Venus in copper

'Is that enough for you?'

'Yes,' she replied simply. My strong, sarcastic lady had a strangely romantic streak. Besides, she had experienced the ceremony once and knew it guaranteed nothing. 'Is it not enough for you?'

'No,' I said. I wanted to make the full public statement.

Helena Justina laughed softly, as if she thought I was the romantic one.

We left the tavern. I had things to do. Bad things. I was not sure how I could tell Helena I would have to leave her now.

We walked slowly to the ruin of the building that had so briefly been our home. Now I understood why the crowd who caught Cossus had felt so violent: there were other bodies laid in a sorry line-a whole family, including three children and a baby. More 'temporary' occupants; we had never even known this sad group shared the tenement with us.

The diggers were still working. Only a few bystanders remained. Overnight the looters would descend. Tomorrow morning the Hortensii, looking diligent, would send the carts which they must already have on order to clear the site.

'At least we are together,' Helena whispered.

'We will be. Helena, I have to-'

'I know.'

She was wonderful. I held her tight and told her so. 'Do you still want to live with me?'

'We belong.'

'Oh my darling, we belong somewhere better than this!' As usual she calmed me down. 'We can find somewhere else, but I shall look into it more carefully than this place! Helena, I may not be able to rehouse us today-better go to your father's, and I'll meet you there later -'

'Slinking home with my tail between my legs?' Helena sniffed. 'I don't care for that!'

'I want you to be comfortable-'

'I want to be with you.'

'And I want you! Believe me, I don't want to leave you alone now; all I do want is to lock us away and hold you tight until you feel safe, and I feel better-'

'Oh Marcus, look!' Helena interrupted. 'There's me parrot!'

It was perching on a pile of rubble. Totally bedraggled, but not in the least cowed. Helena called, 'Chloe! Chloe, come here-'

Perhaps the cage had saved it. Somehow the creature had emerged alive and was now staring around at the wreckage with its normal air of dissolute superiority.

Small boys (whose mother would not thank them) were approaching with the aim of catching it. Chloe never liked men. She let them come within arm's reach, then fluffed up her feathers, hopped a yard in the other direction, and took off. Her tail flashed scarlet as she lifted. I joked, 'Better warn the local starlings they are likely to be mobbed!'

Helena was straining up to watch the parrot's flight. Chloe swooped in a defiant circle near her head.

'Marcus, can she live, if she's loose?'

'Oh that bird leads a charmed life.'

Chloe landed briefly. 'Chloe! Chloe!' Helena cried.

More desperate to catch her now someone else was interested too, the small boys lunged. Chloe slipped away from them, and fluttered to a rooftree far out of reach.

'Come down here and tell me who did it!' Helena screamed with frustration.

'Oh Cerinthus! Cerinthus! Cerinthus!' squawked Chloe obligingly.

Then we watched the parrot soar in ever-diminishing parabolas away into the hot blue Roman sky.

Chapter LX

There was nothing to gain by delaying any longer.

'Sweetheart! This job I do is stupid. You get knocked about; your house falls down; the most gorgeous woman you ever went to bed with is telling you she needs you; and yet off you go to round up villains-when you've just found out that the man the villains murdered is someone you would only have kept alive so you could murder him yourself.'

Shivering, I flung my black cloak round me. That reminded me; in my hat there were still my two cakes from Minnius, wrapped in his vine leaves so more or less free from dust. 'Take these; we'll eat them together at your father's house tonight,' I said, trying not to acknowledge Helena's painful need to stay close. 'Promise!'

She sighed. 'Father wants to see you anyway, now you're up and about.'

'It should cheer him up if I have to give you back to him!'

'We can talk about that,' Helena said; implying that there was nothing to discuss.

I banged my hat to shift some of the mortar dust, and rammed it on.

'You look like a messenger of vengeance! Anyone who sees you outlined in an archway will want to turn and run...'

'Good!' I said.

The dirt on my skin and in my hair was obsessing me; I sluiced off quickly at a bathouse while I laid my plans.

It was midafternoon. Enough of this mosaic now existed for me to feel confident that once I started to manipulate the tesserae, I could fill in the gaps by guesswork and good luck. I had to see Priscillus, the Hortensius women, and Severina Zotica. Cerinthus could be a false lead. But if I could discover where this Cerinthus hung out, I had to see him too.

I chose Appius Priscillus first, and at his house on the Janiculan. Fired by my new incentive, I chose well.

Tension cramped my guts at the thought of meeting the Phrygian bodyguards, but the Priscillus organisation had been stood down-off watch during the siesta. I knew from the disgusting brown sedan in the hall that Priscillus himself was there.

The first mistake his porter made was letting me in. The second was going off to tell his master a visitor had called, without noticing that the visitor was padding behind.

'Thanks!' I smiled at the porter, steering him out of the way as I went in. 'No need to introduce us-Appius Priscillus and I are old friends.'

I had a grudge against Priscillus, which was embellished with bitter envy once I entered the room.

It was a spacious study, with large pannelled doors folded back to give an amazing view across the Tiber towards Rome. In the hands of any competent designer, the effect would have been spectacular. Priscillus probably bought the house for its position, but then he completely wasted it. It was full of natural light-and nothing else but heavily sealed strongboxes. Priscillus begrudged the most basic sticks of furniture. He had confined himself to such dingy paint and fixtures that he managed to ruin everything; there should be a law against spoiling the potential of such a perfect spot.

I felt my nose wrinkling. Its glorious position made the house much more palatable than his business address on the Esquiline; but there was a sordid smell of neglect.

'The game's up, Priscillus. Time for you to leave Rome!'

Priscillus, the same rat-faced runt in what looked like exactly the same frowsty tunic, found his voice with a venomous wheeze. 'Don't waste my time, Falco!'

'Or you mine! I'm calling you to account for the murder of Novus.'

'You've nothing on me, Falco!'

'Oh no? What about your party gift-the excellent Falernian!

'There was nothing wrong with the Falernian,' Priscillus assured me a little too smugly.

'I'll go along with that!' I grinned. 'I tried a drop. A connoisseur might have said it overheated while it was standing in the dining room-but it was as smooth as I have ever drunk. On the whole best taken neat, however! The spices that came with it were a rather queer selection ...' He shot me a glance. 'Myself,' I said, 'I never take myrrh and cassia in a wine of real character. Too bitter. Though it's true that in an inferior vintage, myrrh will disguise a multitude of sins ..."

Enough said. I walked further into the room.

Priscillus started to run round under his fingernails with the pointed end of a stylus. 'What do you want, Falco?'