Anything to say?" demanded Maia, keen to see me squirm. Helena Justina, tightly wrapped in a heavy stole, said nothing. Albia looked scared to death.
It was not my fault."
It never is, brother!" I strode past my sister and clutched Helena in my arms. She could see my wrecked hair under its formal veiling and she felt me flinch as the sunburn hurt. She knew something bad had happened. I just held her. She buried her face in the shoulder folds of Petro's toga, shaking. I could have buckled and wept myself, but people might have thought I was upset over Theopompus. Maia had been watching us, with her head on one side. She put her arms around both of us briefly, pulled back my veiling and kissed my cheek. She had had troubles in her life; seeing other people with stretched emotions made her gruff. She took Albia to see the torches being lit to burn the bier. Petronius stayed with us, his eyes raking the funeral guests for known faces. To bolster myself, I began telling him quickly all that had happened yesterday after he left me at Portus. With her head on my shoulder, Helena listened. I got as far as being hijacked on the ship, trying to minimise talk of drowning. Then it turned out that Cotys had the chest with the scribes" ransom money; it must be the Illyrians who carried out the raid at the ferry."
I'd like to arrest this Cotys, if he shows," grumbled Petro. Bloody Rubella has ordered that unless it becomes unavoidable, we are to avoid confrontations."
Can't we make it unavoidable? Is Rubella obeying religious scruple or political diplomacy?"
There's just too damned many of them, Falco. We've got Illyrians here, plus the Cilicians too." I raised an eyebrow. He explained tersely, We reckon they have been working the kidnaps together an alliance."
Blood brothers? So who," I asked, lowering my voice slightly, is current favourite for killing Theopompus?"
Fifty-fifty bets."
And what about the ransom attempt? There must have been plenty of witnesses when the ferry was raided." Petronius scowled. Yes, and all anyone will say is that the raiders were exotically dressed."
Cotys and the Illyrians."
Yes, but did they send the ransom demand? Or," said Petro, do they just know who the real kidnappers are?"
Assuming Diocles actually was kidnapped." I mopped Helena's wet face on a corner of my toga. With Petro's stern eye on me, I checked nervously in case colouring came off on his precious garment, but she was bare of makeup. As the stole fell back I saw too that her hair was loose; she had put on no ear-rings or necklaces either. It was appropriate to disregard your appearance at a funeral. Even so, I felt that lump in the throat again.
I'd better confess, love, I've been in the sea."
Marcus, I told you not to fall in water."
I didn't fall; I was slung off the Illyrians" ship. But I followed your instructions about lying with my toes turned up and looking at the sky." I held her tighter. Thank you, sweetheart."
You must be a better pupil than I thought." I was a better pupil than / I had thought. How," asked Helena pointedly, did your father come into this?" Petronius was also looking at me sceptically. Anything that involved Geminus must involve a scam; still, investigating my dear father would be more trouble than it was worth.
Pa was fishing."
Catch anything?" asked Petro in a dour tone.
Just me."
I'm surprised the old scamp didn't throw you back." I suppressed a sudden vision of Geminus with that oar raised up to crack down on my head. Maia came back with Albia. My sister said she had had enough and was going home. She hated funerals. It might have something to do with losing her husband when he was abroad, and her guilt at not being able to attend his send-off. I never liked to stress how little of Famia had remained to be given a send-off; the lion who dispatched him had not been a picky eater. Helena had been sent a personal invitation by Rhodope, though so far she had been unable to speak to the girl. We went and found her, in a glittering white mourning gown and veil [and several gold necklaces, installed on a throne-like chair on a low plinth, among a large group of dark, thin women who were presumably Illyrian. They had created a bower with a corona of modest curtains, then they stuck the girl in it by herself. This gave the impression that Rhodope was a valued member of their clan, yet they were all talking to each other, while she sat alone in misery. She made a pitiful widow, suspiciously like a prisoner. Helena firmly trod a path between the women, who were mostly sitting cross-legged on the ground. They looked hostile, but when ever she stepped on a hand or crushed a skirt, she bestowed a sweet patrician smile on the victim. Every inch a senator's daughter, Helena Justina was bringing condolences and patronage without questioning whether she was welcome. Trampling on provincials seemed to be her heritage. I knew she was angry on behalf of the bereaved young girl. Whatever support the teenager lacked, Helena intended to offer it now. Rhodope! This will be a hard day for you, but what a wonderful turnout. He must have been extremely popular. I hope it's some consolation for you." The pale girl looked suspicious. Only Rhodope had her large sad eyes fixed on the bier. Everyone else here was using the funeral as an excuse for a party. With free food and music, none of them spared a thought for Posidonius, being fleeced yet again, and few seemed to care much for seeing off Theopompus to the afterlife either. It was a segregated event. Women stayed together; so did men. Different groups of men clustered separately from each other. The formal Roman undertakers were going about their business, more or less unnoticed, while among the knots of seafarers foreign musicians played exotic instruments, oblivious to the mournful Roman flutes that were supposed to signal high spots in the ceremony. From private cooking fires, scents of roast meat and fish mingled with the incense. The overall effect was completely disorganised. It also had the feel of a party that would last for the next three days. A veiled man barged past me, his hairy arms holding a portable altar high on his shoulder. Acolytes scurried after him, towing a sheep and bringing implements for sacrifice. There were whoops from the rough element, who were eyeing up the sheep as potential spit-fodder. Since nobody else wanted Rhodope's attention, Helena was able to stay there and talk. While she introduced Albia, I stopped with them. After Maia left, Petronius had mooched off to inspect the mourners. As the only male in this group, I was out of place, but it was nowhere near so dangerous for me as joining angry men with sea-knives in their cummerbunds. The pyre was struggling to light. I could see the priest's lips moving as he cursed under his breath.
What will you do next?" Helena asked Rhodope quietly.
I am going to Illyria with his people."
Is that a good idea? Joining them along with Theopompus would have been different. Without him, will you be welcomed?"
Oh yes. They are my friends for his sake." A couple of gap-toothed old women looked up and smiled vaguely. They might not be talking to Rhodope, but they were definitely listening. Helena let the subject drop. It was Albia, herself the child of loneliness and suffering, who burst out irritably, You are being foolish. Life will be hard and you will be a stranger. They will make you marry some man who will be cruel to you. You will be a drudge." Rhodope shot her a displeased look. In different circumstances the two young girls could have made friends. You know nothing about it!"
I know more than you think!" retorted Albia. I met Helena's eyes as the two teenagers argued; she looked proud of Albia, who now said flatly, I have lived without a family, among very poor people."
They are not poor!" flashed Rhodope. Look at these women, see how they are dressed." It was true that they were richly adorned. among their crimson, blue and purple robes, chain necklaces were draped in clusters, rows of bangles lined their thin arms, anklets and ear-rings twinkled with gold disks and spindles. Sure of her victory, Albia proclaimed, There burns your man. Your hopes are flying up to the heavens in the smoke. Sit and weep for him. Helena Justina will comfort you." Albia gathered her skirts in one hand and began to pick her way disdainfully between the seated Illyrian women. As if emphasising their lack of interest in Rhodope, she offered, I will go and fetch food and wine for you."