SHADOWS IN BRONZE

no longer simply a conspirator who can hope for an amnesty. After his arrest on the Isis, he must know it himself. But that only makes him more desperate.'

'I was so hoping we could find a way to make things right for him-'

'I hate you to defend him!'

Helena held me by the shoulders, looking miserably anxious. 'Marcus, I had more loyalty to you after four minutes in your arms than I felt towards him after four years of marriage-though that does not mean I have no loyalty to Pertinax at all.'

I caught her face between my hands. 'Helena! You have to let him go!'

'I know that,' she said slowly.

'I don't think so! When you reach Rome, stay indoors and if Pertinax tries to contact you, you must refuse!'

'Marcus, promise me one thing: don't kill him.'

'I don't want to kill him.' She said nothing. 'Helena my love, someone may have to.'

'If it has to be done, let somebody else be responsible. Marcus, don't forget that whatever you do, you and I will always have to live with it-'

That 'always' was a hard one to resist. Suddenly I was seeing her in closer focus, as I had not done since Petronius had been attacked. 'If I leave him free to murder again, I shall have to live with that!'

Helena Justina gave a long, ironic sigh. 'Then I shall have to bury him.'

'Duty's a wonderful thing!'

There were tears in her eyes. 'And what am I to do if he kills you?'

'He won't,' I said harshly. 'I can promise you that!'

•

I stopped her talking, as I held her tighter and smiled tenderly into her anxious eyes, shutting out all thoughts of Pertinax. She was holding me in a way that reminded me how badly I wanted her. She looked exhausted. She had been here at the inn with me for almost a week, uncomplaining and supportive even when I dragged in at night too far gone to eat the meal she had saved for me, let alone to provide any demonstration of my love.

'We've been living together here,' I acknowledged ruefully. 'And I've been too preoccupied even to notice it!'

'Ah well!' smiled Helena in her dry, practical way. 'I had always assumed that was what living with you would be like!'

I promised, 'One day we'll do it properly.'

Helena Justina studied me, standing very still. 'You know that's what I want,' she said.

Then I kissed her, trying not to let it seem like the last kiss I might ever give her, and Helena kissed me-so sweetly and for so long I almost dreaded that she thought it was.

Everyone was waiting for us. I had to let her go.

LXXV

At the Villa Marcella I was met by Gordianus.

'I thought you were on funeral duty, sir.'

'Too anxious to relax. Where's Milo?'

'Herculaneum; incarcerating the sea captain. What's the situation here?'

'Caprenius Marcellus has had a stroke-'

'Don't believe it! As an invalid that old man is as genuine as a reluctant wife claiming a headache-'

'It's true, Falco; the doctor says another will finish him.'

'Pertinax?'

'No sign. But his father is convinced he will come.'

'Just you and me then, sir, sitting at the Villa Marcella, waiting it out…'

Us, waiting for him at the villa. And Pertinax out there somewhere, waiting for the grain ships to arrive from Alexandria.

•

Strokes were something I knew. My Great-uncle Scaro, an eccentric old rascal, not least for being fond of me, had several (though in fact my amiable uncle died from choking on home-made false teeth). I went in to inspect Marcellus for myself.

The diagnosis was correct. It's grim to see an intelligent man so drastically struck down. The worst aspect was that his slaves were terrified. So he was not only paralysed and robbed of proper speech; he had the added indignities of being treated like an idiot and seeing his servants afraid to deal with him.

I had nothing else to do, so I set about interpreting. At least when he wanted a drink or his pillows raised he could be made comfortable more quickly. I sat with him; read to him; even-since I was handy and it saved fuss- helped the poor old devil to his sickbed commode. The range of my work never failed to amaze me. Here I was: a trireme smash yesterday; a dogfight today; now a consul's nurse.

'You're doing well!' Gordianus commented, looking in.

'I feel like his wife. Next thing, I'll be complaining about my dress allowance and the Consul here will call my mother an interfering witch.'

'What's he saying now?'

'Ah… he wants to change his will.'

The Consul dribbled agitatedly. 'Helena… Gnaeus!'

I asked, 'You want to leave your estates to Helena, so she can hand them on to Gnaeus?' He lay back, satisfied. I folded my arms, letting him see I was unimpressed. 'Lucky you trust the lady! Most of them would snatch your money, then run off with the nearest low-rank muscleman who has a hint of disreputable promise in his smile-'

He started mouthing anxiously again. I let Gordianus calm him. Anyone who tried to use Helena to help Pertinax lost my sympathy.

After Gordianus left us I sat looking fiercely at Marcellus, while he glared indignantly at me. I said conversationally, 'Helena Justina will never remarry your son!'

Caprenius Marcellus continued his bleak, accusing stare. I could see he knew now just what I was telling him.

The ex-Consul had finally realized which sturdy member of the gutter-clogging classes had managed to subvert his daughter-in-law.

•

We waited four days. Then a discreet message from Bassus in Positanum informed me that enough corn transports had assembled to initiate the next stage of my plan.

I went down to Oplontis for a friendly chat with the driftwood-featured father of Ollia's fisherboy. That evening I watched the tuna boats sail out with their bobbing lanterns, in the knowledge that wherever they were casting their nets the word would spread: Aulus Curtius Gordianus, a distinguished priest (we all know priests!) who had inherited his brother's maritime villa on the cliffs near Surrentum, was celebrating his legacy with a private party for his masculine friends. It was supposed to be a closely guarded secret; there was talk of a specialist dancer