'Oh no. Lutea loves me!' The reply was ambiguous. It was said with some feeling, but could be either truth or a flash of rueful irony. 'Don't worry,' he a.s.sured us (trying to make me feel bad). 'I'll move on. I'll find a lodging. I won't be in your way - or anyone's...' His misery, or the drink, overcame him again. 'Oh G.o.ds - what am I going to do? I have nothing - I don't even know who I am any more!'

'No, no! Stop saying that,' urged Justinus, our young idealist 'Don't give in, if you are innocent. Defend yourself!'

Negrinus looked around our group. Like a man falling off a ladder I saw the impact coming. 'I need someone to help me. I think you people should take on my defence.'

We were all silent momentarily.

It was Aelia.n.u.s who spoke first, saving the situation for us all. Having a traditionalist on the staff grated sometimes, but freeing us from nonsense because the nonsense broke rules was a useful business tool. 'It is inappropriate for us. We don't do court cases. I'm sorry. We do not have defensive expertise.'

Negrinus laughed. 'Oh I know that! But here you are, you see. I have nowhere else to turn. You have to look after me.'

He stood up. Now he was being positive again. He was thirty years old, a senator, a curule aedile. He must have been in the army. He had held other posts in government. We were mere curs in his social entourage - and he was certain that in the end we would beg for sc.r.a.ps.

He went off to bed. When he left us, we argued there for hours. He must have known we would. It grew too late for the Camilli to return to their father's house; they were still arguing together when they dragged themselves off to the room where Helena let them doss on guest beds if they stayed over. I had told them, there was no way we could take on pleading Birdy's defence. They had declaimed some high-flown concepts, such as justice demanded it. I had disparaged Justice and her foolish demands. We all felt trapped. The b.a.s.t.a.r.d had nailed us to the wall with our own consciences.

'It's not just that he needs help.' Justinus glared at me. I understood his feelings; he had a wife and was about to be a father. He was sick of being reminded that his wife Claudia was an heiress; he wanted money of his own.

'I know. Silius and Paccius are about to make a great deal out of this. So, if Birdy asks us, why shouldn't we have a share in the proceeds?'

'I'm off to dream of cash boxes,' Aelia.n.u.s muttered blatantly.

I checked the house. Doused lamps. Fastened shutters. I looked in at my children, one feverishly hot under a tangle of bedcovers, one snoring, with dribble all over her pillow. I straightened limbs and quilts. Fine. I found Helena, in our room, also sleeping, her pose strangely like that of my elder daughter, though in fairness she was not dribbling. I tucked her arm under the bedspread. Lifted up a scroll she had been annotating...

Fancy that. Helena Justina had been re-reading the report I produced for Silius.

Every informer needs a girl in the office who will take messages. Mine ran the accounts, kept me in order - and made commercial decisions. While we haggled, with Negrinus and among ourselves, Helena had been working over our interviews, looking for new lines to investigate. She had already decided we were working this case.

I climbed into bed, having moved an oil lamp from Helena's bedside to my own so I could just about see.

I thought about the way Negrinus had come here, first insisting that I was the only person who could or would help him, then changing his mood to moan wretchedly that his position was hopeless, yet now once again demanding that we take on the charges. If he was a victim, ruthlessly targeted by Paccius and Silius, we in turn had been targeted by him. The lads were right: there could be rich pickings here. But I wondered why I felt so sure I did not trust our beleaguered client.

I began to study Helena's marginal notes, so I would be ready with viable ideas of my own tomorrow.

The Accusation against Rubirius Metellus: Helena Justina's Notes Interview with Negrinus Will formally read to close family and friends, including the original witnesses...

Ask the senators what it says (any ideas on Saffia?) and what happened at the reading! * *

Ask Birdy, while we've got him here.

Calendar of events...

Check timings (very carefully) Date of will?

Interview with Euphanes, herbalist Denied knowledge of Metellus senior's pills. Denied supplying them...

But does he handle hemlock?

If not, where did they get it? Who bought it? (Does Birdy know?) Interview with Claudius Tiasus, undertaker ... mausoleum on the Via Appia Visit mausoleum?

Negrinus presided (at funeral), together with another man...

Who? Lutea? (His friend, NB) They had ordered the full ceremonials with flute players, a procession accompanied by mourners, masks of ancestors, and satirical clowns abusing the memory of the dead man...

Find other partic.i.p.ants, not just Biltis. Clowns?

Interview with Biltis Overbearing friendliness...

Did she make advances to my brother??? (Ask Aulus!) (Don't tell Mother!) Comedians omitted YES! Find the chief clown - urgent! What was he going to say???

Biltis willing to give evidence if her expenses can be refunded...

Wants the money! Unreliable.

Interview with Aufustius, money-lender Lutea and Negrinus are friends. Do they have the same banker?

Re-interview Aufustius. Why was Lutea in financial difficulties? Ask about wilt. Is Lutea hoping to profit from Saffia's inheritance?

