She was eager to hear the day's news. Besides, the sooner she could persuade her parents to absorb themselves in the trial details, the sooner she could stop worrying that they were glaring at Albia (whom they thought an unsuitable choice to look after our daughters) and at the meal. We had not owned a cook until recently. The one I had acquired last week from a slave dealer was resold two days after I bought him and the new one had no idea what gravy was for. Still, this was an improvement. The first one had tried to fry lettuce.
`Try these intriguing hens' eggs,' Decimus offered his wife. `Marcus tells me they are a classic Moesian delicacy; the little black specks take days to produce.'
`What happened to that other cook you had?' my unforgiving mother-in-law demanded. After one silent glance at the hens' eggs with their curious jacket of caramelised skillet flakes, she ignored the glass comport on which they nestled.
`Resold. At a profit, I can proudly say.'
`Oh you managed to find an idiot in the buying queue?'
`I sold him to my father, actually.' I chuckled gamely. `A double coup – except it means we cannot go and dine with him.' That was no loss, and Julia Justa knew it.
`From what I know of your father, Geminus will already have shed him – with a healthy on-cost added.' The senator had not only met Pa, he had foolishly bought things from him.
`I have this vision,' I said dreamily. `The cook – whose name was Genius, so you know to refuse at once if you are offered him -'
`Only you could fall for that, Marcus.'
`Agreed! In my vision, Genius is now being passed around Rome, constantly gaining in value as successive owners overprice him with false stories about his dishes. Each of us needs to recoup the sales tax when we get rid of him… All the time he is acquiring a set of fake commendations, until he becomes a gourmet's treasure, lusted after as if he can whisk up sauces like ambrosia…'
`It's a new kind of investment commodity,' the senator joined in. `Genius never needs to visit a real kitchen – which is just as well, if I may tactfully mention the after-effects of that pork marinade he made for us last week.'
`This date sauce is very good,' remarked Julia Justa very politely. She had let us know her views on Genius, but if his menu had made her ill, she would never go so far as to say so. `And tonight's spiced wine excels.'
`Albia made the spiced wine,' replied Helena, not upsetting her parents by mentioning that I did the date sauce; they wanted to ignore how plebeian I was. Albia went red. We made her eat with us as one of the family when the babies were in bed; she hated it. Still, we were libertarians. Everyone was stuck with our high principles. I bought slaves who were obviously useless, because I loathed the idea of owning them and I could not bring myself to bargain as hard as you had to for anyone with real skills.
As for Albia, we had transferred her from Londinium to Rome to give her the life she had been denied by losing her family in the Boudiccan Rebellion – and she was damn well going to receive family life, even if she preferred solitude. Albia was becoming a quiet, calm, tolerant teenager. She watched the decadent world into which we had dragged her with those British blue eyes, so full of reserve; they seemed to appreciate our special Roman madness while keeping her own, much more civilised restraint. I had seen her sometimes shake her head over us, very slightly.
Still, Helena had taught her to make excellent spiced wine.
`It was Rubiria Juliana's day in court,' said the senator. I noticed Helena hitch her red dress along her shoulder where a pin was digging in. The glimpse of smooth flesh between the fastenings gave me goose pimples. Helena lay flat on her stomach – not the approved style of dining, as her mother clearly noticed; I would be given the blame for this – the low-class, bad influence husband. Helena leaned her chin on her hands, a pose unconsciously copied by Albia, though the fourteen year-old soon stopped paying attention to what Decimus said and tucked into the food bowls again. Helena had lost interest in eating. She longed to hear her father's news.
`I assume there had been no documentary evidence, Papa?'
He shook his head. `No. And no minor witness statements are to be brought, only what the defendants have to say for themselves. So there's Juliana, properly dressed in mourning and dishevelled – very carefully, I may say. She made us all feel as sorry for her as possible, but still looked neat enough to be respectable.'
`It is difficult for a woman,' his wife argued. `If she were smart, you would think her a heartless piece. If she looks untidy, you still won't vote for her.'
The senator winked at me; he did it openly. `There were pitfalls for the prosecutor too. Attack her too crudely and Silius would look tyrannical. Let her off lightly, and he might seem to be bringing the case out of personal vindictiveness.,
'Which of course you don't believe?' I queried drily.
`I think he's a bloody tricky bastard.' Such strong words were rare from Decimus. `I remember him years ago. He was an accuser in Nero's day – that's a sordid heritage. You could see his past coming out when he was cross-examining this morning. He still has the snide political innuendo: Were you not from such a family, you might not have known what was required… As if coming from a gang of contract traders had made the poor woman a natural dealer in death!'
`I doubt she knew anything about what went on at the aediles' office… Did Silius establish any motive for Juliana to want her father dead?'
`Saving the family fortune. It would be lost if he lived and they were forced to pay their court judgment. That, of course, enabled Silius to go harping on about the corruption.'
`But what is Juliana supposed to be saving the fortune for? Hardly any of it would go to her, you said. She had been given her dowry, and that was her lot.'
`This is the weakness in his case.'
`How does he get over it?' demanded Helena. `Distractions and irrelevant dirt. Those old court standbys.' `Lots of fun to listen to!'
Her father took a marinated olive, chewed it gently, and made no comment. He had a good sense of humour, but he could be prudish about unseemly jokes. In fact, I thought Helena had spoken critically. She would listen to scandal, but she disapproved of those who peddled it simply to harm others.
`So what kind of witness did Juliana make?' I asked.
`Pretty good. She stood by her story and stood up to Silius.'
Helena asked suddenly, `Was her sister there?'
'Yes. Didn't see her yesterday. Today, they were all present: sister, brother, mother, the two girls' husbands. Backing the accused, apparently. The defence made a decent job of things too – establishing that Juliana had always been a good daughter, was a mother, only ever had one husband – who was there in court supporting her – had not been criticised for her actions by her mother – who was ditto in court – had not quarrelled with her brother over their father's death – ditto, ditto – and she was warmly praised by her father for her love and care of him, shortly before he passed away.'
`So it was a pointless day?' Helena grumbled.
`Far from it.' Her father sat up slightly. `There was a sensation. I would not have missed being there. After Juliana, we still had the afternoon session. They had time to start on the apothecary.'
`The man who has to take the blame!' I muttered, the cynical plebeian.
`Or worse, poor fellow,' said Decimus.
He revelled in describing what had happened when Rhoemetalces was brought into the Senate. Silius Italicus questioned him forcefully about the pills he sold to Juliana. They went over the story that I had put in my report: the pills were supposed to contain corn cockle seeds, a fast poison. Rhoemetalces said again that on its own it would kill within an hour. Again he said that he believed the layer of gold would survive digestion, leaving the person who swallowed a pill alive. 'Silius used up all the rest of his waterclock declaiming what nonsense that was.' The waterclock was used to time speeches.