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  ‘So you’re the brother!’ he repeated slowly, as if it meant something.

  ‘That’s right. I’m Falco. And you?’

  ‘Censorinus.’

  ‘What’s your legion?’

  ‘Fifteenth Apollinaris.’ It would be. My surly mood deepened. The Fifteenth were the unlucky outfit my brother had graced for several years-before he made himself famous by flinging his handsome carcass over a hot Judaean battlement into a thicket of rebels’ spears.

  ‘So that’s how you knew Festus?’

  ‘Agreed,’ he sneered condescendingly.

  While we talked I was aware of restless movements behind me from Helena and the others. They wanted their beds-and so did I. ‘You won’t find Festus here, and you know why.’

  ‘Festus and I were good mates,’ he declared.

  ‘Festus always had a lot of friends.’ I sounded calmer than I felt. Festus, rot his eyes, would enter into a drinking pact with any skunk which had mange and half its tail missing. Then, generous to the last, my brother would bring his new friend home to us.

  ‘Is there a problem?’ the legionary enquired. His air of innocence was suspicious in itself. ‘Festus said any time I was in Rome-‘

  ‘You could stay at his mother’s house?’

  ‘That’s what the boy promised!’

  It was depressingly familiar. And I knew the Fifteenth Legion had been redeployed recently from the Judaean war zone back to Pannonia-so presumably large numbers of them would now be asking for a spell of leave in Rome.

  ‘I’m sure he did. How long have you been here?’

  ‘A few weeks…’ That meant months.

  ‘Well I’m glad the Fifteenth Apollinaris has been augmenting Junilla Tacita’s budget!’ I stared him out. We both knew he had made no contributions at all to my mother’s housekeeping. What a home-coming. First my wrecked apartment, now this. It seemed that while I was away Rome had filled up with unscrupulous losers all looking for rent-free beds.

  I wondered where my mother was hiding. I felt an odd nostalgia to hear her nagging me while she spooned hot broth into my favourite bowl and pulled me out of my sopping clothes like when I was a child. ‘Right! Well, I’m afraid I shall have to unstick you from your billet, Censorinus. It’s needed by the family now.’

  ‘Of course. I’ll shift as soon as possible…’

  I stopped smiling. Even my teeth were tired. I gestured to the pathetic band I had brought with me. They were standing in silence, too exhausted to join in. ‘I’d be glad if you’d make your arrangements fairly briskly.’

  His glance went to the shutters. Outside we could hear the rain splashing as hard as ever. ‘You’re not going to turn me out on a night like this, Falco!’

  He was right, but I owed the world a few punches. I grinned evilly. ‘You’re a soldier. A bit of wet won’t hurt you…’ I might have gone on amusing myself, but just at that moment my mother came into the room. Her beady black eyes took in the scene.

  ‘Oh you’re back,’ she said, as if I had just come in from weeding a carrot patch. A small, tidy, almost tireless woman, she brushed past me, went to kiss Helena, then busied herself prying free my sleepy niece.

  ‘Nice to be missed,’ I muttered.

  Ma ignored the pathos. ‘We had plenty you could have been doing.’

  She did not mean picking ticks off a dog. I saw her glance at Helena, plainly warning that there was bad news for later. Unable to face whatever crises had befallen the Didius clan, I dealt with the problem I knew about. ‘We need a refuge. I gather big brother’s old bed has already been claimed?’

  ‘Yes. I thought you might have something to say about that!’

  I could see Censorinus starting to look nervous. My mother peered at me expectantly while I tried to work out what I was supposed to do. For some reason she seemed to be playing the helpless old soul whose big tough son had emerged from his warren to defend her. This was quite out of character. I handled the situation delicately. ‘I was merely commenting on a fact, Ma-‘

  ‘Oh I knew he wouldn’t like it!’ Ma announced to no one in particular.

  I was too tired to resist. I squared up to the legionary. He probably thought he was tough, but he was easier to tackle than a devious mother with complicated motives.

