Once again I kept my temper valiantly. `Yes, we shall.'
I could not attend on the praetor while wound up with irritation. Besides, when I opened the door, I found rainstorms sweeping down the street. Helena made me wait while her litter was fetched to keep my precious toga dry. I stood on the step, feeling bitter, lashed by the weather anyway. Nux came and joined me, barking at the wind. `Stupid dog!' I picked her up to carry her in. Wet dog hairs adhered to my formal attire in unattractive clumps.
Helena tried to distract Ma. She was grieving that my father would love this disaster. She pretended he would say it was her fault. Helena suggested that they should blame Pa. That thought improved my mother's mood.
Meanwhile we had another visitor: Ursulina Prisca had come again to haunt us, hoping to bother Justinus. In his absence, her feelers had twitched out that Honorius was legal and she had detained him with the long story of her disputed inheritance. The short man's handsome face creased with apprehension as he tried to fend her off. Helena moved in smoothly. She retrieved the desperate Honorius, hooking a capable hand under his elbow and drawing him to safety.
`Honorius, Silius will not give up. He will increase his offer – and next time I dare say you will take it.'
`I told you -'
`I know.' Helena's smile was silken. `But you are a young idealist. You want to do good work, prosecuting bad people. The old fox will persuade you that work of such a high standard can only be found with him. Just remember what he really does – and why he is asking you.
Honorius may have hoped to hitch a lift with me, but Helena steered him straight outside and pushed him off into the storm by himself.
Now she turned her attention to Ursulina Prisca. `I am so glad to see you. I wanted to ask something. You were a midwife, weren't you?'
`Yes, she was!' cried Ma.
`I am trying to find a wet-nurse -'
`Not for our little Sosia!' Ma protested loudly. Even Ursulina sucked in breath. She must know we had a baby. She had been here enough times; she must have heard Sosia Favonia yelling.
`No, no; I'm still nursing her myself I wouldn't dream -' Helena realised that it sounded as if she wanted to abandon breast-feeding. (I knew she did, which added to her guilt.) The disapproval of two witchy crones fastened on her. To mention baby teeth and weaning on to porridge would just sound like special pleading. Helena battled on: `Marcus needs to interview a wet-nurse in connection with our case -' It was news to me, but I never argued with her hunches. `If I go, she may speak more freely…'
The concept of fooling some other woman pleased both Ma and our litigious client, Ursulina. Sisterhood was not their style. They were eager to help.
`Do you know Euboule's daughter?' Helena asked as they perked up. `I believe her name is Zeuko.'
Ursulina reeled back. She acted out horror like a creaking tragedian at the least popular day of some tired and dusty festival. `Far be it from me to insult people -'
`Oh go on!' urged my mother, wickedly. `These are bad women.'
`What's wrong with Zeuko?' frowned Helena. `Is she dirty? Lazy? Does she drink?'
`Oh she's competent, some would say.' `She has had high-ranking customers.’
'They are fools. Her mother's a legend and I wouldn't let Zeuko foster a dead rat.' Ursulina Prisca shuddered dramatically. `I can find her. But don't take your own along – you might never get the little darling back.'
Helena asked Ma to look after the baby and Julia – but Ma, playing against type, quickly claimed Albia could
No wonder I was an informer. Nosiness was in my blood.
The litter was brought. I was borne away on my hopeless errand. By now, the praetor would have a long queue of supplicants. And there were still dog hairs on my toga.
XLVII
Time: afternoon.
Place: patrol house, Aventine.
Subject: conversation between L. Petronius Longus, Fourth Cohort of Vigiles, and M. Didius Falco, informer.
Mood: depressed.
`How was your morning?'
`Dire.'
`Procreus turn up?' `No.'
`Praetor see you?' `No.'
`Charges dropped?' `No.'
`Back again tomorrow?'
`Damn well have to. Any good news for me?'
`Sorry; no.'
`The Second made any progress?'
`No. Perseus is not found yet, and your steward's a no-go. He's a freedman. They can't touch him. They threatened him – but then he threatened them with appeal to the Emperor.'
`He could talk voluntarily.'
`He says no: he's too loyal.'
`Who's he loyal to?'
`He's too loyal to say.'
`Stuff him then. Stuff everything.'
`That's right. Take the tolerant view!'
`I'm off home.'
`Best thing, lad.'
`Thanks anyway.'
`That's all right. What are friends for?'
XLVIII
Time: evening.
Place: a town house full of wet cloaks, sodden shoes drying on the stairs, below the Aventine.
Subject: conversation between M. Didius Falco, informer, and Helena Justina, confidante.
Mood: stubborn.
`Where are you?'
`Here.'
`Where's here?'
`In this room.'
`Which room? I'm not a fortune-teller. Oh there you are.'
`Yes I told you I'm here. Hello, Marcus.'
`Hello, awkward. Ask about my day.'
`Looking at you, I'd rather not.'
‘Right. How was yours?’
'Curious.'
`Any use?'
`Possibly.'
`Help me out; I'm tired.'
