many children already in my family. Although no member of the Didius clan would be made to suffer this child's fate, finding space for an extra who had no claim on us was inconceivable.
We could sell him as a slave, of course. He wouldn't be overjoyed about that.
The baby seemed to like being washed. The sensation appeared to reassure him, and when Helena allowed her guard to slip and started a gentle splashing game, he seemed to know he was expected to chuckle and play along with her. `He's not a slave's baby,' I observed. `He's already been among feckless timewasters who throw water all over the room!'
Helena let me haul him out, though she did find a towel to dry him on. He must have decided that now he could start in with the serious demands: food preferably. We had patted him all over, allowing him a few more tickles on the way, and rolled him in a stole while we thought about where we could stow him safely overnight. Then the babe decided to assert himself and began roaring.
Unluckily for Helena, that was the moment when the Palace slave arrived to ask me to an urgent confidential meeting with the Emperor's eldest son.
I managed not to grin as I kissed Helena tenderly, apologised for bunking off – and left her to cope.
XXVI
ROME WAS FULL of litters taking the wealthy out to dinner. It was, therefore, also full of harshly squabbling voices as the slaves carrying the litters vied for road space with the heavy carts delivering necessities that were now permitted to enter the city. Flutes and harps occasionally tweedled above the havoc. Around the temples and courts in the Forum I noticed the good-time girls, the night moths, already hovering. There seemed to be more than usual. Maybe I had prostitutes on the brain.
I was being taken to the Golden House. The slave made enquiries at the marble-clad entrance while Praetorians gave us nasty looks. I was led in to the west wing, the private apartments where I had never been before. Once past the Guards, there was a quiet atmosphere. It was like entering a friendly home, though one with sumptuous embellishments.
Titus was in a garden. The state bedrooms were all designed to face across the Forum valley, with views that would once have included the Great Lake and which now took in the building site of the Flavian amphitheatre. Behind them, decorously lit with outdoor lamps, lay this private, interior court. It was dominated by an immense porphyry vase but also contained select pieces of statuary chosen to delight Nero. The planting was tasteful, the topiary pristine, the seclusion divine.
The Emperor's heir and colleague was sitting with a woman who must have been nearly forty years older than him. Since he was a handsome man in his thirties who was currently unmarried; my imagination leapt wildly. She couldn't be his mother; Vespasian's wife was dead. The Chief Vestal Virgin would be a regular visitor at the Palace, but this elderly biddy wasn't dressed as a vestal. They had been talking together pleasantly. When he saw me being brought through the colonnade, Titus began rising as if he meant to excuse himself for our discussion, but the woman held out a hand to prevent him. He then kissed her cheek before she herself rose and left him. This could mean only one thing.
Her name was Caenis. She was Vespasian's freedwoman mistress. As far as I knew, Caenis did not interfere, in politics, although any woman whom Vespasian had cherished for forty years and whom Titus treated respectfully must have the potential for enormous influence. The freedwoman was a scandal waiting to happen, but the cool glance she gave me said that scandal stood no chance.
As she passed me, I stood aside meekly. Her intelligent gaze and upright carriage reminded me of Helena.
`Marcus Didius!' Titus Caesar greeted me like a personal friend. He had noticed me looking at his noble father's not so noble ladyfriend. `I was telling Caenis your story. She was listening very sympathetically.'
I was pleased the Emperor's mistress found details of my life entertaining, though I noticed that Titus had not introduced us so the lady could award me a bag of gold, a kindly word, and my heart's desire.,
`Are you well?' Titus was asking, as if my health were of major significance to world events. I said I was. `And how is the splendid daughter of the excellent Camillus?' -
Titus Caesar had in the past looked at Helena as if he found her as attractive as I did. This was one reason why she and I had been spending time abroad, in case he decided his famous fling with the Queen of Judaea was completely doomed and looked around Rome for a replacement. While Helena would make a perfect substitute for a beautiful, spirited and slightly naughty royal, this would leave me bereft and with little hope that Queen Berenice would fancy me as a quid pro quo. So I was resisting a swap. I thanked him for asking, then made damn sure he knew the truth: `Helena Justina is fit, flourishing – and doing me the immeasurable honour of carrying my heir.'
If he drew an unexpected breath, he disguised it well. `I congratulate you both!' Titus Caesar had the knack of sounding as if he meant exactly what he said.
`Thank you, sir,' I replied, a mite sombrely.
There was a small pause. Titus gazed at the dimly visible topiary. I restrained any urge to feel smug. Putting one over on the Emperor's elder son was not clever. Everyone knew Titus had a very pleasant temperament, but he could also have me sent down to Hades by the short route.
`This will be a difficult time for you, Falco. Is there anything I can do to assist?'
`I don't think so, sir. I did once make Helena and her parents a rather rash promise to improve myself socially and marry her but your brother tells me the equestrian rank is to be kept select, and I am not the right material.'
`Domitian said so?' Titus appeared unaware of it. I didn't blame him. Rome was full of eager self improvers; he could not expect to keep daily track of all of us. However, it might have been sensible to watch the ones that his family had kicked in the teeth.
`Obviously, you will not wish to overrule your brother, sir.'
`Oh obviously not,' Titus agreed, though I detected exasperation that his brother had chosen to antagonise me. He was publically loyal to Domitian, but his private opinion might be interesting. `So you have been having a bad time lately? I discover you went to Nabataea, on the state's behalf, and encountered difficulties?'
`There was no difficulty with Nabataea,' I told him. `Only with the shark who sent me there.'
`Anacrites! I'd like to hear your side of the story sometime,' Titus offered in a friendly tone. That left me worrying exactly what side of the story Anacrites had already told. I said nothing. Titus had known me long enough to realise when I was angry. Sometimes complaints have more effect if you make people sweat. `My father would welcome a report – if you will consider it.' I love to see a prince pleading. `We do need a confidential assessment of the situation in the desert.'
I smiled. Without a word, I produced a slim scroll from my tunic. Helena, smart girl, had not only forced me to write up my findings, but tonight she had guessed that I might find occasion to hand in my homework. This way Anacrites took no credit. He would not even know what I had said.
`Thank you,' said Titus gently, balancing the scroll between his well-manicured fingers. `You always serve us well, Falco. Both my father and I have a high opinion of your judgement and trustworthiness.' In fact they hated informers, and only used me when desperate. This must be leading somewhere. `Do you want to tell me about the problems you encountered?'
It was an invitation to land Anacrites in mule dung. Needless to say I took the sophisticated option: sheer stupidity. `It's not important, Caesar. I survived.'
`I think it is important.' Titus was acknowledging that spies receive speedy justice in hostile foreign kingdoms. `You were sent incognito and somebody accidentally exposed you.' `Deliberately exposed me,' I corrected in a mild tone. `Do you want an enquiry into that?'
'Best not find out,' I sneered. `Anacrites is too dangerous to dismiss. Better for him the telling demotion: say, conducting a very long survey of ordering procedures for sanitary materials in the public works domain.'
Titus had always privately enjoyed my cynicism. He ran both hands through his neat hair. `Falco, why is it when I talk to you I always end up wondering whether I can stand the pace?' He knew why. He was the Emperor's son, and would be Emperor himself. Few people would ever again offer him a decent argument.
