The house of the late Aulus Lucilius was not hard to find. Situated directly across the street from the dilapidated old Temple of Hercules, its gate was wide open and a small crowd filled its atrium and courtyard. It seemed that a good many clients or poor relations from the lower parts of the City were imposing upon the widow for accommodations wherein to wait out the fiood.
I left Hermes in the atrium and found the lady herself in the courtyard, assigning places to the petitioners and discussing their rationing with her steward. She was doing this very efficiently, and I got the feeling she had done it before, many times. I stepped up to her and waited until she glanced my way.
“Have I the privilege of addressing the widow of the aedile Aulus Lucilius?” I asked.
The steward looked at me disdainfully, giving undue attention to my shabby toga. “I can imagine what a privilege it must be for you,” the man said.
“Now, Priam, none of that,” the woman chided gently. “This is a senator, and he has the look of one of my brother’s friends, so we shouldn’t be too hard on him. If you are looking for a dry place to sit out the next few days, I may be able to find a corner of my roof for you, although the larder is already strained.”
“Most generous and I thank you,” I said, having heard far worse in my disreputable life. “As it occurs, I have a roof to shelter me. I am the plebeian aedile Decius Caecilius Metellus.”
Her eyes widened. They were very attractive eyes. “You’re a serving official? I would think you were in mourning, but you look as if you shaved this morning.”
“Service of the Senate and People have reduced me to a beggar,” I said. “I am sorry to bother you at so busy a time. And as it happens, I am a friend of your brother’s.”
Her mouth bent almost into a smile. “Well, that last is no recommendation. What sort of business could an aedile have with me?”
“I must ask you some questions concerning your late husband,” I told her.
The smile died before it could blossom. “Official interest after all this time? I find that peculiar. I certainly could get no action, or even interest, when he was murdered.”
“I am sorry. I was with the legions when it happened. Recently I have been looking into some serious violations of the law. I suspect Aulus Lucilius was investigating the same thing, and this is what brought about his murder.”
“Priam, see to these people. We can take in no more than three or four more adults, then close the gate. I will be in the green room, conferring with the Aedile Metellus.”
“It is most generous of you to give shelter to so many of your clients,” I commended her, as I followed her through her crowded courtyard.
“Obligations are not to be ignored,” she said, “and the condition of the City is a disgrace. People are helpless when a natural disaster strikes.”
“I could not agree more.” She led me into a small room painted pale green, its walls decorated with twining vines painted in a darker shade of the same color. Besides two chairs and a small table between them, it had a desk and a large wall case holding dozens of scrolls.
The woman beckoned to a serving girl. “Thisbe, bring wine and—”
“No,” I said, holding up a hand. “It would be criminal of me to impose on your stores just now.”
She nodded. “That is thoughtful. How may I help you?”
I took out the little scroll and handed it to her. “Read this.”
She took it and her face turned pale upon seeing her dead husband’s handwriting. She read it through and put it on the table.
“I remember that investigation. It is one of a good many he conducted that year. He said to me many times that the theater of Aemilius Scaurus was the greatest hazard to public safety since Catilina’s arsonists, and that Scaurus was a thief with aspirations to mass murder.”
“What about the censor’s appended comments? Was your husband a political enemy of Scaurus and Pompey?”
“He was an enemy of anyone who fiagrantly endangered the public good for private profit, and Scaurus certainly qualified on that account. I understand the Sardinians have good cause to think so, too. As for Pompey, that remark makes no sense. He usually voted on Pompey’s side in the Senate.”
“Did he mention any specific threats from builders or dealers in building materials?”
Her lovely eyes darkened. “A number of them. It followed the usual pattern of such things: first excuses, then offers of bribes, then veiled threats, then open threats of violence. My husband was a proud man. Everyone assumed that he would jump at a chance to enrich himself since his office was so costly.”