XXVI

She left the room.

The parrot made chobbling noises; I had no doubt it was sneering at me. “One word out of place,” I growled menacingly, “and I’ll glue your beak together with pine resin!”

The parrot Chloe heaved a histrionic sigh. “Oh Cerinthus!”

I had no time to ask the bird who Cerinthus was, because Severina came back with her husband-to-be.

*   *   *

Hortensius Novus was corpulent and self-absorbed. He wore a tunic so glistening he must change five times a day, together with double fistfuls of heavy rings. All the weight in his face was concentrated low in a swarthy chin; his fleshy mouth turned down with broodiness. He was about fifty, not too old for Severina in a society where heiresses were betrothed from the cradle and gross senators in mid-career married patrician snippets of fifteen. The parrot chuckled at him derisively; he ignored the thing.

“Hortensius Novus … Didius Falco…” A terse nod on his side; a quiet salute on mine. Severina, who had become the professional at work now, smiled at us without her usual sharpness—all milky skin and creamy good manners. “Let’s go to the dining room…”

Her triclinium was the first room I had seen here with wall paintings—unobtrusive trails of vine tendril and delicate urns sprouting blossom, on a formal garnet-coloured background. When Novus took his couch Severina herself removed his outdoor shoes, though I noticed the loving attention stopped there; she let one of her slaves wash his large, horny feet.

Novus swilled his hands and face too, while the slave held a bowl for him. The bowl was silver and of a good capacity; the towel from the slave’s arm had a fine nap; the slave himself had been trained to high standards of competence. It all gave an impression that Severina Zotica could, with minimal fuss and extravagance, run a good home.

Even the meal was an affair whose subtleties disturbed me: the most simple kind of Roman lunch—bread, cheese, salad, diluted wine and fruit. Yet there were flattering touches of luxury: even for three people a complete range of cheeses made from goat’s, sheep’s, cow’s and buffalo’s milk; tiny quails’ eggs; refined white rolls. Even the humble radishes were cut into sprays and fantails, decorating a fabulous composition salad moulded in aspic—evidently made at home for it was turned out in front of us (with deliberate panache). Then to finish, a whole orchard of fruits.

This was plain fare all right: plain fare as afforded by the very rich.

*   *   *

Novus and Zotica seemed completely at ease together. They had a short conversation about arrangements for their wedding, the sort of short-tempered debate over avoiding unlucky dates which preoccupies most engaged couples for weeks (until they opt for some gouty aunt’s birthday—only to find the old groucher is off on a cruise with a handsome young masseur to whom, without question, she will leave all her loot).

With so much to eat there were plenty of silences. Novus in any case was a full-blooded businessman fired only by finance and totally preoccupied with work. He made no reference to being the subject of my investigation; that suited me, yet left me awkwardly deprived of a social reason for my presence. In fact Novus contributed little; mainly a few remarks from which I gathered Severina had his full confidence.

“That shipment of mine from Sidon has arrived at last.”

“That will be a relief to you. What held it up?”

“Bad winds off Cyprus…”

She passed him the potted salad. He was the sort of lump who sweated freely and frowned a lot as he ate fast and greedily. He might be thought coarse—but a woman who yearned for comforts would overlook that if his presents were generous. Severina treated him with a kind of formal respect; if she married him, her attitude would certainly work—provided she could keep up the deference (and he could keep alive).

He was generous. He had brought his betrothed a necklace of twenty violet amethysts. He handed it over almost as a routine exercise; she received the gift with quiet pleasure; I kept my cynical thoughts to myself.

“Falco here had a run-in this morning with a representative of Priscillus,” Severina remarked eventually.

Novus showed his first signs of interest in me. While I chewed on an olive modestly, she described me rescuing the old fruitseller from his landlord’s enforcing agent. Novus barked with laughter. “You want to watch that! Offending Priscillus can be hazardous to health.”

“What is he? Property tycoon?”

“Businessman.”

“Dirty business?”

“Normal business.” Novus was not interested in my views on men who peddle real estate.

Severina tackled her fiancé in a thoughtful voice: “Is Appius Priscillus getting above himself?”

“He’s collecting his rents.”

“It seemed—”

Novus brushed her murmur aside: “The tenant must have been owing—you cannot be sentimental about debt.” He behaved like a man who was used to being stubborn, though he did give her an indulgent look on the word “sentimental.” I knew this type: hard as a Noricum knife—yet pleased to own a fluffy kitten who would act as a conscience for him. Fair enough—provided he listened when his conscience spoke.

Severina looked unconvinced, yet she fell silent without quarrelling. Just the sort of women to have at the lunch table: intelligent in conversation—but intelligent enough to show restraint … I began thinking about Helena Justina. When Helena had something on her mind she reckoned to make her point.

I found Severina quietly watching me; for some reason I revived the conversation Novus had crushed. “Is this character Priscillus making you nervous, harrying the neighbourhood?”

The reassuring smile of a tactful hostess lit Severina’s pale face. “I take my advice from Hortensius Novus on business affairs!”

I should have known not to waste my breath.

