'Spare me the cultural lecture!… Not much point Anacrites putting up a written notice to lure her in,' 1 commented, to lighten it. 'Not much point in anything he does.' 'How did you get on with him, when you were at his house?' 'Relations were cool.' 'Did he try to recruit you?' 'As a spy? Yes, he did. How do you know?' 'The snake tried it on with your brother in the past. What did you answer?' 'I said no, of course.' 'Happy fellow. So how did you know Veleda's whereabouts?' 1 reiterated.
Justinus at last capitulated, mildly enough. 'I know a man. Slight acquaintance, baths and gymnasium, nothing special. We nod to one another, but 1 wouldn't say 1 ever let him strigil my back… When everyone was speculating about Veleda, 1 happened to mutter that 1 had once met her. He must have been looking for somebody safe to confide in. He was bursting to share the secret with someone – Scaeva told me.' 1 took a breath so hard it hurt. 'You know Scaeva?'
XLIII
'Gratianus Scaeva – brother of Drusilla Gratiana? Lived at the Quadrumatus villa? You know him, Quintus?' 'Only slightly.' 'Scaeva was passing messages for you?'
Justinus shrugged. 'He took letters from me. I got nothing back. Once he had given away where Veleda was, he lost his nerve fast. He was terrified of being found out. He wanted nothing more to do with me – but I kept seeking him out and insisting.'
'Did you want a reply from the priestess? Were you trying to resume your relationship?' Silence. 'Come on, lad. What were you playing at?' 'I don't really know.' I believed that. 'Wonderful. Every mess in the world is caused by some idiot who can't make up his ridiculous mind about a woman who's not interested.'
I hit him with the information that Scaeva was dead. Quintus looked shocked. It could be genuine. I told him exactly how it had happened. Then I watched him work out the implications. 'Do you think Veleda hacked his head off?'
My brother-in-law blew out his cheeks. 'That's possible.' He had seen her amongst her tribal warriors, when they were baying for Roman blood; he knew that her place as a venerated leader depended on showing she was ruthless.
I liked the fact that he did not rush to defend her. Even so, his personal predicament was grim. Whatever assurances he gave, it looked as if he and the priestess had colluded. 'What can you tell me about Scaeva? This is urgent, Quintus.' 'I don't know much. Until recently I tried to avoid him. He was always snuffling and carrying on about his health. Well, that's unfair; he was fed up with it himself He complained that he seemed to have spent every Satumalia of his life lying sick on a couch.' 'Well, I'm afraid it won't happen this year.' 'No.' Justinus looked thoughtful. Perhaps he was considering the transience of life.
I now grilled him on how he came to think that Veleda might have been at the Temple of Diana tonight. His answer made things even more ghastly: according to him, in one of his unanswered letters, he himself suggested it as a place of refuge. 'What happened to those letters, Quintus?' 'I don't know.' I hoped Veleda had destroyed them. If not, we had to find them. We had to retrieve and obliterate them. Another dirty task for me.
The thought crossed my mind that Gratianus Scaeva might have been killed because somebody discovered he was acting as an intermediary. If so, his punishment seemed vile. Still, the perpetrator may have deliberately set out to implicate Veleda. It was the kind of trick Anacrites might play. 'Right. Let's get it straight: Veleda comes to Rome. You think you owe her something for saving us. You offer help; Scaeva takes the letters; she does not reply.' She could have been carrying her reply along to Scaeva, the day Scaeva was killed. It was even possible Scaeva tried to wriggle out of taking her letter to Quintus, so that was why Veleda attacked Scaeva… Somehow I thought not. 'Even in two weeks of freedom she has not tried to contact you, apparently. So did you give up on her, Quintus?' He looked vague, as if he could not accept that he and the priestess were past history.
'Look, you can't have seen Scaeva for over a fortnight. Scaeva has been dead all that time. Did anybody ever tell you Veleda had escaped?'
'Anacrites. At his house this week.' 'So tonight – you were just going to the temple on the off-chance of finding her?' 'Yes, but the moment I spotted the Praetorians, I went frantic. I thought they must know that Veleda was definitely inside -' 'And you know Ganna?'
'Never met the girl.' How many men had sworn that old lie to me?
Justinus saw me thinking it. 'Marcus, Lentullus and I had talked, today at Fountain Court. He told me about Ganna being brought to Rome with the priestess. When the guards pulled her out of hiding, I guessed who she was… What will happen to her?' 'I don't know. Your big sister went with her, if that helps.' Justinus looked relieved. I felt slightly less confident: Helena would do all she could, but Anacrites was a bitter, single-minded foe. Nonetheless, Quintus and I shared a momentary smile, as we thought of Helena defying him. The first time I met him, Helena and I had yet to become lovers and she was giving me all Hades of a time. Her brother and I had bonded quickly, both overshadowed by her fierce spirit, both adoring her eccentric resolution.
I felt exhausted. I said I had to go home to see if there was news of Helena. I put Justinus on parole to remain at the station house with Lentullus – to stay there whatever happened to the injured soldier overnight. He agreed the conditions. I was almost past caring.
Just as I left, he surprised me. I glanced back from the door, raising a weary arm in salutation. Then Justinus suddenly asked me, 'How is Claudia?'
I took it as hopeful. Mind you, right when I first met him, I had noticed that Camillus Justinus had extremely good manners and a kind heart.
SATURNALIA, DAY TWO
XLIV
Positions were reversed. For once I was the one waiting among the oil-lamp shadows, when Helena crawled in at last, barely able to move from exhaustion. It was a shock to see her still in the strange brown gown she wore to the Temple of Saturn, though at some point since she disappeared in Anacrites' litter, she had plaited her loose hair into an old-fashioned bun like some severe matriarch from the Republic.
I had been sitting on a chest in a daze until I heard the litter-bearers calling good-night to her. I felt stiff myself, but managed to get to the door to open it for Helena like a uniquely efficient hall porter. 'Dirty stop-out. What time do you call this?' I took her in my arms, very gently. 'Should I check you over for bruises? Or just check how drunk you are?'
She shook her head in reassurance, as she collapsed against me. 'All we were offered was a small tray of three-day-old date fancies and some foul grape juice. Hospitality from the Chief Spy is not based on the Good Steward's Household Manual… I hope you picked up those cloaks, Marcus.'
So she was all right. I helped her upstairs, where we fell into bed wearing most of our clothes. I squirmed out of my outer tunic, hoping she had not seen the bloodstains I had acquired from Lentullus. Helena fell asleep after me, I think, but she was up first. By the time I sauntered trom our room, she had been to the baths, dressed like herself in a smart red dress and pendant garnet ear-rings, and had begun calming our household – scared slaves; disconcerted soldiers; subdued children; Nux slinking along skirting boards as if she was in trouble; Albia, equally dog-like, defiantly letting us know she was furious at us for staying out all night.