Deadly Election (35 page)

I had good directions and soon found my way to the right office. It was a massive space with similar polished marble to that in the public rooms, but had comfortable loungers for bored bureaucrats to snooze on. I swept around these noble reading couches conscientiously before emitting a gentle cough, leaning my broom against a stupendously ornate scroll cupboard, and telling the lone occupant who I was.

His name was Tiberius Claudius Philippus. This was not his own suite; he was borrowing the élite workspace of Abascantus, who was still composting leaves elsewhere in disgrace. ‘Practising?’ I asked satirically. Philippus took it badly. I dragged up a seat with arms and feather cushions, which soon had me sneezing. ‘Is Abascantus ever coming back?’

‘My sources expect him to be replaced by Titinius Capito, an equestrian.’ Domitian was aware that the imperial freedmen, an intelligent bunch, disliked him. He was starting to get round that by appointing new men from outside to high positions. It was a good opportunity for the middle rank – if they liked living dangerously.

‘What do you think of Capito?’

‘I cannot comment.’

‘Oh, you despise him!’

Laeta’s son omitted comment on that too.

He was bony, spare, between thirty and forty. Olive-skinned, he had a long face with a straight nose and fine eyes; I guessed his mother had been a beauty, no doubt an exotic slave who also served at court in some capacity. She could have been a topless wine waitress, but I did not rule out an intellectual role, librarian or correspondence secretary for one of the imperial women.

Philippus wore heavy white imperial livery, even though the Emperor was absent so he could have dressed down. Or dressed up, had he been a party person. Clearly not. He seemed joyless, though I gave him the benefit and called it grief for his father. Ambition, and probably rivalry with Laeta, oozed out of him. That must have been why he was working here alone, when everybody sensible was having dinner.

He began briskly: ‘Now you have come here, despite my imprecations, let us despatch the task.’ He told me his father had wanted me to know the history of the Callistus family.

‘Yes, it looks sweetly intriguing,’ I agreed, deliberately frivolous.

Philippus indicated with a scowl that intrigue was not his medium.

‘Please listen carefully to save me having to repeat myself.’

‘May I take notes?’

‘Why not? Everything is in the public domain. My father had to dig for it, however. I hope you appreciate his extensive work on your behalf, despite his poor health.’

‘He enjoyed research. I expect this little exercise cheered his misery in his last days.’

With a frown, Philippus placed bony elbows on the smoothly polished citron wood of Abascantus’s office table, putting his fingertips together. I broke in to say, ‘My prime consideration is to discover the fate of Callistus Valens, who has died in murky circumstances.’

‘I shall clarify that.’

‘Go ahead, then.’ I beamed graciously. I could pretty well hear his teeth grinding.

He recited what he had to tell me, with no recourse to notes. Being a bureaucrat, he had the good manners to pause if my shorthand lagged behind, though he sneered when it happened.

‘Once there were two brothers, Callistus Valens and Callistus Volusius, also two sisters, Julia Firma and Julia Verecunda. Julia Verecunda passionately wanted to marry Callistus Primus. He never encouraged her, but she pursued him obsessively.’

‘I bet that made him avoid her!’ I interjected. ‘She will not have liked him saying no. She always expects to get what she wants.’

‘Valens rejected her. He married someone else, a thoroughly decent woman, by all accounts, and the couple were extremely happy.’

‘I like that,’ I said gravely, thinking of Manlius Faustus. ‘I like people to find one another and live happy lives together.’

‘You are very romantic, Flavia Albia.’ A criticism, I gathered. ‘Eventually Valens’s wife died.’

‘Well, at least she died happy.’

Even though I kept disturbing his flow, Philippus was forced to smile. He carried on gamely: ‘Julia Verecunda was not merely spurned. She and her sister had never got on. They fought one another from childhood. After Julia Verecunda was rejected by Valens, her sister upset her further. Julia Firma married his brother, Callistus Volusius.’

‘Oh, sneaky! Was that deliberate?’ I wondered.

‘Whether it was or not, they, too, were happy. For Julia Verecunda that must have been even harder to bear. She took herself off and married Ennianus Optatus, generally regarded as mild-mannered.’

‘More fool him for having her. Their son is Ennius Verecundus – the Mother’s Boy candidate for aedile.’

‘Precisely.’

‘So far, so clear.’ And doom-laden, I could already see that.

‘It gets muddier,’ gloated Philippus.

