kissed her, both with deliberate informality.
'I should bathe. I stink and I'm filthy-'
'And half dead on your feet. I had a feeling-I've ordered hot water to be kept for you. Shall I come and scrape you down?'
'That's more pleasure than I can cope with…' I rose from my kneeling position beside her wicker chair. 'Stay and rest. But you'd better tell me about this accident.'
'Later.'
I drew a finger across her tear-stained cheek. 'No, now.'
Helena said nothing. I knew why she was being stubborn. I had left her. Something terrible had happened, which she had had to cope with on her own, so now I had lost my rights.
We gazed at one another quietly. Helena looked pale, and she had her hair completely loose, which was rare for her. Whatever had happened, part of her unhappiness was because she had been alone here without me. Well, I was home now.
In the dim light of a single oil lamp, Helena's eyes were nearly black. They searched my face for my own news, and for whatever I was feeling towards her. Whenever we had been apart there was this moment of readjustment; the old challenge was reissued, the new peace had to be reaffirmed.
'You can tell me I shouldn't have gone away-but do it after you explain what's been happening.'
She sighed. 'You being here wouldn't have changed anything. There has just been a terrible accident. It's young Rufius,' she told me. 'Rufius Constans. He was working on an oil press on his grandfather's estate when one of the quernstones slipped and crushed him. He was alone when it must have happened. By the time somebody found him he was dead.'
'Yes, that's a dreadful thing to have happened…' Constans had been young and full of promise; I felt bitterly depressed. Helena was expecting my next reaction. I tipped my head on one side. 'He was alone? Nobody else was with him?'
'No, Marcus,' she replied softly. I knew that, trained by me to be skeptical in every situation, she had already spent time wondering, just as I was doing now. 'No; I can see what you are thinking. But there is no possibility of mischief.'
'No special crony lending Constans a hand with the oil press?'
'No. Quinctius Quadratus was out of action; I can vouch for that myself.'
I took her word. I was too tired to concern myself with how she knew.
I held out my hand and now she let herself take it. 'Have you been fighting?' Helena could always spot the damage. 'Just a few knocks. Did you miss me?'
'Badly. Was your trip useful?'
'Yes.'
'That makes it all right then.'
'Does it? I don't think so, love!' Suddenly unable to bear being apart from her, I tightened my grip to pull her up from the chair. 'Come and wield a strigil for me, sweetheart. I'll never reach my own back tonight.'
We had edged around my guilt and her withdrawal. Helena Justina held herself against me for a moment, her soft cheek pressed to my stubbled one, then she took my arm, ready to walk with me to the bathhouse. 'Welcome home,' she whispered, and I knew she meant it now.
The bathhouse at the villa was designed for hardy old republicans. I won't say it was crude, but if anyone hankered for the un-luxurious days of dark, narrow bathing places with mere slits for windows, this was ideal. You undressed in the cold room. Unguents were stored on a shelf in the warm room, which was certainly not very warm at night; you got up a sweat by vigorously shaking an oil jar to try to dislodge the congealed contents.
A single stoker kept the fire alight and brought water in buckets. He had gone for his supper but was summoned back. Since the bath was reserved for Optatus, Helena and myself, plus any visitors, he seemed glad of a rare chance to show off his skills. We needed him this evening. The promised hot water had been used up by someone else.
'That's just typical!' Helena stormed moodily. 'I've had three days of this, Marcus, and I'm ready to scream.'
I was stripping, very slowly. I hung my foul togs on my favorite hook, tossing aside a blue tunic that had been left by some previous bather. Nobody was in evidence now, which was just as well.
Helena insisted on kneeling to unstrap my boots for me. I helped her upright, then kept hold of her. 'What's the matter, fruit?'
She took a deep breath. 'I have about four different events to relate; I've been trying to keep them neatly arranged in my mind-'
'You're so organized!' I threw back my head, smiling at the anticipated luxury of listening to Helena. 'A lot has been happening? You mean Constans?'
'Oh…' Helena closed her eyes. The young man's death had affected her profoundly. 'Oh Marcus, I was with his sister and Aelia Annaea when the news was brought; I feel I'm part of it.'
'But you said it was an accident. Truly?'
'It had to be. I told you; he was alone. It was such a shock. Everyone is very distressed. His sister is so young. I have not seen his grandparents, but we've all been imagining how distraught they must be-' She stopped, and suddenly became weepy again. Helena rarely gave way like that.
'Start from the beginning,' I said, stroking her neck.
Taking a lamp, we walked through a heavy door into the so-called warm room. This part of the bathhouse was deadened to sound by the thickness of its walls, though somewhere at the far end of the hotter room I could hear vague shoveling sounds as the slave began replenishing the fire; the rattling and bumping noises traveled through the floor. Helena Justina rested on the low ledge against one wall as I worried a flask to extract a few dribbles of oil. She had presumably bathed once today, so she retained her undertunic modestly and forwent the full cleansing procedure.
She linked her hands and began rather formally: 'The first thing, Marcus, was that I had a letter from home- from my brother Justinus.'
'The lad! How is he?'
'Still in love with his actress.'
'It's just a crush.'
'So it's dangerous! Well, he's been working hard on Aelianus anyway, which he complains cost him a lot of drinks. Aelianus is feeling terribly guilty; his friend Cornelius, the one who wrote the famous secret dispatch, has written from Athens telling Aelianus not to talk about it to anyone called Quinctius.'
'But Aelianus had already done that?'
'Apparently.'
'He told me he fell out with Quadratus when your father was being cheated over the oil pressing.'
'Well, quarrels don't last among lads. But Aelianus now says he and Quadratus did meet in Rome, though it wasn't a success. Their row in Baetica had soured the friendship so by the time of that dinner it had cooled permanently.'
'Too late!'
'I'm afraid so. Justinus has found out that Aelianus has been bottling up a disaster. Before he went to the Palace, he had had the report with him at the Quinctius house. He left it with his cloak, and when he collected it the seal looked different. He picked it open again-as he confessed to you, he had actually read it once-the second time the letter had been altered to give a quite different assessment of how serious the cartel was.'
I nodded. 'So either Quadratus or his father Attractus deliberately tried to underplay the situation. Did Aelianus challenge his pal?'
'Yes, and that was when they quarreled again. Then Aelianus was frightened that he couldn't alter the scroll anymore without making a thorough mess of it, so he just handed it in to Anacrites and hoped everything would be all right.' Helena sucked her lip. 'I have strong views on Quadratus-which I'll come to next!'
