Nemesis

'You liked him?'

'Why not? He was well dressed, well spoken, well set up in an official position – -'

'Did he tell you about his work?'

'He told me what it was. He never discussed details… I was ready,' Maia admitted. 'Ready for a fling.'

I could not resist my next question. Be honest, legate, you would have begged to know too: 'Good lover?' Maia merely stared at me. I cleared my throat and played responsible. 'You made it clear all along that you wanted nothing permanent?'

'At first it could have gone anywhere.' I controlled a shudder. 'But I soon felt he was pressing too close. There was something about him,' Maia mused. 'Something just not right.'

'He's a creep. You felt it.'

'I suppose so.'

'Instinct.'

'I certainly see him as a creep now.'

'I don't understand. I never understood why you had anything to do with him, Maia.'

'I told you. He comes over well when he wants. The man had had a terrible head injury, so I thought any oddness was because of the damage.'

'Well, I like to be fair – - only I knew Anacrites long before he had his skull bashed in by some bent Spanish oil producers. He was sinister from the start. I've always thought,' I told Maia, 'the head wound only made his character more visible. He's a snake. Untrustworthy, obnoxious, poisonous.'

Maia said nothing. I did not insist. I never wanted to push her into admitting she had been fooled.

'We had nothing in common,' she said in a depressed voice. 'As soon as I told him there was no future, I felt so relieved it was over -' So true. Women are not sentimentalists. I remembered how she had immediately begun flirting with Petronius, who happened to be available. 'Anacrites would not believe that we were finished – then he turned vindictive. You know the rest, Marcus. Don't make me go over it.'

'No, no,' I reassured her. He had hung about, morosely stalking her, until the fateful day he had her home destroyed. I could see my sister growing tense as she tried to avoid those memories. 'Just tell me, what happened today, Maia?'

'For some reason, I opened the door – I don't know why. He hadn't knocked. There he was – - standing in the passage, right outside. I was completely shocked. How long had he been out there? He got inside before I caught my breath.'

'Then what?'

'He kept pretending everything was normal. It was just a social call.'

'Was he unpleasant?'

'No. Marcus, I hadn't seen him, not to talk to, since I gave him his marching orders.'

'Were you scared?'

'I was worried Lucius would come home. There would have been a horrendous row. Anyway, I pretended he was there, asleep indoors, so I shooed the spy away. You know Anacrites – I thought he probably realised I was lying.'

'So what did he say?'

'That was the funny thing.' Maia frowned. 'He tried small talk – not that he knows how to do it. His conversation is zero. That was one reason I couldn't continue with him. After Famia, I needed a man who would respond if I talked to him.'

I laughed. 'Oh, you get banter from Lucius Petronius?'

'He has his hidden side; don't all of you!' scoffed Maia. 'I was about to mention the incident, when Anacrites actually brought the subject up himself. Apologised. According to him it was "an administrative mistake". Then he pleaded his injury, said he couldn't remember properly. He tried to make me sorry for him by telling me how tired he had been, how he had to cover that up so he didn't lose his job, how he had lost years of his life through being bludgeoned… Anyway – and this is what I wanted to tell you, Marcus – Anacrites seemed mainly interested in that case he's taken off you,' said Maia. 'The warty melon kept trying to extract from me just what you and Lucius have found out.'

'And you said…?'

'I had nothing to tell him. You know Lucius.'

Petronius never believed in discussing his work with his womenfolk. Anacrites should have approached Helena instead – she knew everything; not that she would break my confidence. He was too scared of her to attempt it, of course.

Anacrites had upset my sister for nothing. He had angered me too – - and if Petro heard about this, he would be livid.

Maia and I agreed that Petronius had better not be told.

XXVII

With Petronius stuck in Rome, grounded by his tribune, I made another trip to the coast.

This time Helena came with me. I took her to see Pa's maritime villa. I brought Nux as well, since my household was completely ruled by the dog. Luckily tearing through the pinewoods and racing along the beach suited her just fine. Nux was prepared to allow us to keep this wonderful place.

Helena also approved, so we spent several days discussing how to arrange things to suit us, turning the house into a seaside family home rather than a businessman's retreat. While we were working, some of the slaves reported a man hanging around in the woods. He was a stranger to them, but from their description, I wondered if it was one of Anacrites' agents.

We knew a woman who lived with the priestesses at a temple in Ardea. Driving off with a deal of commotion, Helena went to visit her. I stayed at the villa; I made myself visible shifting furniture and artwork to outbuildings, then spent time loafing on a daybed on the shore while the dog brought driftwood to me. The mysterious sightings stopped. I hoped the agent had gone back to Rome to report that I was at the coast for domestic reasons.

It would be typical of Anacrites to waste time and resources. He should have been pursuing the Claudii. Instead he was obsessed with Petro and me. He knew us well; he knew we would try to pip him on the case. But that cut both ways. We understood him too.

On Helena's return we went down to Antium. We -were enjoying our break from the children, and we did love to be out and about on enquiries. She was right: I must never stop doing this work – and when it was feasible I must always let her join in.

Helena was charmed by Antium, with its shabby, outdated grandeur. As always happens, there was nothing we wanted to see at the theatre, though old posters told us annoyingly that the week before Davos, our old contact who was Thalia's lover, had presented a play here. I would really have liked the chance for a chat with Davos!

Exploring more successfully than I had had time to do with Albia, Helena and I managed to find decent local baths then a cluster of fish restaurants. We lingered over a fine meal, eaten out of doors with grand sea views from the lofty precipice where Antium stood. This was always an hour when we liked to come together, to relax, review the day and reassert our partnership. With just the two of us tonight, it was like old times – that elusive condition married people should seek more often.

As we savoured the last of our wine, I took her hand and said, 'Everything will be all right.'

'The case, Marcus?'

'No, not that.'

Helena knew what I meant.

We enjoyed the evening a little longer, then I went to pay the bill and ask the restaurant-keeper where he bought his bread. His baker was not Vexus, Demetria's father; still, the man gave me suggestions where to start looking next day.

I went on my own, leaving Helena to take Nux around the forum.

It took me some tramping of narrow streets. Vexus worked at the edge of the city, with one small oven and not even his own grindstone. It was a rough, depressed quarter with dusty streets where half-starved dogs lay on doorsteps like corpses. There were better shops, with a better clientele, in the smarter areas. This man, a short, thickset ugly-faced fellow, baked heavy dark ryebread for the poor. He looked as if he had been miserable for the past thirty years. I began to understand how his daughter, growing up here without a future, might have settled for one of the Claudii. Even so, there seemed nothing basically wrong with the home she came from. Unless she had only one eye in the middle of her forehead yet failed to attract men with her novelty value, there was no reason for Claudius Nobilis to assume she was so desperate he could treat her badly.