"That he trots back to the Sacred Grove this morning and pretends to be making official enquiries."

"So you are are helping him!" helping him!"

Well, I had said he could use my name as a cover, if it persuaded people to take him seriously. "It's up to him. If he wants to know the truth about his mysterious corpse, he has plenty of free time and a good reason to be asking questions. He'll have to find all the attendants who were working at the pavilion yesterday, and speak to the priests at the various temples; that will take him all day and prove whether he's serious. I bet he discovers nothing. The experience will douse his ardor and perhaps be the end of it."

"My brother can be very stubborn," warned Helena in a dark voice.

As far as I was concerned, Aelia.n.u.s could play with this curiosity as long as he liked. I might even give him a steer or two. But the swift removal of the body and the secrecy with which it had happened looked ominous. If the Arval Brothers had decided to hush up the incident, now that I was loosely attached to the state religion myself, I had to hold back. Once I had been a fearless, interfering informer; now the d.a.m.ned Establishment had bought me off. I had held this post for just two days, and already I was cursing it.

"What can he do then?" insisted my darling, being stubborn herself.

"Aelia.n.u.s ought to present himself at the house of the Arval Master when the Brothers start a.s.sembling for today's feast. He should declare what he saw, making his involvement known at least to their chief, and if possible to the whole group. While he is there, he must keep his eyes open. If he notices any particular Brother is missing, he can deduce the ident.i.ty of the corpse."

Helena Justina seemed satisfied. In fact, she seemed to believe I was helping her brother rather more than I had agreed to do.

"That's wonderful, Marcus. So while Justinus is away in Spain, you have somebody to work as your partner after all!"

I shook my head, but she just laughed at me. Before we left the Arx, we shared a moment surveying the city. This was Rome. We were home again.

If anyone has heard that a procurator attached to the cult of Juno once kissed a girl on the sacred ground of the Auguraculum, it's just winged rumor flitting around with her usual distaste for truth. Anyway, legate, that girl was my wife.

XI.

MAIA WAS BEING far too careful to look normal. She shrank from being hugged as if it seemed an unnecessary display. She was pale but neatly dressed as always, with her dark curls combed back from her face. She wore a dress that I knew was her favorite. She had taken trouble to rea.s.sure us; she was certainly making an effort. But her mouth was tight.

With her came all her four children, and when I took them into the other room to show them my goslings, Maia's eyes followed her little ones overprotectively. Always well behaved, they were even quieter than before, all intelligent enough to know their father's death would have drastic consequences, the elder ones secretly shouldering responsibility for bringing everyone through the tragedy.

"They make a lot of mess," said Ancus, now six, as he carefully handled one of the fledglings. He looked very worried. "What are you supposed to do about clearing up?"

"I have to find them somewhere else to live, Ancus. I made arrangements this morning for them to go to Lenia's laundry over the road. They can waddle around the yard and forage in the back lane."

"But don't they belong on the Arx?"

"There are enough geese on the Arx at the moment."

"So you can keep the spare ones?"

"Perk of my new job."

Ancus noted that gravely, seeing it as a career inducement.

"It doesn't seem a good idea to have geese p.o.o.ping in a place where clothes are being nicely cleaned," remarked Cloelia. She was about seven or eight, and believed herself frightened of creatures, but it had taken her no time to get the hang of shoveling their porridge and mashed nasturtium leaves into my charges. The practical one.

Lenia's laundry had never been salubrious. I only went there because it was handy and she pretended she gave me cheap rates. She was hoping that geese would guard the laundry from the evil attentions of her recently divorced husband. Having failed to wrest the property from her, Smaractus was trying to drive her out of it. "Lenia hasn't thought of the mess, so we won't mention it. Do you want to help me take them to their new home?"

We all went in procession, carrying the little birds, their basket, and their porridge pot. This gave Helena and Maia a chance to talk alone.

"We'd like the pot back eventually," I told Lenia.

She threw back her ghastly fox-red hair and croaked, "Not too soon, Falco! I'll be wanting the pot for cooking these geese when they get big enough."

"She doesn't mean that, does she?" Ancus whispered in my ear nervously. Knowing Lenia, I was pretty sure she did.

