Recovering his confidence, Mastarna passed off the quarrel with Zosime as unimportant. 'There can be many approaches to ill health. All or any of them may work. Zosime was trained by my colleague, Cleander. His regime and mine are antipathetical.'
'But Zosime was not permitted to attempt her gentle regime?' Helena said.
Mastarna seemed reluctant to admit this, unaware that Zosime had told Helena she had been given the hint to abandon Veleda's care. 'It was an issue between her and the patient. Then, of course, the lady from Germany removed herself altogether.'
'Patient choice,' I commented. It was clear from Mastarna's expression he thought that kind of licence was a bad thing. The thought crossed my mind that if Veleda had trusted Zosime and wanted to continue with her suggested gentle treatment, after her escape the priestess might have traced the female doctor to the Temple of.Жsculapius. When we left Mastarna, irritated by more unsatisfactory answers from that suppurating smoothie (Helena's definition), I considered making our way home via Tiber Island. It would have meant a detour. And I reasoned that if Zosime had been willing to own up to further contact with Veleda, she would have confessed it to Helena when she came to our house yesterday. So late that afternoon, I tracked down Clemens and the soldiers on search duty; I dispatched them to do a room-by-room search of the temple and its hospital buildings. If Veleda was there, they would recognise her – or I hoped they would. I had warned them always to be aware that she might have changed her appearance. They were not to manhandle women with the rough treatment I had seen the Praetorians using, but they were to check carefully for height and eye colour, neither of which could be altered.
They did not find her. As Helena pointed out, if she ever had been at the hospital after her escape, then as soon as questions started to be asked, she would have been moved elsewhere. It was generally thought that runaways who could demonstrate they were seeking refuge from brutality were helped to disappear. If the staff sympathised with Veleda's predicament, she could have been whisked off by the same escape route.
After the search, we let it lie. I had no evidence at this stage that would justify either leaning heavily on Zosime or threatening the administrators. It had been a busy, though mainly unproductive day. I was ready for a quiet night in, planning my next moves. This was where, on a normal enquiry, I would have welcomed a case consultation with one of the Camillus brothers. It would be a good ploy on a winter's night. We could have sat around a warm brazier munching almonds and apples, with a glass or two of table wine, and Helena would steer us towards sensible conclusions while we men tried to duck the issue…
No chance of that. Aelianus was in Greece – and I was about to hear very bad news about what had happened to our missing Justinus. It began when we were greeted on the threshold by Albia, in tears.
'Marcus Didius, something terrible has happened – I've been searching for hours but I can't find the dog anywhere. Nux has run away!'
XVII
‘You are joking, Albia? You cannot seriously mean, not only do I have to search for a missing murder suspect, and my missing brother-in-law – but now I must waste yet more time and effort looking for a dog?'
'I cannot go; you do not let me roam outside.' That never stopped her when she wanted to buy cinnamon cakes.
Albia spent a lot of time imagining she was a princess, among whose accessories was a noble hunting hound, a role she crazily assigned to Nux; the little dog just let her get on with it. Albia loved Nux. Nux returned the favour. To the rest of us my pet was a scruffy, often stinky bundle, whose matted, multicoloured fur nobody would willingly investigate closely. Nux was friendly and full of life, but she had no pedigree. She had adopted me. She came from the streets and saw me as a soft touch. She was right, too. Nobody who had a choice would let Nux into their home. I took in the dog, and later I took in Albia, because their lives at the time were even worse than my own. Besides, in both cases, I blamed Helena. She wanted to believe she was in love with a generous person, a benefactor of the oppressed. She had willed me to do it. Both times. 'Poor Nuxie was upset when the soldiers came, Marcus Didius.' 'Have the bastards mistreated her?' 'No, but she doesn't understand why they are all in her house.' 'She'll come home of her own accord.' 'How can you be so heartless? The streets are wild with revellers – she will be terrified!'
Infected by Albia's agitation, both my children began wailing. Julia and Favonia, two fine little tragic actresses, were clutching Nux's favourite toys and looking piteous. Needless to say, I soon found myself promising to go out and find the lost doggie. Trusting young faces beamed at heroic Papa, expecting miracles. Albia came with me. I think she suspected I would bunk off to a wine bar. (No, sweetheart; that was last night.) Eventually, when we had walked all the local streets and alleys, feeling like fools as we called the dog's name, I got sick of being jumped at by revellers in fancy dress who then ran off whooping. I marched to the vigiles' patrol house, and asked to see Petronius. Albia stuck with me, glaring balefully.
'Petro – I want you to tell the men to look out for my dog, please. Don't say anything!'
Petronius Longus eyed up the situation; saw I was being supervised; saw that this was not my own idea. He revelled in my discomfiture. 'You mean, Falco, my hard-pressed lads are to ignore all the arsonists, plotters, market-trashers, temple-defilers, robbers, rapists and heartless killers -' 'I said, don't say anything.' 'What – not even, I hope you've come to collect your dog?'
XVIII
Nux had been recaptured by Petronius himself. He had spotted her slinking up an alley, covered with mud and worse. Fortunately the vigiles keep a plentiful cache of water. Now washed and fluffed up prettily, my dog had established herself as a guest in the all-night galley that kept the men supplied with hot rissoles and mulsum. She had her snout in a bowl of delightfully rich broth and did not want to come home. She wagged her pert tail when she saw us. Nux did not believe in guilt.
'Oh you naughty girl; they've been spoiling you!' Albia was entranced.
None of Petro's cohort were likely to pass up the chance of showing a bright young woman around the excubitorium, their local outstation here in the Thirteenth District, so I had to wait with the dog while pumping engines sprayed water all over the yard and long ladders were rushed to imaginary blazes; then even the cells were opened up so Albia could look in wide-eyed at that evening's bunch of really stupid drunks who had thrown nuts at the watch. While I waited, lolling in the doorway of Petro's office so I could keep an eye on Albia and prevent any malpractice, Petro took delight in telling me there had been no progress in the surreptitious search for Veleda. 'Your trail is cold, Falco.' I thanked him courteously.