Poseidon s Gold

I was feeling tired. This was hopeless. There was nothing I could say or do to extricate myself-or Helena, who looked like my accomplice in a bungled cover-up. The judge had completed his questions. He decided to hold both of us in custody.

Normally I would have appealed for assistance to Petronius. As he was the arresting officer, I had to wait for somebody else to come forward with our bail.

Somebody would. Helena Justina's family would adore the chance to berate me for getting her into this.

We were to be kept at the judge's house temporarily. He had us locked in separate rooms, but as soon as the house quietened down I picked my way out of mine and into hers. Only the fact that Helena was also trying to break her lock with a brooch pin held me up.

XXIX

I came in and leaned against the door, trying to look debonair. Helena had stepped back. Still clutching the brooch, she gazed at me. Guilt and fear were in her eyes; they were brighter than ever with anxiety now I had arrived. Mine were smiling. Probably.

'Hello, sweetheart. Are you breaking out to find me?'

'No, Marcus. I'm trying to escape before I have to face your wrath.'

'I never get angry.'

'Well you never admit it.'

I could never be angry with Helena Justina when she was fighting back with that determined glint. We were in serious trouble, however, and we both knew it. 'I am merely perplexed at how to extricate us from this mess, to which you must admit you have contributed:'

'Don't try being reasonable, Falco. The effort makes your ears go red.'

'Well, if you wanted to get back at me for my fling with Marina, I could have suggested less drastic ways-' I stopped. There were tears welling in her eyes. Helena had made a terrible mistake and under the show of pride she was desolate. 'I'll get us out of this,' I said, more gently. 'Just brace yourself for some bad jokes from your father when he has to come here grovelling to Marponius while he coughs up your surety.'

'Yours has been sent for too.'

'Mine won't come.'

She would not be consoled, but we were on friendlier terms now. 'Marcus, what happened to your face?'

'It hit somebody's fist. Don't worry, fruit. Marponius hasn't enough evidence against us to name a date for a hearing in court. That means he has to release us. If I'm free on bail I shall at least be able to pursue my enquiries without constantly having to dodge Petronius.'

Helena looked rueful. 'Your best friend-who now knows you're living with an idiot!'

I grinned at her. 'He knew that already. He thought you were insane to take me on.'

'He told the judge it was true love.'

'And is he wrong?' I reached for the brooch she was still holding, and pinned it back on her neatly. 'Marponius believed him enough to lock us up in separate cells to prevent collusion. Well, then-' A tremulous smile from Helena answered my broad grin. I held out my arms to her. 'So, my darling, let's collude!'

XXX

It took so long for Helena's papa to rally round, I began to dread that he was leaving us to stew. He might have refused to pay a judicial ransom to release me, but I did think he would rescue Helena. Her mother would insist on it.

Helena's conscience was tormenting her. 'It's all my fault! I just noticed the knife and took hold of it because I wondered whatever something of your mother's could be doing there:'

Holding her close I soothed her. 'Hush! All the family go to Flora's. Any one of them could have decided to take their own bread-cutter to attack the week-old rolls. And they are all daft enough to leave it behind afterwards.'

'Maybe one of them will remember:'

My money was on Festus as the culprit, so that was out.

We were lying on a couch. (Purely for convenience; I had more tact than to seduce my girlfriend under the nose of a 'man of ideas'.) Anyway, it was a hard couch.

The room was dark, but noticeably more high-class than where I had been locked up. As a cell for a senator's daughter, it passed. There was a gilt footstool for the couch. An apple log smoked in a fire-basket. We had dim lamps, a small Eastern carpet on one wall, side-tables bearing curios, and vases on shelves. It was cosy. We had privacy. There was in fact no reason why we should rush to decamp.

'Why are you smiling, Marcus?' She had her face buried in my neck, so I was surprised she realised.

'Because I'm here with you:' Maybe I was smiling because we had squared the odds.

'You mean, we're in terrible trouble as usual, but this time it's my fault: I shall never forgive myself for this.'

'You will.'

The house had fallen quiet. Marponius was the type who dined alone then retired to his study to reread Cicero's defence of Sextus Roscius. If ever he hired himself a dancing girl, it was so he would have an audience when he practised snippets of fine oratory.

Caressing Helena's head, I let my mind wander back over the day. Then my thoughts meandered even further, through childhood and youth, trying to make sense of the complex fiasco that had brought me here.

So far I had established that my brother, the eternal entrepreneur, had probably connived with some of his fellow centurions to rob their legion's savings bank; that he had purchased what might be a rare antique statue; and that his ship had sunk.

I had not actually established, but I strongly suspected, that the agent employed by Festus might have absconded with the statue before the ship foundered. That was good, possibly. I might be able to track down the agent and make a quick denarius from the Phidias myself.

Perhaps the agent had had nothing to do with it.

Perhaps the ship had not really sunk.

Then a more ugly possibility faced me. Maybe it had never sunk- and maybe Festus knew that. He could have lied about the Hypericon, then have sold the goods privately and run off with the money. If so, my role now was impossible. It was too late to cash in on the Phidias, I had no money to pay off the legionaries, and I could not clear my brother's name for Ma.

Almost everything I had discovered so far was dubious. It looked as if we had stumbled across the worst-ever crisis in my brother's fabled 'lupin round': his business ventures in the grey economy. Those had usually failed-usually a day after Festus himself had safely pulled out of them. He always trod a sticky path, like a wasp on the rim of a honey jar. Maybe this time he had overbalanced and fallen in.

Helena moved so she could see me. 'What are you thinking about, Marcus?'

'Oh, the Golden Age-'

'The past, you mean?'

'Correct. The long-lost, glittering, glorious past: Probably not so glorious as we all pretend.'

'Tell me. What aspect?'

'It's possible you have allied yourself with a highly dubious family.' Helena laughed ironically. She and I were such close friends I could tell her the unthinkable: 'I am beginning to wonder if my brother the hero in fact ended his days as a thief and a candidate for cashiering.' Helena must have been expecting it, for she simply stroked my brow quietly and let me take my time. 'How can I ever say that to Ma?'

'Make quite sure of the facts first!'

'Maybe I won't tell her.'

'Maybe she already knows,' suggested Helena. 'Maybe she wants you to put the record straight.'

'No, she asked me to clear his name! On the other hand,' I argued unconvincingly, 'perhaps all this only looks like a scandal-but appearances deceive.'

Helena knew my opinion: that is not how scandals work.

She changed the subject, trying to ease my introspective mood by asking about what had happened to me earlier that day. I described the disrupted auction, then told her what I had learned from Geminus about my brother's last business scheme, including the Phidias Poseidon. I ended with how I had been summoned by that ghastly urchin Gaius and had left my father in his office, surrounded by flotsam like some old sea god in a cave.

'He sounds like you,' she commented. 'Hiding away from the world at the top of your sixth-floor apartment on the Aventine.'