Since it was Helena and Albia who had stumbled inside, Petronius grinned and told him these bedraggled mites were with us. The barman assumed they were drabs and we were buying their services, but we treated them courteously anyway. As soon as she saw me, Helena came over with the same concern that Petronius had shown. "Oh, Marcus!"
"I'm fine," I lied. Still standing, Helena put her arms around me; that nearly did it for me. I choked back tears.
"Her friends have taken her. There was nothing anyone could do. You know that."
When she released me, I steadied myself. She sat alongside. Albia had calmed down from her hysteria, and was now completely silent. Helena wrung out her hair, then her skirts. The girl just sat. Helena tucked Albia's straggling hair behind her ears and dried her face as best she could on Petro's towel.
"Florius?" asked Helena quietly.
Petronius topped up his beaker, looking bad-tempered. "We lost him. But this is a dead-end province at the end of the world. He has nowhere to go."
That was optimistic, in my opinion.
We all sat lethargically, wearied in our bones by the weather. If we stayed too long, we would all be chilled. Our soaked clothes were not drying, only becoming heavier and colder on us.
We did stay, because Helena Justina had an urgent project. She put her arm around Albia and spoke gently. "You were very upset when you recognized that man. I want you to tell me-now would be best, my dear- what you know about him."
"We know he runs that brothel called the Old Neighbour," Petronius supplied in a quiet tone, to get the girl started.
"Did you want to go there, in the first place?" asked Helena.
"I don't know" Albia sounded as if she feared being in trouble whatever she said or did. "I didn't know where he was taking me."
"Did you know who the man was?"
"No."
"You had never met him before?"
"No."
"So how did he approach you?"
"He came up and was nice when I was sitting where Falco left me." Albia paused, then admitted shamefacedly, "He said something to me, because I was crying."
I cleared my throat. "That was my fault. I had been angry. Albia may have thought that I had left her there and that I was not coming back."
"But you were, of course," said Helena, more to reassure the girl than to applaud my honest intentions.
"Maybe she didn't know me well enough to be sure."
"So Albia looked like a miserable young girl who had run away from home."
"The man asked me that," Albia piped up intensely. "I said I didn't have a home."
Helena pursed her lips. Strong feelings were affecting her. "Well, let's get this clear: I am offering you a home, if you want it, Albia."
Tears welled in the girl's blue eyes. Petronius dug me in the ribs, but I ignored it. Helena and I had held no private debate on the issue. Taking a wild child to Rome, and exposing our own daughters to an unknown influence, required thought. Even the impetuous Helena Justina was an advocate of traditional family councils. However, every Roman matron knows that domestic councils were devised by our foremothers purely so the views of the matron of a household may prevail.
I just went along with it. I knew how to be a patriarchal Roman male.
Helena leaned toward the girclass="underline" "Tell me what happened to you, after you went to the Old Neighbour with Florius."
There was a long silence. Then Albia spoke, surprisingly strongly: "The fat woman told me I had to work for them. I never thought I would come back to you and Marcus Didius. I thought I had to do what they said."
Helena managed not to react angrily, but I saw the muscles tighten around her mouth. "And what about the man?"
"He made me do what you have to do."
Helena was now holding the girl, half turned away from me. Petronius was gripping his hands, lest he smash something. I put my palm against Helena's back.
"Did you know about that already, Albia?" she murmured.
"I knew what people did."
"But it had not happened to you before?"
"No." The young girl suddenly began crying. Tears fell, almost without sobs. Her grief and desolation were heartrending "I made it happen-"
"No. Never believe that!" Helena exclaimed. "I cannot change what has been done to you, but you are now safe with us. I will help you tell this story to the governor. Then the man and the old woman can be stopped from hurting other girls like you. You will know-and it may help you, Albia-that you have fought back against him. Him and his kind." After a moment Helena added in a hard voice, "Men are not all like that, I promise you."
Albia looked up. She was gazing from Helena to me. "Men and women can be happy together," Helena said. "Never forget that."
Albia stared at me. This was the longest communication any of us had had with her, so what came next was understandable. She must have been brooding over it most of the time she had been with us: "You find people. Will you find my family?"
It was always the most painful question an informer could be asked. Either you cannot trace the missing ones, and you never stood a chance of doing so, or you do find them and it all goes badly wrong. I had never known a good outcome. I refused to handle such requests from clients anymore.
"I can only tell you the truth, Albia. I don't think that I can do it," I said. She let out a cry of protest.
Stopping her, I went on steadily: "I have thought about it for you. I believe that your family must all have died in the fighting and the fire when Queen Boudicca attacked Londinium. You must have been a baby then. If anyone had lived, they would have looked for you." Probably that was true. If they had run away and just abandoned the baby, it was best she never knew.
"They were lost, Albia," said Helena. "Love them-but you have to let them go. If you choose to come with us, we will take you far away, and you can forget all that has happened in between."
Her words made little impression. Albia was at her lowest ebb.
Petronius and I left Helena to take care of the girl as best she could. We went to the door, staring out at the rainstorm. He hopped on one foot, strapping back a boot.
"She will be scarred forever. You'll have your work cut out to save her."
"I know!" And that was even if Florius had not given her disease or pregnancy to contend with. Only time would tell us that. Helena would have to watch her carefully and tactfully.
Petronius Longus was lost in silence now. I had my own misery to preoccupy me. He, I knew, was thinking that somehow, somewhere, he would get Florius.
XLVI
Time had brought an abrupt halt to the storm.
The landlord or waiter came out to stare at the clearing skies. He was not the man I remembered. That one had been a bald Gaul in a blue tunic with a stupid belt. He had been self-composed and professional. This was a wiry scruff who had taken an eternity to attend to us and who seemed ignorant of the stock.
The change in staff had been bothering me. In my mind I had been waiting for my acquaintance to reappear, but it was not going to happen. •I had disliked him, but the thought that he had been usurped by this inadequate gave me a bad taste. I forced myself to take notice. "Someone else was serving, the last time I came here."
This man's eyes glazed slightly. "He left."
"Itchy feet?" That was not the impression I had had at the time. That other man, who had helped me try to sober up Silvanus, had come over to Britain to make a success of himself. He had seemed settled in the soldiers' bar, ready to stay as a long-term resident. So where was he now? Who drove him out?
The new man shrugged. That was when I noticed that the old signboard with the hook-nosed general's head had been taken down. Somebody was repainting it.
"Changing your name? What are you calling yourself now?"
"I haven't decided," he hedged, as if he hated my close scrutiny. Then I knew what all this meant.