As soon as the wounded priestess spotted Trebonius Fulvo among the huddled candidates, she let out an eye-watering shriek of accusation. Incitatus heard her, turned round, saw somebody he recognised and hurtled up to greet her. The frightened priestess tried to deter him by battering him on the snout with her rattling sistrum.
The dog bit her again.
Manlius Faustus sounded a stentorian order: ‘Someone catch that bloody hound for me!’ As an aedile, he was responsible for escaped wild animals in public places. Unfortunately, as an aedile his person was sacrosanct, so he never had guards to help.
The five builders saw that nobody else was brave enough to tackle Inky, so they would have to. The men picked up their mulsum beakers (all they had to hand) and advanced on him. ‘Here, boy!’
He nipped three of them, then shoved his great muzzle into a cup, lapping the honey and vinegar thirstily. I grew up with dogs. I grabbed a cord off the auctioned curtain swags, walked up quietly and, as he drank, fondled him between his ears. His fur looked smooth, but felt rough; he was not a dog anyone ever brushed. He growled as he considered whether being stroked offended his dignity, but he let me.
‘Who’s a good dog?’ He wagged his tail. The tail caught a pile of ceramic platters, which shattered. ‘Don’t seem threatening,’ I told the builders. We all smiled, staying very still and careful. I made a loop and tied it round Inky’s mighty neck.
‘Watch yourself, girl!’
‘She’s good with animals.’ That was the quiet voice of Faustus, at my back. ‘Albia, step away safely.’
‘He just feels too hot and he needs a drink, don’t you, precious?’ Inky stopped drinking long enough to drag his hot rasping tongue across my hand. I had him under control, though I was scared stiff.
The builders had found lengths of rope from somewhere, as builders do; they configured a harness and delicately fitted it round the mastiff. Inky grew calmer. He sat when I told him to. So far, so good.
Manlius Faustus hauled Trebonius Fulvo out of the crowd. Faustus formally asked the weeping priestess what compensation she wanted; with Egyptian alacrity, the handmaiden of Isis named a healthy price. Faustus called it fair (she was copiously bleeding) and doubled it because she had been bitten twice. The priestess serenely staunched the blood, using her shaggy shawl. Large numbers do not faze primordial daughters of time.
Faustus ordered Trebonius to pay up and avoid the need for a court case. ‘No choice, man! You compensate the holy woman, or you pay the same as a fine.’
Trebonius agreed to settle, but would not consent to take Incitatus home. I informed Faustus how the dog had jumped Trebonius when he fell over. Faustus kept his face straight, just.
‘Don’t blame your dog,’ I told Trebonius. ‘It’s not his fault. He needs a handler who likes and understands tough dogs. Just think about how your wife controls you.’ Standing within earshot, she blinked and did not smile. ‘You can manage him.’
‘Not in Rome,’ declared Faustus. ‘This is not a city dog. Trebonius Fulvo, you are forbidden to let him rampage any more in our streets and public places. I order you to keep him on your country estate.’
Trebonius was still refusing to have him back at all. His wife agreed, which was probably because the dog caused havoc in her no doubt comfortable house. The original handler had vanished. To solve the dilemma, I volunteered that Incitatus could come home with me, but only for one night. If Inky behaved, Trebonius would have to take him back. If not, the dog would be put down. Manlius Faustus announced that was a proper solution, suggesting Trebonius should pay me for his dog’s overnight boarding – and danger money.
‘What’s his proper name?’
‘Consul.’
‘No wonder he gets above himself!’
At that point everyone was settled and friendly. It was not to last.
32
The builders were leaving and offered to take Incitatus/Consul to Fountain Court for me. Gornia had slyly gathered a group of dealers around his little tribunal and once more asked for offers on the Callistus strongbox.
Manlius Faustus stood with his arms folded, now monitoring what went on. This was the first time I had realised that his allocated area, a quarter of the city, must include a slice of the Field of Mars.
Vibius had parked Callistus Primus on the couch in Gornia’s room set. Secundus comforted his brother while Vibius went to investigate their concussed cousin. He was in serious trouble; he tried to stand up but slid to the ground, where he began having fits. Vibius called out for a stretcher-bearer. The Porticus of Pompey had attendants; Faustus struck off urgently to find them.
As the injured man lay racked by seizures, his wife knelt down and tried to help Sextus Vibius hold him steady. Her mother, Verecunda, marched up and told her not to bother. ‘When are you intending to learn better?’ She really was a vicious hag, putting on airs with her Livia lookalike tunic and hair, though in fact she was no better than any pinched, selfish, loveless old woman. If she had had a hard life, it might have excused her, but I could tell she had not.
‘Oh, shut up, Mother!’ Julia Laurentina hauled herself upright and wildly struck out. She had no martial training and the swipe was off balance; it simply spun her on the spot, leaving Mama untouched.
Verecunda let out a disdainful snort. As she left the scene, she could not help taunting the Callistus brothers. ‘How clever was that? You spent all your precious money trying to get this lightweight elected. You couldn’t keep him in the running − and now you have both killed him!’
For a second I was baffled. Then it made sense. This previously unnamed Callistus cousin, Julia Laurentina’s husband, must be Volusius Firmus. The name on the advertising plaque outside the Callistus house was Firmus, the porter had told me. Nobody had said he was a relative; I expect they thought I knew.
So, it was the Callisti who had lavished cash on bribing Abascantus. We were probably auctioning old Callistus stored items because the family had bankrupted themselves on their pointless attempt − and now Primus and Secundus had risked fatal damage to their cousin.
The auction stalled during the medical emergency. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Dromo, Faustus’s slave, poking through the wreckage of Ursa. He put the head on like a helmet. Dromo never had much tact or timing. Almost at once he pulled it off and hurled it as far as he could, shrieking ‘Urrgh! Maggots!’
This caused amusement to a bunch of red-tunic vigiles who had just arrived with Niger’s wife’s agent. Forgetting why they had been summoned, they started kicking the head around and laughing. People scrabbled out of reach in a hurry. Those close enough could see the maggots crawling.
The game stopped when Manlius Faustus returned with a doctor and stretcher-bearers. After a swift examination, they picked up the limp form of Volusius Firmus and set off with him fast. Julia Laurentina sensibly removed her high-heeled sandals to run along behind them, like a devoted wife, barefoot.
The candidates’ party also moved off, which unfortunately caught the attention of the Callistus brothers.
Callistus Primus finally stood up, wiping his eyes. The sight of Arulenus and Trebonius strangely enraged him. He ran at them, gesturing at the fatal strongbox. ‘You bastards! You unfeeling, heartless bastards! How dare you show your faces here?’