XVII
Fountain court seemed quiet when Julia and I returned home. The sensible after-lunch drunks had collapsed on the side of the street with the dank shadows and old cabbage leaves. The daft ones opposite would have fiercely sunburned foreheads, noses, and knees when they woke up. A feral cat mewed hopefully, but kept well away from my boot. Disreputable pigeons were picking over what the down-and-outs had left them from the charred bread Cassius, our local baker, had chucked out when he shut up his stall for the day. Flies had found half a melon to torment.
There were empty stools outside the barber's shop. A thin pall of black smoke hung over one end of the street, reeking of burned lamp oil; sulfurous fumes rose from the back of the laundry. I thought about checking how the goslings were, now they lived in the laundry yard, but Julia and I were weary after half a day doing nothing in particular. My neighbors were taking their usual siestas, which for most of those idlers meant all-day ones, so the man who walked up the street ahead of us stood out alone. I had seen him emerge from the funeral parlor, clearly repeating directions. I can't think why he had asked the undertakers for information, given the number of family mausoleums that end up containing urns with the wrong ashes due to those incompetents.
This fellow ahead of me was of average height, whiskery, hairy-armed, brisk in his walk, dressed in a dark tunic and rather floppy calf-high boots. He checked outside the basket weaver's lockup as though he was going in there; then he skipped up the steps to the first-floor apartment where I lived.
Whatever he wanted, I was in no real mood for strangers, so I stopped off to talk to Lenia. She was outside her business premises, in the part of the street she had commandeered for clothes-drying; the morning wash was twisting about on several lines in a slight breeze, and with an irritated expression she was listlessly straightening the most tangled wet garments. When she saw me, she gave up immediately.
"Gods, last day of May and it's too hot to move!"
"Talk to me, Lenia. Some beggar just went up to our house, and I can't be bothered going to find out if he's someone who wants to annoy me."
"Just now?" croaked Lenia. "Some other beggar went up to look for you too."
"Oh good. They can annoy one another while I have a rest down here."
I leaned my backside against the portico. Lenia took Julia by both arms and practiced walking her a few steps. Julia grabbed a dripping toga, with hands that had somehow grown more grubby than I had realized.
We heard a yell from the apartment.
"Who was your beggar?" I asked Lenia lazily.
"Young chap with purple trim on his tunic. Yours?"
"No idea."
"Mine said he knew you, Falco."
"Permanent look as if his breakfast is giving him gyp?"
"That's the pug-faced darling, by the sound of it."
"Helena's brother. The one we don't care for. Sounds as if the man I followed home agrees." The yelling continued. "Helena isn't up there, as far as you know, Lenia?"
"Doubt it. She borrowed one of my washtubs. She'll drop it in when she comes home."
"Know where she went with this tub?" I tried. Lenia just laughed.
There were a few more yells from opposite. I might have changed my mind and intervened, but someone else turned up to help with the heavy work, so I hid behind a wet sheet. It was Pa. As soon as he heard sounds of trouble, he rushed up the stairs to see the fun. He barged in and added his voice to the shouting, then Lenia and I watched him and Camillus Aelianus appear outside on the porch, grappling the man with the floppy boots. They were dragging him half on his knees, an arm apiece. Since they seemed to know what they were doing, I just grinned to myself and let the officious pair get on with it.
They began forcing him down the steps, but soon found that holding him between them while they also descended was too difficult. As they all tumbled back to street level, inevitably they let him go. He made off. If he had come past me I might have shoved out a foot and tripped him, but his luck was in; he went the other way.
I winked at Lenia and sauntered across to the heroes who were offering mutual congratulations on the way they had saved my apartment from attempted robbery.
"I see you elected to show mercy," I commented sarcastically, leading them indoors again. "You let him go, very kindly."
"Well, we drove him off for you," gasped Pa, who always took time to regain his breath after a fracas. Not that it ever stopped him, if he saw something stupid to join in. "Jove knows what he thought he could lift from this place." As a professional auctioneer, Pa lived among a treasure trove of furniture and objects. He found our austere living quarters unsettling. Still, keeping our valuables in store at his warehouse meant Helena and I did not have to worry about losing them to some light-fingered Aventine lowlife. (That's assuming Pa himself kept his hands off our stuff; I had to check up on him regularly.)
"He was no thief," I corrected quietly.
"He thought I was you, Falco," Aelianus told me, sounding indignant. I was pleased to see his cheek was badly bruised. He tested it gingerly. The bones had stayed intact; well, probably.
"So you stopped a punch on my behalf! Thanks, Aulus. Good job you can handle yourself."
"Who's this, then?" demanded Pa, whose curiosity was notorious. "Your new partner?"
"No. This is his brother, Camillus Aelianus, the next shining star in the senate. My partner has very sensibly gone to Spain."
"That should make it easy to combine your expertise," Pa quipped. Justinus had no expertise for informing, but I saw no need to enlighten Pa that I had lumbered myself with an even more unsuitable colleague than Petronius or Anacrites. Aelianus might not yet have heard that his brother was setting up with me, because I saw him look askance. "Were you expecting that riffraff to drop in?" Pa then asked.
"Something like it, possibly. I reckon I was followed home last night-someone checking my address."
"Gods!" exclaimed Aelianus, enjoying the chance to sound pious, while insulting me. "That's rather thoughtless, Falco. What if my sister had been here today?"
"She's out. I knew that."
"Helena would have bashed the intruder with a very heavy skillet," Pa declared, as if it were his right to boast of her spirit.
"And made sure she tied him up," I agreed, reminding the pair of their error. "Then I could have found out who sent him to put the frighteners on."
"Who do you think it was?" demanded Pa, ignoring the rebuke. "You've only been back in the country about four days."
"Five," I confirmed.
"And you already managed to upset someone? I'm proud of you, boy!"
"I learned the art of upsetting people from you, Pa. I was the chosen target. But I think," I said, making it pleasant for Aelianus, "the rough message was really being sent to our friend here."
"I never did anything!" Aelianus protested.
"And the message is: Don't try it, either." I smirked. "I suspect that you, Aulus, have just taken delivery of a hint to back off from offending the Arval Brothers."
"Not those disasters?" groaned Pa in heavy disgust. "Anything to do with the old religion makes my flesh creep."
I pretended to be more tolerant: "Fastidious father, you don't have a senatorial career to build from scratch. Poor Aelianus has to grit his teeth and enjoy cavorting about in a rustic dance, waving ears of moldy grain."
"The Arval Brethren are an honorable and ancient college of priests!" protested their would-be acolyte. He knew it sounded feeble.
"And I'm Alexander the Great," returned my father pleasantly. "Those lads are ancient and as savory as an old dog turd on the Sacred Way, waiting for you just where you plant your sandal… So what have you done to annoy them, Marcus?"