She breathed deeply of the warm air, rich in city smells cook shops and chandleries, and the aromatic waft from the stone pines in the public gardens on Pincian Hill.
"Oh I wish I lived somewhere like this' She must have seen my face. "Condemned as a pampered brat! You suppose I don't realize you have no water, no winter heat and no proper oven so you have to carry in your meals from a hot pie shop She was right, I had supposed that. Dropping her voice, she sprang on me, "Who are you?"
"You read it: Didius Falco," I said, watching her. "I'm a private informer."
She considered this. For a moment she was uncertain, then she became quite excited: "You work for the Emperor!"
"Vespasian hates informers. I operate for sad middle-aged men who think their wicked wives are sleeping with charioteers, and even sadder ones who know their wives are sleeping with their nephews. Sometimes for women."
"What do you do for the women or is it indiscreet to ask?"
I laughed. "Whatever they pay for!"
I left it at that.
I went inside and tidied away various items I preferred her not to see, then I set about preparing my evening meal. After a time she followed me in and inspected the bleak hole Smaractus rented me. For the price it was an insult but I rarely paid his price.
There was an outer room in which a dog might just turn round, if he was a thin dog with his tail between his legs. A wonky table, a slanty bench, a shelf of pots, a bank of bricks I used as a cooking stove, a gridiron, wine jars (empty), rubbish basket (full). One way out to the balcony for when you got tired of stamping on the cockroaches indoors, plus a second opening behind a curtain in bright, welcoming stripes this led to the bedroom. Sensing it perhaps, she did not ask.
"In case you're used to all-night banquets that run through seven courses from eggs in fish pickle sauce to frozen sorbets dug out of snow pits, I warn you on Tuesdays my cook goes to see his granny." I had no cook, no slaves at all. My new client was beginning to look unhappy.
"Please don't trouble. I can eat when you take me home"
"You're going nowhere yet," I said. "Not until I know what I'm taking you back to. Now eat!"
We had fresh sardines. I would have liked to provide something more exciting, but sardines were what the woman who took it upon herself to leave my meals had left. I made a cold sweet sauce to liven up the fish: honey, with a dash of this, a sprinkle of that, the normal sort of thing. The girl watched me do it as if she had never seen anybody grinding lovage and rosemary in a mortar in her life. Perhaps she never had.
I finished first, then leaned my elbows on the edge of the table while I gazed at the young lady with a frank and trustworthy face.
"Now, tell your Uncle Didius all about it. What's your name?"
"Helena." I was so busy looking frank, I missed the flush on her own face that ought to have told me the seed pearl in this oyster was a fake.
"Know those barbarians, Helena?"
"No."
"So they grabbed you where?"
"In our house."
I whistled slowly. That was a surprise.
Remembering made her indignant, which made her more talkative. They had snatched her in broad daylight.
"They clanged the bell as bold as brass, barged past the porter, burs!" through the house, pulled me out to a carrying chair and raced down the street! When we got to the Forum the crowds slowed them, so I jumped out and ran away."
They had threatened her enough to keep her quiet, though clearly not enough to quash her spirit.
"Any idea where they were taking you?"
She said not.
"Now don't be worried!" I reassured her. "Tell me, how old are you?"
She was sixteen. O Jupiter!
"Married?"
"Do I look like a person who is married?" She looked like a person who soon should be!
"Papa any plans? Perhaps he has his eye on some well-bred army officer, home from Syria or Spain?"
She seemed interested in the concept, but shook her head. I could see one good reason for kidnapping this beauty. I improved on my trustworthy look. "Any of papa's friends been ogling you too keenly? Has your mother introduced you to any spruce young sons of her childhood friends?"
"I haven't a mother," she interrupted calmly.
There was a pause while I wondered at her odd way of putting it. Most people would say "My mother's dead', or whatever. I worked out that her noble mama was in excellent health, probably found in bed with a footman and divorced in disgrace.
"Excuse me professional question any special admirer your family knows nothing about?"
Suddenly she burst into giggles. "Oh do stop being so silly! There's nobody like that!"
"You're a very attractive young lady!" I insisted, adding quickly, "Though of course you're safe with me."
"I see!" she remarked. This time those huge brown eyes suddenly danced in high spirits. I realized with astonishment that I was being teased.
Some of it was bluff. She had been badly frightened and now she was trying to be brave. The braver she was, the sweeter she looked. Her beautiful eyes were gazing into mine, brimming with mischief and causing serious troubles of my own…
Just in time, footfalls dragged to a halt outside, then my door was battered with that casual arrogance that could only mean a visit from the law.
IV
The law settled his breathing-rate after the stairs.
"Do come in," I said mildly. "It's not locked."
He was in. He collapsed at the other end of my bench. "Have a seat," I offered.
"Falco, you villain! This is an improvement!" He gave me a slow grin. Petronius Longus, patrol captain of the Aventine watch. A big, placid, sleepy-looking man with a face people trusted probably because it gave so little away.
Petronius and I went back a long time. We joined the army on the same day, finding each other in the queue to take the oath to the Emperor, and finding too that we had been brought up only five streets apart. We were tent mates for seven years and when we came home we had another thing in common: we were veterans of the Second Augustan Legion in Britain. Not only that, we were veterans of the Second at the time of Queen Boudicca's Revolt against Rome. So because of the Second's abysmal performance, we both left the army eighteen years early and we both had something we never wanted to talk about.
"Poke your eyes back in," I told him. "Her name's Helena."
"Hello, Helena. What a pretty name! Falco, where did you find that?"
"Running a foot race round the Temple of Saturn." I had chosen to answer with such simple honesty because there was a slim chance Petronius already knew. Besides, I wanted the girl to believe she was dealing with a man who told the truth.
I introduced the watch captain to my dazzling client: "Petronius Longus, district patrolman; the best."
"Good evening, sir," she said.
I guffawed bitterly. Take a job in local government, women will call you "sir"I Sweetheart, there's no need to overdo it."
Take no notice of this tricky character," Petronius scoffed in his easy way, smiling at her with an interest I did not altogether like.
She smiled back at him, so I clipped tersely, "We men want to gossip with a wine jug; go into the bedroom and wait for me."
She shot me a look, but she went. That's the benefit of a liberal education, this little girl knew she lived in a man's world. Besides, she had pretty manners and it was my house.
"Nice!" approved Petronius, in a low voice.
He has a wife, who for some reason adores him. He never refers to her, but must care about her; he's the type who would. They have three daughters, and like a good Roman father he is utterly sentimental about his girls. I could see a day coming when the Tullianum jail would be crammed with frightful young sprogs who had cast their beady eyes at Petro's girls.