The Accusers

by Lindsey Davis

  'You discuss me?' He sounded annoyed.

  'No. Trust me, Aulus. I won't rush to the baths and thrill your papa with some story that we've turned you into a barrister.'

  He gave me one of his moody grunts. Our conversation paused as we sidestepped a man with flailing arms who was trying to detain us and sell us horoscopes; I foresaw that this was just so an accomplice could sneak out from behind a barrel of scallops and steal our belts. 'Very nice,' I said, shoving the astrologer aside bodily. Insincerity is a Roman street art. We walked on. Curses followed us. We did not react.

  'Well, I find the legal details interesting,' Aelianus confessed. From him it was quite an opening up. He added, 'Helena says she's glad we're in this legal market now. She likes the fact it's all talk, so you are not involved in danger.'

  'You have been discussing me?' I riposted.

  Being himself again, he just grunted once more.

  *

  At the Golden Milestone we went our separate ways. I watched young Aelianus treading his firm path down the Forum away from me, a sturdy figure with solid shoulders and stout calves tramping beneath his neatly draped cloak. The intimate conversation had made me feel more than usually responsible for him. Watch it, Falco. Nannying aristocrats is a slave's task.

  He could handle himself. Peddlers shrugged easily as he ignored their trays. He gave a wide berth to a dog with froth on its muzzle and stepped aside as a drunk spoiling for an argument staggered blearily into his path.

  Hunched in my cloak, I bore around the shadow of the Capitol and made my way home. I was thinking about the best way forward. Our talk with Scorpus had been refreshing. Calpurnia Cara had always been on my list for investigation; his suggestion that she might have offended her husband was a good lead. It was also time we pursued the Saffia/Lutea angle, and hammered it hard. Then there was the idea that something looked amiss in the family; I trusted Fungibles on that. The peculiarities of the will must have an explanation - not that families always behave understandably. Mine were a cantankerous, deliberately stubborn lot. Maybe the Metelli were the same.

  I came around a windswept corner by the cattle market, head down as I forged a path up the Marble Embankment to my house. Chilled now, I was tired and in need of sustenance. The cold was making my eyes water. As darkness began to gather, I saw the welcome sight of my own front door, flanked by two laurel bushes, with an oversized dolphin knocker that my father had installed. Cheered, I failed to notice villains suddenly homing in on me. I was at their mercy. Hands seized me from behind. Legs kicked my weary feet from under me. I was taken aback, thrown down on the road before I knew what was happening. How many there were I had no idea. I let out a disorientated cry, curled up protectively, craned around to look at them.

  All I saw as I peered along the gutter was a large boot, coming straight at my right eye.

  I ROLLED. NOT far enough. Was it better to lose an eye, or to have a fractured skull? I thought I heard my neck crack as I wrenched away. The boot made contact, scraping along the upper bone of my eye socket painfully. Eyes shut against the agony, I screwed on to my back and kicked out hard, both feet together. I found someone, not with much force, but it gave me leeway to start fighting back.

  No use. They dragged me over and face down again. My back was being pummelled. Thanks to my cloak, a heavy-duty item bought for long-distance travel, the effects were less than the murderous bastards intended. But I could not rise. I was stuck by the kerb, in the litter and dung. Someone stepped on my hand. Then either they were disturbed, or maybe their task was fulfilled. Now they were leaving. The parting shot came hoarsely right by my ear; the man must have bent double: 'Leave it to the big boys, Falco!'

  Leave what? No need to ask.

  I lay for a while where I was, thankful to be still breathing. Slowly I hauled myself across the pavement to my own threshold. Stumbling upright, I banged at the door, shaking too much to find my key. Somebody must have come to investigate. They would have looked out through the spy window, Albia most likely. The damage to my eye must have made me unrecognisable; instead of opening up, I heard the grim sounds of the bolts being shot home.

  I fell down and waited to be rescued. My brain was almost empty - apart from a recurrent thought: I had recognised the boot coming at my eye.

  But as usual in these situations, I had no idea where I had seen it before - or on whose foot.

  Not too long afterwards, I was woken. A torch flamed, too close to my face. I was aware of a small group, with hard, professional voices.

  'Shift that bloody vagrant off Falco's doorstep...'

  'Dead?'

  'Dying, I think. Give him a few kicks -' I was pulled upright, exclaiming at the pain. 'Oh dear, oh dear! Look who it is -' A voice I knew well as Fusculus, one of Petro's men in the vigiles, mocked me sadly. 'Helena Justina been knocking you about again, Falco?'

  'Just a lovers' tiff...'

  Fusculus shook his head, while banging stoutly at my door. It took some time for him to convince the occupants that it was safe to respond. 'Helena Justina, somebody does not like your husband!'