‘I thought it might.’

‘Listen, please, Flavia Albia. The two brothers were well established and well liked in the community. Callistus Valens ran a shipping fleet on the Tiber. Callistus Volusius had a boat-building business, which passed to his son after Volusius and his wife Julia Firma both died. At that point, Julia Verecunda suddenly initiated a thaw. She and Julia Firma had continued to feud until her sister’s dying day, but for a short period Verecunda apparently mellowed. Perhaps losing her sister was the reason.’

‘Or a convincing excuse,’ I scoffed.

‘Mother’s Boy,’ said Philippus, becoming more human as he picked up my nickname, ‘has four sisters. They, and their marriages, are important. To trace their relationships, my father had to draw a chart.’

‘Wonderful! May I see it?’

‘When you leave.’ Philippus had no faith in visual aids. Old school – an idiot. I cursed, but I could wait. ‘When Verecunda had her theoretical change of heart, Valens accepted her overtures. As a result, the Callisti took three of Verecunda’s daughters in marriage.’

‘Three!’ That was surely overdoing it.

‘One daughter was given to the newly orphaned Volusius Firmus and, perhaps more surprisingly, two other daughters married the two sons that Callistus Valens had fathered.’

‘Primus and Secundus,’ I spelled out. ‘This I know. The marriage of Volusius Firmus and Julia Laurentina survived; she is currently pregnant. The other two unions rapidly failed, with unhappy divorces. That may have been caused by Julia Verecunda’s poisonous influence on her daughters.’

Philippus nodded. ‘Cynics think she always intended to cause grief to the Callisti, as a punishment for Valens having refused her.’

I nodded. ‘If so, the most scandalous breakdown will have particularly pleased her: when Julia Pomponia, who was the wife of Callistus Secundus, left him. Ran away and married a hod-carrier, hunky, but trouble. Aren’t they all? A building-site Adonis. One of the other sisters now has to give them cash handouts. They have just produced a child, but are estranged.’

‘Julia Pomponia and one Aspicius,’ agreed Philippus. ‘Callistus Secundus has regarded Pomponia very bitterly ever since she deserted him. His brother, Primus, similarly loathes his ex-wife, Julia Optata.’

‘By whom he had a daughter, Julia Valentina. Acrimonious custody battle,’ I said. ‘I have seen the girlie – she looks normal, considering the permanent bad feeling between her parents. Valentina’s mother, Julia Optata, took as second husband Vibius Marinus, the candidate my friend the aedile is supporting. Marinus and Primus seem to have no quarrel.’

‘Unusual in this family!’

‘I don’t know why Primus ended up on such awful terms with Julia Optata. People say they were simply young and ill suited. But I learned yesterday that, understandably, she has never forgiven the Callisti for taking away her newborn baby.’

‘My father tried to look up law-court records,’ said Philippus. ‘He found none. Bitter or not, the custody battle must have been settled privately. Nor is there anything in our records to explain the divorce.’

I smiled. ‘And Domitian takes such a keen interest in people’s divorces! Still, they wouldn’t be the first plebeians who don’t believe in lawyers … I am starting to see why your admired father, Laeta, said the election list was too closely interwoven.’

‘My father believed Firmus standing for aedile led directly to the death of Callistus Valens,’ Philippus told me. ‘If you are as quick as you seem, Flavia Albia, you may wonder whether there is still feuding within this complicated family.’

‘Oh, no doubt of it!’ I exclaimed. ‘Clearly, things came to a head during the election campaign.’

Once again I had jumped in, annoying Philippus. ‘The situation became vitriolic. My good father wanted to impress upon you Julia Verecunda’s lasting hatred for Callistus Valens.’

‘I hear you,’ I assured the po-face. ‘Candidate rivalry must have been a nightmare. On one side, the Callisti must have strongly opposed Ennius Verecundus, whose horrible hostile mother is his most visible supporter. She in turn would have opposed Firmus, and also Vibius. Then when Firmus was forced to drop out of the contest it placed Ennius more securely in the running.’

‘My father saw that as critical,’ Philippus managed to put in.

‘How did it happen?’ I demanded. ‘Firmus was the favourite, Caesar’s candidate. His family paid over squillions to gain that. It put them deep in financial trouble, all for nothing. I’d like to know your colleague’s involvement. We all assume that Abascantus being sent off for a rest-cure was why Firmus gave up. But here’s a worse scenario. Can Julia Verecunda have worked some trick specifically to shove Firmus out? Is she capable? Does she have contacts at court, influence over Abascantus? If the Callisti even suspected she was responsible for Firmus losing out, they would be incandescent.’