"Of course not, Ancus. They are sacred. Lenia will be looking after them very carefully."

Lenia laughed.

We found Petronius outside the laundry, on his lunch break, so he invited himself to join us, bringing a melon as his entrance fee.

Helena gave me a private scowl when she saw Petro, but it seemed to me he would be a great help in jollying Maia. His idea of doing this was to wink at her and leer, "The new widow's looking spruce!"

"Grow up," said Maia. Her gaze followed Cloelia, who was handing out food bowls rather precariously. "And that does not mean you can drive me mad being nice to me. Just act normally!"

"Whoops. I thought you'd be sick of normal people murmuring 'However will you cope?' You will, don't worry."

My sister gave him a tart look. "Is it true what I hear--that Arria Silvia and her potted-food man have decamped to live in Ostia?"

Petronius was milder than I had expected as he confirmed this new disaster in his own life. "Apparently, the gelatinous clown reckons there is a great market for his ghastly produce on the quays. And yes, Silvia has taken my daughters. And no, I do not expect to see the girls more than once a year in future."

"I am sorry," commented Maia briefly. We all knew he would miss his daughters; but at least he would be there if they really needed him. Her children could no longer say the same about their father.

Petronius, who had installed himself on a bench at the table, stretched his long legs in front of him, leaned back, folded his arms, and returned quietly, "Sole purpose of presenting myself--to give you somebody else to feel sorry for."

Maia, who thought Petro an even worse scoundrel than me, took it well, at least for her: "Petronius and Falco: always the boys who had to be different. Now listen carefully, you two. The official set speech runs like this: My husband was a ne'er-do-well whose death may turn out to be the best thing that happened to me; if I want anything I have only to ask--though of course it means don't ask for anything that requires money or time, or causes embarra.s.sment; most important, you have to tell me that I am still young and attractive--all right, you can say 'fairly attractive'--and that somebody else will soon turn up to take Famia's place."

Petronius Longus lifted Rhea, the silent three-year-old, onto his lap and started filling her bowl for her. He had been a good father, and Rhea accepted him trustingly. "Take Famia's place in being a ne'er-do-well, is that it?"

"What else?" said Maia, grudgingly allowing herself a half smile.

"Has enough time pa.s.sed for us to tell you that you should never have married him?"

"No, Petro."

"Right. We'll keep that one in reserve."

"Don't worry; I can dwell on it for myself. . . . Isnt it rich--how eagerly people want to tell you that the person you chose was not worth it! As if you were not already wondering what life was for, and why you seem to have wasted half of it! All, of course, preceded by 'I feel I have to say this, Maia!' So thoughtful!"

"You have to remember," Petronius advised in a dark voice, like one who knew, "that it all seemed to be what you wanted, at the time."

Helena had been placing various serving dishes on the table; now she joined in, taking up their ironic tone. "I'm sure there must be plenty of pious souls explaining that you have four beautiful children who will be your consolation, Maia? And that what you must do is devote yourself to them?"

"But not let myself go!" Maia growled. "'In case something comes along.' Meaning, oh Juno, let's hope Maia fixes herself up quickly with a new man, so we don't have to worry about her for too long."

"Your words have a horrible resonance of Allia and Galla," I commented, referring to two of our elder sisters, who were particular mistresses of tact. "And does that mean," I asked her hollowly, "that our mother has started plaguing you to be nice to poor Anacrites?"

This time Maia snapped. "Oh, don't be so ridiculous! Marcus darling, mother would never do that. She has already been warning me not to bat my eyelids that way because Anacrites is far too good for me--"

It was at this point that her control gave way and she started to cry. Helena went and held her while Petro and I distracted the children. I glared at him; he shrugged unrepentantly. Perhaps he was right. It was good for her to let go. Perhaps I was just annoyed with him for achieving it with cra.s.s remarks today where I had earlier failed.

Eventually Maia stopped weeping into Helena's girdle and dried her face on her own stole. She reached for Cloelia and Ancus and held one in each arm. Over their heads, she looked at me. The strain was showing now. "That's better. Marcus, I have a confession. When you first told me what had happened I had an angry turn and poured every drop of wine we had in the house down the drain outside. . . ." She forced a wan smile "Big brother, if you have any that's fit to offer, I would like a drink with my lunch."