Interview with Servilius Donatus, father of Saffia Donatus considering action against Negrinus re dowry The two children of Saffia/Negrinus are close together so presumably the marriage was short. Has the third instalment of the dowry been paid? If Negrinus successfully defends against compensation claim, what is the position?

NB Did Metellus senior fully pay up the dowries of his own two daughters?

Younger d. (Carina) has 3 children, so presumably hers was long paid. What about) Juliana though? (One child. Is her marriage recent?) Unnamed source Will contains certain surprises WELL WHAT??? More than Saffia? Ask my mother. Ask my father - he knows something. Did he get it from my mother - or is information about this will widespread?

Interview with Rhoemetalces Admitted he sold pills...

When were these pills bought?

It was at this point that Helena must have fallen asleep.

The proposed visit to the mausoleum would be fruitless. An urnful of ashes would not tell us much; in my experience, urns were taciturn witnesses. But the rest was all wise stuff. Her rank and s.e.x debarred Helena from walking around Rome doing my work, but she knew how investigative informing should be done. If we did take on Negrinus, we would not start with the tale he spun, but with our own evidence. I made a few extra notes, based on today's and tonight's experience. They were people to interview: Calpurnia Cara (if possible) (O silly boy, you are joking!) Licinius Lutea (something whiffs) Saffia (something whiffs a lot) Perseus the nearly-dead door porter (knows he was fingered? Why was he fingered?) Rubiria Carina (doubtful: at least try her) Or husband. (Crucial: angry scene at funeral?* Why did she not attend last lunch with father?) *in view of accusations at funeral, why was Carina not questioned at JuIiana's trial? (ask Paccius) (joke!) Then, before I blew out the lamp and lay down, I wrote in a neat box: ?? WHO WILL DEFEND BIRDY IN COURT??.

XIX.

WE WERE taking the case. At breakfast, Falco and a.s.sociates all agreed: the thought of money clinched it. When Negrinus appeared, looking refreshed and more buoyant, we asked him for a deposit. To our surprise, he immediately wrote a request for a loan from Rubiria Carina, the younger of his sisters - who immediately paid it.

She and her husband then offered Negrinus a place of refuge. He seemed surprised when her messenger brought the invitation. I was just surprised we had not thought to send him there straight away.

'I heard Carina stayed aloof from your family,' I said, as I packed him off in Helena's litter. 'That's where you gain when the rest of your family dumps you, I suppose. Tell me, had they dumped Carina too?'

'There was some trouble a few years ago,' said Birdy. 'She disagreed with things. And her husband had a tussle with my father over money...

Rome seemed to be stuffed with people fighting over dowries. 'Instalment of her portion not paid?' I was getting the hang of life at aedile level.

'You guessed.'

'Has it ever been handed over?'

'Yes. Verginius Laco gets his way.'

Such problems did not afflict my section of society. Helena did not bring a dowry; our children would be fed, clothed and educated out of my income and a legacy of hers. There must have been a dowry set aside for Helena once; she had been married to a senator. Given that Helena's parents were mortgaged up to their hairlines, I had done them a favour. By my forgoing a marriage ceremony, they had been able to forgo setting us up in life.

Negrinus went off to his sister's house, and I trotted into the city to research that other source of friction: the will. After they are read, wills are stored in the Atrium of Liberty. I spent a couple of hours there, growing frustrated. Eventually I was attended to by a sad-eyed public slave, some ill-nourished clerk with no hopes and no incentive. Since the Metellus will was recent, he did find it. If it had been an older deposition I would never have seen it. I had the impression I was the first member of the public who had asked for a viewing of anything.

Still, this gave me curiosity value. Finally I had access, while there was still enough light to read through the will quietly and find out its secrets. Or so I had thought.

The limp clerk laid the will on a table. It was a double-fold wooden tablet. It was tied up with legal thread - and it was sealed seven times on the thread.

'I can break these seals?'

'No, Falco!' He s.n.a.t.c.hed it back and snuggled it against his tunic protectively.

I took a fierce breath. 'Oh excuse me! I thought this doc.u.ment had been opened and read. I came here to study its provisions.'

'Keep your temper.'

'Am I missing the point?'

The clerk still clutched it. 'This is the usual form.'

'It is the will of Rubirius Metellus?'

'Gnaeus Rubirius Metellus -' From a safe distance he showed me the label on the outside of the tablet. 'Did they not read it?'

'Yes they did.'

'So why is it still sealed?'

'Resealed... Do you want to know the procedure?'

'Teach me!' I growled.

'Say you are holding a reading. You fetch the will from the Temple of Vesta, or wherever it was put in safe keeping. You break the seals, in the presence of all or most of the original witnesses.'

'They know what is in it?'

'Not necessarily.' The clerk paused, seeing me stare. 'The testator was not obliged to show them. Sometimes as long as they are alive they really want it a secret.'

'If the bequests are likely to cause trouble, you mean?'

