Lindsey Davis - The Ides of April

"Upstairs?" demanded Morellus, who had known me a few years and rightly saw this as unusual. "What for?"

"What do you think?" scoffed Andronicus. Light from a small oil lamp glinted on his hair and beard as he responded. "This is a bar, they have rooms, customers break off from their meals for playtime."

I felt myself blush. It was routine in bars for sex to accompany the drink, a service usually sold by the waitress, though tired waitresses were often glad if customers just hired the rooms and made their own arrangements.

The Stargazer had never had a waitress and I happened to know that despite various dubious events taking place in its two upstairs rooms, at present they were innocuously rented to a gang of jobbing builders from Gaul. They came to Rome to earn money and worked all hours, mixing concrete at the docks which is heavy labour; when they were here, they lined up like sardines in a trug and slept. Even my aunt said they caused no trouble.

"Listen, Junillus! Did Flavia Albia spend this evening having bedroom fun upstairs?" Morellus made a crude gesture to illustrate. I saw Junillus' gaze waver because he knew I would give him trouble for this but, trying to please everyone, he gravely nodded. "Oh very good!" Morellus groaned, adding to Tiberius that they could never put Junillus in court. "Nice alibi!" he muttered to me. Of course he knew I was perfectly willing to sleep with Andronicus, though would prefer him not to boast in public. Tiberius' disgusted face said he, for one, despised me.

I cannot say my reputation was tarnished, but my dignity was distinctly affronted.

Morellus did make one last pathetic attempt at an enquiry. He leaned suddenly towards me, sniffed at my cloak and announced, "You know, Albia, to an expert you smell distinctly of smoke!"

Once again Andronicus produced a neat excuse. "That will be because she has been standing next to the grilling meat for hours."

"Meat!" growled Morellus to the aediles man, suggesting this at least was a reason to arrest someone, but Tiberius just shook his head wearily. He had no heart for bar-food laws tonight. The Stargazer was safe.

Junillus, who routinely used his deafness to assist in over-selling, pretended he thought "Meat" was a food order, so he started laying out dishes of mutton morsels on beds of lettuce. The vigiles Morellus had brought with him reached for these, of course. Before long, drinks were being ordered. It was hard to tell that any law and order issue had been under debate. Even Tiberius was pecking at the mutton, sprinkling the charred cubes with oil to make them palatable, while he slowly unwound the bandage from his hand as if it was hurting him. Tonight's bandage was another perfect white one to match his tunic; coordinating his accessories seemed an unlikely touch. Anyone would take him for a toff with a wardrobe keeper.

Morellus and his men looked at the wound and winced. The scars each side of the runner's hand were weeping, red and angry; the man himself looked a little feverish. The vigiles all came to inspect him like experts. Someone was sent to fetch their medical orderly with mastic salves.

Andronicus and I were standing off to one side; it seemed best not to leave too precipitously, after we had made so much of our having been at the bar for the long term. He gave me a sideways look. "Would you happen to know how he acquired that?"

"Why are you asking me? I'm not his mother. What does he say?

"He leant on a nail."

I chuckled. "Really? Has he always been an idiot?"

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Junillus slyly tidy away the skewers on which he had kebabbed that night's titbits. My young cousin was needle-sharp. I loved that boy, and my sour feeling about him being persuaded to lie renewed itself.

Not long afterwards I made my way out through the kitchen to what passed for a customers' lavatory. As I went I winked at Junillus. He flashed me thanks for bringing so much custom. Behind me, the bar was humming.

The latrine was a health hazard in a lean-to shack at the back. Most men ignored it and peed in the alley, so anyone in open sandals needed to step carefully. I did what I had to, then slipped away from the Stargazer without saying goodbye to anyone. The rest were now all men together and I had felt excluded. Even Andronicus was guffawing over some low joke with one of the vigiles. He seemed unlikely to notice I had gone.

I went home.

As I entered the Eagle Building, I caught a glimpse of some animal slinking away on the far side of the yard. It could have been a dog or cat. I hoped it was the vixen I had once watched bring her four cubs to exercise. She had lain under the steps on guard, looking exhausted by motherhood, while her boisterous offspring spent a good hour playing tag together, jumping on and off old washtubs delightedly.

I told Rodan to lock up the grille and not allow anyone to come in tonight unless they lived here. "Does that include friends of yours?"

"I have no friends, Rodan." This was a myth I liked to project: informers are moody, lonely folk. What informer can expect clients, if she is known for frittering away her time in a cheery social circle? "If one of my lovers turns up, I'm not in the mood. Snubbing him will just make him more keen tomorrow, won't it?"

"What lovers?" asked Rodan, looking puzzled.

Later, and not unexpectedly, I did hear Andronicus calling out. He sounded none too sober. Despite him rattling at the grille, Rodan must have been snoring on his pallet and never answered. One way and another, I was not ready for a first night of passion. Setting free the foxes together had thrilled me, but I was piqued by events at the Stargazer. I buried my head under the pillow until what passed for silence fell on Fountain Court.

I knew I had acted against my own interest. That surely proved I was in love, or at least in lust. Tiffs and tussles are mandatory. I was old enough to know how it works. This is how you test whether an affair is serious, as it provides the meat and muscle for the anguished poetry. You have to have pointless separations in the mating process, don't you?

I awoke knowing it was now twelve days into April, which the Roman calendar describes as the day before the Ides. This was the start of the Cerialia festival. The organisers would hold sacrifices at the temple and a great horse race in the Circus; tonight would end with the ritual of the burning foxes. There was no longer much I could do about that.

I tried. I never give up.

I walked about the Aventine, searching for traps. They had placed more, presumably because they were now desperate. Each trap had a member of the vigiles on guard unobtrusively nearby, pretending to drink at a bar counter or leaning against a wall and using a twig as a toothpick.

I was returning home despondently when I met Morellus. He bore me no hard feelings for yesterday, if only because he was too lazy to want to create a charge-sheet. He was convinced of my guilt, but realistic; without witnesses, his case was weak-not that that counted too much in a Roman court. He knew I could call on good people to speak for me, so whatever theatricals a prosecutor came up with, once my defence heavies began their sweet-talk, the case would be thrown out. My lawyers were the kind who would then demand remuneration for the "false" accusation… Of course they would. The people I knew specialised in compensation claims.

He was so forgiving towards me this morning, I even wondered if Morellus, or maybe his wife, sympathised with my feelings about the fox ritual. Conceivably, an urban couple might take no joy in horrible old traditions that were rooted in agricultural prehistory. But I would not push it with a vigiles officer. When challenged about any aspect of religion, most people go along with the establishment.