'Our house was full of Guards this morning, Marcus; I gather I should blame you for that.' I went cold. Maia had once had an apartment violently trashed by Anacrites, after she sent him packing. She saw my expression and said quietly, 'I was here. Lucius dealt with them.' So, fortunately, he had not rejoined the vigiles' party last night. He would have kept the Praetorians in order. Maia would have gone to pieces if she had to face a second house invasion. This mission was coming too close to home all round.
Allia and Galla had both left Mother's earlier, hysterical after the operation. It had taken five hours, during which Ma, who usually whizzed around like a demented fly, had had to sit in her basket chair and remain absolutely still. This would be hard, even without the man poking a needle around her eye. She had refused narcotic drugs. Nobody even dared suggest tying her to the chair.
Of course Ma endured it all with determination, even forgoing her customary scowl. The oculist had been amazed by her ability to sit like marble. Apparently he thought she was a dear old lady. 'Jupiter, Maia. How come you and the others found the only oculist in Rome who's blind?'
It had been intended that only one cataract should be cleared with the couching needle today, but Ma insisted that the man did both. My sister thought our mother was afraid she would be unable to find her courage a second time. She wanted to see. She hated not being able to keep a fierce eye on everyone. Besides, the oculist had said she would be the first patient who coped with both operations the same day. Well, that saved him a double visit. Ma must have been weak by then. She fell for it.
Even Maia looked strained now, but she was staying on watch overnight. Ma was resting. I looked in on her; she was lying straight on her back, with her hands neatly at her waist and her lips set in a straight line. It implied that somebody was for it. That meant nothing. She looked like that whenever she looked at me. Lamb's-wool pads covered both eyes, so someone would have to help her with everything until they came of[ 'Where's -' I turned back to Maia, chilled. Where was Ganna? 'Oh we all knew your mystery woman was here,' scoffed my sister. 'Allia stormed in on her. You know what Allia's like. She couldn't bear to watch the operation, so she thought she'd cause trouble instead. Galla and Allia had got it into their head you'd stashed your tribal tootsie here so you could visit her secretly.' 'Oh yes – and Ma would go along with that liaison?' 'Do you want the story? In tramps Allia, loudly suggesting that Ganna comes out, puts some effort in, and helps us look after Ma. The girl shrieked, Allia grabbed her by the hair -' Allia had always been a bully and a hair-puller. As a child I kept well out of her way. 'So Ganna pulled free and ran out of the house. Nobody has seen her since. Well, apart from a big clump of blonde hair that Allia dragged out. Juno, I hate those mimsy little pale types!'
I swore. Maia (a vibrant, energetic girl who had a thicket of dark curls, jauntily bound with crimson ribbon) managed to look guilty about letting the acolyte run away. Then a tremulous voice came from Mother's bedroom. She had been awake and listening all the time. 'I'm just a helpless old woman, racked with suffering Someone must go after poor Ganna!' That order came out crisp enough.
Annoyed, I demanded a clue where to start. In a little whisper, which fooled no one, my mother named the Temple of Diana on the Aventine. Diana: virgin goddess of the moonlit groves, with the big thighs and the over-excitable bow and arrows. Well, that made sense. Any woodland priestess would feel well at home with the haughty huntress. One thing I ought to have remembered right at the start of this mission was that the Temple of Diana was by tradition a safe haven for runaways.
When pressed, Ma meekly admitted young Ganna had regularly prayed at this temple… 'Oh Hades, Ma; didn't you suspect something? Why would Ganna want to pray to Diana? No one from Germania Libera honours the Twelve Consenting Gods!' A nagging recollection came to me: 'You keep her in?' 'Except when we make a little trip together to a market or temple.' 'Has she said anything?' 'She fooled you plenty. There's a lot she's holding back.'
Stupid! I should have picked up the clue. At the very least, messages were being passed. At worst, Veleda herself had been in hiding at the temple, and Ganna had been colluding with her. If that had been true, probably neither Ganna nor Veleda would be there now. 'Why didn't you say something?' 'Oh son, I never interfere.' Dear gods. 'I have to leave.' 'Don't rush!' cried Maia. My sister had a fast, angry way of dealing with crises. 'First off, I can read the auguries. As soon as Mother owned up what a scam the girl had been pulling, I nipped to the temple myself, Marcus. The priests denied all knowledge. They will only say the same to you. In any case -' This was the clincher; my sister knew it – 'Helena wants you back at home. She said to be there prompt, good-tempered and clean. Titus Caesar has invited you two and her parents to the official feast tonight at the Temple of Saturn. So you'll go – or you're damned to the memory.'
I closed my eyes in dread. An endless official banquet, in the presence of a god's effigy and those two stiffs, the imperial princes gamely pretending to be men of the people while flying nuts hit their gold braid and drunks spewed on their orbs of office – was not my idea of a social life. Even Titus and Domitian would probably prefer a night in with a game of draughts. 'Look on the bright side,' Maia consoled me. 'It gets you out of puppets up at Pa's house.' A thin wail of agitation came from Ma at the mention of our absconding father. Maia and I exchanged wry smiles. Oh flying phalluses, stuff the priestess. Since it was a festival for ending grudges, I kissed my sister tenderly, kissed my mother even more devotedly, dodged Ma's flailing arm as she tried to box my ears, and went home to take my wife out to an alfresco dinner with the ancient god Satumus.
XXXIX
'I am sorry, Marcus. But avoiding the invitation would be impolite. '
Helena meant, it would be too political. When the Emperor called, no one was otherwise engaged. Refusal would finish us. We would not be asked again. Our public life would end. Once, I had not given a stuff about my career in public life; now I had a family.