"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.
"Plenty to choose from," I retorted grimly. "Day like today, the Lightning Bolt would be a good one."
"That's right," joined in Petronius, who took the point; he spoke with menace. "Anything to do with Jupiter is always popular." To me he muttered, "If they've spread this far north in the city, Frontinus has to take account!"
If this really was a new manager installed by the Florius gang, he knew we were on to the takeover, but simply gave us a contemptuous look.
I called to Helena that we should all leave. She was cold and uncomfortable, and suggested we should warm up at the baths next door. If we struggled back to the residence there would be hot water and dry clothing, but we were all too chilled to pass up this opportunity. It was not entirely self-indulgent. Petronius and I could plan what to do next.
We waded through the flooded street; the drains were so full of water they had backed up. Our party was silent. I was already thinking.
Florius would not return to the brothel. Not if he reasoned that Petronius must be watching the place. The governor could safely raid it and haul in the old hag, with any hangers-on. We could then search the river for the Florius boat and discover whatever other haunts he had.
For the time being, Florius would lie low.
Maybe.
When we entered the baths, I winked at the manager, who then found himself haggling. Petronius Longus had taken charge; he wanted a party discount, which was pushing it for a mere four people. Still, the vigiles expect respect for their position, just as gangsters like Pyro and Splice do. All the manager could do was mutter feebly about their high-quality service and how they had plenty of hot water…
"They have a waterwheel!" I exclaimed cheerily. "And a very tired slave who trundles it."
"Myron!" retorted the bathkeeper. "Nothing wrong with Myron's legs! He rattles it along."
That wasn't what I remembered. I tried to ignore it, but the comment niggled. I sighed. "Save a strigil for me-I want to check something…" I did not tell Petro, but I suddenly realized I might have missed Florius by a hair's breadth.