I awoke late. I was alone, Helena’s side of the bed long cooled. I could hear the house thrumming with movement and casual noises, everyone going about their business without me, as they must have done while I was absent, as they would do if I stayed dozing. I was the master, but expendable. However, a wet snuffle under the door from Nux waiting patiently outside told me the dog was aware of my homecoming last night.
I let her in, endured a quick greeting (she was a polite dog), then allowed her to jump on the bed, which was her real purpose. The whiskery fright was not allowed on beds or couches; that made no difference. Nux curled up and went to sleep. I washed my face, put a comb through my curls, dived into a favourite tunic. I was ill-shaven, hungry, stiff from travel and subdued. I had no casework I was aware of and would have to look for clients. In most respects I could have been back in the life I once led in Fountain Court. Once again, I felt mournful and bereft of my youth.
Downstairs, slaves saluted me with only mild disdain. A good breakfast and my alert assistants were waiting. My wife came in and kissed me. My children appeared in the doorway, made sure it was me, then ran off back to their games. A buffet slave refilled the bread basket with warm rolls as soon as I took a serving, poured hot water on to honey for me, cut smoked ham slices. The napkin laid upon my lap was fine linen. I drank from a smooth Samian beaker. When I came to rinse my hands again, scented water in a silver bowl was immediately offered to me.
I had forgotten I was rich. Helena saw my reaction; I noticed her amusement. ‘Jupiter!’
‘You’ll get used to it,’ she said, smiling.
My new status brought responsibilities. Clients were lined up, awaiting favours shamelessly.
I dealt briskly with Marina, wanting money of course, then ignored a message from my sister Junia about the caupona needing a refurbishment. Helena said there were queries at the auction house, not urgent; I could attend to them when I visited the Saepta. Next came another, much more serious, family problem. The usher (I now required one, it seemed) ushered in Thalia.
She was visibly pregnant, puffing slightly. It had not persuaded her to wear less revealing clothes. The two Camilli, waiting for me to be free for our planned meeting, exchanged startled glances. Arrayed in a few wafts of gauze and long strings of semiprecious beads, Thalia patted the bump that was supposed to be Pa’s offspring. ‘Not long now, Marcus!’
‘How are you feeling?’
‘Terrible! The python knows; he’s off colour, poor Jason.’
‘Still dancing?’
‘Still dancing! Are you hoping exertion will bring on a miscarriage?’
‘That would be irresponsible.’
‘Gods! Money has made you so sanctimonious!—Now listen, I need to talk to you.’
‘Well, make it quick. I’m about to begin a business meeting.’
‘Stuff that,’ replied Thalia. ‘A little child’s life is at stake here. We’ve been let down, Falco, this poor baby and me. I’ve had words with that scheming shark, Septimus Parvo—your devious father’s utterly useless lawyer.’
‘He seemed competent.’ Thalia’s annoyance was cheering me up now.
‘You would say that. He tells me he has looked into things further and the will’s rotten. It won’t hold up. My poor little one has been cheated—and he is not even born yet!’
‘I don’t know what you mean, Thalia.’
‘According to Parvo,’ she enunciated with high distaste, ‘if a legacy is given to a posthumous infant, the child must be born of a legal marriage.’ Thalia was a tall woman of majestic stature; as she rounded on me fiercely, I felt some alarm. ‘Geminus said Parvo would sort everything out for me. I know what’s gone on here. This is a fiddle. You bastard, Falco—you must have put him up to it!’
Not for the first time since my father died, my first thought was to lay wheat cakes on a divinity’s altar and exclaim, Thank you, for my good fortune!
Aulus leaned forward, his face serious. ‘Parvo is quite right, if you don’t mind me saying so.’
‘My brother Aelianus,’ Helena told Thalia helpfully. ‘He has had legal training.’
‘I don’t trust him then!’ Thalia scoffed. Aulus took it well.
‘There can be no doubt, I’m afraid, Thalia.’ What an excellent fellow Aulus had turned out to be. ‘Didius Favonius remained married to his wife of many years, the mother of his legal children.’ Helena may have discussed all this with Aulus. He was a better scholar than we expected, but only with advance warning. He must have looked up the law specifically. ‘Everyone at Geminus’ funeral saw Junilla Tacita taking her place as the widow. She was acknowledged as such by all those friends, family and business colleagues who knew her deceased husband. Moreover,’ Aulus continued relentlessly, ‘to become an heir, the child must be referred to in the will itself. I do not believe a codicil will count.’
‘All that is as may be!’ Thalia could be worryingly firm. ‘I am here to make arrangements. Things have to be set up properly.’
I gulped nervously.
‘Here is the deal, Marcus Didius. When this child is born, it has to be looked after. Don’t expect me to do it. I can’t take a baby on tour with the circus! My animals would be dangerously jealous, it’s not hygienic, and I don’t have the capacity.’
‘That’s very sad,’ Helena interrupted. ‘Children give so much pleasure and can be a comfort, Thalia.’
‘He’ll get in the way!’ Thalia replied, as riotously honest as when she discussed her sex life. Then she dropped me in the midden. ‘You will have to bring him up, Falco.’
‘What?’
‘I thought about it. This is what Geminus wanted. You know it is. He told you in that codicil: you were to see my baby as your own sister or your brother. You can’t argue with a fideicommissum.’ She was calm. She was composed. Before I could bluster excuses, Thalia added the death blow: ‘The best thing will be, Marcus darling, if as soon as he is born, you take him off me and adopt him.’
I closed my eyes while it sank in. I had expected troubles to come with money. I knew some of them would be complex, many crushing. Cynical though I was, nothing of this magnitude had crossed my mind. There was no escape, however. Pa had landed me absolutely.
I said I had to consult Helena. ‘That’s right,’ Thalia agreed composedly. ‘Then the dear little thing can grow up with you two, and be part of your beautiful family.’
Those quick brown eyes of Helena’s told me she foresaw everything, just as I did.
So I acquired a ‘brother’, who was almost certainly not my brother but whom I had to adopt and endure as my son. I would have shared the money with him fairly willingly, but now I had to give him a decent chance in life as well—quite another proposition. This could only go wrong. Helena and I anticipated from the start that little Marcus Didius Alexander Postumus (as his mother would name him, poor noddle) could never be grateful. We would offer him a home, education, moral guidance and affection. Pointless. A soulless waste of effort. He would be difficult to raise and impossible to console for the arbitrary fate that had been dumped on him. He was bound to seethe with jealousy and resentment. And I would not even blame him.
Thank you again, Geminus.