'Exactly. When people first witness a will, they are merely signing to say the outside of the doc.u.ment has been shown to them formally as the man's testament. That,' explained the clerk carefully, 'is why they must then be present when he dies and the will is read, to see that their seals have not been tampered with. They can't vouch for the contents, you see.'

'Go on, then.'

'The will is opened and read. A copy is usually made. Then it is resealed, with thread and wax, and placed in our archive.'

'Very funny! Where's the copy?'

'With the heir, presumably.'

'And how,' I asked, 'am I supposed to know who the heir is, if you won't let me unseal the sealed original that names him?'

'Ask somebody who knows.'

'You don't have that information?'

'We only store the tablets,' he protested. 'We don't know what is written in them, it isn't our job!'

A good day. Such a typical day in an informer's life.

I went up on the Arx to clear my head. At the Temple of Juno Moneta lived the Sacred Geese who guarded the Citadel and the augurs' Sacred Chickens. I checked them out. This was my public sinecure: religious bird guardian.

'Someone was asking about you,' the custodian told me as I prodded around the chicken huts, looking for eggs. Eggs were my official perk. I could have expended time and effort pretending to investigate the feathered ones' health and happiness, but they didn't need it. I knew they were all thoroughly spoiled. Anyway, the darling geese always had a go at me. Who wants to be pecked?

'Asking for me? Who was that?'

'He didn't say.'

'So what did you say?'

'I said we hadn't seen you up here for months.'

n.o.body normal who wanted me would look for me on the Arx. I had no idea what this could mean, so I did not let it trouble me.

Being in the neighbourhood, I then explored an angle I had not listed in my notes. I walked down to the Forum and gave myself another unpleasant hour of officialdom. I wanted to know more about why Metellus and his son had been exposed in the corruption case. Where better to start, than the aediles' office?

Wrong, Falco. There was a new young brat in charge of Rome's road contracts. A friendly one would have thought the sins of his predecessor were good for a gossip, but this gilt-edged dong fell back on 'issue of national security' and maintained I was not ent.i.tled to enquire into such matters. I mentioned working as an agent for Vespasian; he still blocked me. He did not know what happened under Metellus Negrinus. He could not discuss previous errors. He was far too busy with muddy streets, crooked market weights, and endless complaints about rats rioting all night by the Altar of Peace. I could go and ram myself head-first into a narrow drain.

I should have known. The corruption case had made the aediles' scams too obvious. Audits had been inst.i.tuted. Procedures had been tightened. This new young fellow might have made a killing, but for the Metellus trial. How was he now to a.s.semble enough cash to finance lavish public Games in order to obtain the votes to move up his career ladder to the next flashy post?

He clearly wished he had jurisdiction over temple maintenance, where the bribes were notorious.

Being thwarted can damage an enquiry; I get hooked on beating the system. But it makes me more determined. So never mind the fine detail of poison and timescales which I was supposed to investigate today. I decided to find Verontius. Verontius was appalling, but he would talk to me. I knew how to make sure of it.

Normally I would walk barefoot across a mile of burning bitumen before I would encounter Verontius. He was a shifty, shambling worker in the semi-public world of road contracts. He could bend figures better than a conjurer stuffing doves up his fundament. I would be lucky if I could get away from him without a burst blood vessel and having to lend him my carpentry plane (if I ever let him get his hands on it, I would never see it again). He stank of armpits and feet. He despised me. I loathed him. Except in this emergency, we would ,avoid each other from one Saturnalia to the next - though at Saturnalia we were always compelled to meet. Unluckily for me, he had been married to my lumpish sister Allia for the past twenty years, so we were bonded inescapably: Verontius and I were family.

Allia was out, thank the G.o.ds. A pitiful slave with scurvy let me in. I had to wade past pallid children to reach the back room where Verontius hunched like a toad down a well. He had a tablet of official looking tables, but was doodling at speed on a separate piece of old fish wrapper. (He had a secret second job as a squid-negotiator.) He would scribble like fury, work out a long sum, then carefully insert a single figure in the tender table with a better pen and new ink. Everything about his rapid calculations suggested he was up to no good. When he was not fiddling new contract applications, Verontius worked long hours supervising the bent contracts he had already won. I won't say he and Allia lived in squalor. We all knew that they had money. It was squirrelled away somewhere. h.o.a.rded meanly, never spent. They would both die early, worn-out victims of a hard life they need not have had.

'Marcus!' He was colourless, bald, squinty and half deaf. He always had been, even way back. Such a catch for Allia! He had long ago learned to avoid looking guilty, but I watched the doodles being smoothly shunted into a fruit bowl while the tender was speedily rolled up under his stool. Even before he knew what I had come for, Verontius was clearing a sanitised s.p.a.ce for his nosy in-law.

Once he knew that I wanted him to finger someone else, he was happy. 'Metellus Negrinus? Lovely boy, smashing little aedile - oh we did all like him!'