  Censorinus had grasped that the game was over. Ma was now making it plain that she had simply let him lodge there while she waited for someone else to argue about it. I was back: her agent for the dirty work. There was no point fighting my destiny.

  ‘Listen, friend. I’m worn out and chilled to the bone, so I’ll be blunt. I’ve travelled a thousand miles at the worst time of year to find my apartment wrecked by intruders and my own bed full of rubble from a leaking roof. In ten minutes’ time I intend to be flat out in the alternative, and the fact that my alternative is where you’ve been making yourself at home is just fortune’s way of warning you that the gods are fickle friends-‘

  ‘So much for hospitality to strangers!’ Censorinus scoffed at me. ‘And so much for comrades who tell you they’re mates!’

  Uneasily I noticed a threat in his tone. It had nothing to do with what we seemed to be discussing. ‘Look, I want the spare room for me and my lady, but you’re not being turned out into the night. There’s a dry attic that’s perfectly liveable-‘

  ‘Stuff your attic!’ the legionary retorted; then added, ‘And stuff Festus, and stuff you!’

  ‘Whatever makes you feel better,’ I replied, trying not to sound as if for this family, the one good aspect of Festus’s death had been that we did not have to dole out free food and lodging to an endless succession of his colourful friends.

  I saw Ma pat the legionary’s shoulder. She muttered consolingly, ‘I’m sorry, but I just can’t have you here upsetting my son…’

  ‘Oh Jupiter, Ma!’ She was impossible.

  To speed things up I helped Censorinus pack. As he left he gave me a malevolent glare, but I was too preoccupied with the joys of family life to wonder why.

  III

  Helena and Ma combined efforts to allocate space to my party. Our servants were briskly rushed off to the attic. My young niece Augustinilla was tucked up in Mother’s own bed.

  ‘How’s Victorina?’ I forced myself to ask. We had been looking after the child for my older sister whilst she was ill.

  ‘Victorina died. ‘ Mother gave the news matter-of-factly, but her voice was tense. ‘I wasn’t going to tell you tonight.’

  ‘Victorina’s gone?’ I could hardly take it in.

  ‘In December.’

  ‘You could have written.’

  ‘What would that have achieved?’

  I dropped my spoon on to the table and sat cradling my bowl, taking comfort from the warmth that remained in the pottery. ‘This is unbelievable…’

  Wrong. Victorina had had an internal problem, which some quack Alexandrian doctor who specialised in prodding the female anatomy had convinced her was operable; his diagnosis must have been false, or more likely he bungled the surgery. It happens all the time. I had no business to be sitting there, feeling so surprised that she had died.

  Victorina was the eldest in our family, tyrannising the other six of us who had somehow struggled alive through infancy. I had always stayed fairly remote from her, a matter of choice since I hated being bruised and terrorised. She was in her teens when I was born, and even then had a terrible reputation: an eye for the boys, a saucy green parasol, and the side-seams of her tunic always revealingly unstitched. When she visited the Circus, the men who held her parasol for her were always repugnant types. In the end she picked up a plasterer called Mico and married him. I finally stopped speaking to her at that point.

  They had five surviving children. The baby must be not yet two. Still, childhood being what it was, he could well be joining his lost mother before he was three.

  Helena was missing this conversation. She had fallen asleep, crushed against my shoulder. I half turned, easing her into a kinder positi
on; one where I could gaze down at her. I needed to see her, to remind myself the Fates could spin a sound thread when they chose to. She was completely at rest. No one ever slept so deeply as Helena with my arm around her. At least I was some use to somebody.

  Ma draped a blanket over both of us. ‘So she’s still with you?’ Despite her contempt for my previous girlfriends, Ma reckoned Helena Justina was much too good for me. Most people thought that. Helena’s own relatives were first in the queue. Perhaps they were right. Even in Rome, with its snobbery and tawdry values, she could certainly have done better for herself.

  ‘Seems like it.’ I caressed the soft hollow of Helena’s right temple with my thumb. Utterly relaxed, she looked all sweetness and gentleness. I didn’t fool myself that was her true nature, but it was a part of her-even if that part only showed when she was sleeping in my arms.