*   *   *

As a final gesture to the Novus appetite we had cakes: just three (for it was lunch, not a banquet), but perfect gems of the pastry cook’s art and elegantly displayed on a costly silver platter which Severina then presented to Novus. A gift from her to him looked as regular as her acquisition of the amethysts. It also gave him the indisputable right to lick the plate; his fat, sloppy tongue flickered over it, while I watched jealously.

He left shortly afterwards, with his platter under his elbow but still without any acknowledgement of why I was there. Severina went out with him, which gave an impression they were exchanging kisses in private. I heard a squawk of mockery from the parrot, anyway.

When the hostess came back I had swung myself upright on the dining couch and was giving the amethyst necklace a frank valuation, comparing its cost with her silver plate. “I reckon Novus came out ahead financially today. That looks good, Zotica—nicely done.”

“You’re so cynical it’s pitiful.”

I stood up, and dangled the jewels from the fingers of one hand. “Pretty—but one or two flaws which you’ll soon spot. If it wasn’t my job to drive a wedge between the two of you, I might warn the good Novus not to give gemstones to a girlie who has been through a lapidary’s training…” She tried to take the necklace from me; I insisted on fastening it round her slender neck. “Not quite right with blue.”

“No; amethysts are always difficult.” She remained impervious to my attempts to rile her.

“Time I was going.” I took both her hands in my own and bent over them gallantly. They were scented with a flowery fragrance which reminded me of the oil from the baths which Helena had taken to frequenting recently. Camomile must be the universal fragrance this month.

On her left hand Severina wore a massive gold betrothal ring with a red jasper stone. The false symbol of fidelity: one of those travesties where two hands, very badly drawn, are clasping each other. Novus had worn an identical ring. On the matching finger of her other hand was an elderly band of copper, its front flattened into a coin-shaped boss which was scratched with a simple picture of Venus. A cheap trinket. A memento, I guessed. Not many girls wear copper rings, because of the verdigris.

“That’s pretty. From one of your husbands?”

“No; just a friend.”

“A man?”

“A man,” she agreed, as I pulled down my mouth to show what I thought of women who lived without a male protector yet had followers they called “just friends.”

She took back her hands. “What did you think of Novus?”

“He’s too set in his ways, and you are far too bright for him—”

“Normal criteria for marriage,” she quipped defensively.

“Cobnuts! How long do you intend to waste your life coddling mediocre businessmen?”

“Better to do it while I have all my energy than later, when I may need coddling myself.”

“Ah, but meanwhile are you really the deferential type?…” She gave me an evasive smile. “You implied Novus wanted to discuss something. He never told me.”

“He wanted to see if he liked you.”

“So did I impress the man?”

“I can tell you what he wanted, anyway. If you are going to be hanging round on hire to Pollia, there is something you could do for Novus too.”

“Sorry,” I replied at once, suspecting some plot of her own. “I can only work for one client at a time. But I’d be interested in hearing what he wants.”

“Protection.”

“Ouch! I’ve still got bruises; don’t make me laugh, Zotica.”

For once she lost patience. “Must you always wield my slave-name like a Herculean club?”

“People should acknowledge their origins—”

“Hypocrisy!” she chipped back. “You are a free citizen; you always were, you cannot know.”

“Wrong, Zotica. I know poverty, hard work, and hunger. I live with disillusionment. I face sneers from both the rich and rich men’s slaves. My ambitions are as far beyond my reach as they would be for any chained wretch in a filthy hutch who builds the fires in bathhouses—”

“What ambitions?” she demanded, but things were already far too friendly for me.

We were still positioned in the dining room with me about to leave, but Severina seemed to want to delay me.

“I find I enjoy talking to you,” she grumbled. “Is this your method of wearing people down?”

“Letting suspects enjoy themselves never achieves much.”

“It worries me when you’re frank.”

“Lady, it worries me!”

Suddenly she smiled. It was a smile I had seen before in my life: the dangerous weapon of a woman who had decided we two were special friends. “Now I shall tell you,” Severina promised, “the real reason why I went to the astrologer. I hope it will show you why I worry about Novus.” I tipped my head on one side, preserving my neutrality. “He has enemies, Falco. Novus has been the victim of threats—threats followed by inexplicable accidents. It started before he and I were introduced, and it has happened again recently. I consulted Tyche about the risk, with his full knowledge—in fact, on his behalf.”

I hid a grin. She did not know I had also watched her ordering a tombstone for the hapless man. “Who are these enemies? And what exactly have they done to him?”

“Will you help us?”

“I told you; I cannot divide my interests in a case.”

“Then Novus would not want me to say any more.”

“Your choice.”

“What can he do?” she cried, putting on a good show of anxiety.

“The best way to treat enemies is to make friends with them.” Severina’s eyes met mine, mocking my pious advice. For an instant we shared a dangerous sense of affinity. “All right; I admit it: the best way is to nobble them.”

“Falco, if you won’t help us, at least don’t joke!”

If she was lying she was an impressive actress.

But I did not rule out the possibility that Severina was a liar.