  I heard Helena swiftly telling Albia to take my daughter Julia out of sight so she would not be scared. Julia was wailing anyway. 'Bring him in, will you -'

  'You really must stop thumping him,' muttered Fusculus, continuing his tired joke. 'And do get him to give up the drink - This is a disgrace to a respectable neighbourhood.'

  'Don't be a busybody, Fusculus.' A catch came in Helena's voice. 'Oh Juno, where did you find him?'

  'Huddled on the step like a bundle of rags. It's all right - much worse than it looks -' The vigiles have a stock soothing repertoire for distressed wives. 'I've got him. Tell yourself he's just faking it, for a cheap thrill. Use your damned feet, Falco. Show me where to go, princess -'

  They took me upstairs and I was dropped on my bed. I let it happen. Fusculus went off to tell Petronius, then almost at once Petro was there, with the vigiles' doctor, Scythax. They cleaned me up. As always, I refused a sleeping draught but Helena made an uncompromising nurse.

  Trying to keep my fears private lest Helena worry even more, I croaked that Petro should contact the Camilli and Hononus. He had worked out that the attack was case-connected and promised safety checks.

  'Warning you off, eh? This is a clear message. You could listen!'

  'No chance of that,' Helena answered for me. 'He'll become more determined. You know him.'

  'Yes, he's an idiot,' Petro replied frankly. 'Still, somebody thinks it matters to get rid of him. What's he doing this work for? Is there money in it?'

  'It's a fight for justice, Lucius Petronius.'

  'Oh I can see it's a fight,' Petro scoffed wryly. I felt his finger prod my eyebrow. 'But someone else seems to be getting the better of it, and there's no justice in that, is there?'

  I buried my head under the pillow and took refuge in a drugged sleep.

  Next day I woke, stiff as a post and groaning. I thought about getting up, but abandoned the plan. Helena forbade it, so I tried crawling out of bed after all. Then I dropped any idea of racing around the Circus Maximus and stayed put.

  Helena brought up her wicker chair and a low footstool, to sit beside me. Now that I was being sensible, she allowed herself to straighten the coverlet then stroked my hair lovingly. 'Tell me what happened, Marcus.'

  'You can see what happened.'

  'Were you followed?'

  'They were lying in wait.' I struggled to think straight. 'What about the others?'

  'Justinus was at home - Claudia has gone into labour. I ought to go over there.'

  'Your mother can look after Claudia.'

  'Yes, but I need to look after Quintus. I imagine Claudia is a girl who will scream heartily. If my terrified brother skittles off to the baths to hide, she will never forgive him.'

  'You can leave me.'

  'I don't want to.'

  I found her hand. She was close to tears. That upset me. Later, when she had calmed down o
ver this, I would point out that plenty of householders arrived home in the evening wrecked, after being run over by badly driven carts or mugged by street thieves. 'What about Aulus?'

  'At home. Honorius stayed out all night somewhere. His frail old mother had a seizure when the vigiles called, but he's turned up now. He and Aulus are downstairs in fact -'

  'Let them up, then.'

  'Are you fit for it?' she queried anxiously. No, I wasn't; but I made her let them up anyway.

  They both shuffled in, looking nervous. I knew half my face must be a dreadful sight, but Helena had bandaged wadding on the eye, mainly to hide the mess. I was swollen and bruised, nothing worse, but the effects would be lurid for a few weeks. I would have a scar under the eyebrow when the damage healed. Scythax had sewn it neatly with fine thread. 'Look at me, the pair of you - then take your personal safety seriously from now on.'

  Aelianus was the first to recover his composure. He threw himself in Helena's chair, leaving her to perch on the end of the bed. Honorius leaned against a cupboard. 'So who are we blaming?' Aelianus asked. He was too chirpy. His sister scowled at him.

  'The opposition, obviously,' Honorius said. 'Presumably they used heavies, Falco?'

  'I never saw much. Apart from the thug who croaked the special message, none of them spoke, either. They could have been fresh cheeked, milk-fed shepherd boys - though I doubt it.'

  Helena asked Honorius angrily, 'Are these common tactics? Did you see this bullying when you worked with Silius?'

  Honorius shook his head. 'Oh no. Nothing like this was allowed!'

  I sent Helena a private glance. For me, his assurance only meant that when rough stuff had been ordered - which it would have been - young Honorius had been kept in ignorance. 'Must be Paccius who arranged my treat, then!' I commented. Uneasy, Honorius fell silent.

  I sipped a beaker of water. My head throbbed so it was a struggle to go on. 'Nothing changes. We still need to find out who bought the hemlock - Aulus, please.'

  'The hemlock!' Aelianus was indignant at this mundane order. 'No, my brother's doing that.'

  'He's off the scene,' I reminded him.