  ‘I heard some tale she had run away.’

  ‘She’s here. So the tale’s obviously wrong.’

  Ma intended to find out the whole story. ‘Was she trying to get away from you, or did you scram and she had to chase after you?’ She had a good grasp of how we ran our lives. I ignored the question, so she launched off another: ‘Are you any nearer settling things?’

  Probably neither of us could answer that. Our relationship had its volatile moments. The fact that Helena Justina was the daughter of a millionaire senator while I was an impoverished informer did not improve our chances. I could never tell whether every day that I managed to hold on to her took us one step nearer our inevitable parting-or whether the time I was keeping us together would make us impossible to separate.

  ‘I heard Titus Caesar had his eye on her,’ Ma continued inexorably. That was best left unanswered too. Titus could pose a tough challenge. Helena maintained she had rebuffed his overtures. But who could really tell? She might privately welcome our return to Rome and the chance to impress further the Emperor’s son. She would be a fool if she didn’t. I should have kept her in the provinces.

  To claim my fee for what I had done in Germany, I had had to come back and report to the Emperor; Helena had come with me. Life must go on. Titus was a risk I had to face. If he wanted trouble, I was prepared to put up a fight. ‘Everyone says you’ll let her down,’ my mother assured me happily.

  ‘I’ve avoided it so far!’

  ‘There’s no need to get snappy,’ commented Ma.

  It was late. Ma’s apartment block hit one of the rare occasions when all its tenants had fallen quiet at once. In the silence she fiddled with the wick of the pottery oil-lamp, scowling at the crude bedroom scene embossed on the redware-one of my brother’s joking household contributions. Being a present from Festus meant the item was impossible to throw out now. Besides, the lamp had a clean, steady burn despite the pornography.

  The loss of my sister, even the one I had had least time for, brought my brother’s absence to the surface again too.

  ‘What was all that with the legionary, Ma? Plenty of people knew Festus, but not many of them turn up on the doorstep nowadays.’

  ‘I can’t be rude to your brother’s friends.’ No need, when she had me to do it for her. ‘Maybe you shouldn’t have evicted him like that, Marcus.’

  My turning out Censorinus was what she had plainly intended from the moment I arrived; yet I was getting blamed for it. After knowing my mother for thirty years the contradiction was predictable. ‘Why didn’t you give him the twiggy end of a besom yourself?’

  ‘I’m afraid he’ll bear a grudge against you,’ murmured Ma.

  ‘I can handle that.’ The silence carried ominous overtones. ‘Is there a particular reason why he might?’ My mother remained mute. ‘There is!’

  ‘It’s nothing.’ So it was serious.

  ‘You’d better tell me.’

  ‘Oh… there seems to be some trouble over something Festus is supposed to have done.’

  All my life I had been hearing those fatal words. ‘Oh here we go again. Stop being coy, Ma. I know Festus, I can recognise one of his disasters from a hippodrome’s length away.’

  ‘You’re tired, son. I’ll talk to you in the morning.’

  I was so weary my head was still singing the rhythms of travelling, but with some doom-laden fraternal mystery hanging in the air there was little hope of sleep until I discovered what I had come home to-and probably no sleep then.

  ‘Oh cobnuts, I’m tired all right. I’m tired of people dodging the issue. Talk to me now, Mother!’

  IV

  Festus was three years in the tomb. The writs had mainly dried up, but promissory notes from debtors and hopeful letters from abandoned women still trickled back to Rome from time to time. And now we had a military interest; that might prove harder to deflect.

  ‘I don’t expect he did anything,’ Ma comforted herself.

  ‘Oh he did it,’ I assured her. ‘Whatever it is! I can guarantee our Festus was right in there, beaming cheerfully as usual. Ma, the only question is, what am I going to have to do-or more likely, how much will it cost me-to get us all out of whatever trouble he’s caused this time?’ Ma managed to find a look that implied I was insulting her beloved boy. ‘Tell me the truth. Why did you want me to kick out Censorinus the minute I came home?’

  ‘He had started asking awkward questions.’

