John remarked that Castor had been fortunate indeed to be able to arrange matters so that he could live in the obscurity he seemed to crave. “Although his father would doubtless not have been happy to see so much property sold away within one generation, even though he was heir to an entire kingdom,” he concluded.
“I wasn’t close to my brother, Lord Chamberlain, so I cannot say. Remember, I was barely fifteen when he died and I had interests other than estates and inheritances. Then, too, my family owned a number of properties that I rarely visited. Now they’re all mine, since my parent’s wills were all correctly witnessed. Or should I say that at the time the emperor was not interested in finding some pretext to prove otherwise.” Balbinus reached unsteadily for the wine decanter and looked surprised to find it empty.
The voice that came from the doorway was not loud but it was it was nevertheless firm. “Balbinus, guard your tongue and put away the wine before it makes you hand your head to the Lord Chamberlain.”
Lucretia was standing there. Balbinus looked abashed but set down his goblet.
“I was passing down the corridor and overheard some of your conversation,” Lucretia went on, addressing John rather than her husband. John wondered how long she had been listening to their conversation, just out of sight along the hall.
“My family and Balbinus’ have always been close friends,” she was saying. “We often visited each other’s estates and our marriage entwined the two families even closer together. As it happens, my old nursemaid Nonna is still alive and might possibly recall something from those long ago days that would be of assistance. She lives in a street just off the Forum Constantine.”
***
Nonna fluttered around her tiny apartment in a state of voluble agitation, apologizing for the humbleness of the surroundings, the coarseness of the bread, the age of the cheese, and the dent in the silver plate holding the food. She fanned at rays of sunlight slanting in through the window and decried the dust motes they revealed descending inexorably toward the chair where her important visitor would have to sit.
John smiled and tried to put her at ease by complimenting her furnishings which, although few, would not have looked out of place in a fashionable villa. The old woman, looking pleased, explained they had been gifts from her former owners upon her manumission and retirement.
John convinced her, finally, to sit down. She looked at him apprehensively. Her skin was wrinkled as a dried apple, but through a wispy halo of gray hair her scalp looked as pink as a baby’s.
“And how is my dear Lucretia?” she asked. “I haven’t seen her for what seems like years. Young people think nothing of time, sir. They do not realize how little of it they have to fritter away.”
“Lucretia is very well.” John detected a tinge of sorrow in Nonna’s tone and felt certain she would much rather be entertaining her former charge, regardless of how honored she might be by the possibility of assisting a Lord Chamberlain. He quickly explained the reason for his visit.
“Oh, I see,” Nonna replied. “Yes, we often went for long visits to Master Bassus’ estate. It was across the Marmara, a lovely place indeed.”
“Do you remember anything unusual?” John suggested “A scandal? A regular visitor from court who suddenly stayed away for a few months?”
“It’s hard to think back after all these years,” Nonna replied, looking ready to cry.
“Were there rumors?” John persisted gently. “Servants always talk about their masters. Perhaps you heard something?”
“That’s true, sir, but as a Christian woman I would not think of repeating such tattle, and especially to a high official such as yourself.”
“I do understand your feelings, Nonna, but let me assure you that I have seen and heard much worse than anything you might possibly tell me.”
The old servant’s wrinkled face reddened. After hesitating for a short time, she spoke.
“None of it was anything but youthful prattle and foolishness, Lord Chamberlain. Just young people making up silly stories, dreaming of being better than they are. After all, romance with the high born is not for servants, so when the stable-hand talked about how he planned to entice the young mistress into the straw or some wretched cook’s assistant prattled about putting a love potion in the master’s wine, I never paid any attention. Besides, I was a nursemaid. I spent more time with the family than with the other servants.”
John took a sliver of cheese. He had not eaten all day. Perhaps that was why he was developing a raging headache. “I imagine that you recall Balbinus and his brother well from those days?”
Nonna’s expression immediately brightened. “Both very fine young men, sir. Lucretia is fortunate indeed to have married Balbinus.”
“But young men will be young men,” John ventured with a slight smile.
Nonna scowled to hear his implication. “Balbinus was not that sort of wild young man, Lord Chamberlain. It was the young ladies who would set their eyes on him. Of course, he is a most handsome man with a profile to tempt a classical sculptor, but the girls were always disappointed.” She gave a fond smile.
“But perhaps his brother Bassus did not disappoint them?”
“It was so long ago, you know, and all the summers I spent on that estate seem to have melted into a single golden season. However, I do recall there was one foolish young maidservant who declared most firmly she was going to throw herself into the sea because one of the young masters had looked crossly at her or some such nonsense. But was it Balbinus or Bassus who made her so distraught? I have forgotten. In any event, she didn’t do any such thing of course. That I do remember. And then there was a young vixen from the kitchen who was always letting her hair come undone at opportune moments. Very long it was, and the color of ripe wheat. A vain girl she was, always trying to catch someone’s eye, usually the eye of someone who was wealthy. As a result of her efforts in that direction, the family were always pulling hairs out of their food.”
John suppressed a smile. He had seen similar behavior at court on more than one occasion and knew that sometimes it achieved its purpose. He asked Nonna what had happened to the two temptresses.
“They were only there for the one summer and then were sold away to another estate owner. I wish I could be more helpful, sir, but as I get older, my memory is not what it was and I can’t recall where they went.” The woman was genuinely distressed at her inability to assist her visitor.
John had finished the small chunk of bread. “You have helped me by offering me a good meal,” he quickly assured her. “I’d have fallen off my horse from lack of nourishment within the hour otherwise.” He set a coin on the table, enough to pay for a great quantity of bread and cheese, and then rose to leave.
“And you say that Lucretia is well?” Nonna asked wistfully.
“She is very well.”
Nonna beamed. “A good marriage is a blessing from heaven,” she said and began to ramble about how happy Lucretia and Balbinus must be together.
John thought of the frescoes with their theme of frustrated love on the walls of Balbinus’ reception room and wondered if the choice of subject matter revealed something about the household. He hoped not.
As he emerged into the hot street in front of the solid masonry apartment building where Nonna lived, he resolved that the next time he saw Lucretia he would recommend that she go to see her old nursemaid. At least his visit today would then have served some useful purpose.