youths.
The whole neighbourhood had been disrupted by this ridiculous fling. Lenia and Smaractus had taken to heart the dictum that a good wedding should advertise itself. The back yard of the laundry was being used for huge bonfires, already slowly roasting various whole beasts. Fountain Court was full of delivery men and curious onlookers. As a temporary measure the unhappy couple were even using the empty apartment above the bakery, the one I had rejected summarily. There they had stored the amazing number of presents given to them, together with little parcels of sweets that would be bestowed on guests (in return for their ordeal, no doubt) and the nuts which Smaractus would fling to any onlookers watching the torchlight procession (as a symbol of fertility: dreadful thought). Smaractus was coming to live at the laundry after the marriage, so for one night they were even using the place opposite as a token `bridegroom's house'. Workmen had mended the floor and installed a bed.
Since the bride had no relations to support her she had borrowed most of mine. I met my mother and Maia staggering in with the bloodless offering (a dry piece of ritual bakery) and the wedding cake. This gross item, oozing fried almonds` and warmly redolent of wine, had been baked by Ma, apparently using a fish kettle the size of a small shark.
`Get your fingers out of there!' As Ma whacked me for picking off crumbs to taste, I dived indoors with the useless hope that I might find a quiet corner to tie up the sheep. `That's right. Stop sneaking around looking for trouble to cause. Pay your respects to the bride.'
I found a woman I didn't recognise. Lenia, who normally looked like a sack of turnips, was neatly dressed in the traditional rough-woven gown and orange slippers, with a big fat Hercules knot on her girdle prominent under her bust. Her raging hennaed hair had been tamed by determined female friends, divided with partings into seven clumps, braided tightly over wooden fillets, crowned with a garland of glossy leaves and flower petals, and topped with the traditional flame-coloured veil. The veil was turned back so that her friend Secunda, frowning with concentration, could complete the task of outlining her eyes with a sooty cosmetic. To go with the dramatic elegance she was adopting an expression which mingled a simper with haughtiness. I guessed that wouldn't last.
`Oh rats, here's a bad omen on legs!' roared the immaculate vision.
`Got your distaff ready?'
`Give over, Falco. Maia's gone to find me one.'
`What, a bride who doesn't own her own? Does Smaractus realise he's getting an incompetent housewife?'
`He knows he's got a brilliant businesswoman.'
`I'm not sure about that!' I grinned at her. `Rumour has it you're spending the wedding night in that rundown wreck of an apartment above Cassius. Can this be wise? What couple wants to be holding back in case the floor gives way beneath the nuptial bed?'
`He's shored it up.'
`What are we talking about?'
`Oh go and jump in a cesspit, Falco!'
`Now that's enough insults. This is the moment when you have to lay aside childish things.',
`Oh good. It can be the last I see of you then…'
I showed her the sheep, gave her a congratulatory kiss that had her reaching for a napkin to wipe her face, then bounded cheerily upstairs.
There were a few hours to go yet. In the peace of my own apartment I lay on my bed, pretending to lull myself into a contemplative mood for the augury. Helena appeared and stretched alongside for a rest. 'Hmm, this is nice.' I put one arm around her. `Maybe I'll get pregnant myself. I'd like lying around all day.'
`We could compare notes of our symptoms. You wouldn't like being sick, though.'
A silence fell. After a moment Helena rolled over so she could look at me. She held my face between her hands; inspecting the half-healed physical scars from my recent ordeal at the brothel. Though she said nothing, her expression was concerned. She understood that beneath the facade of merriment my real mood was dark. Always the first to sense depression in me, she also knew what was wrong: we had cleansed Rome of plenty of dross, but the task remained unfinished. We had swept up shoals of criminal life, and purged corruption in at least one cohort of the vigiles; I myself had even received a hefty fee for doing it. I ought to have been feeling pleased with myself.
How could I, though? Balbinus had escaped. He was dangerous. He was still out there plotting. Given time, he would revive his empire. He would go for Petronius, and maybe for me. Nothing would have changed.
The death of Lalage had had a disturbing effect on me too.
When Helena had read my thought to her own satisfaction, she kissed me gently, then settled down again. We lay close, both awake. The familiar sound of her quiet breathing calmed me. Her contentment became infectious. Her steady enjoyment of my presence worked its magic, filling me with amazement that she had chosen to be mine.
`I'm sorry, my love. I have not been with you enough lately.' `You're here now.'
'Tomorrow I'm going to start painting the new apartment.' `We need to clean it first.'
`Trust me. It's to be done tonight. I've struck a bargain with some of the vigiles.'
.'But it's the wedding! Had you forgotten?'
`Sole reason for choosing today! I can see two advantages, Helena my darling. If I hate the wedding,' which seemed highly likely, `I can run off to assist the floor-washers. Or if the wedding seems too good to miss, I can stay with the celebrations and avoid getting my feet wet.'
`You're incorrigible,' said Helena, with a warm mixture of admiration and mockery.
We lay still again. Up here near the sky I could feel quite cut off from the noise and press in the streets. I would miss that. `Are we giving Lenia a wedding present?'
`A nice set of snail picks,' said Helena. For some reason I found that hilarious.
`I hope you didn't buy them from Pa?'
`No, from that second-hand gift shop down the street. It's got a lot of well-made horrors in terrible taste – just right to embarrass a bride.'
I refrained from mentioning that I had nearly bought her own birthday present there.
A few minutes later our soothing interlude was disturbed by visitors. I went out from the bedroom first, Helena following more slowly. Junia and Gaius Baebius glared at us as if they assumed we had been indulging in dalliance. There was no point protesting that we had merely been talking. `What do you two want?' I saw no reason to pretend to be delighted that my sister had deigned to climb the stairs.
`Gaius has brought you his priestly veil.'
`Oh yes, thanks, Gaius.'
Without being invited, Junia and Gaius plonked themselves on the best seats. Helena and I found space on a bench, deliberately snuggling up like lovers to embarrass them.
`I hear you're pregnant!' Junia announced with her customary verve.
`That is correct.'
`Was it an accident?'
`A happy one,'. Helena said stiffly.
I glanced at her. She refused to meet my eye. Helena Justina had accepted the situation but was not allowing anyone to gloat. I turned back to my sister with a shameless grin.
`What about the other little one?' asked Junia. She coloured slightly. `You can't be wanting him as well?'
I felt Helena's hand grip mine abruptly. Gaius Baebius rose and walked to the basket where the skip baby lay dribbling. He lifted out the child. I noticed that Gaius held the baby with the care of a man who was unused to children, yet his grip was firm and although he was a stranger the babe accepted him. He walked back to Junia, who was not quite ready to approach us with whatever she had come to say.
`You two ought to be getting married now,' she instructed us instead.
`What for?' I asked. My intention to marry Helena had immediately sprouted rose-pink wings and flown off the balcony.
`Oh it's a decent institution,' Helena protested teasingly. `A husband must maintain his wife.'
I handed her an apple from the fruit bowl. `A husband is permitted to chastise his wife if she shows him too
