"You old cynic."
"I am quoting you," said Helena.
"What a misery!"
"No." Helena pulled a dour face. "You are an astute observer of the political truth, Marcus Didius." Then she changed tack: "In my opinion, unless it is already known who killed the man Aelianus found, then my brother should make it his business-with your technical help-to discover the murderer."
"Why's this? So that he can inform the rest of the Arval Brothers and in gratitude they will elect dear Aulus to fill the vacancy?"
"No again," scoffed Helena. "I told you he is better off without them. So that when those snobs gratefully offer him membership he can make himself feel better by crying 'No thank you!' and marching out on them."
Sometimes people suggested that I was the hot-headed one.
"So you will be investigating this with him?" she grilled me.
"I have no time for unpaid private commissions. Helena, my darling, I am very busy making recommendations for the care of things that honk and cluck."
"What have you suggested to Aulus?"
"That he trots back to the Sacred Grove this morning and pretends to be making official enquiries."
"So you are helping him!"
Well, I had said he could use my name as a cover, if it persuaded people to take him seriously. "It's up to him. If he wants to know the truth about his mysterious corpse, he has plenty of free time and a good reason to be asking questions. He'll have to find all the attendants who were working at the pavilion yesterday, and speak to the priests at the various temples; that will take him all day and prove whether he's serious. I bet he discovers nothing. The experience will douse his ardor and perhaps be the end of it."
"My brother can be very stubborn," warned Helena in a dark voice.
As far as I was concerned, Aelianus could play with this curiosity as long as he liked. I might even give him a steer or two. But the swift removal of the body and the secrecy with which it had happened looked ominous. If the Arval Brothers had decided to hush up the incident, now that I was loosely attached to the state religion myself, I had to hold back. Once I had been a fearless, interfering informer; now the damned Establishment had bought me off. I had held this post for just two days, and already I was cursing it.
"What can he do then?" insisted my darling, being stubborn herself.
"Aelianus ought to present himself at the house of the Arval Master when the Brothers start assembling for today's feast. He should declare what he saw, making his involvement known at least to their chief, and if possible to the whole group. While he is there, he must keep his eyes open. If he notices any particular Brother is missing, he can deduce the identity of the corpse."
Helena Justina seemed satisfied. In fact, she seemed to believe I was helping her brother rather more than I had agreed to do.
"That's wonderful, Marcus. So while Justinus is away in Spain, you have somebody to work as your partner after all!"
I shook my head, but she just laughed at me. Before we left the Arx, we shared a moment surveying the city. This was Rome. We were home again.
If anyone has heard that a procurator attached to the cult of Juno once kissed a girl on the sacred ground of the Auguraculum, it's just winged rumor flitting around with her usual distaste for truth. Anyway, legate, that girl was my wife.
XI
Maia was being far too careful to look normal. She shrank from being hugged as if it seemed an unnecessary display. She was pale but neatly dressed as always, with her dark curls combed back from her face. She wore a dress that I knew was her favorite. She had taken trouble to reassure us; she was certainly making an effort. But her mouth was tight.
With her came all her four children, and when I took them into the other room to show them my goslings, Maia's eyes followed her little ones overprotectively. Always well behaved, they were even quieter than before, all intelligent enough to know their father's death would have drastic consequences, the elder ones secretly shouldering responsibility for bringing everyone through the tragedy.
"They make a lot of mess," said Ancus, now six, as he carefully handled one of the fledglings. He looked very worried. "What are you supposed to do about clearing up?"
"I have to find them somewhere else to live, Ancus. I made arrangements this morning for them to go to Lenia's laundry over the road. They can waddle around the yard and forage in the back lane."
"But don't they belong on the Arx?"
"There are enough geese on the Arx at the moment."
"So you can keep the spare ones?"
"Perk of my new job."
Ancus noted that gravely, seeing it as a career inducement.
"It doesn't seem a good idea to have geese pooping in a place where clothes are being nicely cleaned," remarked Cloelia. She was about seven or eight, and believed herself frightened of creatures, but it had taken her no time to get the hang of shoveling their porridge and mashed nasturtium leaves into my charges. The practical one.
Lenia's laundry had never been salubrious. I only went there because it was handy and she pretended she gave me cheap rates. She was hoping that geese would guard the laundry from the evil attentions of her recently divorced husband. Having failed to wrest the property from her, Smaractus was trying to drive her out of it. "Lenia hasn't thought of the mess, so we won't mention it. Do you want to help me take them to their new home?"
We all went in procession, carrying the little birds, their basket, and their porridge pot. This gave Helena and Maia a chance to talk alone.
"We'd like the pot back eventually," I told Lenia.
She threw back her ghastly fox-red hair and croaked, "Not too soon, Falco! I'll be wanting the pot for cooking these geese when they get big enough."
"She doesn't mean that, does she?" Ancus whispered in my ear nervously. Knowing Lenia, I was pretty sure she did.
"Of course not, Ancus. They are sacred. Lenia will be looking after them very carefully."
Lenia laughed.
We found Petronius outside the laundry, on his lunch break, so he invited himself to join us, bringing a melon as his entrance fee.
Helena gave me a private scowl when she saw Petro, but it seemed to me he would be a great help in jollying Maia. His idea of doing this was to wink at her and leer, "The new widow's looking spruce!"
"Grow up," said Maia. Her gaze followed Cloelia, who was handing out food bowls rather precariously. "And that does not mean you can drive me mad being nice to me. Just act normally!"
"Whoops. I thought you'd be sick of normal people murmuring 'However will you cope?' You will, don't worry."
My sister gave him a tart look. "Is it true what I hear-that Arria Silvia and her potted-food man have decamped to live in Ostia?"
Petronius was milder than I had expected as he confirmed this new disaster in his own life. "Apparently, the gelatinous clown reckons there is a great market for his ghastly produce on the quays. And yes, Silvia has taken my daughters. And no, I do not expect to see the girls more than once a year in future."
"I am sorry," commented Maia briefly. We all knew he would miss his daughters; but at least he would be there if they really needed him. Her children could no longer say the same about their father.
Petronius, who had installed himself on a bench at the table, stretched his long legs in front of him, leaned back, folded his arms, and returned quietly, "Sole purpose of presenting myself-to give you somebody else to feel sorry for."