he pointedly ignored my interest. He was a solid man, shorter and wider than I always remembered him, with a face that could pass for handsome and a nature some folk found attractive. He annoyed me-but I had been brought up by schoolmasters who declaimed that Roman fathers were stern, wise and models of humane ethics. This high-minded philosophy made no allowance for those who drink, play draughts and womanise-let alone for mine, who did most of those things sometimes, and never seemed to have read the elegant grammarians who said a Roman boy could expect his papa to spend all day thinking noble thoughts and sacrificing to the household gods. Instead of taking me down to the Basilica Julia to explain what the barristers were arguing about, mine took me to the Circus Maximus-though only when the ticket gate was being manned by his cousin, who gave us cheap rates. When I was a child, sneaking into the Games at a discount was a source of deep embarrassment to me. It never happened to Livy.
'You were expecting trouble,' I tackled my father. 'Want to talk about what's going on?'
'All in a day's work,' replied Geminus, through his teeth.
'This was a set-up-organised disruption. Is it a racket? Who's responsible?' I had been drawn into the argument, and I wanted to know its cause.
'Somebody, no doubt.' Dear gods, he could be an awkward mule.
'Well sort it out yourself then!'
'I will, boy. I will.' Wondering how such a miserable old groucher could have fathered such a reasonable character as myself, I leaned back my head and closed my eyes. I had only just noticed I was beginning to stiffen all over, and had gone deaf in my left ear. 'Anyway,' retaliated my father, 'you took your time arriving. I expected you two hours ago.'
I opened my eyes again. 'No one knew I was on my way.'
'That right? I was told that you wanted a fatherly chat.'
'Then you were told wrong!' I worked it out. 'Helena's been here.' She was incorrigible. It was not enough to leave her outside her father's house; I should have pushed her right in through the door and told the Senator to put the bar across.
My father leered. 'Nice girl!'
'Don't bother telling me she could do better for herself.'
'All right, I won't bother to tell you: So how's the love life coming along?'
I grunted. 'Last time I saw her, she kneed me in the groin.'
'Ouch! Thought you'd filched a demure one!' he scoffed, wincing. 'What bad company taught her that trick?'
'Taught her myself.' He looked startled. I felt tetchy suddenly, and launched off against old grievances. 'Listen, you may live among the sleek cats now, but you must still remember what it's like to be holed up in an Aventine tenement-all men with evil thoughts and no door locks. I can't protect her all the time. Besides, if today is anything to go by, I'll never know where she is. Women are supposed to stay at home weaving,' I grumbled bitterly. 'Helena pays no attention to that.'
I had said more than I intended. My father leaned on one elbow, lolling there as if I had passed him a dish of interesting winkles but no serving spoon. 'She's still with you, anyway: So when is the wedding?'
'When I'm rich.'
He whistled offensively. 'Someone's expecting a long wait then!'
'That's our business.'
'Not if you make me a grandfather before you achieve the formalities.'
This was a sore point, and I reckoned he knew it. He had probably heard through the family grapevine that Helena had miscarried once, distressing us both more than either of us expected, and filling us with the usual unspoken doubts about our ability ever to produce a healthy child. Now Helena was terrified, while I was trying to delay the question for life's strongest reason: poverty. The last thing I needed was my damned father taking an interest. I knew why the old snob was so curious: he wanted us to have a family so he could boast he was related to a senator. I said angrily, 'You're a grandfather already. If you want to lavish attention where it's needed, try Victorina's orphans.'
'So what's Mico doing?'
'The usual: not much.' My father heard this without a reaction, though it was possible he would help. 'Did you go to the funeral?' I asked, more inquisitive than I wanted to appear.
'No. My assistance was deemed unnecessary.' His mood was quiet, his manner uninvolved. I could not tell whether he was upset; I was not sure I cared.
'Victorina was your daughter,' I said formally. 'You should have been given the opportunity.'
'Don't break your heart over it.'
'If I had been here you would have been informed.' Playing the prig was not my style, but his air of resignation annoyed me. 'You can't blame anyone; you're not exactly famous as a paterfamilias!'
'Don't start!'
I hauled myself to my feet. 'Don't worry. I'm off.'
'You haven't tackled what you came to ask.'
'Helena was here; she asks my questions for me.'
'I don't talk to women.'
'Maybe you should try it for once.' Maybe he should have tried it when he was living with my mother.
It had been pointless even coming here. I could not face an argument over Festus; I really was leaving. My father, looking for something he could be awkward about, was furious. 'Right! We've entertained you with a scrap, now you run off and tell your ma you've got your tunic dirty playing on the Campus with the big rough boys.'
In the act of flinging my cloak round me, I paused. This was not helping me solve the Censorinus case. Besides, I did need a story to tell my mother, and I needed it fairly soon. She was renowned for her impatience with slackers. 'There is something I want,' I conceded.
Geminus swung his legs off the couch so he could sit up and stare at me. 'This is a novelty!'
'Wrong. I'm simply on the scrounge. Does your warehouse at the Saepta contain a cheap but decent bed?'
He looked sadly disappointed, but did rouse himself to take me there.
XXIII
The Saepta Julia was a large enclosed area where voting took place. It had been remodelled by the energetic Marcus Agrippa, Augustus's general and son-in-law. Since he could see he would never get a chance to be Emperor himself, he had made his mark in the next best way: by building larger and with more innovation and magnificence than anybody else. He had had a good eye for the best spots to glorify. Much of the modern Campus Martius was his work.
Agrippa had transformed the Saepta from little more than a giant sheep pen to one of the gems in his memorial complex. It now formed an architectual match with the Pantheon and the great Agrippan Baths that sprawled majestically alongside-most famous for having free public entrance. Marcus Agrippa had certainly known how to buy popularity. The space enclosed by the Saepta was big enough to be used for gladiatorial combats, and had even been flooded for mock sea fights in Nero's day, though that had proved inconvenient for the people who normally worked there. Businessmen are not impressed by having to close their premises to allow in a group of fancy triremes. The enclosing walls, two storeys high, contained a variety of shops, especially goldsmiths and bronze-founders, plus associated folk like my father, who for years had been earning a fortune from the second- hand art and antiques trade.
Because of the political connection there was another side to the place. It would have been useful for me to have my own office in the Saepta; it was where people brought my kind of work. My father's presence was the main reason I kept away from the area, though traditionally the Saepta Julia was where the informers hung out.
I mean the other informers-the ones who had given my business its bad name. Those vermin whose heyday
