Lindsey Davis - Nemesis

'No.' Albia was inscrutable. She had made up her mind not to tell me. If Anacrites had seduced or raped her, she would spare me incandescent anger; she would protect Helena, too, from the pain of knowing. But even the fact that Anacrites had lured her into danger gave me motives to pursue him.

'You sure?' Pointless question.

'He was not the same. He had changed – - or at least had stopped hiding what he is really like. You were right about him: he looked lecherous. I decided straight away I must escape. Then I found Claudius Nobilis.'

'Did he lay hands on you?'

'No. He meant to. But Anacrites barged in and said "leave her to me".' Albia shuddered, looking older than her years. 'Repulsive man!'

'Don't you think we are all the same?' I teased, alluding to her opinion of Camillus Aelianus.

To my surprise, Albia smiled sweetly and replied, 'Not quite all of you!'

'So, Flavia Albia, you are leaving home. What are you planning?'

'To live here. Do what you did.'

'Right.'

'No argument?'

'No point. So you want to be an informer? Well, that could work.' I put my head back against the rough surface of the wall, remembering the experience. Part of me was envious, though I hid it. 'Start small. Work for women. Don't accept any job that comes along – - gain a name for being picky, then folks will feel flattered if you take them on. It's a hard life, depressing and dangerous. The rewards are few, you can never relax, and even when you achieve success, your miserable cheating clients will not thank you.'

'I can do this,' Albia insisted. 'I have the proper attitude – the right bitterness. And I have sympathy for desperate people. I have been orphaned, abandoned, starved, neglected, beaten, even in the clutches of a violent pimp. There will be no surprises,' she concluded.

'I see you have convinced yourself! Nothing scares you – - even when it should.' The romantic in me wanted to have faith in her. 'You are too young. You have too much to learn,' I warned, as the father in me took over.

'I have been pushed into it before I'm ready, so it's not ideal,' replied Albia coolly. She had spent several days here, thinking up answers to thwart me. Then, because Helena Justina's teaching had made an impression, she added demurely, 'But I shall have you to teach me, Father.'

My throat went raw. 'First time you ever called me that!'

'Don't get overexcited,' Flavia Albia answered matter-of-factly. 'You have to earn it, if you want it permanent.'

'That's my girl!' I exclaimed proudly.

I stood up, easing my stiffback. I needed to see Glaucus at the gym, get back in shape. Before I left the apartment, I made a few adjustments to the old potted rose trees, pinching off dead wood from spindly branches. 'Professional question, Albia: when you encountered Nobilis – did you notice his eyes?'

She jumped up eagerly. 'Yes! I wanted to tell you – -'

'Save it. Come down to the house tomorrow. It will be a good exercise in moving around Rome unrecognised.'

'What for?'

'Family conference. We need to talk about Anacrites.'

I awoke late. I was alone, Helena's side of the bed long cooled. I could hear the house thrumming with movement and casual noises, everyone going about their business without me, as they must have done while I was absent, as they would do if I stayed dozing. I was the master, but expendable. However, a wet snuffle under the door from Nux waiting patiently outside told me the dog was aware of my homecoming last night.

I let her in, endured a quick greeting (she was a polite dog), then allowed her to jump on the bed, which was her real purpose. The whiskery fright was not allowed on beds or couches; that made no difference. Nux curled up and went to sleep. I washed my face, put a comb through my curls, dived into a favourite tunic. I was ill-shaven, hungry, stiff from travel and subdued. I had no casework I was aware of and would have to look for clients. In most respects I could have been back in the life I once led in Fountain Court. Once again, I felt mournful and bereft of my youth.

Downstairs, slaves saluted me with only mild disdain. A good breakfast and my alert assistants were waiting. My wife came in and kissed me. My children appeared in the doorway, made sure it was me, then ran off back to their games. A buffet slave refilled the bread basket with warm rolls as soon as I took a serving, poured hot water on to honey for me, cut smoked ham slices. The napkin laid upon my lap was fine linen. I drank from a smooth Samian beaker. When I came to rinse my hands again, scented water in a silver bowl was immediately offered to me.

I had forgotten I was rich. Helena saw my reaction; I noticed her amusement. 'Jupiter!'

'You'll get used to it,' she said, smiling.

My new status brought responsibilities. Clients were lined up, awaiting favours shamelessly.

I dealt briskly with Marina, wanting money of course, then ignored a message from my sister Junia about the caupona needing a refurbishment. Helena said there were queries at the auction house, not urgent; I could attend to them when I visited the Saepta. Next came another, much more serious, family problem. The usher (I now required one, it seemed) ushered in Thalia.

She was visibly pregnant, puffing slightly. It had not persuaded her to wear less revealing clothes. The two Camilli, waiting for me to be free for our planned meeting, exchanged startled glances. Arrayed in a few wafts of gauze and long strings of semiprecious beads, Thalia patted the bump that was supposed to be Pa's offspring. 'Not long now, Marcus!'

'How are you feeling?'

'Terrible! The python knows; he's off colour, poor Jason.'

'Still dancing?'

'Still dancing! Are you hoping exertion will bring on a miscarriage?'

'That would be irresponsible.'

'Gods! Money has made you so sanctimonious! – - Now listen, I need to talk to you.'

'Well, make it quick. I'm about to begin a business meeting.'

'Stuff that,' replied Thalia. 'A little child's life is at stake here. We've been let down, Falco, this poor baby and me. I've had words with that scheming shark, Septimus Parvo – your devious father's utterly useless lawyer.'

'He seemed competent.' Thalia's annoyance was cheering me up now.

'You would say that. He tells me he has looked into things further and the will's rotten. It won't hold up. My poor little one has been cheated – and he is not even born yet!'

'I don't know what you mean, Thalia.'

'According to Parvo,' she enunciated with high distaste, 'if a legacy is given to a posthumous infant, the child must be born of a legal marriage.' Thalia was a tall woman of majestic stature; as she rounded on me fiercely, I felt some alarm. 'Geminus said Parvo would sort everything out for me. I know what's gone on here. This is a fiddle. You bastard, Falco – you must have put him up to it!'

Not for the first time since my father died, my first thought was to lay wheat cakes on a divinity's altar and exclaim, Thank you, for my good fortune!

Aulus leaned forward, his face serious. 'Parvo is quite right, if you don't mind me saying so.'

'My brother Aelianus,' Helena told Thalia helpfully. 'He has had legal training.'

'I don't trust him then!' Thalia scoffed. Aulus took it well.

'There can be no doubt, I'm afraid, Thalia.' What an excellent fellow Aulus had turned out to be. 'Didius Favonius remained married to his wife of many years, the mother of his legal children.' Helena may have discussed all this with Aulus. He was a better scholar than we expected, but only with advance warning. He must have looked up the law specifically. 'Everyone at Geminus' funeral saw Junilla Tacita taking her place as the widow. She was acknowledged as such by all those friends, family and business colleagues who knew her deceased husband. Moreover,' Aulus continued relentlessly, 'to become an heir, the child must be referred to in the will itself. I do not believe a codicil will count.'