It was impossible to reach down very far from ground level, so we put the protesting slave into the hole in a sling and passed him a long stick to probe the depths. We kept him down there an hour, until he seemed about to faint. We hauled him out just in time. The latrine had been very well constructed, with a shaft a yard and a half deep, but we found nothing, thank the gods.
Well, we found plenty. Nothing relevant.
We had done all we could. Short of tearing off the roof and battering holes in partitions, we had searched everywhere it was feasible to look. Ariminius lost himself, his earlier enthusiasm deflated by our failure. Receiving no further orders from him or from me, the slaves drifted off too. Even my escort conveniently forgot he had been ordered to stick with me.
There was nothing else I could do. I thought about sleeping here overnight, to listen to noises and absorb the atmosphere. But I had had enough of the dreary, stultifying aura of this unhappy home. I could not determine exactly what was wrong, but there were remnants of old miseries everywhere. I thought there was something worse too. Something terrible they were all hiding. I just hoped the Pomonalis had been right when he claimed it did not concern Gaia.
I walked for one last time into the peristyle garden. No one was there now. Holding Gaia's little twiggy mop, I strode slowly around the central area, then sat on the marble bench, leaning my elbows on my knees. I had not eaten all day. I was filthy and knocked about. Nobody here had ever thought of offering me refreshments or the facilities to clean up. I was long past being able to complain or say what I thought of them. Still, this was everyday fare for an informer. I was not yet so nicely respectable that I would shriek if I noticed my white tunic had turned nearly black and that, not to be too dainty about it, I stank.
Somebody came out behind me. I was too stiff and too depressed to move.
"Falco." Hearing the voice of the ex-Flamen, I did force myself to turn around, though I would not rise for him. "You have done well. We are grateful."
I could not help sighing. "I have done nothing."
"It seems she is not here."
I looked around again, helplessly. She was still at home. I felt convinced of it. My voice sounded husky. "Forgive me for not finding her."
"I am aware of how hard you have tried." From him that was gratitude. Rather to my surprise he came and placed himself at the table where the workmen's crumbs had once been squabbled over by the sparrows. "Do not think us harsh, Falco. She is a beguiling, sweet-natured little girl, my only grandchild. I prayed with all my heart that you would have found her today."
I was too weary to react. But I did believe him.
I stood up. "I'll find out whether the vigiles have discovered anything." If so, it could only be bad news now. The old man looked as if he knew that. "If she still fails to turn up, may I come back here tomorrow and see what else can be done?"
He pursed his lips. He did not want me here. Yet he inclined his head, allowing it. Maybe he really did love Gaia. Or maybe he sensed that this loss of the small child could be the incident that split apart his family when all else had failed to break his dominance.
"I know what you feel about the vigiles, sir, but I would like to bring in one officer, my friend Petronius Longus. He has vast experience-and is the father of young girls. I want to walk the ground with him, and see if he turns up anything I missed."
"I would prefer to avoid that." It was not quite a refusal, and I kept it in reserve. "A woman is here to speak to you," he then told me. "You are wanted elsewhere."
Nothing much seemed to matter to me at the moment, but I still had it in me to be curious. As I dragged myself to my feet and turned to leave the garden to find my personal visitor, the other curiosity prevailed.
"It had seemed to me," I told Numentinus somberly, "the best hope of finding Gaia would be if she had mischievously crept into some hole from which she could not escape. But we seem to have disproved that." Numentinus was walking slowly alongside me. "The most likely alternative," I commented, determined not to spare him now, "is that she has run away because of family problems."
I had expected the ex-Flamen to be furious. His reaction turned everything I assumed on its head. He laughed. "Well, we would all like to run away from those!" While I was getting over that, he tossed the suggestion aside with a sneer of contempt. "Now you have lost my confidence, Falco, after all."
"Oh, I don't think I deserve that, sir! It's fairly plain something came to a head here after the death of Terentia Paulla's husband. Well, look at it-a man who was not even a blood relative, a family friend, yes-but one who had been abusive towards your womenfolk-" Although they had told me Numentinus did not know, I reckoned he was well aware of it; at any rate, he showed no surprise now. "Next minute, you are consulting everyone, including the widow-again, only a relative of your late wife's, and a woman with whom you yourself have been at odds regularly. Even your estranged son was in on the debate. He spun me a wild story about that! So tell me," I insisted heatedly, "for whom is the legal guardian really needed? And why, exactly?"
Shocked by my vehemence, Numentinus stayed silent. And he was not intending to answer me: he dodged it all. "I cannot imagine what my son has said to make you think this way. It simply shows how unworldly he is, and proves me right to continue to hold him in my patriarchal power."
"He wants to help his aunt. That seems commendable."
"Terentia Paulla needs no help from anyone," Numentinus uttered crushingly. "Anybody who has told you otherwise is a fool!" He paused. "Or completely mad," he added, in a baleful voice.
I was too disheartened to protest or make further enquiries. What he said had a ghastly ring of truth.
I walked to the entrance hall they were using, and there at last my spirits rose slightly: the person who had asked for me was Helena. She was holding my toga, which somebody must have found and given to her, and she smiled gently. Obviously she had heard I had failed. There was no need to waste effort explaining.
I noticed she was rather well dressed, in a gleamingly clean white gown and a modest stole over hair which looked suspiciously fanciful to arouse new dreads. She was wearing a gold necklace her father had given her when Julia was born. She was scented divinely with Arabic balsam and her face, on close inspection, had been lightly touched up with such skill in the use of the paint that it had to have been applied by one of her mother's maids or with the help of Maia.
The last thing I wanted now was the kind of social gathering that called for such titivation.
"Come along." Helena grinned, seeing my horror. She sniffed at me "Nice unguents, Falco! You have such exquisite taste… A litter is waiting outside with a clean tunic for you. We can stop at a bathhouse if you're quick."
"I am in no mood for a party."
"It's officiaclass="underline" no option. Titus Caesar wants you."
Titus Caesar sometimes did discuss state issues with me. I was not expected to take a chaperon. So what was this about?
Titus, in my opinion, had once nursed a partiality for Helena. As far as I knew it had remained hypothetical, though she had needed to leave Rome in a hurry to avoid awkwardness. She still avoided him, and would certainly never normally turn out rigged like this, in case it revived his ideas.
"What's the wrinkle, fruit?"
Helena was smiling. Full of joy at seeing her, I had already let myself start to sink into her power. "Don't worry, my darling," she murmured. "I shall take care of you. I think, from what the messenger told me, our hosts will be wonderful Titus-and the fabulous Queen of Judaea."