XII.

ONCE EVERYONE HAD eaten, I waited to broach the subject of Maia's visit to the Palace to meet the fabulous Queen Berenice. I suggested that the children should take Nux for a walk in Fountain Court. Obediently they let themselves be shooed off, though since they were Maia's outspoken brood, they all knew what was happening. "The grown-ups want to talk about things we are not to overhear."

I had attached a rope to Nux's collar. When I gave the end of it to Marius, the nine-year-old eldest, he asked me anxiously, "Is your dog likely to run away and get lost?"

"No, Marius. Nux won't ever get lost. We spoil her and overfeed her and pet her far too much. The rope is so that if you you get lost, Nux will drag you safely back." get lost, Nux will drag you safely back."

We were on the streetside landing, out of earshot of his mother. Encouraged by this shared joke, Marius suddenly tugged my arm and confided what must have been bothering him: "Uncle Marcus, if there is no money now, do you think I shall have to stop going to school?"

He wanted to be a rhetoric teacher, or so he had decided a couple of years ago. It might happen, or he might end up ranching cows. I knelt down and gave him a strong hug. "Marius, I promise you that when the next term's fees are due they will be found."

He accepted the rea.s.surance though he still looked anxious. "I hope you didn't mind me asking."

"No. I realize your mother has probably said 'Don't go bothering Uncle Marcus.' "

The boy grinned shyly. "Oh, we don't always do what Mama says. Today her orders were 'Make sure you keep telling them how lovely their baby is--and don't complain if Uncle Marcus insists that we all have some out of his awful old amphora of Spanish fish pickle.'"

"So Ancus and you pulled faces and refused even a taste?"

"Yes, but we do think your baby is nicer than the one Aunt Junia has."

I could tell Marius believed he had to be the man of their household now. I would have to stop that. It could cripple his childhood. At the very least, Maia needed her money worries ended, even if it meant dragging a.s.sistance out of Pa.

I returned thoughtfully to the others. Helena had been making enquiries without waiting for me. "Marcus, listen to this: Cloelia's name has been entered in the Vestal Virgins' lottery."

I swore, more out of surprise than rudeness. Petronius added a lewd comment.

"Don't blame me," answered Maia, with a heavy sigh. "Famia put her forward before he left for Africa."

"Well, he never told me, or I'd have said he was an idiot. How old is she?"

"Eight. He never told me either," Maia returned wearily. "Not until it was too late and Cloelia had convinced herself it's a wonderful idea."

"She's barred," Petronius told us, shaking his head. "I went through this business with my girls; they were all crazy to be entered until I had to insist that as a father of three I could exempt them from the lottery. It's wicked," he complained. "Six Vestals; they serve for thirty years and replacements are called for, on average, every five years. That fills Rome with dreamy little la.s.ses, all desperately wanting to be the chosen one."

"I wonder why?" retorted Helena dryly. "Can they really all think how wonderful it would be to ride in a carriage, to have even consuls give way to them, to sit in the best seats in the theaters, to be revered throughout the Empire? All in return for a few light duties carrying waterpots and blowing up the Sacred Fire . . ."

Petro turned to Maia. "Famia had the three children let out--"

"I know, I know," Maia groaned. "He only did this because he was such an awkward cuss. Even if Cloelia were chosen, it would be impossible anyway, now her father has been killed. A new Virgin must have both parents living. It's just one more upsetting consequence that I have to explain to my children--"

"Don't," said Helena. Her tone was crisp. "Tell the College of Pontiffs, so they can withdraw her. Just let Cloelia think somebody else has won the lottery by chance."

"And believe me, there was never any doubt that somebody else will!" Maia muttered, now sounding annoyed.

She settled down and told us the story.

