'We are none of us related. Though we are one family. Our patron's name was Hortensius Paulus.'
So to add to the normal inconvenience that every Roman is reverently named after his father, as are his brothers and sons, here I had a whole gang of ex-slaves, each bearing their old master's patronymic now they were free. Females too: 'Hortensia Atilia must be a freed-woman of the same household?'
'Yes.'
'But not you?'
'Oh yes.'
'Your name is different-' Sabina Pollia raised the proud pared crescents of her eyebrows, amusing herself at my expense. 'I'm struggling here!' I admitted freely.
'I worked for the woman of the house,' she stated. The words 'belonged to' and 'was freed by' slipped by unsaid. 'I took her title... Falco, is this relevant?'
'It helps.' Mainly it helped me hold back accidental insults; I hate to offend my paying clients, in case they pay me less. 'To sum up: five of you were given your release for good service-' Set free by the Paulus will, no doubt. 'You have lived together; married amongst yourselves; worked together, ever since.' As the minimum age for a slave's manumission is thirty, a shrewd glance at Pollia suggested she had been on the loose in society for at least ten years. More, I thought, forgetting to be tactful about the lady's age. 'You have a well-established household; visibly prosperous. I can work out the rest: enter an outsider-who may be a floosie but we'll come to that in a minute-and entraps your one loose end. You want me to fend her off?'
'You're sharp, Falco.'
'I like to eat... How far have things gone?'
'Hortensius Novus has had himself formally betrothed.'
'Rash man! Before I take the case,' I pondered thoughtfully, 'tell me why I should believe that you and Atilia are not simply annoyed at this clever operator for disrupting your routine?'
Pollia seemed to accept that it was a fair question. 'Naturally our concern is for our old friend's happiness.'
'Naturally!' I exclaimed. 'Though I gather there's an amount of cash at stake?'
'If Hortensius Novus brings home a bride who has the right motives we shall welcome her.' I found it a marvel that two women could share one household, let alone three. I said so. She explained the harmonious arrangements they had devised: 'Felix and I live in this wing; Crepito and Atilia have the far side. We meet for business and entertainment in the formal rooms at the centre of the house -'
'Where does Novus squeeze in?'
'He has a suite on an upper floor -more than ample, Falco.'
'We bachelors have restrained tastes. But if he weds, can you accommodate a third married couple?' I asked, wondering if all I had to sort out here was the normal sort of housing problem that blights family life in Rome.
'Easy enough.' Sabina Pollia shrugged. 'Our architect would build on a new wing.'
'We come to the crunch question then: if Novus taking a wife causes no problems domestically, what is so distressing to you and Atilia about his ladyfriend?'
'We believe she intends to kill him,' Sabina Pollia said.
Chapter VI
Informers are simple people. Given a dead body our response is to look for the killer- but we like the body first; it seems more logical.
'Lady, in good Roman society, mentioning a murder before it even happens is considered impolite.'
'You think I'm making this up!' Pollia rolled her magnificent eyes.
'It sounds so ridiculous, I'm taking you seriously! When people invent, they usually choose a story that's plausible.'
'This is true, Falco.'
'Convince me.'
'The woman has had husbands before-three of them!'
'Oh we live in slack times. Nowadays five weddings is the minimum to count as reprehensible...'
'None of her previous husbands survived long- ' Pollia insisted; I was still grinning evilly. 'And each time she walked away from the funeral far wealthier!'
I let the grin evaporate. 'Ah! Money lends this story of yours a genuine patina... Incidentally, what's her name?'
Pollia shrugged (negligently revealing her beautiful white shoulders between the sparkling dress pins on her sleeves). 'She calls herself Severina. I forget her other title.'
I made a note in my pocketbook with a stylus I kept handy. 'Forename, Severina; cognomen unknown... Is she attractive?'
'Juno, how should I know? She must have something, to persuade four different men - men of substance - to marry her.'
I made another note, this time mentally: bright personality. (That could be difficult.) And possibly intelligent. (Even worse!)
'Does she make a secret of her past?'
'No.'
'Flaunts it?'
'No to that too. She just lets it be known as if having three short-lived husbands who happened to leave her everything were commonplace.'
'Clever.'
'Falco, I told you she was dangerous!' Things began to look intriguing (I was a man; I was normal: dangerous women always fascinated me).
'Pollia, let us be clear about what you want from me: I can investigate Severina, hoping to nail her with her past indiscretions -'
'You'll find no evidence. There was a praetor's enquiry after her third husband died,' Pollia complained. 'Nothing came of it.'
'Praetors miss things. It may help us. Even gold-diggers are human; so they make mistakes. After three successes, people like this start believing themselves demigods; that's when people like me can trap them. Tell me, is Hortensius Novus aware of her history?'
'We made him ask her about it. She had an answer for everything.'
'A professional bride would come prepared. I'll try to frighten her off anyway. Sometimes finding themselves under scrutiny is enough- they scuttle away to prey on an easier mark. Have you considered offering her money?'
'If it will help. We have plenty.'