Lindsey Davis - The Ides of April

While I was out this morning, somebody had been in my apartment.

I knew who it was, and why he had come. He was looking for me.

I would be his next victim.

The doors to my bedroom were closed. Before real fright set in, I crossed with angry strides and threw them open. It could have been a foolish move, but nobody was in the room.

Panic hit me. I left the apartment by the main door, which I generally never used. Clambering over the flower troughs, I ran breathlessly downstairs. Rodan had reappeared from somewhere and was talking to two of the vigiles. It was no surprise when they said they had been sent to warn me: Andronicus must have sensed he was about to be arrested. He had escaped from the aedile's house.

When I reported that he had already been here, I was told to wait in the courtyard with the second paramilitary: Rufinianus. I knew him. He wrote the notes that time I had the other intruder, the one I stuck with a kitchen knife. Rufinianus was hopeless, yet his presence was comforting. The other man took Rodan. They hurried upstairs, first to search the office, then to work their way down, floor by floor, checking the landings and every other apartment. Rodan would open up the empty ones with the pass-keys my father had reluctantly left with him; if nobody answered at the rooms that were occupied, I knew he would push in the door by leaning on it. If tenants complained, he charged them for having the damage mended.

While I waited with Rufinianus, the lamp boy turned up for his evening duties, lugging a big round amphora of Spanish olive oil. I told him to use every light we had, filling them until they were brimming so they would last as long as possible. He looked amazed at the change of policy, but slowly set about it. The common areas eventually blazed more than stairs and open spaces ever do in tenements, to the shock of the inhabitants.

When the whole building had been searched, we knew Andronicus was nowhere there. I learned that Morellus had started on duty early and was leading the hunt. Rufinianus was despatched to bring him up to date about my unwelcome visitation.

"Tell him I lost another needle."

Rodan locked the grille. I was informed that on his return, Rufinianus was to remain in the courtyard. There would be guards all night. For added reassurance, the other man took me to my apartment and walked me through it, re-checking. He gave me the usual sombre vigiles advice to members of the public about keeping shutters closed, locking my doors and admitting nobody I did not know. I reckon he realised that for once somebody was actually listening. He tolerated my quip that what I really had to fear was somebody I did know, then he made a to-do of checking all the hooks and hinges on the window shutters. It made him feel better. Nothing would console me. Once I was left alone, I admit I sat on my couch, trembling.

I had overheard strict security instructions being given to all the other tenants on the first and second floors. Such special attention is never as reassuring as the authorities intend; it makes everybody more keyed up. Not that you ever believe them if, on the other hand, the vigiles assure you there is nothing to worry about. The words, "Everything is normal; please go back indoors" immediately make a neighbourhood jumpy.

I had asked if a message could be taken to my father's house, about protecting Postumus. "Oh yes, he killed a boy before, I believe." Clearly the vigiles on the ground had now been briefed in detail.

When Rufinianus did come back from seeing Morellus, he had two other troops with him. I took down hot drinks like a good householder. They were very respectful. I think their unusual good manners were what I found most alarming.

There was nothing else I could do. I lay on my bed all night, fully dressed and generally not sleeping.

I did drift off eventually. I awoke later than usual. A strip-wash and change of clothing helped make me feel more myself. I managed to drink posca, and ate anything I could find: a nub of loaf, a slice of preserved meat, a handful of wizened grapes.

I refused to touch the two apples; they would be sitting on that dish until they went mouldy.

Although I felt as if I was in mourning, I put on earrings I was fond of (my Etruscan filigree rosettes) and a coloured scarf. I had chosen sensible shoes and a sturdy tunic in heavy-weave linen, then speared up my hair very securely with more bone pins than usual. I was dressing for action today.

A member of the day-shift who was a stranger to me had relieved Rufinianus. He allowed me to leave the building, though with stupid reluctance considering I said I was going to consult Morellus at the station house. The man came with me; I deliberately lost him at the end of Fountain Court. I went to the station house by myself. I refused to be guarded by nincompoops. If that was the best the public budget could afford, I would rather not be guarded at all.

It was so early that on the streets I could see anybody coming towards me or hear anyone behind. Behind was what I had to fear with Andronicus. I walked in the middle of the road, wherever the road was wide enough to provide that extra security, not passing too close to any dark door- or stairways. Occasional stray dogs yawned at me. Sad public slaves swept pavements and I saw a long-faced burglar on his way home, disappointed and empty-handed. A couple of bars that stayed open all night during festivals were bestrewn with out-of-town visitors who were now devastated by their hangovers. One who looked as if he might not revive was being stretchered away on a builder's pallet.

Morellus was in his enquiry room, collecting in reports. Andronicus had not been spotted.

What I did learn was that Venusia had been brought in from Aricia last night. Late as it was, a covered litter had arrived subsequently, from which descended a rude woman who had a letter Morellus could not refuse, authorising her to see the prisoner.

"Laia Gratiana? What a pain!" I sympathised.

"Well, I tried to stop the lads from scratching their itchy bum-cracks in front of her, but Hades, this is a working barracks, Albia! What did she expect?"

"What happened?"

"I was not party to the discussion. It was short and nasty, judging by the prisoner's state afterwards. I had to get the medico to dose her with a poppy cordial-which she, of course, eagerly took to. Madame herself emerged from the cell looking like a goddess of war, saying she had obtained everything we needed."

"Being Laia, she made it sound as though any idiot could have done the questioning and saved her the trouble?"

"Right! She obviously wasn't going to tell me, Albia, because I am just the man charged with tracking down the perpetrator, so that would be too bloody helpful, wouldn't it? She swanned away, ordering me to inform the aedile she will supply the details at his office, today mid-morning. Lucky him! Nobody was to go to her house to bother her."

"I could try," I volunteered, though not looking forward to it.

"Don't waste effort," Morellus counselled me. "What's another hour or two?"

"Long enough for Andronicus to kill again."

"Well that should be all right then. It's you our friend is after next, and you're here, aren't you, darling?"

I could not even raise the energy to order him not to be patronising.

"All safe and snug with me in my private office," mused Morellus. "We could have a bunk-up, if you have time to kill?" The flabby great lump was just raising my spirits by offering.

In lieu of bunking up, he took me out to an oily foodhall where the vigiles had meals when they went off duty, sat me on a bench in the corner behind a fortress-wall of large men, and gave me a second breakfast, this one of elephantine size. He called it the full Roman. It had all the refinement and quantity of a meal barbarians would devour before riding out on a three-day rampage.