  ‘What questions?’

  ‘According to him, some soldiers in your brother’s legion once put money into a venture which Festus organised. Censorinus has come to Rome to reclaim their cash.’

  ‘There is no cash. ‘ As my brother’s executor I could vouch for it. When he died I received a letter from the will clerk in his legion that confirmed everything I could have guessed anyway: after paying his local debts and providing a funeral there was nothing for them to send home to me but the comfort of knowing I would have been his heir, had our hero been able to keep any cash in his arm-purse for more than two days. Festus had always spent his quarterly pay in advance. He had left nothing in Judaea. I could find nothing in Rome either, despite the labyrinthine complexity of his business schemes. He ran his life on a marvellous talent for bluff. I thought I knew him as closely as anyone, but even I had been deluded when he chose.

  I sighed. ‘Give me the full story. What was this sticky venture?’

  ‘Some scheme to make a lot of money, apparently.’ Just like my brother, always thinking he’d hit upon a fabulous idea to make his fortune. Just like him to involve everyone else who had ever shared his tent. Festus could charm investments from a dedicated miser whom he’d only met that morning; his own trusting pals had stood no chance.

  ‘What scheme?’

  ‘I’m not sure.’ Ma looked confused. I wasn’t fooled. My mother’s grip on facts was as strong as an octopus entwining its future dinner. She undoubtedly knew what Festus stood accused of; she preferred me to find out the details for myself. That meant the story would make me angry. Ma wanted to be somewhere else when I blew up.

  We had been talking with lowered voices, but my agitation must have made me tense; Helena stirred and woke, instantly alert. ‘Marcus, what’s wrong?’

  I squirmed stiffly. ‘Just family troubles. Don’t worry; go back to sleep.’ Immediately she forced herself awake.

  ‘The soldier?’ Helena correctly deduced. ‘I was surprised you sent him packing like that. Was he a confidence trickster?’

  I said nothing. I liked to keep my brother’s indiscretions to myself. But Ma, who had been so wary of telling me the tale, was prepared to confide in Helena. ‘The soldier is genuine enough. We are in some trouble with the army. I let him lodge here because at first he seemed to be just somebody my elder son had known in Syria, but once he got his boots under the table he began to pester me.’

  ‘What about, Junilla Tacita?’ Helena queried indignantly, sitting up. She often addressed my mother in this formal way. Oddly, it marked a greater intimacy between them than Mother had ever allowed my previous female friends, most of whom had had no acquaintance with polite speech.
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  ‘There is supposed to be a money problem with something poor Festus was involved in,’ my mother told Helena. ‘Marcus is going to look into it for us.’

  I choked. ‘I don’t remember saying I’d do that.’

  ‘No. Of course you’re bound to be busy.’ My mother changed tack adroitly. ‘Will you have a lot of work waiting?’

  I was not expecting an eager stream of clients. After six months away I would have lost any initiative. People always want to rush ahead with their foolish manoeuvres; my competitors would have grabbed all the commissions for commercial surveillance, gathering court evidence and finding grounds for divorces. Clients have no concept of waiting patiently if the best operative happens to be busy in Europe for an indefinite period. How could I avoid it if the Emperor up on the Palatine expected his affairs to take priority? ‘I doubt if I’ll be stretched,’ I admitted, since my womenfolk were likely to overrule me if I tried to fudge the issue.

  ‘Of course you won’t,’ cried Helena. My heart sank. Helena had no idea she was taking the cart into a cul-de-sac. She had never known Festus; she could not possibly imagine how his schemes had so often ended.

  ‘Who else is there to help us?’ urged Ma. ‘Oh Marcus, I did think you would have an interest in clearing your own poor brother’s name…’

  Just as I had known it would, the mission that I refused to accept transformed itself into a mission I could not refuse.

  I must have muttered some grudging noise that sounded like assent. Next thing, Ma was declaring that she would not expect me to give my precious time for nothing, while Helena was mouthing at me that in no circumstances could I send my own mother a daily expenses sheet. I felt like a new length of cloth receiving a fuller’s battering.