changed the subject. ‘I am puzzled, Tiberius. I thought elections were no longer held. Our emperor pores over the lists and controls new appointments himself. If Domitian has the final veto, what is the point of campaigning?’
Faustus groaned bitterly. I saw him check around with a glance, making sure there were no pottering slaves to overhear. ‘Good question. Domitian certainly chooses the consuls. But years ago electing other magistrates was passed to the Senate.’
‘Domitian loathes the Senate!’
‘But, remember, a tyrant hates to admit he is one,’ Faustus said quietly. ‘The worse he is, the more he claims – and even believes – that traditional religion and democracy matter to him deeply and determine all his actions.’
That was true. Some of Domitian’s worst cruelties had been carried out in the name of upholding some ancient practice or in supposed devotion to the gods. His favourite excuse for executing people was to claim they were ‘atheists’. (This could have been macabre humour on his part: the god that people didn’t believe in was Domitian.)
‘Candidates announce they are standing,’ Faustus continued, ‘then lobby important people, including senators.’
‘It is taken seriously? But canvassing who? Emperor or Senate?’
‘Hopefuls ascertain that the Emperor has no objection to them – and, if possible, even get him to call them “Caesar’s candidates”. That makes success certain because, obviously, Domitian’s choices are voted on first.’
‘Why are you campaigning now?’ I asked. ‘Don’t the Senate vote in January?’
Faustus scowled. ‘In the old days, elections for aedile took place in July. The job starts on the first of January, so a successful man had six months to prepare himself. Now people still campaign in July even though aediles designate are appointed for the following twelve months.’
‘Hades! You could have fallen under a cart by then!’
‘Or simply lost interest.’ He seemed depressed. ‘If we are especially unlucky, by January the Emperor will have returned from Pannonia and he will turn up to preside.’
‘Don’t worry. He hardly ever goes to the Senate. But I assume you can’t canvass Domitian directly. You work on his officials?’
Faustus groaned. ‘Endless imperial freedmen.’
‘So you ran your friend’s name past some stylus-pusher?’
‘We tried. They are all jumpy. Their chief, Abascantus, has been sent away under a cloud. Currently no one knows who is in charge.’
I nodded. ‘Domitian could have any of them removed tomorrow. The old “mismanagement of funds” charge, no chance to defend themselves, then swift execution … My father knows one who may help,’ I volunteered. ‘Claudius Laeta – he is elderly now, but bureaucrats never entirely retire.’
‘Would your father mediate for us?’
‘No need. We can take along some invalid porridge and I’ll introduce you to the tottery scroll-master myself.’
Faustus raised his eyebrows. Turning to Vibius, he said, ‘Flavia Albia always amazes me. The other thing I have not mentioned is that she has two uncles in the Senate.’
Vibius was certainly not grateful. ‘Just another five hundred and ninety-eight to win over,’ he grumbled self-defeatingly.
Faustus had met my uncles, Camillus Aelianus and Camillus Justinus, when they advised us on a case. I would make no attempt to coerce them. Let other women work behind the scenes for political favours; I had never seen that as my role. Faustus would have to persuade them himself. But I did suggest I would let him know next time I intended to visit so he could tag along.
Faustus eagerly suggested he bring Vibius, too. I agreed, though somewhat coolly.