"My wonderful husband decided that if plebeians really are eligible, the honor of becoming a Vestal was just right for our eldest daughter. He did not consult me--probably because he knew what I would say." It was was supposed to be an honor, one that brought enormous respect to the girl during the thirty years she held the office, but Maia was not the kind of mother who would hand over a young, unformed child into the control of an inst.i.tution. Her family was taught to respect Rome and its traditions--but to avoid daft schemes like devoting their lives to the state. "So I am stuck with pretending it's a grand idea. I have Cloelia constantly overexcited, the others secretly jealous of her receiving so much attention, Ma furious, Famia not even in the country to help me cope wth it. . . ." supposed to be an honor, one that brought enormous respect to the girl during the thirty years she held the office, but Maia was not the kind of mother who would hand over a young, unformed child into the control of an inst.i.tution. Her family was taught to respect Rome and its traditions--but to avoid daft schemes like devoting their lives to the state. "So I am stuck with pretending it's a grand idea. I have Cloelia constantly overexcited, the others secretly jealous of her receiving so much attention, Ma furious, Famia not even in the country to help me cope wth it. . . ."

She fell silent. Petronius mused wickedly, "I know we can a.s.sume the little darlings are virgins when the Pontifex first accepts them, but how can anyone tell that the pretty things stay chaste? Do they have to submit to ritual testing once a week?"

"Lucius Petronius," Helena suggested, "don't you have work to return to this afternoon?"

Petro leaned his elbow on the table with a grin. "Helena Justina, talking about virgins is much more interesting."

"You surprise me. But we are talking about would-be Virgins--which is not the same thing."

"One virgin too many, in the case of Maia's Cloelia!" He was determined to cause trouble today. I would not have minded, but I foresaw that Helena would blame me.

I intervened. "So tell us about the luscious Berenice. She's no virgin, and that's a certainty."

"Ah well," said Maia. "She's definitely very beautiful--if you like that style." She did not say what style it was, and this time both Petronius and I kept mum. "If I had an exotic face and a small legion of hairdressers, I wouldn't care if my reputation was slightly soiled."

"It would not be," I a.s.sured her. "Berenice is carrying the slur that she married her own uncle. You would never do that with Uncles Fabius or Junius!"

My mother's two brothers were farm clods with notoriously odd habits, and, like me, Maia had no patience with their eccentricities. "I suppose if the Queen's uncle was as mad as ours are, we should feel some sympathy," she said. "Anyway, the reason I had to go to the Palace was that all the little charmers whose names are in the urn to become Vestals, and all of us suffering mothers, were invited to a reception for t.i.tus Caesar's lady friend. This was set up as an occasion where the female population of Rome would welcome the lovely one into our midst. But I imagine something formal is always arranged by those in charge of the lottery, so the little girls can be inspected and unsuitable ones weeded out."

"Of course it is blasphemous to say this." Helena smiled.

"Wash my mouth out!" Maia breathed. "One of the Vestals was very obviously present anyway."

"Austerely observing?"

"Not too austere; it was one of the younger ones. Constantia." Maia paused, but if she had been thinking up an insult she refrained. "Anyway, if anyone wants to place bets, I soon had the form book sorted--it's so b.l.o.o.d.y obvious what the result will be, the rest of us could just have gone home straightaway. We all trooped up at the appointed time, and natural groups formed at once, according to our cla.s.s. All the mothers were introduced to the ravishing royalty--yes, Marcus and Petro, you would call her ravishing, though I thought her a bit cold--"

"Nervous." Helena pretended to defend the Queen. "Probably afraid she may be shouldered out."

"I wonder why! As if by chance," Maia said, sneering, "she ended up surrounded on her dais by the mothers of patrician rank, while the rest of us talked among ourselves. And at the same time, one little girl had been selected to present the Queen with a chaplet of roses, which meant that little brat was cuddled on the silken lap of Berenice for half the afternoon, while Constantia--the Vestal Virgin--sat alongside. Those of us from less fortunate areas of life were struck by a sudden mysterious intuition as to which name will surface when the Pontifex dunks in the lottery urn."

"This name would not be Gaia Laelia?" asked Helena.

Maia rolled her eyes. "Dear G.o.ds, sweetheart! I never cease to be amazed at how you and my brother are at the forefront of the gossip! You have only been back in the city three days, and you know everything everything!"