I slipped him a note I had prepared, covering where we found Olympia, Calpurnia's long association with her, the excuses for consultation, and the jewellery issue. He read it while he was speaking.

I settled down to enjoy the scene. Honorius was now blackening the character of our accused and her associates. For a young man of apparent refinement, he was laying it on thick:

The Accusation against Calpurnia Cara: Honorius on the Accused

I shall not, in default of evidence, try to woo your votes by denouncing the accused with endless stories of an unsavoury life -

The court revived. We all recognised the signal. His denial promised sensationally grubby details. That's the joy of rhetoric: Honorius had reached the juicy bits.

Marponius leaned forward. He sounded kindly, but Honorius was a target. `Young man, if you are intending to regale us with scandals, may I suggest you keep it short? Some of us are elderly and our bladders cannot take too much excitement.' The old-timers in the jury ranks fluttered nervously. The rest laughed as if Marponius was a great wit.

Honorius stumbled, though he should not have been surprised. Things had gone our way for far too long. The judge was ready to cause trouble.

Gentlemen, the accused lived her married life in apparent propriety -

`Elucidate, please!' Marponius must be in a tetchy mood. This unnecessary interruption was to make Honorius look amateur. It also made Marponius look foolish, but juries are used to that from judges.

We might expect a matron of Calpurnia's status to affiliate herself with temples. Honouring the gods would be a duty. If she had money she might even endow altars or sanctuaries. One of her own daughters is just such a benefactor to the gods and the community in Laurentum; she is so admired that a statue in her honour has been erected there by the townspeople.

`Is the daughter on trial here?'

`No, your honour.'

`Respectable woman, wife of a senator – what are you doing dragging her into this? Strike out the daughter!'

I guessed Marponius had eaten his lunch too fast. Now the glutton had indigestion. He had probably been to Xero's pie shop, his special haunt when he wanted to look like a man of the people (and to overhear, incognito, the public's views on how he ran his case). Petronius had long threatened to put something in Xero's rabbit pie and eliminate Marponius. He reckoned Xero would like the publicity.

Calpurnia Cara's spiritual expression took a different course. For decades she consulted a notorious practitioner of magic, one Olympia. This sorceress lives outside the city boundary, where she is able to run an unlicensed establishment and escape the notice of the vigiles. According to her, our supposedly happy matron has been troubled in her soul for many years. She has looked to magic for solace, as women in torment sometimes do, and yet-either because she felt constrained by her position or because her difficulties were simply too terrible to share – she has never revealed what troubled her. With no mother or mother-in-law, no sisters or close friends to advise her better, she has struggled to find a confidante, clearly unable to share her thoughts with the man who had married her and unable to bear the lone burden. By the time she had daughters who could have consoled her, the pattern was set. Her jewellery had long been sold – we are informed that it was not to pay the sorceress, but how can we believe that?

`Are you calling the sorceress?' Marponius had aroused himself from a doze.

`I shall do so, sir.'

`That's the end of the accused then!' The judge subsided.

Paccius, smooth as ever, shook his head at this anticipation. Silius pursed his lips. Honorius contented himself with a polite smile.

I mimed at Petronius my opinion that Marponius had finished off the rabbit pie with a large jug of Falernian. Petro mimed back that it was a jug and a half.

Is it hard to imagine that a woman of this type – the respected wife of a senator, a mother of three children, seemingly a matron all Rome should admire, and yet internally racked by unhappiness – might one day resort to extreme measures?

Calpurnia herself tells us she and her husband regularly quarrelled – quarrelled so badly they would resort to a grove at the furthermost end of their garden, lest household members overhear their furious arguments. When we consider the events that clouded the end of their marriage, it is all too easy to imagine how Calpurnia's life was blighted throughout the whole course of her ill-fated union. We are not here to try her husband, Rubirius Metellus; I remind you that that has been done in the Senate. The verdict was harsh. It truly reflected the man. Everyone says that Metellus had an unforgiving character. He took delight in the discomfiture of others. That he was morally corrupt is established beyond doubt: he sold contracts and accepted favours, using his son's high position. He corrupted contractors; he abused everybody's trust; he relegated his own son to the role of a cheating cipher; it is estimated he made thousands of sesterces – none of which has ever been recovered for the Senate and People of Rome.

You may enquire, is it any wonder that with a wife who was discontented and who regularly quarrelled with him, Rubirius Metellus found it hard to resist a sweeter presence, in his cheerful and good-natured young daughter-in-law? I shall answer with another question: is it any wonder that Calpurnia herself could never bear to speak to anyone of her husband's predilection – and still denies it? Is it any wonder if, with her spirit twisting and turning with rage against him, Calpurnia Cara felt this grim adultery was the final indignity?

Let me now tell you about Saffia Donata. She was young, pretty, full of life and smitten with a love for good things. She had once been married to the best friend of Calpurnia's son; she had a child by her first husband. When that marriage ended, somebody suggested that she be joined to Metellus Negrinus. Negrinus was a young man of promise, embarking on the cursus honorum; he was soon to become an aedile. Well, that shows the kind of man he was, because he won the votes of the Senate then to award him that position of honour. It means that now as an ex-aedile he should be qualified to serve in this very court, on a jury with you. But that will never happen. His reputation has been destroyed by the actions of his father. However, at that time, he was blameless. He is by nature a quiet man, almost diffident, a man who may not have seemed very interesting to an experienced, worldly wife. He married Saffia simply because he knew her and was not shy of her. His mother approved because Saffia had shown herself to be fertile. His father's views are not known to us, but we may raise our eyebrows over the welcome he offered.

So let us think now of what must have happened in that household, as Metellus senior fretted against his own unhappy wife and Metellus junior, who became a father himself, worked long hours in the service of the state. Saffia Donata was her father-in-law's pet. So dearly did he regard her, that he made a will which disinherited his wife and son by name, leaving them the most meagre acknowledgements. He could not legally bequeath his estate directly to Saffia, but he made an arrangement to do it through somebody else – an arrangement which you may find significant. More of that in a moment.

Saffia and Metellus clearly had an unhealthily close relationship. If evidence is needed, we may look to his will. No father openly makes the distinction Metellus has done unless he has completely abandoned his sense of propriety. He does not care if the shocked world sees his shameless feelings for the woman whom he makes the recipient of his generosity. He does not care how much he hurts members of his legitimate family. Whatever went on with Saffia before he died, it is certain that both Calpurnia and her son were aware of it. What monumental verbal storms must have taken place at the end of the garden then! Imagine the accusations that flew. In whose bed did the incestuous assignations take place? Were they confined to secret occasions when the wronged wife and son were away from the house? Was the disgusting betrayal more daring than that? Did Metellus actually court discovery by his wife and son? Did he flaunt his behaviour viciously and salaciously in front of their household slaves?