were dragging him half on his knees, an arm apiece. Since they seemed to know what they were doing, I just grinned to myself and let the officious pair get on with it.
They began forcing him down the steps, but soon found that holding him between them while they also descended was too difficult. As they all tumbled back to street level, inevitably they let him go. He made off. If he had come past me I might have shoved out a foot and tripped him, but his luck was in; he went the other way.
I winked at Lenia and sauntered across to the heroes who were offering mutual congratulations on the way they had saved my apartment from attempted robbery.
“I see you elected to show mercy,” I commented sarcastically, leading them indoors again. “You let him go, very kindly.”
“Well, we drove him off for you,” gasped Pa, who always took time to regain his breath after a fracas. Not that it ever stopped him, if he saw something stupid to join in. “Jove knows what he thought he could lift from this place.” As a professional auctioneer, Pa lived among a treasure trove of furniture and objects. He found our austere living quarters unsettling. Still, keeping our valuables in store at his warehouse meant Helena and I did not have to worry about losing them to some light-fingered Aventine lowlife. (That’s assuming Pa himself kept his hands off our stuff; I had to check up on him regularly.)
“He was no thief,” I corrected quietly.
“He thought I was you, Falco,” Aelianus told me, sounding indignant. I was pleased to see his cheek was badly bruised. He tested it gingerly. The bones had stayed intact; well, probably.
“So you stopped a punch on my behalf! Thanks, Aulus. Good job you can handle yourself.”
“Who’s this, then?” demanded Pa, whose curiosity was notorious. “ Your new partner?”
“No. This is his brother, Camillus Aelianus, the next shining star in the senate. My partner has very sensibly gone to Spain.”
“That should make it easy to combine your expertise,” Pa quipped. Justinus had no expertise for informing, but I saw no need to enlighten Pa that I had lumbered myself with an even more unsuitable colleague than Petronius or Anacrites. Aelianus might not yet have heard that his brother was setting up with me, because I saw him look askance. “Were you expecting that riffraff to drop in?” Pa then asked.
“Something like it, possibly. I reckon I was followed home last night-someone checking my address.”
“Gods!” exclaimed Aelianus, enjoying the chance to sound pious, while insulting me. “That’s rather thoughtless, Falco. What if my sister had been here today?”
“She’s out. I knew that.”
“Helena would have bashed the intruder with a very heavy skillet,” Pa declared, as if it were his right to boast of her spirit.
“And made sure she tied him up,” I agreed, reminding the pair of their error. “Then I could have found out who sent him to put the frighteners on.”
“Who do you think it was?” demanded Pa, ignoring the rebuke. “You’ ve only been back in the country about four days.”
“Five,” I confirmed.
“And you already managed to upset someone? I’m proud of you, boy!”
“I learned the art of upsetting people from you, Pa. I was the chosen target. But I think,” I said, making it pleasant for Aelianus, “the rough message was really being sent to our friend here.”
“I never did anything!” Aelianus protested.
“And the message is: Don’t try it, either.” I smirked. “I suspect that you, Aulus, have just taken delivery of a hint to back off from offending the Arval Brothers.”
“Not those disasters?” groaned Pa in heavy disgust. “Anything to do with the old religion makes my flesh creep.”
I pretended to be more tolerant: “Fastidious father, you don’t have a senatorial career to build from scratch. Poor Aelianus has to grit his teeth and enjoy cavorting about in a rustic dance, waving ears of moldy grain.”
“The Arval Brethren are an honorable and ancient college of priests!” protested their would-be acolyte. He knew it sounded feeble.
“And I’m Alexander the Great,” returned my father pleasantly. “ Those lads are ancient and as savory as an old dog turd on the Sacred Way, waiting for you just where you plant your sandal… So what have you done to annoy them, Marcus?”
“We only asked too many questions, Pa.”
“Sounds like you!”
“You taught me to stir.”
“If this is the reaction, maybe you should stop, Falco,” suggested my beloved’s brother, as if it had been all my idea.
“Don’t let the bastards get away with it,” Pa counseled us. It was not his head the man had taken a swing at.
I opted for giving Aelianus the choice of whether we now backed down like good boys, reminding him that his father wanted him to obtain more evidence for political leverage; he decided to ignore his father, which-in the presence of my own-I could only applaud. Aelianus had been sent to see me by Decimus, but he now felt absolved from that duty and took his bruises home, where his mother was bound to blame his mishap on me.
Sometimes, dealing with the Camilli was even more complex than maneuvering around my own relatives.
Pa snuggled up to the table where we normally ate, like a man who was hoping for a free dinner. He looked shifty. “I got your message that you wanted to speak to me. Is this about Helena’s project?” I was annoyed. If anybody else had given me this opener, I could have used it to discover what Helena had in hand. I resented Pa too much. “Did she take up my tip about using Gloccus and Cotta, then?” His tip? My heart sank. “Only I have heard since,” my father confessed uneasily, “ they may be going downhill a bit-”
Now this outfit really did sound dubious. “I am sure,” I pronounced pompously, “Helena Justina can sort out anyone who gives her trouble.”
“Right,” said Pa. He looked anxious. “We should probably feel sorry for them.”
He jumped up. If he was leaving before he had tried to screw a meal out of me, he must be feeling even more guilty than usual. I leaned on his shoulder and shoved him back onto the bench. When I told him I wanted to discuss help for Maia, he remembered a very urgent appointment; I made it plain he had to talk, or have his head stuffed in the doorjamb. “Look, we have a family crisis and it’s down to us men. Ma can’t do anything this time; she’s already looking after Galla’s brood financially-”
“Why should she? Bloody Lollius has not had a fight with a lion.” Now Famia was dead, Lollius probably ranked as the most horrendous of my brothers-in-law. He was a Tiber boatman, a foul bubble of riverbank scum. His one redeeming feature was his knack of keeping out of the way. It saved me having to think up new ways to be rude to him.
“Unfortunately not. But you know bloody Lollius is bloody useless, and even when he gives her any money Galla cannot be called a deft budget manager. Their children don’t deserve to have been born to such terrible parents-but Ma drags the whole worthless crew through life as best she can. Look, Pa, Maia now has to find the rent, food, plus school fees for at least Marius, who wants a career in rhetoric-and she just found out that Famia never paid his funeral dues, so she even has to pay for a memorial to that scoundrel as well.”
Pa drew himself up, a broad, gray-haired figure with slightly bandy legs; forty years of fooling art purchasers helped him look convincing, even though I knew he was a fraud. “I am not unaware of your sister’s position.”
“We all know it, Pa-Maia most of all. She says she will have to work for that short-arsed tailor again,” I told him gloomily. “I always thought the leery wretch had his eye on her.”
“Time he retired. He doesn’t do much; he never did. He has all those girls who weave for him, and half the time they serve in the shop as well.” After a brief distraction while he felt jealous of the tailor’s alluring young loom girls, Pa became thoughtful. “Maia would be perfect at running a business.”
He was right. I felt annoyed that he had first seen it-and Maia, who loathed Pa even more than I did, would
