XXVII

I spent the afternoon at the Forum, listening to the tired old rumours which the Rostrum lags were handing round as news; then I went on to my gymnasium for exercise, a bath, a shave, and to hear some real gossip. Next I devoted some attention to my private affairs: my mother and my banker. Both were trying events for the usual reasons, and also because I discovered that both people had been plagued with visits from Anacrites, the Chief Spy. His attentions were becoming a serious problem. Anacrites had made it official that Didius Falco was a jail-breaker. And when my mother had protested that she paid my surety, Anacrites snapped back that that made me a bail-jumper too.

Ma was very upset. What annoyed me was being portrayed as unreliable to my banker. Limiting my future credit was a really dirty trick.

By the time I had calmed my mother I felt in need of comfort myself, so I trailed along to the Capena Gate. Bad luck again: Helena was at home, but so were half her well-heeled Camillus relations; the Senator was giving an entertainment to mark the birthday of some aged aunt. The porter, who could tell from my informal get-up that I had not been favoured with an invitation, let me in solely for the pleasure of seeing me kicked out again by the people of the house.

Helena emerged from a reception room; sedate flute music trilled behind her before she closed the door.

“Sorry if this is an awkward time—”

“It’s something of an event,” remarked Helena coolly, “to see you at all.”

Things were not going well. A morning at Severina’s had spoiled me for banter. I was tired; I wanted to be soothed and fussed over. Instead Helena reproached me that I might have been invited to the party if I had been on hand the night before, when her father had been arranging it. Apart from a nice impression that Camillus Verus must have forgotten his auntie’s birthday until the last minute, I also glimpsed how Helena had been embarrassed by not knowing when (if ever) she might see her vague hanger-on again …

“Helena, my heart,” I apologised obsequiously, “wherever I am, you are there—”

“Cheap philosophy!”

“Cheap, therefore simple, simple therefore true.”

Cheap meant simply unconvincing. She folded her arms. “Falco, I am a woman, so I expect my loyalty to be taken for granted. I know my place is to wait until you roll home drunk or hurt or both—”

I folded my own arms the way one does, unconsciously imitating her. A lurid bruise just below one elbow must have become visible. “Helena, I am not drunk.”

“You’ve taken some knocks.”

“I’m all right. Look, don’t fight. I’m deeply involved in my case now; I have all the trouble I can handle—”

“Oh I forgot—” she scoffed. “You are a man! The mildest criticism brings out the worst in you—”

Sometimes I did wonder what I thought I had been doing letting myself be smitten by an outspoken termagant with no sense of timing. Since I was off duty, and probably off guard, I allowed myself to mention this, then added a highly rhetorical description of her ladyship’s hasty tongue, hot temper—and complete lack of faith in me.

There was a small silence. “Marcus, tell me where you have been.”

“Nose to nose with the Hortensius gold-digger.”

“Yes,” Helena answered sadly. “I thought that must be it.”

*   *   *

Her tone implied she had been moping. I took a critical look at her: Helena’s idea of moping was to throw on a vivid carmine dress, adorn her hair with a rope of glass beads like a crown of hyacinths, then courageously enjoy herself in company. I was about to respond with some crabby badinage, when a young man stepped out from the party room.

In honour of the Senator’s aunt’s birthday he wore a toga whose luxurious nap rebuked the worn shine of my own workaday tunic. His haircut was crisp; a shiny wreath was parked on it. He had the sort of clean-cut aristocratic looks most women call attractive, even though the effect was simply due to phenomenal arrogance.

He expected Helena to introduce us. I knew better; she was too annoyed at his interruption. I beamed at him tolerantly. “Evening. One of the family?”

“A friend of my brothers,” Helena interposed, recovering rapidly. The aristo looked quizzical at my plebian presence, but she gave him his orders with her usual forcefulness. “Falco and I were discussing business, if you don’t mind.”

Quelled, he returned to the reception room.

*   *   *

I winked at Helena. “Friend of your brothers, eh?”

“It’s an elderly gathering; my parents provided him to talk to me. You were inaccessible.

“Just as well, sweetheart. They would not have wanted me.”

“Falco, I might have wanted you.”

“You seem to be making do.”

“I have to!” she accused me hotly. “Anyway, father would have asked you, but who knows where you are living now?”

I told her my new address. She returned graciously that now her father would be able to send the cast-off couch they had promised me. “Father was trying to contact you urgently yesterday. He had been approached by Anacrites.”

I swore. “The man’s a complete pest!”

“You will have to do something about it, Marcus. With him hounding you, how can you do your work?”

“I’ll deal with it.”

“Promise?”

“Yes. Life’s becoming impossible.”

I returned to the issue of my new address: “I’m living in two rooms and another will be the office; that leaves one which could quite easily become yours. You know what I want—”

“A tolerant housekeeper, a free bedmate—and someone brave to catch the crawlies who scuttle out of the floorboards. No; that’s wrong,” Helena corrected herself. “Someone timid who will let you batter the insects and look tough.”

“Well the offer stays open, but I don’t intend to remind you again.” She knew it; pleading for her attention was not my style. “Your noble pa will want you at his party; I’d better go.”

Helena reacted with her customary snootiness: “So you had.” She relented: “Are you coming again?”

“When I can,” I answered, accepting the weaker note in her voice as the nearest I would get to an apology. “I just have a lot to think about. But now I’ve met the woman, it ought not to be beyond me to sort it all out pretty smartly.”

“Do you mean you won’t come until the case is over?”

“That sounds like a brush-off.”

Helena stuck out her chin. “I’m getting the brush-off. It was a sensible suggestion.”

My teeth set. “Gods, I hate sensible women! You decide. I’ll come if you ask me. Whenever you want me you know where to find me.”

I waited for her to dissuade me, but Helena Justina was as obstinate as me. It was not the first time we had driven ourselves into some pointless deadlock.

I was leaving. She was letting me. “Io, my darling. What I really need is a girl to stay at home and take messages.”

“You can’t afford to pay her,” Helena said.