Lindsey Davis - Falco 15 - The Accusers

by The Accusers(lit)

  I stepped down once, on my own.

  The man who stood in my way was a stranger. Thin, tall, longfaced, drably clad, neutral in expression, he looked insignificant, yet everything about him implied that his business with me was dramatic. He had official sanction. He was sure of himself If he had pulled a knife and run at me, I would not have been surprised. But his intention was more formal. He was a messenger, and for me the message was deadly.

  `Didius Falco!’ Some helpful swine had told him which sweaty toga was me. `I summon you to appear before the praetor to answer serious charges of abuse of office!’

  Well that was fine. I did not hold any offices. Yes, I did.

  `What charges, you upstart?’

  `Impiety.’

  Well, that was a word. The sightseers gasped.

  `Accused by whom - of what impiety?’

  `Accused by me - of neglecting your duties as Procurator of Juno’s Sacred Geese.’

  O Juno!

  O Jupiter and Minerva too, frankly. I would need the complete Olympian triad to get me out of this.

  Honorius stepped to my left side, playing the ventriloquist: `That’s Procreus. He is Silius’ regular informer. We had to expect something.’ It was the low, admiring murmur of a man who had worked with Silius and seen what he could do. `The bastards!’ he whispered. `I never thought of this…’

  Aelianus rather unexpectedly was on my right, gripping my elbow supportively. His solid response was a new treat. We walked down the steps, smiling.

  `I am at the praetor’s disposal,’ I told Procreus pleasantly. I refrained from punching his crossed front teeth through the back of his thin neck. My companions were grasping my arms too hard for me to take a swing at him.

  We did not stop. Honorius and Aelianus walked me to my house, propping me up like a pair of bossy caryatids. It felt as if everyone in the street stared at us. Helena Justina followed us, silent and anxious. Only when I was safely indoors did I drop the fixed smile and start swearing.

  Helena was white. `Given that you have just had a charge of impiety slapped on you, Marcus, bad language is not a smart reaction.’

  `Start thinking!’ Aelianus instructed me. He was flushed with excitement, trying not to get hysterical. He had been an army tribune. They had taught him logical responses to setbacks. If regrouping in a square and doubling our guard would have helped, Aulus would have organised it. He assessed my situation perfectly: `When exactly was the last time you straightened any feathers on those bloody geese? And, Marcus, it had better be recent - or you are finished!’

  XLIV

  IMPIETY? I was innocent. My views on the gods might not be flattering, but I kept those views to myself.

  My post as Procurator was ludicrous, but I carried out my duties at the temple, more or less. The job showed the world that the Emperor had recognised me. And besides, it carried a salary.

  No one could spot any fiddles. I was a market gardener’s grandson. Country matters were in my blood. The Sacred Geese and the Augurs’ Sacred Chickens were safe in my hands. If, after tending them, I carried home stolen eggs, I knew how to stuff them in my tunic invisibly.

  But there was a problem. Last year, I could not deny it, there had been a long period - over six months - when I did not oversee the geese at all. I was in Britain. I was working for the Emperor. I had a genuine excuse - but one I could not use in open court. The whole point of the tasks I had carried out in Britain was that Vespasian wanted them kept secret.

  I could hardly summon the Emperor to vouch for me. One alternative existed: Anacrites. If he swore I was away on imperial business, nobody would need to know why. Even the praetor would shrink from querying the Chief Spy. But if Anacrites was my only solution, I would rather be condemned.

  Helena tried to calm me down. ‘Procreus, and his manipulator Silius, know perfectly well you are innocent. Making the charge is a ploy. You dare not ignore an accusation of impiety, let alone in a position that was your personal gift from the Emperor.’

  `Too right. Tomorrow I shall be pacing the corridors, waiting for an appointment with the praetor. Something tells me he will be in no hurry to oblige me. I know just how they will fix it. Procreus won’t show; without him to state his evidence, I’ll be stuck in limbo.’

  `Well, Marcus, if he really never shows, there is no charge… You must convince the praetor there is no case to answer - and demand a retraction.’

