Part 3 (1/2)

'It is rude,' said Saffia. Rather rudely.

'Still, you remain on good terms?'

'We do.'

'Because of your son?'

'Because it is civilised.'

'Wonderful!' I said, as if I had fine grit between my teeth. 'And how are things between you and Birdy?'

'Unspeakable - unfortunately.' She waved a small neat hand above the unborn child. Several silver bracelets slipped on her wrist as she did so. Her draperies were held on with numerous enamel studs and pins. Even the slave mopping her brow wore a bangle.

'The mother-in-law comes into it?' I suggested with a twinkle. Saffia was loyal for some reason: she just pouted slightly and said nothing. Perhaps the Metelli had paid her to keep quiet. 'I met her today,' I tried one more time.

Saffia gave in. 'I expect you think them an awful family,' she told me. 'But the girls are all right.'

'What girls?' I had been caught out.

'My husband's two sisters. Juliana is sweet, though she's married to a crosspatch. The trial was a terrible shock for them both. Carina always kept her distance. She's rather strict and has a mournful air, but then I think she understood what was going on.'

'Carina disapproved of the corrupt practices?'

'She avoided trouble by staying away. Her husband also took a very stiff att.i.tude.'

'Will you still see the sisters?'

Saffia shrugged and did not know. She had the knack of seeming full of disingenuous chatter but I already felt that nothing vital would be wheedled out of this witness. She gushed, but she only told me what she could afford to say. Anything she needed to keep private stayed out of bounds. Lawyers do it in court: bombard the jury with trivia while omitting anything pertinent that may harm their client.

I tried her with the main question: 'I am really looking into what happened over Metellus senior's death.'

'Oh I don't know. I wasn't there. My father fetched me, the day the trial ended.'

'You went home with your father?'

'I certainly did.' She paused. 'Papa already had a quarrel with them.'

'It happens in families,' I sympathised. 'What was at issue?'

'Oh something to do with my dowry, I know nothing of such matters...'

Wrong, darling. Saffia Donata knew everything about anything that concerned her. Still, women of rank like to pretend. I let it go. I can pretend too.

'So, home to Papa, at least temporarily? Of course you wanted to live in your own apartment; you are a married woman, used to your own establishment?'

Not quite. She was used to living with Calpurnia Cara, a matron who possessed - as Helena Justina had commented wryly - bearing and presence. Saffia saw that I recognised the contradiction; she made no answer.

I smiled like a conspirator. 'You have my congratulations. Living with Calpurnia must have taken stamina. I imagine she told you exactly how you should do everything -'

'I cannot permit my son's wife to suckle!' Saffia mimicked viciously. She was good.

'How dreadful.'

'At least this baby won't have the evil wet-nurse that my daughter was forced to endure.'

'You are glad to have escaped such tyranny.'

'If only I had.' I looked quizzical. Saffia then explained the curious procedures that are imposed on mothers-to-be who divorce from families where a large inheritance may be at stake: 'Calpurnia is insisting a reputable midwife lives with me, examines me, and monitors both the pregnancy and birth.'

'Jupiter! What's she afraid of?'

'A subst.i.tuted grandchild, if my baby dies.'

I huffed. It seemed a lot of fuss. Still, Metellus Negrinus would not want to be saddled with maintaining the wrong child.

'She told me you would call.' So Saffia and the tyrant were still on speaking terms.

'She told me you are causing trouble,' I said bluntly. 'What did she mean by that?'

'I have no idea.' I could see that she did know, but she was not going to tell me.

I changed tack. 'You are very well organised. There must have been hectic activity to find you somewhere to live so fast.' Briefly, I even wondered if Calpurnia had had a hand in this.

'Oh, dear old Lutea sorted it all out for me.'

I raised an eyebrow, half amused. 'Your ex-husband?' I guessed. She blushed slightly at being outwitted. It was an unusual name. I would soon track him down. I smiled. 'Let's be frank. Do you believe Rubirius Metellus killed himself?'

But Saffia Donata knew nothing of those matters either. She had had enough of me. I was asked to leave.

At the door, I paused. Since I had already put away my stylus, I chewed a fingernail instead. 'd.a.m.n! I meant to ask Calpurnia something... I don't want to keep annoying her in her time of grief - would you happen to know, what poison was it that Metellus took?'

'Hemlock.' This was good, from a woman who had not been in the house when the poisoning occurred and who was estranged from the family.

'Hades, we're not in the wilds of Greece, and Metellus was not a philosopher. n.o.body civilised takes hemlock nowadays!'

Saffia made no comment.

'Do you know where he would have acquired it?' I asked.

Saffia looked more wary. She merely shrugged.

I had now interviewed two matrons from the same family, in my opinion both deeply devious. My brain ached. I went home for lunch to my own open and uncomplicated womenfolk.

VIII.

'How could you do that to me, Falco?'