Lindsey Davis - The Accusers

'I stayed with a friend.'

'Girlfriend?'

He blushed. 'My ex-wife, actually.' That was something new.

'You stayed the night with your ex?' Aelianus laughed mockingly.

'We were talking -'

'I bet you were!'

'She's intelligent. I value her thoughts. I told her I quit Silius. The conversation wandered into major issues of life and ethics, then you know how it is…' He tailed off, embarrassed.

'Messy. Either dump her, or get back with her properly,' I advised, not being unfriendly. He shrugged, looking vague. 'Warn Birdy too,' I said. 'Tell him he needs to live chastely to secure his rights. No late night partying.'

'Nothing,' suggested Helena, 'more sensational than an early evening song recital, organised by elderly ladies who knew his grandmother.'

'The same for you.' I winked at Honorius.

'You are joking.'

'No. You can do a lot of thinking, while listening to some bore with a harp and a fractured voice, in a venue where the wine has been watered three times to make it go further. You too, Aelianus!'

Despairing of my views on a decent social life, the two young men departed, seen off the premises by Nux.

That was fine. It left me alone with Helena, whose quietness I could tolerate even when a headache raged. We both settled peacefully, not speaking for a while.

'What are you holding back, Marcus?' When I looked at her quizzically, she gave one of her soft smiles. 'I can always tell.'

'You've never found out about my wild fling with that girl from the florist on Cumin Alley.'

'Not a problem. She'll ditch you,' Helena returned. She was game, though I thought she coloured slightly.

'Saffia,' I said, after a moment. 'She's next on my list but I don't want those two doing the interview.'

'Shall I see her?' As I hesitated, Helena laughed quietly. She rose and came to me, biffing me playfully. 'Oh, you want to do it yourself! It can wait. You'll be stronger tomorrow, I think.'

The bedroom door creaked open. Julia Junilla, our elder daughter had a new game: looking in at her wounded father, frightening herself at the grim sight, then running off, screaming. Helena went as far as the door, which she closed, latching it. All parents of small children should ensure they have a bedroom hook that only works from inside.

She came back to me, kicking off her shoes and squeezing next to me on the bed. I put an arm around her, feeling affectionate. My hand found its way up her sleeve. She was wearing a dark blue dress; she looked good in it, though she would look even better out of it. With my free hand I unhooked her gold ear-rings and tossed them gently on to the bedside table. Helena's great dark eyes appraised my intentions; she had seen me ill in bed before. I wasn't dead. I only had one wounded eye. Other parts of me still worked. In any case, some accomplishments of mine could be put into action even with my eyes closed.

Smuffling noises announced trouble. I deduced that Nux was now lying outside in the corridor, full length, with her paws against the door and her nose pressed to the gap at the bottom. I could also detect that little Julia must be prone alongside, bottom up, mimicking Nux. They could not get in. However, more competent noises told me that someone else, someone adept at domestic burglary, was working on the latch with a piece of wire expertly poked through the side crack in the door. We were about to be invaded. I had seen enough children rescued from cupboards to know who was coming to get me.

Helena was sitting in her chair, fully clad and innocent, when the door opened. Nux shot in and hurled herself on to the bed. Julia was being gripped under a firm arm.

'Hello, Ma.'

'This door sticks!' exclaimed my mother, as if she assumed I had not noticed the problem. 'What can you expect – in this house?' Her disapproving sniff referred to my father, who had owned the house previously. Then she looked me over. 'What happened to you, then?'

'I'm fine.'

'I asked what happened. Still, I see you survived.' Helena had quietly relinquished her chair, taking Julia. Julia tried the screaming-at-father trick, though in the presence of her awesome grandma she moderated the noise. My curly-haired daughter had a fine sense of who would tolerate nonsense. Ma perched in the wicker chair with a scowl like a particularly anti-social goddess of retribution.

'How are you, dear mother? How is Aristagoras?'

'Who?' asked Ma, as she always did when anyone enquired after her eighty-year-old boyfriend. I backed off. I never had the nerve to ascertain exactly what was going on. My father had asked me to find out – which was another reason not to. 'I heard there was trouble,' Ma sniffed. 'I see that's right.'

'Misunderstanding with some men who don't like my current workload… Who told you?' I assumed it was Petronius, then I remembered that Maia and Petro were not speaking to Ma. Whereas a sane mother might be expected to feel glad that her troubled daughter had now found stability with a good-looking, salaried officer who adored her, mine kept passing remarks about Petro's estranged wife not deserving to lose him…

'Anacrites never forgets his poor old landlady.'

'Bull's bollocks!'

'I don't know who taught you to be so crude.' Ma sniffed, implying it was Pa.

Anacrites was the Chief Spy – a one-time follower of my sister Maia, who had turned violent when she dumped him. Even before that he was my long-term enemy – but he had been Ma's lodger and she thought him little lower than a Sun God in a twinkly diadem. I had other views about where his rays shone.

I ignored the low hint that Anacrites, who was not even family, paid more attention to my mother than I did. 'I did not want that bastard to know I was back in Rome.'

'Don't get your name everywhere in the Forum then. He says you are a byword for stupidity, because of this law work.'

'He thinks that only because I'm bringing justice to the innocent – a concept far too noble for Anacrites.'

Faced with a son who had noble motives, Ma lost interest. She lowered her voice. 'He knows Maia is back too.' She was worried, seeking reassurance. I sighed. I had none to give. If the Spy still harboured resentment, Maia was in for trouble.

Helena asked, 'Does Anacrites know about Maia and Petronius?'

'He asked me,' said Ma.

'And you told him!' I scoffed.

'He knew anyway.'

Another problem.

Helena passed Julia back to my mother. 'Junilla Tacita, if you could stay for a while and keep an eye on my brood, I should be very glad. My brother's wife is having her baby and I would appreciate a chance to go over there.'

Thrilled to be asked, Ma let a put-upon look pass over her features for a suitable moment as she pinned down Julia's plump thrashing legs. 'If they need a nurse, you have the right candidate sitting right downstairs. I was talking to her earlier – well, someone had to show some civility; poor dear, she's quite abandoned, all by herself in the hall -'

'Who, Ma?'

'Ursulina Prisca. She seems a very nice woman,' Ma told me pointedly.

'Quintus is looking after her woes.' Helena was searching for her ear-rings. My mother's keen black eyes had spotted the search and noted that the jewellery had ended up on the table. She sensed something private, though in the more interesting quest to set us straight about Ursulina, it passed without comment.

'Well, your Quintus needs to sort out that pig-farm business before the cousin ruins everything. Tell him the assessment of the walnut crop sounds very low to me.' Ma and Ursulina Prisca must have found each other kindred spirits. 'The valuer is a liability, and if you want my advice -'Which we didn't. 'Which of course will not be welcome as I'm just an old lady who brought up seven children single-handed, and I'm supposed to have no knowledge of the world -'