‘Why would Quintus want to kill Lucius?’
Quintus. Not Acceius. Interesting. ‘Someone did. They didn’t get on too well, I understand, and the situation was getting worse. Also’ - I hesitated; we were on dangerous ground again here - ‘there was your husband’s, uh, personal accusation.’
Veturina coloured. ‘You mean that we were committing adultery together.’ I said nothing. ‘Listen, Corvinus. Quintus and I were - are - friends, close friends and have been for years, ever since he and Hostilius became partners. I have the greatest respect for him, as he has for me, but I swear to you, and you can believe me or not as you please, that we are not and never have been lovers. Is that perfectly clear?’
‘Yeah. Yeah, that’s clear.’
‘Good. I’m glad.’ She turned her head away sharply and her voice tightened. ‘Many of the things Lucius said to me - and about me, to other people - over the past year I found very, very hurtful. The charge that I was committing adultery with Quintus was among the worst. And, just to complete your education, if you’re interested in other salacious details of a similar nature you might also like to know that he accused me, both in private and in public, of sleeping on a regular basis with a selection of our better-looking slaves.’ She turned back to face me. Her cheeks were wet. ‘If you should care to believe that unpleasant little squib then I’m sorry for you. You don’t know me, and you didn’t know Lucius in the final stages of his illness.’
‘Right. Right,’ I said. Then, gently: ‘Veturina, I’m sorry, but I’m only doing my job, okay? The Castrimoenian senate have asked me to -’
‘Then it’s a filthy job, that’s all I can say.’ She wiped her eyes clear with a fold of her mantle. ‘Whether it has to be done or not. As far as I’m concerned both you and the Castrimoenian senate can go to hell.’
‘Yeah.’ There was an awkward silence; then, abruptly, she turned her back on me again and lowered her forehead against the bust’s. Well, it was time to leave - past time - and I’d got as much as I could reasonably expect at present. ‘Ah...I wonder if I could talk to Scopas now?’ I said. ‘Oh, and maybe your brother, if he’s around, and your adoptive daughter?’
She stood motionless for a second or two more. Then she turned round again and wiped her eyes. ‘Scopas, of course,’ she said, and from her voice you’d’ve thought we’d spent the last ten minutes discussing the weather. ‘Castor’s out at present, I think; he lives almost completely separately from Lucius and me in the other wing, so I can’t be sure, Scopas will know for certain. Paulina, I’m afraid - there’s been no formal adoption, by the way, she’s simply our ward - has gone to Rome for a while to stay with Lucius’s sister. She found the death very upsetting, and I thought it was for the best.’
Damn. Still, if she was little more than a kid she probably couldn’t help much anyway. I really wanted to talk to this Castor, though. ‘Fair enough,’ I said. ‘Thank you for your time, Veturina. And I’m deeply sorry if I –’
‘You’ll find Scopas in the servants’ quarters, just across the courtyard from where you came in. He is expecting you. The door-slave will take you.’
‘Yeah. Yeah, right.’ I turned to go, and I’d got about half way to the atrium’s exit when she called:
‘Valerius Corvinus!’
‘Yeah?’ I turned back. She was still standing by the plinth, her fingers against Hostilius’s marble cheek.
‘He was a lovely man,’ she said. ‘Before. A good, fair-minded man and a kind and faithful husband. We had thirty-five happy years together, and set against these that last horrible year was nothing, nothing at all. I want you to understand that, please, and remember it.’
I nodded, and left.
Hell. I could be wrong, sure, but I doubted it.
8
Scopas was a surprise: a big guy, broad-shouldered, with a boxer’s
Quintus. Not Acceius. Interesting. ‘Someone did. They didn’t get on too well, I understand, and the situation was getting worse. Also’ - I hesitated; we were on dangerous ground again here - ‘there was your husband’s, uh, personal accusation.’
Veturina coloured. ‘You mean that we were committing adultery together.’ I said nothing. ‘Listen, Corvinus. Quintus and I were - are - friends, close friends and have been for years, ever since he and Hostilius became partners. I have the greatest respect for him, as he has for me, but I swear to you, and you can believe me or not as you please, that we are not and never have been lovers. Is that perfectly clear?’
‘Yeah. Yeah, that’s clear.’
‘Good. I’m glad.’ She turned her head away sharply and her voice tightened. ‘Many of the things Lucius said to me - and about me, to other people - over the past year I found very, very hurtful. The charge that I was committing adultery with Quintus was among the worst. And, just to complete your education, if you’re interested in other salacious details of a similar nature you might also like to know that he accused me, both in private and in public, of sleeping on a regular basis with a selection of our better-looking slaves.’ She turned back to face me. Her cheeks were wet. ‘If you should care to believe that unpleasant little squib then I’m sorry for you. You don’t know me, and you didn’t know Lucius in the final stages of his illness.’
‘Right. Right,’ I said. Then, gently: ‘Veturina, I’m sorry, but I’m only doing my job, okay? The Castrimoenian senate have asked me to -’
‘Then it’s a filthy job, that’s all I can say.’ She wiped her eyes clear with a fold of her mantle. ‘Whether it has to be done or not. As far as I’m concerned both you and the Castrimoenian senate can go to hell.’
‘Yeah.’ There was an awkward silence; then, abruptly, she turned her back on me again and lowered her forehead against the bust’s. Well, it was time to leave - past time - and I’d got as much as I could reasonably expect at present. ‘Ah...I wonder if I could talk to Scopas now?’ I said. ‘Oh, and maybe your brother, if he’s around, and your adoptive daughter?’
She stood motionless for a second or two more. Then she turned round again and wiped her eyes. ‘Scopas, of course,’ she said, and from her voice you’d’ve thought we’d spent the last ten minutes discussing the weather. ‘Castor’s out at present, I think; he lives almost completely separately from Lucius and me in the other wing, so I can’t be sure, Scopas will know for certain. Paulina, I’m afraid - there’s been no formal adoption, by the way, she’s simply our ward - has gone to Rome for a while to stay with Lucius’s sister. She found the death very upsetting, and I thought it was for the best.’
Damn. Still, if she was little more than a kid she probably couldn’t help much anyway. I really wanted to talk to this Castor, though. ‘Fair enough,’ I said. ‘Thank you for your time, Veturina. And I’m deeply sorry if I –’
‘You’ll find Scopas in the servants’ quarters, just across the courtyard from where you came in. He is expecting you. The door-slave will take you.’
‘Yeah. Yeah, right.’ I turned to go, and I’d got about half way to the atrium’s exit when she called:
‘Valerius Corvinus!’
‘Yeah?’ I turned back. She was still standing by the plinth, her fingers against Hostilius’s marble cheek.
‘He was a lovely man,’ she said. ‘Before. A good, fair-minded man and a kind and faithful husband. We had thirty-five happy years together, and set against these that last horrible year was nothing, nothing at all. I want you to understand that, please, and remember it.’
I nodded, and left.
Hell. I could be wrong, sure, but I doubted it.
8
Scopas was a surprise: a big guy, broad-shouldered, with a boxer’s
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