Honorius may have hoped to hitch a lift with me, but Helena steered him straight outside and pushed him off into the storm by himself.
Now she turned her attention to Ursulina Prisca. `I am so glad to see you. I wanted to ask something. You were a midwife, weren't you?'
`Yes, she was!' cried Ma.
`I am trying to find a wet-nurse -'
`Not for our little Sosia!' Ma protested loudly. Even Ursulina sucked in breath. She must know we had a baby. She had been here enough times; she must have heard Sosia Favonia yelling.
`No, no; I'm still nursing her myself I wouldn't dream -' Helena realised that it sounded as if she wanted to abandon breast-feeding. (I knew she did, which added to her guilt.) The disapproval of two witchy crones fastened on her. To mention baby teeth and weaning on to porridge would just sound like special pleading. Helena battled on: `Marcus needs to interview a wet-nurse in connection with our case -' It was news to me, but I never argued with her hunches. `If I go, she may speak more freely…'
The concept of fooling some other woman pleased both Ma and our litigious client, Ursulina. Sisterhood was not their style. They were eager to help.
`Do you know Euboule's daughter?' Helena asked as they perked up. `I believe her name is Zeuko.'
Ursulina reeled back. She acted out horror like a creaking tragedian at the least popular day of some tired and dusty festival. `Far be it from me to insult people -'
`Oh go on!' urged my mother, wickedly. `These are bad women.'
`What's wrong with Zeuko?' frowned Helena. `Is she dirty? Lazy? Does she drink?'
`Oh she's competent, some would say.' `She has had high-ranking customers.’
'They are fools. Her mother's a legend and I wouldn't let Zeuko foster a dead rat.' Ursulina Prisca shuddered dramatically. `I can find her. But don't take your own along – you might never get the little darling back.'
Helena asked Ma to look after the baby and Julia – but Ma, playing against type, quickly claimed Albia could
No wonder I was an informer. Nosiness was in my blood.
The litter was brought. I was borne away on my hopeless errand. By now, the praetor would have a long queue of supplicants. And there were still dog hairs on my toga.
XLVII
Time: afternoon.
Place: patrol house, Aventine.
Subject: conversation between L. Petronius Longus, Fourth Cohort of Vigiles, and M. Didius Falco, informer.
Mood: depressed.
`How was your morning?'
`Dire.'
`Procreus turn up?' `No.'
`Praetor see you?' `No.'
`Charges dropped?' `No.'
`Back again tomorrow?'
`Damn well have to. Any good news for me?'
`Sorry; no.'
`The Second made any progress?'
`No. Perseus is not found yet, and your steward's a no-go. He's a freedman. They can't touch him. They threatened him – but then he threatened them with appeal to the Emperor.'
`He could talk voluntarily.'
`He says no: he's too loyal.'
`Who's he loyal to?'
`He's too loyal to say.'
`Stuff him then. Stuff everything.'
`That's right. Take the tolerant view!'
`I'm off home.'
`Best thing, lad.'
`Thanks anyway.'
`That's all right. What are friends for?'
XLVIII
Time: evening.
Place: a town house full of wet cloaks, sodden shoes drying on the stairs, below the Aventine.
Subject: conversation between M. Didius Falco, informer, and Helena Justina, confidante.
Mood: stubborn.
`Where are you?'
`Here.'
`Where's here?'
`In this room.'
`Which room? I'm not a fortune-teller. Oh there you are.'
`Yes I told you I'm here. Hello, Marcus.'
`Hello, awkward. Ask about my day.'
`Looking at you, I'd rather not.'
‘Right. How was yours?’
'Curious.'
`Any use?'
`Possibly.'
`Help me out; I'm tired.'
`Sit, and I'll pull your boots off… Well, I saw Euboule – a fright, eyes sliding off in all directions guiltily. I couldn't see why Ursulina hates them so much, but your mother thought the whole set-up was sinister. They live well. There's a crиche of several infants. They've been doing the job for years. Euboule was a wet-nurse for Calpurnia, her daughter for Saffia. Trusted retainers, it seems.'
`That so? Do they have the Negrinus new baby?'
`No. Juliana and Carina did seem set against them – that's why I was curious. But, Marcus: I did see one child I recognised. He was very quiet, but playing happily. He seemed quite at home. Little Lucius.'
`Lutea told me Lucius had gone to his "foster mother"… So she's the wet-nurse? That's odd.'
`Why, Marcus?’
'Saffia made out Calpurnia Cara insisted she use a nurse to feed the Negrinus daughter. Saffia pretended to hate it. Yet she had previously farmed out Lucius voluntarily to Zeuko? Why would Saffia lie?'
`Marcus, maybe you'll want your boots back on, if I tell you about Zeuko -'
`Zeuko wasn't there today?'
`No. She had rushed off in hysterics because of her lover.'
'Zeuko's having a fling?'
`I'd guess, one of several. But this one matters – to us, that is. Somebody saw this man being dragged into the local vigiles' patrol house this morning.'
`I think I've guessed.'
`I'm sure you have, Marcus. Euboule and her daughter live in the Fifth Region. The local vigiles are the Second Cohort. And Zeuko's lover is called Perseus.'
XLIX
Time: evening.
Place: patrol house, Second Cohort of Vigiles, Fifth Region.
Subject: conversation between an unknown squad member and M. Didius Falco, informer. In the presence of Q. Camillus Justinus, informer's associate.
Mood: angry.
'Be reasonable. We need to know what the door porter says.'
`He's unavailable.'
`Is he still getting the treatment?'
`I can't comment.'
`Can I speak to your persuasion officer?'
`He's busy.'
`Still in session?'
`We never reveal that.'
`You just invented that edict! Don't you think you owe us cooperation? I've heard all about how you got hold of this slave. If it wasn't for Justinus bringing him back to Rome, you'd have had to flog all the way to Lanuvium. We've saved you a long trip and a longer runaround – it took Justinus a three-day effort to root out the porter from where he was hiding up.'
`Get lost, Falco.'
`Listen -'
`No, you listen. Either leave this station-house right now – or you'll be flung into a cell.'
L
Time: evening.
Place: patrol house, Fourth Cohort of Vigiles, Aventine.
Subject: conversation between L. Petronius Longus and M. Didius Falco, in the presence of Q. Camillus Justinus.
Mood: tense.
`I've got the story for you.'
`Something happened. That's obvious.'
`Look, Falco -'
`You're sounding defensive.'
`I'm damn well not.'
`Well, damn well get on with it.'
`Perseus refused to tell them anything. And he's no longer available.'
`Translate that, Petro. What pretty vigiles excuse is "no longer available"?'
`He's dead.'
`They killed him?'
`It's not their fault.'
`Oh please!'
`The courts expect a high standard of battery, if it's to count as torture legally.'
`Oh I'd really call this a "high standard"!'
'They are not all as skilled as Sergius -'
`Oh Quintus, don't you like the comparison? Sergius is the penalty man in this cohort. Here, torture is no more dangerous than a sheep shearing picnic in the Apennines. Here they can squeeze your goolies off so delicately you stay alive and keep on making helpful statements for absolutely weeks.'
`Spare me your sarcasm. The Second slipped up, Falco. Sometimes it's a risk.'
`Some risk. These incompetents have removed the one witness who might have told us the truth.'
LI
I WAS BITTERLY angry. But in fact there were still other possible witnesses.