  `I won’t get that! But you understand, my darling. I have to put this right before I can show my face in court again. We cannot have Paccius Africanus helpfully pointing out to the jury that one of Calpurnia’s accusers has been denounced for offending the gods.’

  Today was wasted. I had just made the best speech of my life - and instantly the professionals had wiped me off the board.

  `It was a good speech,’ agreed Helena approvingly. `I was proud of you, Marcus.’

  She gave me a moment to bask in her sweet praise. She held me and kissed me. I knew what she was doing, but I melted.

  Then, having soothed me, Helena whipped out a calendar and a clean note tablet, so she could work out my past visits to the Temple of Juno in order to rebut Procreus’ charge.

  XLV

  `YOU MAY not want to hear this, Falco.’

  `I’m low, lad. You can’t make it worse.’

  Petronius Longus was one of a long stream of visitors. Most were excited relatives, thrilled that I was in real trouble, trouble their neighbours had heard about. They had been barred by Helena. Petro was allowed in, though only because he said he had something to tell me about the Metellus case. He at least was not thrilled. He thought I was an idiot. Tangling with ex-consuls headed his list of untouchable social stupidities.

  `Paccius was bound to turn on you.’

  `Actually, my accuser works with Silius.’

  `- who works with Paccius! By the way, Falco, do you know you have people watching this place?’

  He was right. I took a squint through a crack in the shutters. A couple of shady characters in bum-starver cloaks and woollen caps were lurking on the Embankment outside. It was too cold for them to be fishing in the Tiber. Incompetent burglars who were casing a house too openly? Clerks who wrote the Daily Gazette scandal page? Sidekicks of Silius, hoping to witness me march up to the Capitol and threaten the man who herded the geese? No chance. Earlier, I did consider telling the gabby gooseboy just how he had landed me in it - but I had been dissuaded by my level-headed wife.

  `They are pretty obvious.’

  `Want me to move them on?’

  `No. Their masters will just send others.’ Petronius did not ask me, what masters.

  Helena came in to join us. I glanced at Petro, and we moved away from the window. Helena glanced at us suspiciously.

  `Did you hear Marcus make his speech?’

  Petronius sprawled on a couch, stretching his long limbs. Helena and he looked at one another, then at me, then they both beamed. `You and your mouth!’ he commented, perhaps fondly.

  Helena’s smile faded slightly. `It all needed to be said, Lucius.’

  `Well,’ said Petro, drawling quietly, `our boy made a big impression.

  I joined him on the couch. `You feel I should not have done it?’ My best friend gazed at me. `You broke some rules today. I worry for you.’ That was unlike him.

  `If he wants to move among the big bad bastards,’ Helena murmured, `I would rather see him break their rules and offend them, than become what they are.’

  `Agreed. Nothing he said was safe - but nothing he said was wrong either.’

  For some time then we all sat musing.

  `So,’ Helena asked Petro eventually, `Lucius, what is your news that affects the court case?’ As if by chance, she went and straightened a window shutter, quickly glancing out to see what we had been looking at earlier.

  Petronius massaged his scalp with both hands, then squeezed his fingers along his neck wearily. He watched Helena checking up on us. She spotted the observers. She sh
ot me a glance of annoyance, but then came back and sat with us.

  `Falco, I don’t know if this is good or bad, but you need to know about it.’

  I nudged him. `Cough up.’

  `The lads in the Second Cohort have been following the news. It finally struck them that Metellus senior died in his house and the death may be unnatural. So somebody ought to have tortured the slaves.’

  He was right: I did not know whether I was happy or not.

  Whenever a free citizen - well, one of a rank the authorities admire - is murdered at home, the legal assumption is that his slaves may have done it. They are all automatically tortured, to find out. This is good in one way, because their evidence is then acceptable in court; slaves can only be court witnesses if they are speaking under torture. On the other hand, evidence extracted under torture has a large flaw: it is quite unreliable. `So nobody thought of it originally, because Calpurnia said the death was suicide and everyone believed her?’

  `Nobody ever called the vigiles in. I can get you a sight of the report,’ Petro offered. Then he pulled a prim face. `Of course, the Second are under their own pressure. I can’t promise to show it to you before it reaches that bastard Paccius.’