Philippus glanced around the finely decorated suite he had ‘borrowed’ from Abascantus. We could hear the evening silence. Nobody was listening in. It was so quiet that if the marble cladding moved on a contracting wall, as the day’s heat died, we would notice the subtle creak. ‘I have no reason to think my senior colleague went back on whatever he had promised the Callisti.’

‘Oh, so he covered his tracks?’ I mocked. Philippus did not deny that. ‘Olympus! Can it be that Abascantus took money from both sides?’

‘The relevant issue,’ Philippus hedged, in a tight voice, ‘is that Julia Verecunda openly hates all the candidates opposing Ennius, but what she hated most intensely was having one of the Callisti in her son’s way.’

He stared at me significantly.

I blinked back, not quite with him.

‘These are my father’s words to you, Flavia Albia. Think of how much Julia Verecunda hated Callistus Valens.’

I could follow that.

Bribing Abascantus to remove the Emperor’s backing from Volusius Firmus was vicious and probably illegal, but no different from tactics any candidate deployed. Julia Verecunda ought to have been satisfied. To anyone normal, ejecting Firmus from the campaign should have been enough.

‘So Verecunda never forgave Valens,’ I mused. ‘Even when she pretended to thaw, it was a ploy to get closer so she could cause him misery through marital strife. His rejection years ago still dominates her existence.’

In my youth I had been in the same position. I knew how it hurt. How you threatened the direst punishment for the rat who betrayed you, by day and by night brooded upon him and threatened his destruction … I grew up, changed by the experience yet moving on from my loss, which is what most people do. I learned to be content, on occasions even happy. Other men had become more important to me.

Julia Verecunda never mellowed. She married, a man who sounded harmless, and she had a large family, but nothing gave her consolation. She never forgot. She never forgave. At one point she pretended to be reconciled, married three of her girls into Valens’s family as a peacemaking gesture, but she had sent them to the Callisti full of hate.

Assuming the Callisti had responded to their let-down over Firmus with quietness and dignity, a woman who liked to cause sorrow would be left disappointed. I had seen her gloat in public over Firmus stepping down. That was not enough. A woman of such ingrained, obsessive bitterness would want Valens to know this was his fault for refusing her.

That was the answer.
She
went after Valens. It was Julia Verecunda who had had him hijacked on the way to Crustumerium. She had had him brought back to Rome ignominiously, roped up and on foot, like a criminal. When he arrived, she intended to confront him with his old crime.

The long walk in the July heat had proved too much for him. He had died. It seemed to me that she would not have wanted him to die, not before she had a chance to make him understand the retribution she was exacting. If he died before they came face to face, she had probably not forgiven him for that either. She had been denied her chance of vengeance. No wonder she had had his corpse thrust into his own strongbox, hidden in a neglected storeroom, where she meant his remains to rot for ever.

B
efore he dismissed me, Philippus surprised me with a request. Apparently his father had told him to maintain contact with Falco. I said firmly, as my mother would want, that my father had retired from all that.

‘You mean, the current régime is not to his taste!’ Philippus responded astutely.

‘Everything comes to an end.’ Philippus could take that as referring to Falco giving up imperial work – or to my hope for Domitian’s régime.

‘Should the opportunity arise, maybe you would accept commissions, Flavia Albia. We do have women who carry out special tasks.’

Here was Philippus trying to set up his own network, just like his father. I chortled. ‘So Perella is still cutting throats? Hades, that dangerous woman ought to hang up her tambourine and castanets. Good as she was, she can’t still be going about in disguise as a dancer!’ Perella was a legendary agent, but worked undercover. Philippus blinked at my inside knowledge. ‘Not for me,’ I disabused him. ‘I’m not a spy. I hate spies.’ I had reasons for saying that. My intense feelings must have been obvious.

‘I know nothing of a tambourine!’ he claimed. ‘Well, please bear it in mind.’

Philippus was a smug bastard. He had no concept of ever being turned down. (He had not dealt with me before.) Distrusting him deeply, I wondered if he would respond to rejection as malevolently as Julia Verecunda. I could imagine it. You collaborated with these ambitious officials at your peril.