Lindsey Davis - A dying light in Corduba

As I rather expected I learned nothing else that helped my mission, only that the town house of the Annaei covered two floors, was exquisite though slightly old- fashioned in decor, and possessed every amenity. I found a large number of beautifully appointed bedrooms, some occupied, though not by people who wanted my staid company. Becoming morose, I wandered down a staircase, stepping over various young ladies without partners who were sitting on the marble treads getting piles while they bemoaned the stupidity of Corduban boys. I concurred with their view, though perhaps not for the same reasons; what's more, I had my doubts about some of the girls.

The ground floor comprised the normal public rooms and peristyles of a large, showy home. The rude huts of their forefathers had been transformed by the modern Annaei into high temples where they could act as patrons to the less well-off. It was meant to impress; I allowed it a few astonished gasps.

There was a full bath-house suite, where some luckier young ladies were being repeatedly thrown by young men into the heated swimming pool; they squealed a lot then struggled out and ran back to be thrown in again. No one had drowned yet. In the attached ball-park a lively group thought it good fun to dress up a naimygoat in a garland of flowers and the robes which the important householder wore when he officiated as a priest. I greeted them serenely, then passed on into the covered arcade which led to the garden area.

This was more peaceful, apart from occasional troops of youths who galloped through it in a jiggling human daisy- chain. Turning away from the main terrace, where the merrymaking among the topiary looked more lewd than I could contemplate, I was heading for an ivy-covered gazebo, lit by torches. There were two figures conversing; they looked rather like Optatus and the gracious Aelia, sister of our three jolly hosts. Before I could reach them I was stopped by a pair who were stock-still on the gravel path, locked in a desperate, motionless embrace. They were about sixteen; she thought she might be losing him, whereas he held her with the calm, reassuring air of a faithless swain who knew it had already happened.

Touched, I started doubling back to avoid disturbing their poignant and ultimately pointless idyll. Then I bumped into Marmarides. He was coming to find me to ask permission to borrow the carriage; he had become embroiled with a group of young creatures who were fascinated by his African appearance. Just by asking him the question, I had embroiled myself too: 'I suppose they want to know about your Aethiopian potency!' He looked embarrassed but did not deny that his female admirers had the usual curiosity about his personal equipment. 'Does this happen to you often?'

'Oh, all the time, Falco! My master Stertius lives in terror he'll be called to account when some citizen complains that I'm responsible for his lady having a dark child. The only reason I was allowed to come with you is that he reckoned yours was long past the dangerous stage!'

'Oh thanks! I wish I was back home with her now.'

'I can take you, easy.'

'We'd better deal with your supporters' club first. At least we may save a couple of young women from debauchery tonight!'

That was debatable, but I wanted an excuse to escape. Marmarides could have just dumped his admirers – but decent men don't, do we? He had promised to drive two of them home to Corduba before they got into trouble with their parents (or some such tale). I said I would leave at the same time. There would be no room for Optatus or Constans, but I could protect Marmarides from assault on the journey into Corduba, we could ditch the dames safely, then he could leave me in a tavern where I could have a quiet bite to eat while he went back to collect our comrades. Providing food of any substance lacked glamour for our hosts; they had omitted it.

We shoved a couple of the shrieking women inside the carriage; they were probably demure little things when sober, though drink had robbed them of all taste. I climbed up on top with Marmarides and we set off fast before our passengers could thrill themselves by swarming out to join us. When our mules reached the gate at the end of the long entry drive, we had to swerve madly; we passed a much larger piece of coachwork, drawn by two fiery horses and driven by a set-faced groom in livery. As we went out it was coming in.

'Keep going!' I grinned. 'Marmarides, I rather think that Annaeus Maximus has remembered what happened the last time he left his boys at home unsupervised.'

We found where the girls lived and persuaded them to go in quietly; we used the shameless trick of mentioning the return of Annaeus Maximus and warning them that that angry father would soon be talking to their own parents.

'Spunky, Dotty and Ferret are in big trouble! Best to nip indoors looking innocent and pretend you never went anywhere.' I could just hear some pert little minx in the distant future trying this one out on me. I could just see me too, willing myself to believe the lie

…

My plan to have supper alone seemed churlish now; we went back together to try to extricate Optatus and young Constans, if possible before they were publicly linked with the row. Approaching the town house we met a string of chastened youngsters being marched home in the custody of Annaeus' slaves. These were the walking wounded. Up at the house others who could not stagger had been collected up and laid out neatly in a colonnade. We gathered that parents had been sent for. We also sensed that it had not been done out of malice – but as a sensible precaution in case any of these stupid children had actually poisoned themselves with too much wine.

Of Spunky, Dotty and Ferret I saw no sign. Nor were their father and mother visible, though the slaves mopping up the battlefield were doing it very quickly and efficiently, with downcast eyes. The master's physician, overseeing the row of unconscious young bodies, was fiercely purse- lipped. There was no longer an amphora in sight.

We could find neither Optatus nor Constans. In the end we went home, before the oil in the carriage lamp ran out.

Helena Justina was still up, quietly writing letters to Rome.

I sat on the floor at her feet and hugged her. 'Dear gods, I'm sick of other men's sons! I hope mine's a daughter!'

As if to confirm it, the baby kicked me soundly in the face. 'She's got huge hooves!' Helena muttered, after crying ouch herself.

'She'll be a darling… Listen, I'm establishing the rules now – boy or girl, it doesn't go out to visit friends without permission, without an escort of extremely prissy slaves, and without me personally going to fetch it home not more than an hour after it departs our house.'

'Very wise, Marcus. I'm sure this will work wonderfully.'

Helena laid down her pen on a side table and closed the inkwell gently. She ran her fingers through my curls. I pretended not to notice, while I let myself relax. Too large now to be flexible, instead of bending down to me as she once would have done, she kissed the tip of her finger and touched my brow consolingly. 'What's the matter, you poor tired, miserable soul? Didn't you enjoy the party, then? What went wrong with your boys' night out?'

'They were too rough for me. I had a depressing experience talking to the fabled quaestor, who is the last word in moral toughness – if you think fluff is tough. Then the hosts' parents came home unexpectedly – a scheme I shall follow myself when our limb gets old enough. I scarpered. I couldn't find the other two -'

'Constans came back,' she told me.

'The night is full of surprises. How did he find his way?' 'The quaestor brought him.'

'That's commendable!'

'Charming,' she agreed.

'You don't like him?'