  `Well, thanks for trying.’

  `What are friends for?’

  I could hear small thundering feet. One of my children was heading my way. Nux was barking. Any moment now, the great orator full of lofty thoughts would have to crawl around the floor making a mess of the rag rugs.

  `Have the Second actually started?’ I enquired quickly.

  Petro winced, as Julia burst in on us and flew at me. `Believe so.’

  `Anything come out of it?’ I coughed, from a prone position at floor level, with my daughter bouncing on my chest. I was thinking of putting her forward to the army as a new type of artillery. The dog was trying to kill my boot, even though I was wearing it. Helena pretended to think I liked it, and let them both carry on with their attack.

  `The usual.’ This would be confidential, but Petro trusted me. `Most swear they knew nothing about anything. One croaked that we should “Ask Perseus”.’

  `Door porter. I already know he’s no good.’

  `Missing. The Second are hunting him. No luck so far.’

  `He’s a sassy wretch - and leaning on the family -‘ It sounded as though the Second Cohort were working along lines I liked. Besides, my old friend was keeping an eye on them. `They could try for him in Lanuvium.’

  `Yes, they’ve gone there looking.’ Io! Things were moving fast. Suddenly it seemed too fast.

  I grabbed Julia, holding her off me while she squealed and thrashed in ecstasy. I kicked feebly, failing to shake off Nux from my leg. `Who was the slave who pointed at Perseus?’

  `Some kitchen greaseball.’

  `Probably the doodle who gets to stand in when Perseus fancies a rest.. I assume they are pressing him for more?’

  `We know our job!’ Petro grinned. His face grew more serious. `Well, the Second seem to enjoy it too much. I’m sure they were careful - but the slave who talked is currently out of it.’

  `Crazed?’

  `Raving.’

  `Oh really, Petronius!’ Helena hated rough stuff. `Marcus knows about Perseus - there was no need to damage some innocent!’

  I held Julia still, and hauled myself upright. `Can you ask them to be gentler if they ever tackle Perseus?’

  Petro nodded, wordlessly.

  `Try the steward,’ I suggested, after a moment’s thought. `I reckon he’s ripe - and he would have ordered lunch that day.’

  I liked the steward, but he had had his chance. He could have talked to me. Now he would have to take his chance with the heavy-handed Second Cohort.

  XLVI

  NEXT DAY, I was still preparing for my ordeal with the praetor when Honorius turned up. He had done some smart work with Marponius, persuading him to call a full adjournment for today.

  So Marponius was on our side. All the more reason to press on, and not to be held up by distractions like imagined impiety. Marponius might be with us now - but if we left him stewing too long, somebody would get to him. I had always distrusted Paccius and Silius, but now I had seen just how they worked. Marponius thought himself incorruptible. He wouldn’t last five minutes.

  Honorius loved my news about the Second examining slaves.

  `This is excellent, Falco. Juries love a case where the slaves have been tortured. Some prosecutors deliberately try to drag in a treason charge so they can do it.’ He looked thoughtful. `Actually, treason is an aspect we could introduce. Am I right that after the original corruption case, the Metelli made a clemency appeal to the Emperor?’

  I nodded. `Where’s the treason in that?’

  `Vespasian refused them?’

  `Yes.’

  `And so they were angry… any chance you can find me a letter they wrote afterwards.’

  `What letter?’ Nobody had mentioned letters.

  `Any letter. It needs suspicious marks alongside the Emperor’s name. Well, no. It needs to be in a suspect’s own hand, that’s all. We can blur in some suspicious marks ourselves; I have a friend who can match ink -‘

  I laughed. `That’s fraud, you idiot!’

  `Evidence of suspicious conversations would be even better.’

  `Honorius, compose yourself please. We are not that desperate.’

  `Well how about a suspicious trip somewhere… ?’ He tailed off. Cheery thoughts frolicked behind those handsome eyes. `Did we ever find out why Birdy went off to Lanuvium?’

  `Seeing the land agent, we think. Justinus is supposed to bring back details.’ That reminded me: where was Camillus Justinus? His absence was becoming suspicious -too. I hoped he had not run into some voluptuous Lanuvium barmaid.

