gratuity.
On the way back to Fountain Court I dropped in at the baths, scraped myself down, listened to some unimportant gossip, and bantered with Glaucus. He was working with another client and I didn't stay. Back at base Petronius Longus had failed to reappear. I was in for a hard time worrying over his whereabouts; it was like being in charge of a love-lore adolescent. I hoped his absence meant he had gone to attempt a reconciliation with his wife. I knew it was more likely the dog had sneaked off to see Balbina Milvia.
Pleased with my own efforts I shut up the office, exchanged a few words with Lenia, then strolled across the street. I was the cook here, so long as we lacked a troop of whining slaves. Helena had been marinading the fish steaks in olive oil with a few herbs. I panfried them simply over the embers in our cooking bench and we ate them on a green salad dressed with vinegar, more oil and a dash of fish sauce: We had plenty of oil and sauce after our Spanish adventure, though I applied them sparingly. A good shark steak should stand alone.
`Did you rinse them well?'
`Of course,' retorted Helena. `I could see they had been salted. Mind you, I was wondering what had been in the washing water. `Don't think about it. You'll never know.'
She sighed. `Well, if Lollius was right and people have been murdered, cut up, and dumped over several years, I suppose we're all used to it.'
`The torsos must have been put straight into the river.'
'How reassuring,' muttered Helena. 'I'm worried about the baby's 'health. I'll ask Lenia if we can draw our water from the laundry well.'
She wanted the horror stopped. So did I. She wanted me to stop it; I was not so sure I could.
We left a decent period so it didn't look as if we were hoping to be given dinner, then walked over the Aventine to her parents' house. I thought we were just enjoying a cheap night out, but I soon realised Helena Justina had more precise plans. For one thing she wanted a closer inspection of the situation regarding Claudia Rufina Claudia and both Helena's brothers were there, moping because their parents were holding a dinner party for friends of their own generation, so the house was full of tantalising food scents while the youngsters had to make do with leftovers. We sat around with them until Aelianus grew bored and decided he was off out to hear a concert.
`You could take Claudia,' Helena prompted.
`Of course,' said Aelianus at once, since he came from a sharp-witted family and had been brought up well. But Claudia was frightened of Rome at night and decided to opt out of this invitation from her betrothed.
`Don't worry; we'll look after her,' his brother told the prospective bridegroom. The comment was quiet and nonjudgmental; Justinus had always known how to niggle in an underhand way. There was no love lost between these lads; born barely two years apart they were too close. They had no habit of sharing anything, least of all responsibility.
`Thanks,' Aelianus responded laconically. Perhaps he looked as if he were having second thoughts about going. And perhaps not.
He did leave us. Claudia carried on discussing the orphans' school with Helena, which suited both of them. Claudia was nursing our baby, being the kind of girl who grabs them and shows off how sentimental she can be. It may not have been the way to her betrothed's heart. Aelianus could only just stomach the thought of getting married it was tactless of Claudia to let him see she expected him to play his part in filling a nursery.
I enjoyed a long talk with Justinus. He and I had shared an adventure once, rampaging like heroes all over northern Germany, and I had thought highly of him ever since. If I had been of his own class I would have offered, him patronage, but as an informer I had no help to give.
He was now in his, early twenties, a tall, spare figure whose good looks and easy nature could have wreaked havoc among the bored women of the senatorial classes if it had, ever struck him he was cut out to be a heartbreaker. Part of his charm was that he appeared to have. no idea of either his talents or his seductive potential. Those big brown eyes with their intriguing hint of sadness probably, noticed more than he showed, however; Quintus Camillus Justinus was a shrewd little soldier. According to rumour he was chasing after an actress, but I wondered if the rumour had been carefully cultivated so that people would leave him alone while he chose his own path. Actresses were death to senators' sons. Quintus was too clever for social suicide.
Vespasian had hauled him back to Rome from a military tribunate in Germany, apparently in great favour. As so often happens, once Justinus arrived home the promise of an upward push evaporated, other heroes were catching attention. Justinus himself, always diffident, showed neither surprise nor resentment. I was angry for him, and L knew that Helena was too.
`I thought there was talk of you trying for the Senate at the same time as your brother? Didn't the Emperor hint that accelerated entry might be possible?'
`The impetus died.' His smile, was wry. Any barmaid would have given him a free refill on the spot. `You know how it is, Marcus. So I suppose I'll now stand for election at the normal age. It spreads the financial burden for Papa.' He paused. `I'm not sure that's what I want, in any case.'
`Going through a tricky phase, eh?' I grinned at him. He wanted to do well and to beat Aelianus at it. That was understood.
`Being difficult,' he agreed.
Helena looked up. She must have been paying attention even though she had appeared deep in conversation with Claudia. `I suppose you scratch yourself in front of Father's illustrious friends and refuse to change your tunic more than once a month, and you're surly at breakfast time?'
He beamed at his sister fondly. `I don't turn up at breakfast at all, dearest. In the middle of the morning when all the slaves are busy washing floors I emerge from bed – walking straight through the clean bit in last night's dirty shoes then I demand a fresh sardine and a five-egg omelette cooked exactly right. When it comes, I leave most of it.'
I laughed. 'You'll go far – but don't expect an invitation to stay with us!'
Looking over her large nose, Claudia Rufina gazed at the three of us with troubled solemnity. Maybe it was just as well she had been linked to Aelianus. He was proper and conventional.
He never indulged in ludicrous fantasies.
Helena patted the young girl's heavily bangled arm, for no obvious reason. Also for no reason her eyes met mine; I winked at her. Shameless, she winked back without a second thought. Then we held each other's gaze as established lovers sometimes, do even when it is socially inconvenient, shutting out the other two.,
Helena was looking well. Clear-skinned, goodhumoured, alert and intelligent. More formal than she would be at home, since you never quite know what to – expect when visiting a senator's house: a pristine white gown with a shimmering golden stole, an amber necklace and light earrings, her face defined with hints of colour, her hair tucked into several fancy; combs. Seeing her confidentdent and content reassured me.' I had done Helena no wrong luring her from her father's house. She had the knack of being able to return temporarily to this upperclass world without embarrassment, taking me with her. But although she must miss the comforts, she showed no trace of regret.
`Well, Marcus!'' Her eyes were smiling in a way that made me take and kiss her hand. The gesture was acceptable in public, but must- have spoken of far deeper intimacy.
`You have such great affection,' exclaimed Claudia impulsively. Alarmed by her mood our baby awoke, whimpering. Helena reached to take the child.
Justinus rose from his couch and came round behind' his sister, to hug her and kiss her too. `Claudia Rufina, we are a loving family,' he said wickedly. `And now you are to, join us – aren't you glad?'
'Be a pet,' Helena, reproved him. `While you're; jumping about and making silly remarks, pop into Father's study and bring me his annual calendar.'
`Planning another party?'
`No. Showing Marcus that his best partner is the one who lives with him.'
`Marcus knows that,' I said.
The senator had an expensive set of the Official Year in Rome: all the dates of all the months, marked with a C for when the Comitia could be in session, F for days when general public business was allowed and N for public