  'I don't know how far he had gone -'

  Helena scowled at Aelianus. 'Quintus was working in circles out from the Servian Embankment in the Fifth Region. You could start further west and work inwards, Aulus.' He began to protest. 'Don't play up,' she commanded.

  'I'm no good at this. I'll feel a fool asking the question,' Aelianus whined.

  'Oh Juno, don't be so feeble! Just start a conversation by saying you've been sent to find out what they recommend for dog fleas. I can tell you we rub Nux with a mixture of bitumen, olive oil and usually hellebore.' Nux, who was lying alongside me, hoping for treats, wagged her tail on hearing her name. 'Don't buy any; say you have to come home and ask me,' Helena pointed out.

  'You could do this job,' her brother wheedled.

  'Only if you stay in to feed the baby and nurse Marcus.'

  'Don't leave me with him!' I stabbed a finger towards Honorius. 'You can go and see Birdy. Ask whether he intends to contest his father's will.' Not receiving the response I wanted, I asked impatiently, 'Aelianus, have you told Honorius what we got from Fungibles?'

  Both younger men looked vague. 'Pitiful. You haven't bothered to liaise.' Biting back my annoyance, I demanded of Honorius, 'So where were you last night, you stop-out? I gather your mother went spare when the vigiles called to warn you we were under threat.'

  'I stayed with a friend.'

  'Girlfriend?'

  He blushed. 'My ex-wife, actually.' That was something new.

  'You stayed the night with your ex?' Aelianus laughed mockingly.

  'We were talking -'

  'I bet you were!'

  'She's intelligent. I value her thoughts. I told her I quit Silius. The conversation wandered into major issues of life and ethics, then you know how it is...' He tailed off, embarrassed.

  'Messy. Either dump her, or get back with her properly,' I advised, not being unfriendly. He shrugged, looking vague. 'Warn Birdy too,' I said. 'Tell him he needs to live chastely to secure his rights. No late night partying.'

  'Nothing,' suggested Helena, 'more sensational than an early evening song recital, organised by elderly ladies who knew his grandmother.'

  'The same for you.' I winked at Honorius.

  'You are joking.'

  'No. You can do a lot of thinking, while listening to some bore with a harp and a fractured voice, in a venue where the wine has been watered three times to make it go further. You too, Aelianus!'

  Despairing of my views on a decent social life, the two young men departed, seen off the premises by Nux.

  That was fine. It left me alone with Helena, whose quietness I could tolerate even when a headache raged. We both settled peacefully, not speaking for a while.

  'What are you holding back, Marcus?' When I looked at her quizzically, she gave one of her soft smiles. 'I can always tell.'

  'You've never found out about my wild fling with that girl from the florist on Cumin Alley.'

  'Not a problem. She'll ditch you,' Helena returned. She was game, though I thought she coloured slightly.

  'Saffia,' I said, after a moment. 'She's next on my list but I don't want those two doing the interview.'

  'Shall I see her?' As I hesitated, Helena laughed quietly. She rose and came to me, biffing me playfully. 'Oh, you want to do it yourself! It can wait. You'll be stronger tomorrow, I think.'

  The bedroom door creaked open. Julia Junilla, our elder daughter had a new game: looking in at her wounded father, frightening herself at the grim sight, then running off, screaming. Helena went as far as the door, which she closed, latching it. All parents of small children should ensure they have a bedroom hook that only works from inside.

  She came back to me, kicking off her shoes and squeezing next to me on the bed. I put an arm around her, feeling affectionate. My hand found its way up her sleeve. She was wearing a dark blue dress; she looked good in it, though she would look even better out of it. With my free hand I unhooked her gold ear-rings and tossed them gently on to the bedside table. Helena's great dark eyes appraised my intentions; she had seen me ill in bed before. I wasn't dead. I only had one wounded eye. Other parts of me still worked. In any case, some accomplishments of mine could be put into action even with my eyes closed.

  XXV

  SMUFFLING NOISES announced trouble. I deduced that Nux was now lying outside in the corridor, full length, with her paws against the door and her nose pressed to the gap at the bottom. I could also detect that little Julia must be prone alongside, bottom up, mimicking Nux. They could not get in. However, more competent noises told me that someone else, someone adept at domestic burglary, was working on the latch with a piece of wire expertly poked through the side crack in the door. We were about to be invaded. I had seen enough children rescued from cupboards to know who was coming to get me.

  Helena was sitting in her chair, fully clad and innocent, when the door opened. Nux shot in and hurled herself on to the bed. Julia was being gripped under a firm arm.

  'Hello, Ma.'

  'This door sticks!' exclaimed my mother, as if she assumed I had not noticed the problem. 'What can you expect - in this house?' Her disapproving sniff referred to my father, who had owned the house previously. Then she looked me over. 'What happened to you, then?'