  `Well anyway,’ Honorius stopped speculating so wildly. ‘Interrogating the slaves is good. Even if they never say anything.’

  Helena was watching me, so I tackled Honorius: `Isn’t that a waste of effort - not to mention cruelty?’

  Honorius patted my arm. He had a very cold hand. `Falco, the point is to have it known that they were tortured.’

  `So we need not really cause them pain?’

  Honorius had sensed our antagonism. He replied rather carefully: `A few screams never come amiss. Rumours of the screaming soon reach the jury.’

  All this time, Helena had been listening with a set expression. She was patiently holding my toga across her outstretched arms, ready to deposit the garment around me. The glint in her expression needed no interpretation. Her look was so hostile that a bronze lamp (a winged bootee, a tasteless Saturnalia gift I had not yet dumped) was shivering against its stand. Finally my tight-lipped female dresser had to speak: `Honorius, would it not be better to stop relying on supposition and cheap legal tricks - and gather a solid trail of evidence?’

  Honorius looked startled. Helena glared at him. He decided he had things to do elsewhere.

  `Oh by the way, Falco - this will tickle you. My old senior seems impressed by us… Silius carne to see me last night.’ He blushed, already regretting this confession. `I can’t imagine how he found me; I was at my ex-wife’s house -‘

  `What,’ I demanded curtly of the reminiscing lover, `did Silius want?’

  `Oh… He tried to buy me off, that’s all.’ I kept my temper. `What did he offer?’

  `My old position back.’

  `You walked out, remember.’

  `And a large cash welcome… Don’t worry,’ Honorius assured me quietly. He met my eye, looking confident. `It didn’t work.’

  I let him go.

  Growling to herself, Helena draped me in my toga for the praetor. With care, she positioned the first end on my left shoulder, brought the bulk around me from behind, tucked in the front, placed the free end back over my shoulder, tidied the pleats neatly and checked that my hem lengths were not ludicrous. She kissed me, very gently. Only then did she comment.

  `Next time, Silius will offer him more.’

>   Worse was awaiting me downstairs in my reception hall. The one person who would unfairly believe Procreus’ impiety charge accosted me: `Well, you look awkward! Is that your brother’s toga? He knew how to wear it.’ If Paccius and Silius were trying to demoralise me, they were amateurs.

  `Hello, Mother.’

  `Will my troubles never end? - Oh, the shame of it. Now I hear that somehow I produced a blasphemer!’

  `Ma, just tell your nosy friends: I have been incorrectly called a slacker by troublemaking slanderers.’ I waved the tablet with the carefully concocted record of my movements. `Your boy is innocent.’

  `We’ll see!’

  Once again I kept my temper valiantly. `Yes, we shall.’

  I could not attend on the praetor while wound up with irritation. Besides, when I opened the door, I found rainstorms sweeping down the street. Helena made me wait while her litter was fetched to keep my precious toga dry. I stood on the step, feeling bitter, lashed by the weather anyway. Nux came and joined me, barking at the wind. `Stupid dog!’ I picked her up to carry her in. Wet dog hairs adhered to my formal attire in unattractive clumps.

  Helena tried to distract Ma. She was grieving that my father would love this disaster. She pretended he would say it was her fault. Helena suggested that they should blame Pa. That thought improved my mother’s mood.

  Meanwhile we had another visitor: Ursulina Prisca had come again to haunt us, hoping to bother Justinus. In his absence, her feelers had twitched out that Honorius was legal and she had detained him with the long story of her disputed inheritance. The short man’s handsome face creased with apprehension as he tried to fend her off. Helena moved in smoothly. She retrieved the desperate Honorius, hooking a capable hand under his elbow and drawing him to safety.

  `Honorius, Silius will not give up. He will increase his offer - and next time I dare say you will take it.’

  `I told you -‘

  `I know.’ Helena’s smile was silken. `But you are a young idealist. You want to do good work, prosecuting bad people. The old fox will persuade you that work of such a high standard can only be found with him. Just remember what he really does - and why he is asking you.