SATURNALIA

'Look, you can't have seen Scaeva for over a fortnight. Scaeva has been dead all that time. Did anybody ever tell you Veleda had escaped?'

'Anacrites. At his house this week.' 'So tonight – you were just going to the temple on the off-chance of finding her?' 'Yes, but the moment I spotted the Praetorians, I went frantic. I thought they must know that Veleda was definitely inside -' 'And you know Ganna?'

'Never met the girl.' How many men had sworn that old lie to me?

Justinus saw me thinking it. 'Marcus, Lentullus and I had talked, today at Fountain Court. He told me about Ganna being brought to Rome with the priestess. When the guards pulled her out of hiding, I guessed who she was… What will happen to her?' 'I don't know. Your big sister went with her, if that helps.' Justinus looked relieved. I felt slightly less confident: Helena would do all she could, but Anacrites was a bitter, single-minded foe. Nonetheless, Quintus and I shared a momentary smile, as we thought of Helena defying him. The first time I met him, Helena and I had yet to become lovers and she was giving me all Hades of a time. Her brother and I had bonded quickly, both overshadowed by her fierce spirit, both adoring her eccentric resolution.

I felt exhausted. I said I had to go home to see if there was news of Helena. I put Justinus on parole to remain at the station house with Lentullus – to stay there whatever happened to the injured soldier overnight. He agreed the conditions. I was almost past caring.

Just as I left, he surprised me. I glanced back from the door, raising a weary arm in salutation. Then Justinus suddenly asked me, 'How is Claudia?'

I took it as hopeful. Mind you, right when I first met him, I had noticed that Camillus Justinus had extremely good manners and a kind heart.

SATURNALIA, DAY TWO

Fifteen days before the Kalends of January (18 December)

XLIV

Positions were reversed. For once I was the one waiting among the oil-lamp shadows, when Helena crawled in at last, barely able to move from exhaustion. It was a shock to see her still in the strange brown gown she wore to the Temple of Saturn, though at some point since she disappeared in Anacrites' litter, she had plaited her loose hair into an old-fashioned bun like some severe matriarch from the Republic.

I had been sitting on a chest in a daze until I heard the litter-bearers calling good-night to her. I felt stiff myself, but managed to get to the door to open it for Helena like a uniquely efficient hall porter. 'Dirty stop-out. What time do you call this?' I took her in my arms, very gently. 'Should I check you over for bruises? Or just check how drunk you are?'

She shook her head in reassurance, as she collapsed against me. 'All we were offered was a small tray of three-day-old date fancies and some foul grape juice. Hospitality from the Chief Spy is not based on the Good Steward's Household Manual… I hope you picked up those cloaks, Marcus.'

So she was all right. I helped her upstairs, where we fell into bed wearing most of our clothes. I squirmed out of my outer tunic, hoping she had not seen the bloodstains I had acquired from Lentullus. Helena fell asleep after me, I think, but she was up first. By the time I sauntered trom our room, she had been to the baths, dressed like herself in a smart red dress and pendant garnet ear-rings, and had begun calming our household – scared slaves; disconcerted soldiers; subdued children; Nux slinking along skirting boards as if she was in trouble; Albia, equally dog-like, defiantly letting us know she was furious at us for staying out all night.

I had washed my face and put on slippers. I had decided not to shave or change my undertunic. I was master of my house. I had my own style. I wasn't a jumped-up, hidebound, establishment lackey who couldn't yawn if it was a black day on the calendar. People knew what to expect from me. I refused to create anxiety by looking too formal.

Once everyone had settled down, Helena and I were free to take a late breakfast by ourselves. After we ate, we carried warm honey drinks right up on to our roof terrace, where there was a chance we could remain undisturbed. I checked the supports on the wind-blown climbing roses while I reported on Lentullus andJustinus. 'I told your brother to remain with the vigiles. I hope he does. But I haven't the resources – or the will any longer – to hold him to it.' 'Can I go and see him?' 'I can't stop you.' 'Marcus!' 'Oh I just don't want you seeing the mess the Guards have made of Lentullus.' As Helena stared, I admitted, 'Yes, the lad could die. He may be dead by now.'

Helena slowly sipped at her beaker. 'Is Scythax a good doctor? Should we find a better man?'

'Maybe I'll ask around, see if there is a specialist for sword wounds – some old army surgeon, maybe. I don't want to appear ungrateful to the vigiles. Lentullus would have gone under last night, if I hadn't thought of Scythax.'

I told her about the incident with the dead vagrant. Helena pursed her lips. I could see her filing it away in her library of curiosities. At some point, if a link occurred, she would pull down a mental scroll case and bring out this story, making new sense of it. Meanwhile we were silent, absorbing the oddities. 'So tell me what happened, sweetheart; how did you get on with Anacrites?' I watched Helena sorting her thoughts quietly. 'Well, to begin at the end, Ganna has been placed in the House of the Vestals.' 'Whose idea?'

Helena smiled. 'It is secure, and the Virgins will look after her. Ganna understands that nothing can be decided about her own fate until Veleda has been found.'

'And how painful was it, reaching this resolution?'

Helena said briefly, 'The man is a pig.' Seeing my look of horror, she took my hand quickly. 'Oh Anacrites didn't assault us. Nothing so direct. He deals in mental indignities. I dare say he would have tried physical mistreatment of the girl, had I not been there – '

'It's standard,' I confirmed. Without allowing the Spy any credit, I too would have done the same, faced with a tricky enemy and driven by urgency: 'In tough interrogations, even before you start beating them up, you deprive your subject of food, drink, hygiene facilities, warmth, consolation – hope.' 'Well, Anacrites certainly deprived Ganna of hope.' 'That's not fatal. Nor does it have to be permanent.' 'Are you as hard as him? No, Marcus. You have better tactics. More practical. First, you would point out the risks of her situation and the possibilities for retrieving something if she co-operates…' Helena was looking morose. 'I did try to persuade Anacrites that he should adopt your methods. I played on the fact that you and he are both working on this problem – working together -' I made vomiting noises. She ignored it. 'Working together now, just as you had done so successfully during the Great Census. I said, you both owe your current prosperity and your high social profile to that experience. Neither of you should forget it.' I took the sophisticated route this time; I merely banged down my beaker hard on a garden table. 'So?' I asked coldly. Helena chuckled. 'Oh, it worked, Marcus. Anacrites did exacdy what you would do.' 'Which is?' 'He snapped, well maybe I would like to ask the questions then.' We both had a chortle, then Helena admitted, 'Of course he was being sarcastic, but I jumped in and thanked him, and took him at his word.'

I allowed myself to guffaw. I was enjoying the story now. I wished I could have been a gecko yesterday in a corner of the interrogation room.

'First I suggested that I should like to get comfortable; I asked to use the facilities. Ganna had the sense to come too. A slave was supervising us, but we managed to have a few words together and I impressed on her that the more she said, the better it would look, so the easier things would go for her. And…' Helena paused, reconsidering. 'That "and" sounds significant.' 'No, it's nothing. So when we went back, I asked the questions and Ganna confessed pretty well everything.' I noted Helena's 'pretty well', but let her carry on with her version.