'That dung heap! Why don't you get a decent job and start honouring your debts? I'd like to see you install that girl of yours in a nice town house with an atrium.'
'Helena can manage without marble corridors and spare stools.'
'I doubt it!' he said. If I was honest, so did I.
'She's looking for a man of character, not libraries and a private lavatory.'
'Oh she's found that!' he sneered. 'All right, I'll have the bed taken to your flea-pit, but don't expect the favour to be repeated. It's not for you I'm doing this: Helena bought an item, so I'll be sending a cart up the Hill anyway.'
It gave me an odd feeling to hear my father, whom I could barely tolerate, speaking of Helena Justina with such familiarity. I had never even introduced them; not that that had stopped him presenting himself behind my back and assuming instant paternal rights. 'What item?' I growled.
He knew he had me. I could have swiped the grin off his face with the nearest besom. 'The girl has taste,' he commented. 'She pipped you on the naiclass="underline" '
I hated to show my interest, but I had guessed. 'That tripod table! How much did you sting her for?'
He chortled annoyingly.
The porters were bringing back the unsold goods from the interrupted auction. As they hauled in the savaged wall panels I said, 'Whoever buys the house those were ripped from will need the holes repaired. You could send Mico round to offer his services to make good.'
'Make bad, you mean? All right, I'll give him the address.'
'If he's lucky the new owners won't have heard about him. Anyway, his bodging can be covered up before it's noticed. The wall plaster will need painting,' I mused, trying to wheedle out information without him noticing. 'No doubt you were already thinking of a commission for suggesting a panel artist?' My father refused to bite. Like Festus, he could be secretive about business affairs. I tried again. 'I suppose you know all the hack picture painters?'
This time the twinkle in his eye that had once drawn the women appeared. Nowadays it was dry and dark and sceptical. He knew I was prodding at something specific. 'First the bed; now renovation. Are you planning to gild your filthy doss-house like a palace? Careful, Marcus! I hate to see inappropriate ornamentation:'
'Just a few false perspectives,' I joked back feebly. 'A landscape with satyrs for the bedroom and a set of still lifes in the kitchen. Dead pheasants and fruit bowls: Nothing too elaborate.' I was getting nowhere. I had to be direct. 'Helena must have told you. I want to track down a group of daubers I once saw Festus meet at a cheap bar on the lower Caelian. It was a hovel called the Virgin.'
'She told me,' he agreed, like someone refusing to enlighten a small child as to what he might be getting for a Saturnalia gift.
'So do you know them?'
'I'm not aware of it. No jury,' declared my father, 'will convict a man for being kept in ignorance of his son's friends!'
I ignored the jibe. Angrily I burst out, 'I suppose you are also going to tell me you know nothing about the scheme Festus was running just before he died?'
'That's right,' Geminus answered levelly. 'That's exactly what I'll say.'
'You're not talking to Censorinus now!' I reminded him.
'No. I'm talking to you.' This kind of conversation only occurs in families. 'It's a waste of good air,' he grumbled, then stretched abruptly. 'This is typical of you-riding the mule backwards, staring at the tail flicking flies off its arse! I thought we would have come to the soldier half an hour ago, but you do have to dally in the byways pretending you forgot what you were sent to find out-I know you were sent!' he scoffed, as I started interrupting. He knew I would not have come on my own account. 'If we have to rake over old miseries, let's start at the beginning-and let's do it respectably over a drink!'
That was when he gripped me by the elbow as if I had raised a sensitive issue too publicly, and steered me from the open frontage of his warehouse to the discreet haven of his office on the upper floor.
I felt like a man who was about to be sold a fake silver wine-heater with one foot that keeps dropping off.
XXIV
On my very occasional visits I had noticed that my father's office changed in mood and character as he sold off whatever choice pieces adorned it. To this private quarter were brought his most select customers-the ones who had to think themselves special for the next half an hour while he palmed them off with something. Here they were seated on ivory, or chased silver, or sweetly scented oriental woods, while Geminus produced exquisitely decorated cups of spicy wine and told them lies until they found themselves buying more than their budget could afford. Today he had a suite from Alexandria: delicate painted coffers and sideboards on slim legs, with horned ibis and lotus-flower patterns. To complement the Egyptian look he had dug out some tall peacock fans (permanent props, which I had seen before), and added sumptuously tasselled cushions to the odd, hard couch that had lived there for ever and was not for sale. Behind the couch hung a dark red curtain; behind that, actually bricked into the wall, was his bank box.
Before we talked, he went to the box and stashed the takings from today's auction. I knew his habits about money were methodical. He never opened the bank chest in front of the staff, let alone customers. I was treated differently-one of the few ways he acknowledged that I was family. In my presence he would quietly go to the box and unlock it with the key he kept round his neck on a thong, as if we two, like he and Festus, were in some sort of partnership. But it had only happened since my brother died.
He dropped the curtain hastily as a lad came in bringing the usual galley tray of wine and bowls of almonds. 'Hello, Falco!' grinned the youth, seeing me leaning on a wall like a spare broom. Then he looked uneasy. None of the staff knew quite what to make of me. The first few times I came here I had refused to admit to any relationship; now they all knew I was the master's son, but they could see I was not on the same easy terms as Festus. No one could blame them if they found that hard to understand; faced with my father, I felt confused myself.
Since I was not a customer the lad seemed to have second thoughts about the refreshments, but Papa grabbed at the wine flask, so he left the tray with us. 'That watch captain you know was looking for you, Falco! Some judge wants to interview you.'
Surprised, I threw nuts down my throat too rapidly, then choked. Geminus assumed that knowing look of fathers, though waited for the boy to leave before he spoke: 'Is this about the unpleasantness at Flora's?'
'Do I gather you know that dump?'
I thought he gave me a wry look. The caupona was uncomfortably close to Mother's. 'I've been there a few times.' Flora's had only existed for ten or twelve years; it postdated Pa's return from Capua. But Festus was always hanging round the place. Anyone who knew Festus was bound to have heard of it. 'Helena told me you were being fingered. Sounds as if Petronius is about to step on your tail.'
'He's given me time,' I assured him, like a man of the world who was merely threatened by a creditor who had made him a new cloak and unreasonably wanted payment.
'Oh yes? I do have some influence,' he offered.
'Don't interfere.'
'By the sound of things, you will need bail.'
'It won't come to that.'
'Right.' This was our usual happy repartee. He was hating me and I was enjoying it. 'Let me know when we all have to come to court and cheer while the bastards convict you!' We were silent while he poured wine. I left mine on the shelf where he had placed the cup. 'Oh drink up and don't be so pompous. We've been here before; you're in deep trouble, but you don't want help, especially from me-'