Nemesis

'You don't?'

'I do not.'

'You mean, because you respect Falco too much?'

'No, Albia,' replied Anacrites, returning to his insidious smoothness. 'Because I respect you.'

It was the perfect answer – if it was honest. Albia should be flattered, impressed and charmed. Producing that smooth reply just proved what I had always thought: Anacrites was deadly dangerous.

As he led her away, he looked back and his pale eyes swept the colonnades again. He was wavering, no longer certain whether I was hidden there. Knowing me, he just thought it must be likely.

Albia had kept him hopping. But much of what he said must have been aimed at me.

XXXIV

I let Anacrites and Albia go ahead. A tall, slim figure separated off from near another corner of the garden. A woman called in a low voice, 'Marcus! Is that you?'

'Helena!' We met along one of the colonnades. My hand found hers. 'So how long were you lurking there? Did you hear all of that?'

'Most of it.'

'I didn't put her up to it – so did you?'

I felt Helena bridle. 'I would never put her in such danger! I came to find her.'

'Did you really tell Anacrites about her yen for Aulus?'

'Of course not. Anacrites was lying, and I shall make sure she knows that. For one thing, whatever occurred between her and my brother – - or whatever Albia thought at the time – she really has not talked about it. Besides, give me credit; I have more loyalty to her. Marcus, she's just a girl. He frightens me.'

'I was impressed by how she handled that.'

'It's not safe for her.'

'We'll have to see she never comes within his orbit.'

'Too late! He knows about her,' Helena told me morosely. 'He knows he can hurt you – us – through her. And I'm afraid she, too, will be hurt in the process.'

As we went around a really dark corner, I pulled her close to kiss her and take her mind off her fears. It failed to work on Helena, though it cheered me up.

Temporarily.

We ran into Aulus and Quintus, chortling in a corridor. They admitted they had nipped off so Quintus could show his brother the cabinet of obscene statues. 'How did you monkeys get in there?'

'We asked ourselves what you would do, Marcus – then we broke the lock.' Justinus spoke as if he had brought along a crowbar specially. 'The spy can blame his fancy caterers. They are crawling everywhere.' That fitted my fancy that Laeta was paying them to observe.

'And was the "art" collection revolting?' Helena asked. The lads assured her they were shocked. However, Justinus reckoned there were fewer pieces than when he stayed here last winter; Anacrites may have felt alarmed that other people knew about his filthy gallery so he had sold the most sinister pieces. A spy needs to avoid scandal. Besides, as I knew from Pa's business, he would have made a killing from any of the private pornography collectors.

We returned to the dining room, all in a jolly foursome, so Anacrites might think we had been together all the time. I had not yet decided whether to tell Albia about us eavesdropping. She was now staring at the tumblers' pratfalls, as if planning to run away to join them.

Claudia looked weary after being left alone to cope with Hosidia. I thought Hosidia brightened, as she watched Justinus sprawl back on his couch opposite her. Could his easy manners and good looks be attracting yet another young woman who really belonged to his stodgier brother? Claudia had once been betrothed to Aulus, but she dumped him – - which her new sister-in-law had probably realised… But Hosidia would need some nerve to flirt with Quintus. If threatened, the once-shy Claudia Rufina fought for her rights with Hispanic bravura. In fact, being the senior bride in the Camillus family seemed to have fired up her confidence. Helena and I liked her; she was tougher than she looked.

Hey ho, I had convinced myself the Camillus family were about to enact a Greek tragedy…

Anacrites' evening was starting to deteriorate. Dessert was the least impressive course he provided. It consisted of browned fruit and lacklustre pastries. I reckoned Anacrites had got this far in the caterer's estimate then drew a line through any extras. He had a frugal streak. When I worked with him, it had always been me who went out for honeycakes to break the monotony.

While we toyed with grapes, Minas reappeared. He boomed that he had seen one of the chefs stealing a picture. Anacrites now seemed too deflated to deal with it. I jerked my head at the Camillus brothers. He was a host to avoid, but we were guests with manners. The lads needed no further telling. We three, tailed by the dispirited spy, marched to the kitchen to investigate.

We found the hired caterers packing up. Observed dully by Anacrites, Aulus, Quintus and I lined up the Lusitanian workers, pushed them about, searched them, insulted them, then went through their equipment. They had not been too greedy – just one or two small but good artworks that the spy might not have missed for weeks, a painted miniature pulled from a nail in a wall panel (that was what Minas had seen them taking), then a pitiful assortment of nick-nack bowls and cutlery. The two female servers were the worst offenders; they each had dainty reticules that doubled up as swag-bags.

One very suspicious item was a jewel, which Quintus found rolled up in a used napkin in the laundry hamper. 'This yours?' he asked Anacrites in some surprise. The spy shook his head initially; it was hardly his taste.

Suddenly he changed his mind. 'Oh – a girlfriend must have left it. Give it me, will you -'

'What girlfriend is this?' Aelianus joshed him.

'Oh you know…'

'Ooh! Anacrites has had a home masseuse!'

'Sent out for special services!' Justinus joined in.

'You dirty dog!' I said. 'I hope she's registered with the vigiles and you had her credentials checked. This could be a serious breach of security -

Anacrites looked embarrassed. He was so close about his habits, assuming he had any, that being teased made him red-faced and uneasy. He was holding out his hand for the jewel but Quintus moved away, still inspecting it closely. Aulus stopped the spy, slapped him on the back, spun him around and clapped his cheeks as if he was a youth we had all taken to be 'made a man' by a sought-after courtesan in a luxury brothel. If that was the kind of woman he had summoned here, he would have paid through the nose for the house call.

We gave the caterers a stiff lecture. They were shameless, but we were drunk, so we kept at it with pedantic gusto. Minas loomed up and threatened to prosecute them, but it was not the kind of big law-work that would gain him notice; he wandered off again to search for more of the spy's fine wine.

Minas should have stayed: once he sent the caterers on their way, Anacrites brought out a small flagon of exquisite Faustus Falernian to thank us. We four sipped it together in the kitchen, though socially it was a stiff moment. This had never been a party that would extend to the small hours so I tossed back my tot, followed by the two Camilli. We were accompanied by mothers of young children, a girl, a newly married bride – all good excuses to disperse. Most of us felt weary too. The dinner had been hard going. Minas would have dallied, but when we returned to the triclinium, he was persuaded to tag along home with the Camilli.

We all thanked Anacrites who, frankly, looked done in. He made weak protestations that it was far too early for us to leave – then thanked us rather too fervently for coming. As he led us to our transport, which had already materialised at his entrance porch, he said he had had a wonderful evening. Compared with his normal lonely nights, it probably had been.

'I hope we have mended some fences, Falco.'

I kept my face neutral, watching Helena as she kissed Quintus Camillus goodbye, undeniably her favourite of the brothers, as he was mine.