Great-Auntie Phoebe was telling Helena about the time a crazy horseman whom we later discovered might have been the Emperor Nero fleeing from Rome to commit suicide (a minor aspect, the way Phoebe told it), galloped too fast past the market garden and killed half her chickens in the road. She did not know what the stone blocks were, but told me Festus had brought them on that famous last leave of his. I did find out from her, however, that two men who must have been Censorinus and Laurentius had come to the farm asking questions some months ago.
'They wanted to know if Festus had left anything here.'
'Did they mention the stone blocks?'
'No. They were very secretive.'
'Did you show them the store?'
'No. You know Fabius-' I did. He was a suspicious bastard at the best of times. 'He just took them out to an old barn we have full of ploughing equipment, then he played the country idiot.'
'So what happened?'
'It was down to me as usual.' Great-Auntie Phoebe liked to be seen as a woman of character.
'How did you get rid of them?'
'I showed them Scaro's teeth on the lararium and said those were all we had left of the last unwanted stranger-then I set the dogs on them.'
Next day we set off south again. I told Pa about the four blocks of stone. We both pondered the mystery without comment, but I was starting to have ideas, and if I knew him he was too.
He told me Censorinus and another soldier had stayed at the mansio.
'Old news!' Helena and I relayed Phoebe's tale.
'So I wasted my time! It was a lousy inn,' moaned my father. 'I suppose you two were being pampered in the lap of luxury?'
'We were!' I assured him. 'If you can stand hearing about Phoebe's chickens, and listening to Junius complaining about his brother, then it's a grand place to stay!' Pa knew that.
'I expect Junius had his eye on your girl?' he hinted, trying to annoy me in return. Helena raised the elegant curves of her eyebrows.
'He was thinking about it. I nearly took him on one side and had a quiet word-but if I know Junius, warning him against it is the certain way to make him do something.'
Pa agreed. 'It's as pointless as shouting 'He's behind you!' when the Spook starts looming at the Honest Old Father in an Atellan farce: Where was drippy Fabius?'
'Off with his old trouble.'
'I can never remember what his trouble is.'
'Neither can I,' I confessed. 'Either gambling or boils, I think. He ran away to be a gladiator once, but that was only a passing aberration when he wanted to avoid the lupin harvest.'
'Phoebe asked after you, Didius Geminus,' said Helena in a stern voice. She seemed to think we were being frivolous in our discussion of the family news.
'I suppose the actual enquiry was, 'How's that useless city mollock who fathered you?'' grunted Pa to me. He knew what they all thought.
He had always known. Being constantly despised by my mother's peculiar relatives must have been one of the trials that had eventually proved too dreary to endure.
IXL
Capua.
Capua, Queen of the central plain (and home of smart fleas).
Capua, the most splendidly flourishing city in rich Campania (if you listen to the Capuans) or even in Italy (if you get stuck with one of those who has never seen Rome).
Do not fail to view the grand Augustan amphitheatre, which stands four storeys high with its eighty great arches all capped with marble deities-though it is more recent than Spartacus, so don't get romantic political ideas. Also, while viewing this splendid edifice, keep your eyes in the back of your head and your hand on your purse. The people of Capua earn their livelihood from visitors, and they do not always ask before claiming it. Never forget: they are so flourishing because we are so stupid. What's yours can become theirs very rapidly in Capua.
When Capua opened its doors and its heart to Hannibal, it is said that its luxury sapped his men so much that he never won another battle. We could have endured some luxury of this disgraceful quality, but things have changed since then.
We drove into Capua on a wet Monday evening, in time to find all the eateries closing up. One carriage-horse went lame just as we reached the forum, giving us an uneasy sensation that it might not be possible to drive home when we wanted to escape. My father, who had come to protect us with his special knowledge of this area, had his money pinched within two minutes. Luckily, our main cash was hidden under the floor of our carriage, with Helena's sensible feet guarding it.
'I'm out of practice,' grumbled Pa.
'That's all right. I always make a mess of choosing my travelling companions and end up nursemaiding incompetents.'
'Thanks!' muttered Helena.
'You were not included.'
'My hero!'
After ten days of misery, which ought to have been a bare week of mild pain, we were all on the edge of rebellion.
I found us a lodging-house in the usual hurried rush when darkness is descending so fast you close your eyes to the drawbacks. It was right next to the market so there would be a racket in the morning, not to mention cats yowling on the rubbish and ladies of the night plying their trade under the empty stalls. The fleas were lying in wait with little smiling faces, though they at least had some tact and stayed invisible at first. The ladies of the night were out and about already: they stood in a line silently watching us unload the coach.
Looking for cash boxes their pimps could come and lift, no doubt.
Helena wrapped our money in a cloak and carried it into the boarding-house in a bundle over her shoulder like a tired child.
'Marcus, I don't like this:'
'I'm here to take care of you.' She was not reassured. 'Father and I will chalk up a message on the basilica saying, ' Anyone who rapes, robs or kidnaps Helena Justina, will have to answer to the ferocious Didius boys!''
'Wonderful,' she said. 'I hope your fame has reached this far.'
'Indubitably!' responded Pa. Long words had always been a form of bluff in the Didius family.
It was an uncomfortable night. Luckily by the time we went to bed, having failed to find an edible dinner, we were prepared for the worst.
Next day we moved to another boarding-house, providing more easy silver for another cheating landlord, and delight to another pack of fleas.
We started to visit artists' studios. All claimed they had never heard of Orontes. All of them had to be lying. Capua thought a great deal of itself but it was, frankly, not that big. Orontes must have been going round for weeks glueing up mouths on the off chance that someone or other might follow him here.
We stopped asking.
We moved to yet another lodging-house and kept our heads down, while Father and I started to watch the forum from doorways and arches where we could not be seen.
Hanging around the forum of a strange town, in the middle of winter, when there is a gap in the local
