him.
'Poppy juice?'
'Henbane.'
'Careful!'
'Yes. I'm trying not to kill him Alexas assured me sombrely.
XXIV
this enquiry was making more demands than I expected. Today I had had a fall and a fight, then been involved in accidental death. I was shaken both mentally and physically. That's without counting toothache, hard work in the office, or personal matters that had more pleasantly drained my strength.
I was glad I had brought Helena and the others here, so I did not have to face an evening donkey ride before I found dinner and solace. Anyway, it was clear I now needed regular access to my clothes chest. During a case, I liked a change of venue. The trouble with provincial assignments was always the same: the place and the personnel stayed with you day and night. There was no escape.
I was missing Rome. Back there, after any long day working, I could lose myself in the Forum, the baths, the races, the river, the theatre and thousands of street gathering points which hosted many kinds of edibles and drinkables to take your mind off trouble. I had been here three days and I was already homesick. I missed the tall, teeming buildings in the slum areas just as much as the high temples, glinting with bronze and copper, which crowned those famous hills. I wanted hot streets full of cracked amphorae, wild dogs, fish bones and falling window boxes; itinerant sausage-sellers peddling lukewarm meats; line after line of washed tunics, hung between windows where ninety-year-old hags leaned out and cackled their disgust over girls who were flashing too much leg at slippery bath-oil salesmen who were probably bigamists.
Nobody could collect several wives in Noviomagus; in this sparse population everyone would know him. Any be-torqued no-good boy would be found out and marched back to his own hut. I longed for a city where deception flourished and there was some hope for sophisticated guile. I yearned for a whiff of perversion among sweet scents of frankincense, pine needles and marjoram. I was ready to accept a garlic-tasting kiss from a seditious barmaid or to let a slimy Lycian sell me an amulet made from some exotic sexual organ, imperfectly embalmed. I wanted stevedores and garland girls, librarians and pimps, snobbish financiers in luxurious purple togas, their overheated wool rich in that foul dye from the shores of Tyre that stinks so expressively of the shellfish it is squeezed from. Dear gods, I missed the familiar noise and stress of home.
Three days in Britain: I could hardly wait to leave. But so soon after coming out here, the thought of the endless journey back to Italy was almost unbearable. Before we faced that, I might have to take us for a quick boost of city life up in Londinium.
Anyone who has been there will see that's a joke.
It must be June. At home there would be blue sky. We had missed the great flower festival; they would have gone on into heroes and gods of war.
Here it was pleasant; well, I could pretend. People sat out of doors on a fine evening, we Romans with mantles slung around our shoulders. Today casual food trays had been brought to us by the King's servants and we ate where we were in the garden. Camilla Hyspale spent her time ostentatiously shivering, which made others of us determined to enjoy the open air.
The baby was restless. I tried dandling her. It never works in company. Babies know you would like to impress people with your magic touch; they stop niggling to fool you- then wail louder.
'Another twenty years and she'll be really good,' Maia sniggered. Nux crept under Helena's skirt, whining softly. Helena, looking tired, whined back.
I tried that trick of standing up and pacing slowly. My mother could always do it. Once, when Julia had been screaming for about three days without a break, I saw Ma quieten her in about five strides. Favonia was not fooled by my efforts.
Further down the large garden, near the King's own quarters, we could see Verovolcus. He was with a small group of other Britons. They had been served at the same time as us, and were now dawdling through the food dishes, drinking too. It all seemed subdued, though perhaps would not stay so quiet. Verovolcus kept looking our way. Instinctively we avoided contact, keeping our group domestic. The last thing I wanted was to establish a pattern of heavy international social ising every night.
'He seems to be taking to heart the King's instructions to keep back and let you do your work,' Helena remarked in an undertone. She knew how I felt.
I jiggled Favonia. She decided to stop crying. A bubbling hiccup reminded me this was a choice she could retract at any moment.
Julia, who was crawling around on the grass, now noticed the silence and released a piercing yell. My sister Maia leaned down and waved a doll at her. Julia smashed it aside, but she did shut up.
'Bed?' threatened Maia.
'No/' Dear little poppet. It had been one of her first words.
I glanced over at Verovolcus, watching him the same way he watched us. 'I don't like to be antisocial, but '
'Perhaps it works the other way.' Helena smiled. 'Here we are all smart clothes, loud Latin and showing off our love of culture. Perhaps our shy British hosts are smitten with a fear that ghastly politeness will force them to mingle with a bunch of brash Romans.'
We were silent. She was right of course. Snobbery can work two ways.
The fine rooms of the old house lay between the courtyard garden and the perimeter road. This meant the garden was peaceful, sheltered from traffic noise by the main structure. But on a still summer night we were aware of constant movement on the road behind. Voices and footsteps told their story: groups of men were making their way off site. Most were on foot by the sound of it. They had eaten, and were heading for their evening entertainment. Their destination could only be downtown Noviomagus, to the low haunts that offered women, liquor, gambling and music- the seedy delights of the canabae.
As the unseen irregular procession passed, I looked forward to the early hours, when they would all be returning. Helena read my thoughts. 'I was too exhausted to notice last night. No doubt they creep back to their barracks like discreet mice.'
'Mice make a damned racket!' In Fountain Court I had once lived with a rodent infestation who were all kit ted out with army boots.
We were' favoured with visitors that evening. From the camp beyond the site huts came Sextius; someone else must be minding his cartload of goods because he brought Aelianus. I let them sit down and talk. We gave them beakers, though not food-bowls. It would look fairly natural; we were all outsiders, who came over from Gaul together and who had palled up. Sextius and his sidekick might have taken us seriously when we issued that old cliched invitation, do drop round for a drink some time… When of course we really meant, please don't!
I was still carrying the baby, an informal touch.
Sextius fixed his attention on Maia, though he sat at a distance; he hardly spoke to her and made no overt move. She was still moping. Except when she wanted to insult someone, Maia kept to herself. Normally my sister was a cheerful soul, but when she moped, she intended the world to notice. Any one of my sisters in a bad mood could depress a whole family party; Maia, whose mood was usually the sunniest, now reckoned she was owed some deep gloom.
Hyspale dropped to her knees and for once started playing with Julia. That way, she too could distance herself. As a freed woman she was part of the family; we allowed her indeed encouraged her to join in when we conversed together generally. Her senatorial roots were showing again. Having to share space with a couple of statue sellers horrified her. It took her some time to notice that the malodorous assistant was Camillus Aelianus, the spoiled darling of her previous refined home. Suddenly she squeaked with recognition. I did enjoy it.
He ignored her. She was the daughter of his childhood nurse. Aelianus was as much a snob as anyone around here. He was a thankless lout too.
He had rejected a seat then roamed about, helping himself to leftover food from any bowl he could reach.
