Galla would have hated that.
I began coolly: ‘You and Valerius Aviola split up long ago, so you are not a fragile widow around whom I must tiptoe gently. I realise what happened is a shock, but I have to be blunt. The situation has become an embarrassment for the Temple of Ceres, so they want answers quickly.’
‘The Temple? …’ Galla quavered, though I presumed her cousin had explained the situation to her.
I myself discussed the slaves taking refuge. ‘They will take the blame and be executed, for not saving their master and mistress — that’s unless it can be shown who really murdered them.’
‘Do you think you can find out?’
I looked Galla Simplicia in the eye. Was she saying do you know it was me? ‘That is the intention.’ I paused for a beat, then said, ‘I was surprised to be told that you yourself wanted the couple out of the way.’
‘I deny it!’ Of course she did. ‘We were perfectly friendly.’ Of course they were not.
‘Well, I expected you to deny it,’ I replied, as if that was enough. A wise woman would understand that I hadn’t even started.
‘It is a terrible thing to say — and it’s a lie!’
‘It could be misinformation from people with vested interests — ’ That sounded fair. I did not want her to be able to allege I was prejudiced against her. ‘But much weight is given to informants these days, you know. Our emperor encourages people to speak out against their associates. Please use this opportunity to clarify everything, will you? Accusations are being bandied about that you were afraid for your children’s future − so let’s talk about the children first.’
We established the family tree. Valerius, Valeria and Simplicia were twenty-five, twenty-one and nineteen. Valerius still lived with his mother. I could imagine what that signified. Both daughters were married, Valeria about to produce her first child; I wondered if the prospect of becoming a grandfather had spurred Aviola to remarry.
‘He wanted to prove his virility,’ sneered Galla, of her own accord. ‘Don’t they all? It’s so pathetic.’
‘You reckon he would have produced a second family?’
‘She — ’ That was Mucia Lucilia. ‘- had no children. Yet! She wouldn’t refuse. Of course he would be thrilled − then he would have died on them while they were still helpless infants. Just so selfish!’
‘You have a bleak view of men.’
‘Don’t you?’ Galla demanded, staring at me bitterly. It was true I had seen the worst men do. But I felt no sense of sisterhood. Not that this woman wanted my friendship.
Even so, I pretended we were speaking freely. ‘So, Galla Simplicia, you were understandably anxious about your children? Perhaps you were afraid of them losing their father’s affection? Is it right you would have done anything to safeguard their position?’
‘I am a mother, I defend my brood. I have brought them up myself-’
‘With financial help, surely?’
‘Left to himself, my husband would have begrudged every copper. It was a constant battle to point out what was right. We wrangled for years. Of course the children have no idea what I had to go through; I managed to protect them from seeing the strife.’
‘Did their father not love them?’
‘Oh yes!’ Galla made an extravagant gesture. ‘But love does not pay for somewhere to live, for clothes, schooling, treats to give them a happy childhood — does it?’
Not if luxury is what you expect in life, I thought. If you grow up with nothing, then love − if you ever acquire it — is a huge luxury.
‘Were you really afraid Aviola would turn against them?’
‘Of course I was! That fear was perfectly justified, believe me. It does not mean, Flavia Albia, that I felt driven to send murderers here — even if I knew how one goes about finding such people. A woman like me … Or are you suggesting I came here secretly myself, and beat the victims to death with my own hands?’
I toughened up. ‘I see the grisly details have been kept from you, Simplicia. Only the door porter was beaten up. Aviola and Mucia were strangled.’
Galla blinked, then looked subdued. ‘Horrible. Would they suffer? Is it,’ she whispered with what seemed genuine pity, ‘a swift death?’
‘It can be.’ She must know I was watching her closely. ‘They both struggled. As the scene has been described, my interpretation is that Aviola was killed first, which implies he was perhaps taken unawares-’ I paused for effect. ‘Mucia Lucilia would have seen Aviola being killed, so she knew what was coming for her. Her terror must have been extreme.’
‘Unbearable,’ agreed Galla briefly.
She did not say it as if she rejoiced in her rival’s torment — but who would? Even if Galla Simplicia was involved, I judged her too good an actress to betray herself.
16
Mother’s Boy had been dragged from Campania to Rome with Mother. Did she want to be able to produce him as the wronged heir, like a tame dove from a conjurer’s sweaty armpit? I made arrangements with Galla to interview her darling the next morning, but graciously allowed them time to wake up first, after their journey. Mummy’s Precious was bound to be master of the long lie-in.
Tingling at this unexpected swing in the case, I myself rose early.
‘You are causing me a lot of trouble!’ Dromo whined.
‘How come?’
‘He made me go to some baths again! Two times the same day. He hauled me there himself and got a horrible attendant to torture me.’ He, being Faustus, had then equipped Dromo with an old tunic of his own. I had seen Faustus wearing the faded garment, when he was acting as a man of the streets, incognito. It gave me an odd feeling.
The restless slave continued to brood on the unfair treatment inflicted by this cruel master. ‘I’m not going every day! … Oh, don’t make me do that, Albia.’
‘Get a grip, Dromo.’
‘Can I have another cake for being washed twice?’
‘No. Eat this.’
I had made us breakfast rolls, fresh from a local bakery and filled with cold sliced beef; I went out for the ingredients myself. ‘Do you want a pickled gherkin with it?’
‘I don’t like them.’ Refusing pickles, Dromo was like a big five-year-old.
‘Good. I can eat both.’
‘I could try one.’ Make that a three-year-old.
‘Too late, lad.’
I still had time to spare before interviewing Aviola and Galla’s son. Since Polycarpus had not appeared that morning, I took the chance to go upstairs and investigate where he lived. Secundus and Myrinus, the North African leatherworkers who were Libycus’ friends, were opening the shutters on their shop and they pointed me to the right stairs.
It was a long hike up, almost to the top of the building. In this it was typical of Rome, and no worse than my own office at Fountain Court. Stone steps led directly from the street; they were cleaner, with more light than I was used to in my building. I guessed housewives swept and tidied them, not a lazy general cleaner. So there were no lost toys to trip over and hardly any smells. Well, I noticed some smells, though not bad enough to make me want to hold my breath until I reached the next level.
As I reached the door I heard a dog start excitedly barking. When I knocked, a woman called out to know who it was; this was followed by exasperated orders to the dog. After a period of paw-scrabbling, a door slammed inside. A short, breathless woman with joined Eastern eyebrows and dark moles, though not unattractive, opened up. She looked out as if she feared I would be nagging her to buy worm-eaten sponges from a tray. I repeated who I was. She cannot have heard properly, while struggling to control the dog.