curly-haired daughter had a fine sense of who would tolerate nonsense. Ma perched in the wicker chair with a scowl like a particularly anti-social goddess of retribution.
`How are you, dear mother? How is Aristagoras?'
`Who?' asked Ma, as she always did when anyone enquired after her eighty-year-old boyfriend. I backed off. I never had the nerve to ascertain exactly what was going on. My father had asked me to find out – which was another reason not to. `I heard there was trouble,' Ma sniffed. `I see that's right.'
`Misunderstanding with some men who don't like my current workload… Who told you?' I assumed it was Petronius, then I remembered that Maia and Petro were not speaking to Ma. Whereas a sane mother might be expected to feel glad that her troubled daughter had now found stability with a good-looking, salaried officer who adored her, mine kept passing remarks about Petro's estranged wife not deserving to lose him…
`Anacrites never forgets his poor old landlady.'
`Bull's bollocks!'
`I don't know who taught you to be so crude.' Ma sniffed, implying it was Pa.
Anacrites was the Chief Spy – a one-time follower of my sister Maia, who had turned violent when she dumped him. Even before that he was my long-term enemy – but he had been Ma's lodger and she thought him little lower than a Sun God in a twinkly diadem. I had other views about where his rays shone.
I ignored the low hint that Anacrites, who was not even family, paid more attention to my mother than I did. `I did not want that bastard to know I was back in Rome.'
`Don't get your name everywhere in the Forum then. He says you are a byword for stupidity, because of this law work.'
`He thinks that only because I'm bringing justice to the innocent – a concept far too noble for Anacrites.'
Faced with a son who had noble motives, Ma lost interest. She lowered her voice. `He knows Maia is back too.' She was worried, seeking reassurance. I sighed. I had none to give. If the Spy still harboured resentment, Maia was in for trouble.
Helena asked, `Does Anacrites know about Maia and Petronius?'
`He asked me,' said Ma.
`And you told him!' I scoffed.
`He knew anyway.'
Another problem.
Helena passed Julia back to my mother. 'Junilla Tacita, if you could stay for a while and keep an eye on my brood, I should be very glad. My brother's wife is having her baby and I would appreciate a chance to go over there.'
Thrilled to be asked, Ma let a put-upon look pass over her features for a suitable moment as she pinned down Julia's plump thrashing legs. `If they need a nurse, you have the right candidate sitting right downstairs. I was talking to her earlier – well, someone had to show some civility; poor dear, she's quite abandoned, all by herself in the hall -'
`Who, Ma?'
'Ursulina Prisca. She seems a very nice woman,' Ma told me pointedly.
'Quintus is looking after her woes.' Helena was searching for her ear-rings. My mother's keen black eyes had spotted the search and noted that the jewellery had ended up on the table. She sensed something private, though in the more interesting quest to set us straight about Ursulina, it passed without comment.
`Well, your Quintus needs to sort out that pig-farm business before the cousin ruins everything. Tell him the assessment of the walnut crop sounds very low to me.' Ma and Ursulina Prisca must have found each other kindred spirits. `The valuer is a liability, and if you want my advice -'Which we didn't. `Which of course will not be welcome as I'm just an old lady who brought up seven children single-handed, and I'm supposed to have no knowledge of the world -'
`What advice, Ma?'
`Do not trust the freedman with the limp!'
Helena told Mother gently that she would pass all that on to Quintus, who was very good at caring for widows.
`I wish I had someone to look after me!' snapped Ma. `If they need a good midwife -'
`I'm sure Mother has found them one,' Helena muttered. Upon mention of Julia Justa, Ma shut her mouth like a tightly pleated furnishing feature on a smooth bolster. She had a wonderful complexion, which belied her age. It was a tribute to home-macerated face cream, brewed to a secret recipe which Ma passed off as mainly rose petals (this may have been true, but on principle my mother managed to make it sound like a bluff}.
When Helena escaped to see about Claudia Rufina's progress, I claimed I was feeling poorly and needed to be left alone to sleep. After another hour of rollicking comment, my mother did leave me, removing my daughter and dog too. Exhausted, I fell into a deep slumber.
Honorius was the first of the forage party to report in.
`Negrinus refuses flatly to contest the will. No reason. I thought his sister, Carina, might argue – but she backed him up. Her husband, Laco, appeared for once – though he would not interfere.'
`So Negrinus is throwing it all away.'
Honorius sat on my bed with his arms folded. 'Negrinus is an odd body, Falco. One minute he shows all the anger you'd expect from a man in his situation. Then he suddenly implodes and seems to accept being shoved down a shit-hole by his closest relatives.'
`He is keeping something from us,' I said. `He'll fight for himself when he's about to be charged with parricide – an offence that will get him sewn in a sack and thrown into the sea if he's found guilty. But when the penalty is less drastic, he reins back. He must have a reason to lie low.'
`So it's find the reason, then?'
`Oh yes – but you tell me where to start!'
We were both at a loss.
`I tried to see Saffia,' Honorius then told me. I refrained from throwing my water jug at his stupid head. Tantrums don't suit mature men. Anyway it was a decent jug. `No luck. Incommunicado. Household in uproar. Males barred on the threshold. She has gone into labour, I was informed.,
'They must be putting birth-inducement powders in the aqueducts,' I growled. `We have to see her. She seems to have gripped old Metellus by the privates – with the rest of the family all standing back helplessly to watch.'
`Well yes, but it won't look too good, Falco, if we harass Saffia for answers while she's in full birth pang!'
`You're a softie. It's just the moment.'
`That's one of your jokes,' Honorius replied stiffly.
`You're scared you'll end up snipping an umbilical cord or gathering up the afterbirth.'
The young man with the neat haircut managed not to shudder. `Since Saffia was out, I tackled Calpurnia -' This was even worse. Honorius had no idea of following orders or working in a systematic way as part of a team. `She was at home, I'm certain. She just refused to see me.'
With a restraint that Helena would have applauded, I begged Honorius to do nothing with our suspects and witnesses unless I asked him specifically.
`Right. So you don't want me to interview the clown, I take it?'
`What clown?' I demanded through clenched teeth.
He looked huffy. `The one who was intended to be the satire at the Metellus funeral. I obtained his address from Biltis, that woman mourner Aelianus interviewed. Biltis,' Honorius repeated. `Her name was in your original report to Silius. You know, before the charges we brought against Juliana… I'm trying to get things moving, Falco. I feel I am wasting my efforts, however.'
He finished whining, before I lost it and belted him. `Any other suspects you've barged in on without consulting me?' I was livid. But it was good work to go back to the old report, and it was sensible to use the mourner, Biltis, to track down the clown. They were both marked up in Helena's notes as needing further enquiry. I myself had intended to look for the clown, when I got around to it.
Hurt, Honorius clammed up.
`Well, the clown was a bright idea.' Praise failed to mollify Honorius. `Perhaps he'll know why Calpurnia upset
