Deadly Election Page 31

  ‘Oh, I see!’ Dromo gave me a disgusted look. He knew why I was saying that. ‘Are we coming to live here? It’s horrible. Oh, don’t do that to me!’

  ‘Ask him tomorrow.’

  Tiberius arrived soon afterwards. He had a large bundle, which he dropped on the floor with a thud. In answer to my quizzical look, he listed, ‘Tunics, comb, strigil, spare belts, spare boots, knife and napkin, absolutely lots of writing tools for copying old documents.’

  ‘Isn’t thirty-six rather old to run away from home?’ I asked.

  ‘Thirty-seven. I believe in waiting until you are old enough to enjoy things.’ Suddenly, he became sweetly uncertain. ‘Should I have asked you?’

  ‘Not necessary. Tell me what happened with your uncle.’

  ‘I tried not to quarrel, but the conversation was painful and at the moment he wants no more to do with me. He will not make life easy, though he may come round one day … As a courtesy I spoke to Laia and her brother, gaining more enemies for life. Afterwards, I went to the old grain warehouse and extracted all my uncle’s records, as your father suggested. Now I have to say something.’

  I went up to him. ‘Tell me tomorrow.’

  ‘No. This is it. I wake every morning with my heart lightening because I may see you. I want to wake to find you there in my arms. I have to be with you.’

  ‘You are,’ I said, winding myself round him experimentally.

  He glanced at the couch, but I said if he was staying for good, we should migrate to the bed. I led him there, meeting little resistance, though he did try muttering self-consciously, ‘I may not be up to much. I went all the way to Fidenae and back on horseback yesterday …’

  Kind-hearted, I gave him some help with undressing. ‘You’ll manage. You had a good long sleep this afternoon.’

  He began to assist me in taking off my own clothes, acquiring a new interest in exploring what was under them. ‘A good sleep! That was cunning, Flavia Albia. Were you, in a previous life, a strategist for Hannibal?’

  ‘Don’t talk.’ He smiled. He knew what came next even before he let me kiss him. Now it was my turn. Flavia Albia was making her move.

  Epilogue

  For us, this was our beginning. For others involved, it ought to have been the end of their unhappiness, though for some that was never to be.

  Tiberius and I became absorbed in our own lives, yet we had news occasionally. The Verecundus family council’s decisions were all put in hand. The Callisti accepted their settlement. As far as we ever knew, the two families then managed to exist on friendly terms.

  The results of the political campaign were as Tiberius had predicted to Dromo and Rodan, except that Ennius Verecundus formally withdrew. He would stand again, once time had passed. In January, the candidates went to the Senate and made formal speeches recommending themselves, supported by friends who backed them. First Trebonius, then Arulenus were easily elected, comfortably trailed by Dillius. That left one more place, for which Vibius and Gratus gained equal votes. My uncle, Camillus Aelianus, stood up and suggested his colleagues give precedence to Vibius on the grounds that he had been married and was father to two children. The motion was passed: Vibius would be the fourth aedile designate.

  I say ‘had been married’ for a reason. By the time of the vote, his status had altered. For him, there had been a tragic coda.

  One day at mid-morning, Julia Optata was found at the bottom of a flight of stairs at home, dead. We were not called to the scene, never saw the evidence. Next thing, her body had been gathered up and we were attending her funeral.

  Friends were invited to the house afterwards, so we had a chance to look discreetly at where she was found. I remembered taking that staircase, which led up from the ground floor to the apartment Sextus and Julia shared. I had thought it unusually safe. The treads were clean natural stone, spaced evenly and well designed. Small windows lit them. A handrail, so rare in Rome’s ramshackle tenements, made the climb easier …

  After the other mourners had left, Sextus told us two that he wanted to explain. His mother, tight-lipped, went away to another room, leading his father. Sextus sat on a couch with one arm round each of his small children. He said he intended them to know about their mother, to love her, but to know her life had been difficult.

  ‘I killed her. That is, I was responsible. But of course it was an accident.’

  If anyone asked, he said he would be open in public. There had been too much secrecy. Sextus did not want his children or himself to be the subject of any more unfortunate rumours. All the best politicians take that line, I thought.

  He confessed that throughout their marriage Julia had attacked him. On the day she died, they had been fighting again. She was furious that Sextus had announced in public that she was with a pregnant sister, revealing to Aspicius where his frightened wife might be. Her angry tirade worsened until, as so often before, Julia started shouting and beating Sextus. He tried to escape by leaving the apartment, intending to go down to his parents. Julia rushed after him and they struggled together on the stairs. She lost her balance and fell. It was a terrible accident. Sextus said he had loved her and was heartbroken.

  We had to accept what he told us.

  In private afterwards, at home, Tiberius and I thought his story was all too convenient. While he had spoken to us so earnestly, his eyes flickered like those of a guilty man lying. Most of his story might have been true, but we were afraid he had taken his chance and deliberately pushed her.

  If Sextus had killed Julia, he would get away with it. Even if questions were asked, he was a plausible man. If necessary, depositions would be made by family and friends that, sad as it was, Julia had regularly attacked him. The tragic results were not his fault; it had been self-defence.

  Sextus carried it off beautifully, ironically as trained by us. He told Tiberius that even if cruel people had suspicions, he would be able to rehabilitate himself. Once in office, when he started repaying favours, the public would soon forget. His reputation remained pure – or at least as pure as any other politician’s.

  Tiberius, no fool and a good man, was subsequently cool with him. I found my feelings affected unexpectedly. I could never say I had liked Julia Optata; I certainly pitied her husband for what he had endured with her. But I felt belated sympathy; I saw the sadness of her life.

  On the surface, Tiberius continued his friendship with Vibius and was always kind to his two children. A wise partner does not come between her man and his best friend. Luckily, at heart, mine shared my reserve. So Sextus Vibius Marinus would not be invited to our home, when we had one, as often as he once might have been.

  We would have our own home. But that is another story.