'Negrinus will deny it,' I said.

The praetor gave me a sharp look. `Well, of course he will, Falco! Paccius intends to show that he is lying.' Paccius gracefully thanked the praetor for stating his case.

So if this came off and Negrinus was convicted, Silius Italicus would once again be able to grab compensation in the corruption case, because we were back with the angle that Metellus had not committed suicide. Any money that remained in possession of the Metellus family afterwards would be there to pay off Paccius, for his defence of Juliana and his attack on Negrinus – the remainder to be enjoyed by the heirs to the dead man's estate. I had no doubt now that Paccius was in league with Calpurnia in some way. Maybe her daughter or both daughters were involved too. My one-time joke that Paccius Africanus might be Calpurnia's lover now seemed less amusing. One thing was clear: Negrinus had been used, disowned – and now was to be unfeelingly dumped by his family.

The story was still fantastic. I was still waiting for the praetor to dismiss the charge.

`So you are in agreement with some of the facts,' he asked Birdy. `Which ones?'

`We did once discuss a plan such as Paccius described.' He was out of control. He must have had an education but nobody had taught him to use logic, even when his reputation and his life were at stake. At this rate, he would truss himself up and hobble single-handed into the arena full of lions, smiling a feeble apology. `It was just after the trial verdict. My father didn't want to die, my mother was angry, she did suggest us taking matters into our own hands. I cannot deny the conversation happened; my ex-wife was there.' So that was why Saffia Donata had mentioned hemlock. `But of course we didn't do it,' Negrinus whined.

Too late. It had no force. He was damned.

`No choice is available to me, I fear.' The praetor maintained the pretence that he and Negrinus were civilised equals. He pretended that he hated to see a fellow-senator brought to this. `I have heard enough evidence to allow the case against you to proceed. Parricide is a crime we Romans hate above all others. A man of noble birth has been murdered in his own house. Shocking! I am prepared to summon the Senate to judge this.' Perhaps his voice softened. Certainly he stopped enunciating edicts temporarily: 'Metellus Negrinus, get a grip! You are in serious trouble; you need the best defender you can persuade to speak for you.' Ah, what a good sport. He wanted the trial to be fun for spectators!

At the last-minute interjection, which was caused by guilt no doubt, Negrinus shuddered. His head came up and he looked the magistrate full in the face. `What's the point, praetor? I am lost, and we all know it!' His voice became harsh. `I stand here accused of murdering my father – and my own mother condemns me. I am an embarrassment. She just wants to get rid of me. I never had a chance,' he groaned. `Never, never! Nobody will defend me. There will be no justice at this trial!'

I could see why he felt that way. Worse followed. I had assumed that in view of the reported feud between Paccius Africanus and Silius Italicus, Silius would act in Negrinus' defence. But then, Silius also wanted him convicted, in order that his father's alleged suicide would be disproved. So it turned out that Silius and Paccius for once had ganged up.

Even the praetor seemed slightly embarrassed as he explained the situation: `I have another application for charges against you. Silius Italicus has petitioned too. I have decided it is not necessary for you to be present before me a second time when he states his evidence.' After this magnanimity, he turned to Paccius. `We shall move to a pre-trial hearing in two days' time.' He looked back at Negrinus. In a routine manner, he explained: `This will be where I decide who has the greatest claim to prosecute. I shall adjudicate on who can bring which charges, and perhaps make a pronouncement on how they are to divide the compensation if you are convicted.'

Paccius looked put out. `I claim the right of first speaking at the trial!'

`Of course you do,' the praetor told him smoothly. `And so of course does Silius!' Things were no longer going in Paccius' favour – though they were still firmly going against Birdy. He had no friends. I had come with him today, but had done so only to claim a bounty for producing him.

The hearing was over. Paccius lingered for discussions with the magistrate. I won't say they were about to share a drink and a laugh at Negrinus' expense – but a stagnant odour of connivance followed us through the spotless marble-floored corridors as I propelled the accused on our gloomy way out.

`It's not over yet, man -'

`Oh yes it is.' Bare resignation filled his voice, though he was quiet in a way he had not been last night or this morning. 'Falco, this was settled for me a long, long time ago!'

He was not going to explain, I could see.

`Look, Birdy; go home -'

I stopped. He looked at me. He let out a brief hack of bitter mirth. `Oh no!'

I sighed. `No.'

Home was where somebody had almost certainly murdered his father, though as we stood on the praetor's doorstep, for the first time I did feel that it might not have been this ineffectual son who committed the crime. Home was where the mother was, who had devised that crime but who intended to condemn him for it.

I had no choice now. Negrinus had lost all hope – and he had nowhere to go. I took him back again to my house. As we walked there, a heavy feeling descended that I was being sucked into a bottomless black pool in the isolated wastes of the Pontine Marshes.

Still, that must be nothing to the mood of the man beside me.

XVIII

THE CAMILLUS brothers had little expert knowledge, but they had skills to deal with Negrinus: they became lads about town together, though on my advice they did not get him altogether drunk. We wanted him capable of speech. They took him up on to my roof terrace, where the night air grew extremely cold. They began drinking slowly, chatting about nothing as if the day's business was over. Since there were two of them, it was easy to let him imbibe more than they did, while appearing to match him. While he still felt fairly sober, they decided it was chilly, so they all trooped downstairs to a salon, where smoky braziers had created a good warm fug.

Negrinus became drowsy. Justinus had actually fallen asleep when I decided to join them. We all lolled about with winecups pretty much unused on the table. I had a scroll, which I did not bother to read. Aelianus used a soft cushion in an endless pursuit of a small moth, ultimately fruitless because he could not be bothered to raise his backside far from his couch.

It was quiet enough to hear the charcoal sizzling in the braziers. Somewhere in the distance baby Favonia was wailing. I kicked Justinus awake. `How's Claudia, Quintus?' I added for Negrinus, `His wife is about to pod.'

`Nothing's happened,' Justinus answered primly. `She's fed up. I'm nervous… Is yours born yet, Birdy?'

Negrinus shook his head. `I suppose not. I suppose somebody would tell me.'

`Someone would call on you for maintenance!' Justinus assured him.

`Dear Quintus is not even a father yet,' his brother marvelled lazily, lunging again at his moth. `But he has learned the rules… You had a stepson, didn't you, Birdy? Do you think your two will get on with him?'

`Of course they will!' Justinus interrupted, slurring his words gently. `Their fathers are best friends, after all.'

As we had hoped, Negrinus was ready to say more than usual. He was sitting on his couch, feet stretched out, staring at his shoes and soul-searching. `I do love my daughter; I shall love the new one. They are my children… None of this is their fault.'