Lindsey Davis - The Jupiter Myth

'If Britain now attracts speculative barristers, it's all over. Civilisation has come – with its misery and expense.'

'He could be the criminal,' Helena insisted.

'He could indeed. Did he have gold rings made of solid nuggets? Was he protected by large men with cudgels? What's his name?'

'Popillius!'

'I must take a look at him.'

'Should that not be a job for Petronius?'

'Why should he have all the fun? If I think this partygoer looks promising, then I'll shove Petro in the right direction.'

'You know best.'

'Don't be like that.'

There seemed to be no more to say. I confessed that I was deeply weary and must go to bed. Though on the surface we had talked normally, Helena gave no sign that she was joining me.

When I reached the door I turned back and said quietly, 'I have never talked to anyone the way I do with you.' Helena said nothing. I had made it worse. 'I did nothing wrong. I'm sorry if you think I did.'

I had known how she felt. This was when she finally started showing it. 'Well, Falco. The point is, we both know that you might have done.'

I could say nothing. The matter had been settled by her presence. But if Helena had not intervened – who knows?

Alone in bed, for hours I barely slept. Eventually I roused groggily from light slumber and felt sure Helena had crept her way into the room. She had silently occupied a distant chair. Though it came with a footstool, a faint glimmer through the open shutters told me she was bunched up, hugging her knees. By now she must have realised how uncomfortable that was, but when my breathing changed she stopped fidgeting.

Well she was here. But that was unavoidable. We were staying in someone else's house. There were scores of rooms to go off to if you quarrelled with your husband, but also scores of gossipy slaves making forays everywhere. Helena would be embarrassed if anyone should know our current state.

'Come over here.' It sounded more angry than I meant. No answer. Was I surprised? Next time I judged the tone better: 'Come to bed, love… I'll have to come and get you then.'

She would not accept that. Slowly she shuffled over and climbed in. Relieved, I fell asleep momentarily. Luckily I woke again.

'Snuggle up with me.'

'No,' she said, on principle.

With a grunt I rolled over and captured her, folding her in a chaste, fully clothed embrace against my heart. 'This is all over nothing, love.'

Men might argue, such occasions always are. Women would say that arguments over nothing are in fact over everything.

So we lay there, Helena still rigid and resisting. She was right to some extent. Even then as I nursed her through her misery, I was thinking about another woman – so in one sense I did betray her. How could I not remember, though? Chloris and I had dallied in lust and it had ended badly, all before I ever dreamed of meeting anyone like Helena. Had I not then happened to come to Britain, when Helena Justina happened to be over here, she and I never would have met.

I was a man. When I encountered an old girlfriend, I became romantically nostalgic (do women not do this?) But it was Helena I was holding in my arms tonight and I had no wish to change that.

At last I stopped reminiscing. Before I drifted off to sleep, I thought about a woman fondly for a little longer. That time if anyone was betrayed, it was not Helena.

In the morning the fight still lay like heavy wet flock tall around us. Helena rose by herself, made a brisk toilet, and ate breakfast in our room. That was to avoid prying questions at the communal buffet. She offered me nothing, but left enough on the tray if I wanted it. Sulking, I chose to go down to the dining room.

Maia had obviously heard about Chloris. She was on good form. 'I always thought she was an evil little cow. And now she's in the arena – that's a disgrace. You'd let a woman like that threaten all you have nowadays? So how would you feel, Marcus, if Helena Justina divorced you?'

'Dumb question!' The tray upstairs in private became increasingly alluring; too late. I plucked a roll from a basket and sank my teeth into it.

We were hardly heading for divorce. Mind you, all Helena and I had done in order to call ourselves married was to choose to live together; to end it, she only had to leave me. Roman law is extremely reasonable on these issues. Unreasonably so, many a client of mine would say.

My sister smirked self-righteously. 'I thought we were shot of that schemer years ago. Don't tell Mother that you saw her.'

'Get this straight. Chloris is past history, Maia. I'll leave you to break the news to Ma about your slimy new beau, the music lover!'

'He has invited me to his villa, down river.'

'What a terrible chatting-up line.'

'I may go.'

'You may regret it then.'

Helena entered the dining room, smart and ready for action. No glance passed between her and Maia; some women plunge into heart-searching with their girlfriends when they are distressed, but Helena shunned feminine conspiracy. That was why I liked her. She brought her problems to me: even when I was the problem. 'I have been thinking, Marcus. You ought to talk to Albia about how Verovolcus died. She was always hanging round bars; she may have seen something.'

'Good idea.'

'I shall come too.'

I knew when to accept matrimonial help. 'That will be nice.'

'Don't fool yourself,' she said, ever honest. 'I am watching what you are up to.'

I quirked up an eyebrow playfully. 'All day?'

'All day,' she confirmed soberly.

I smiled and turned back to Maia. 'By the way, I saw Petro yesterday.'

'Lucky you.'

I could tell that Helena thought I had just made it more likely my sister would be wafting down the River Thamesis for pastries and heavy seduction attempts at the Norbanus villa.

I now noticed that Maia's son Marius had been sitting under a side table feeding his dog. The look he gave me was inscrutable.

Where was my own dog?

'I gave Nux to Albia to comfort her last night,' Helena said.

'You read my thoughts, Helena. Better face it. We think the same way; we're a pair.'

'Oh I know that!' she roared. It caused consternation among the slaves mopping a corridor. I managed a good kick at their water bucket as we walked past. 'Marcus – try deciding what you want in life, so we can all get on with it.'

I stopped dead and spun her around to face me. The wet tiled floor made her skid slightly and I had to grab her hard. 'I was captured. Nothing happened. Don't waste effort wondering what I might have done. Here I am.'

Helena scowled. 'That's easy to say when you are safe here. What happens when you vanish into the stews and slums?'

'You have to take that on trust.'

'Trusting you is rather tiring, Marcus.'

She did look worn. She had two young children, one still being breast-fed. Our attempt at taking on a nursemaid had been more trouble than not having one. There had been some respite for her here at her aunt's house, where there was practical help, but all the time she knew – indeed I knew too – that we would be going home to Rome soon. Our endlessly demanding children would once again be all ours, and when I went out working she cared for them alone. If anything ever happened to me, Julia and Favonia would be her sole responsibility. Our mothers supported her – whilst causing more stress by bickering with each other. Ultimately, Helena spent a lot of time by herself, wondering where I was and what danger I was in.

Helena was worldly. She knew any man could stray. As soon as she saw Chloris she must have thought my day had come.

I did admit, it must have looked as if I thought that too. I could hardly blame Helena. How was I to foresee that M. Didius Falco, infamous lad about the metropolis, would end up being a good boy?