By the time they staunched the blood that was oozing from Claudia’s finger and wrenched open the doors, one of which always stuck inconveniently, Quintus and Aulus had disappeared. Tipsy female shrieks occurred. Little Constans covered his ears. Back in the house, two of his brothers had appeared on the stairs, wailing because they thought something was wrong. Children need a quiet routine. They never got it in this house, but since even Mama was now behaving oddly, and quite loudly, tonight struck them as worse than normal.
A curtained litter that no one recognised was already making an exit. Halfway down the road, almost under the aqueduct, it must now be empty, judging by the jaunty way the bearers were picking up their feet as they swung it along. They were in white, Domitian’s palace livery. “Shit!” exclaimed Gaius, running out into the road to look.
“Gaius!”
“Oh, he’s right. Shit and double shit!” Giggling, Aunt Helena conspired with Gaius. The children perked up, intrigued by this variation on their newest phrase. They always regarded Helena as one of them, which their parents could only tolerate patiently. Helena had grown up here. Once she discovered a mind of her own, she had never changed.
When everyone piled back into the house, they met Quintus and Aulus in the hall. They had come through the communicating door after Quintus abandoned swearing at the recalcitrant porter, then Aulus simply used his key to his own house. Two shaken senators had returned—to find, oops, two unexpectedly merry wives. As the night’s story began to be told, the uncontrolled mirth stopped.
There were intense hugs all round. Tears were shed, not always by women. Justinus loped off upstairs, where he did the rounds of his children, reassuring those who were awake, tucking those who had come downstairs back into their beds, gently kissing the warm heads of those who slept. He laid a hand upon each child, reconnecting after the threat of loss.
In his absence, Aulus gave a swift account of the dinner. “He meant it to be horrible—the supposedly most important men of Rome reduced to gibbering wrecks, all of us trapped in that nightmare of confusion about his intentions, with the monster gloating over our discomfort. It did not end when he left. After we emerged from the palace, he continued the process, screwing us with more anxiety. Instead of the familiar retainers most people were expecting to find, palace staff forced us all into transports they summoned up, with escorts that none of us had ever seen before. It was unclear where these unknown men were taking us. Nothing was said. We still thought we might never see our homes again. Everyone had to live through further dread on the journey, imagining we would be dragged off down an alley, then murdered on the city streets.”
“But you’re not. Here you are.”
“Here we are,” said Aulus, though his face was drawn.
“Safe and sound,” added Quintus as he returned. He sounded subdued, looking like a man who might have been praying somewhat intently to his gods. Normally he had no time for such niceties. The lares and penates of the Justinus household would have been rather surprised he acknowledged them tonight.
Then, for once not scrapping but in earnest, he and Aulus came together. The brothers suddenly embraced, lumps in their throats, ordeal over, choking with relief.