‘Yes.’
‘She also said that if Surdinus had offered her a divorce any time these thirty-odd years she’d’ve agreed straight away.’
‘So?’
‘So if they’d been married thirty-seven years — which they had been — then the gilt must’ve worn off the gingerbread pretty quickly after the wedding. Certainly long before she decided to look for love and affection elsewhere. Maybe as much as ten years, and that’s a long time in a marriage that isn’t working.’
‘Marcus, dear, what exactly are you getting at?’
‘Gaius Secundus told me that Longinus was a very old friend of the family, dating much further back than his and Surdinus’s joint consulship. Oh, sure, twenty-five years would qualify him as that, no argument; but me, I was wondering about the gap.’
‘What gap?’
‘Between twenty-five years and, quote, “thirty-odd”.’
‘Marcus …’
‘Wait a minute, lady. Just listen. Say that when she talked to me Sullana was fudging things a little, intentionally so, and the affair happened closer to the thirty-five year mark — there’s your “thirty-odd” — rather than the twenty-five. That’d put Sullana in her very early twenties, pre-kids and a couple of years into a bad marriage; Longinus — presumably, given he was consul ten years back — just a bit older. Unmarried, unattached.’
‘And how do you know he was unmarried and unattached?’
I ignored her. ‘The perfect age and conditions for an affair, on both sides. And, well, it fits in pretty neatly with Surdinus Junior’s age.’
She was staring at me. ‘Marcus Corvinus, you should be ashamed of yourself!’ she said. ‘That is groundless speculation, pure and simple, and very close to muckraking! You’ve no evidence for Longinus being Surdinus’s father. None whatsoever.’
‘Sure I don’t. But it’s an angle worth considering if Longinus’s coming back to Rome at a time just predating Surdinus’s death is no coincidence. Sullana says that up to a month ago her husband had never even suspected she’d had an affair, and when she told him she had and who with, he was furious.’
‘But why on earth should Longinus kill Surdinus? If anything, it ought to be the other way round.’
‘Maybe he threatened to, and Longinus got in first.’
‘Corvinus, that is absolute nonsense!’
‘Or he was threatening to disinherit his elder son. Who, of course, wouldn’t be his elder son at all.’
‘That might be an additional reason for Surdinus Junior to kill his father, but it would have nothing to do with Longinus.’
‘Oh, yes, it would. If the thing went through, particularly just after Surdinus had divorced his wife of almost forty years, whether he made the reason public or not, people would put two and two together, and the chances are they’d come up with the right answer. Sullana would be disgraced, his natural son would lose a major inheritance, and the oh-so-honourable-and-upright Cassius Longinus wouldn’t come out of things looking too good, either. Plus the timing would be catastrophic. The guy’s just been hauled back to Rome, presumably in disgrace for committing some misdemeanour, anything up to and including treason, but probably just that, and his career’s already enough on the skids without word getting round that he’s the father of his erstwhile colleague’s elder son, when his reputation would go down the tubes as well. I’d say all that was a good enough reason for murder.’
‘Poppycock.’
‘Yeah, well, you can sneer all you like, lady, but at least it means that Longinus needs checking out. We only have Cornelia Sullana’s version of things to go on. Maybe his will be different. Or can you suggest another avenue I should be exploring?’
‘No, but …’
‘Fine. Longinus it is, then.’ I reached for the jug and refilled my wine cup. ‘After I’ve talked with Tarquitia.’
FOURTEEN
I was half-expecting no one to be at home in the Old Villa, but when I knocked — under the watchful and censorious eye of Surdinus Junior’s door slave sitting on a stool outside the villa’s main entrance — it was eventually opened by a youngish guy in a freedman’s cap. No birthmark, though.
‘Uh … I was hoping to talk to Tarquitia, pal,’ I said.
‘No problem. They’re in the dining room. Come in.’ He stepped aside.
I followed him through the lobby and the atrium. Sure enough, the place seemed to be a separate house in itself, or maybe ‘apartment’ would be a better word, because everything was on a much smaller scale than in the main building. It felt and smelled disused, though, and what statues or furniture were present were either covered in sheets or dull from lack of polishing, while the atrium pool itself was empty barring half an inch of rainwater from the opening in the ceiling above it, already turning scummy. A basic house staff responsible for the cleaning and the other usual domestic chores hadn’t come with the deal, then. Not that, for five silver pieces, Tarquitia could complain that she’d been short-changed. I wondered who the freedman was.
‘You’ve got a visitor,’ the guy said.
Tarquitia and Hellenus were lying on one of the couches, holding wine cups. There was a jug — plain earthenware, like the cups — on the table in front of them, and a third cup half-full. Friend, then, not servant.
‘Valerius Corvinus,’ Tarquitia said. ‘What a surprise.’
‘Yeah, I can see it must be.’ I was looking at Hellenus. He said nothing, just returned the look and took a slow drink from his cup. ‘You know each other, then?’
‘Very well. But, of course, that won’t come as much of a surprise to you, will it?’ She was perfectly relaxed — in fact, she was smiling. ‘Marcus told me you’d seen my picture at the workshop, so making that particular deduction wouldn’t have been difficult. And presumably you’ve worked out the rest of it, too.’
‘“Marcus”?’ I said to Hellenus. ‘I thought you didn’t use your real name any more.’
He shrugged. ‘A condition of the old man’s will. I don’t mind too much, considering what I’ve got in exchange. Besides, it’ll embarrass the hell out of my poker-arsed brother to have a jobbing artist using the family name. I can get used to it. As can my fiancée here.’
‘Fiancée? I thought the lady was married already.’
‘Only temporarily.’ Tarquitia looked past me at the freedman, who was still hovering. ‘Damion, find another cup for our guest here, will you?’ She looked back at me. ‘It’s a celebration, Corvinus, and you’re welcome to join us. Sit down, have some wine.’
I stayed standing. ‘Too early for me, lady,’ I said. ‘Thanks all the same.’
‘Suit yourself, but it’s Falernian. Good Falernian. Damion’s brother is in the wine trade, and he supplies some of the best houses in Rome.’ I said nothing. ‘No? Ah, well, your loss. Damion, could you give us a moment, please? I think Valerius Corvinus would like a word in private.’
The freedman grunted, came over, picked up the third cup, filled it to the brim, and went out.
‘So.’ Tarquitia was still smiling. ‘Would you like to begin, or shall I?’
‘The whole business — your affair with Surdinus — was a set-up, right from the start. You and Hellenus here arranged the whole thing.’
‘Yes, we did.’ She took a sip of her wine. ‘Hellenus — Marcus, rather.’ She turned to plant a kiss on his cheek. ‘I really do need to get used to calling you that, dear. Marcus was doing the artwork for the Poppies and we sort of drifted together. I didn’t know he was who he was at the time, mind. Then one day he told me about this brilliant idea he’d had.’
‘To screw his rich daddy,’ I said neutrally. ‘In both senses of the word.’
She coloured slightly. ‘If you’re going to be unpleasant,’ she said, ‘then you can leave. We’re not greedy. Marcus only wanted to make sure of getting what was his by right.’
‘Fair enough,’ I said. ‘So you waited for an opportunity to, ah, effect an introduction.’
‘It wasn’t easy.’ Hellenus reached for the jug and topped up their cups. ‘My father didn’t go to that sort of party as a general rule. Oh, he wasn’t a prude, he just found it below his dignity, and so did most of his friends. But eventually we struck lucky; one of his younger philosopher pals who was a bit more red-blooded than most. After that it was easy. Tarquitia knew one of the girls who’d been hired, some money changed hands, and that was that.’