“She hates cleaning the paintbrush,” I said to her noble papa. “So do I.” Nonetheless I took it from her, kissing her hand (avoiding the paint splodges). “Cleaning up is one of the small tasks I undertake for her.” I gazed into her eyes. “In return for the many generosities she gives to me.”
It would have been unseemly to add that on occasions when her father was not present I liked to enjoy myself rather wickedly cleaning up the painter too. Helena's one fault was that she tended to get paint on herself everywhere.
Luckily the senator was easily sidetracked; we sent him into another room to play with his granddaughter, leaving us to snatch some fun.
Later, when I had fed everyone, our illustrious visitor confided the reason why he had so keenly accepted my invitation to our tiny apartment when he could have been dining on richer cuisine and in comfort at his own home. It was some time since we had walked over the Aventine to the slightly run-down Camillus mansion near the Capena Gate to visit Helena's family. We had never been formally debarred, but since Justinus absconded with the girl that we two had introduced as a suitable (that is, rich) bride for his elder brother, there had been a cool atmosphere. Nobody blamed Helena for the family troubles. On the other hand, I made a good target. The jilted Aelianus had been particularly ribald.
“What's this?” demanded the senator; he had found a parchment on which I had drawn a large onion-like plant.”
“A botanical sketch of a silphium plant,” I said neutrally.
Helena, who had been feeding the baby, handed Julia to me. This meant I could occupy my attention with patting up the baby's wind. Helena herself was keeping her eyes down, refixing her dress brooches.
“So you've heard from my son too!” Camillus looked from one to another of us. He could read the omens from a skyful of rooks.
While we admitted it shiftily, pretending we had of course been planning to mention it, the senator laid aside my botany and brought out a map. I realised that meeting him at Glaucus' baths had been no coincidence; he had come prepared. He must have been intending to discuss the missing couple with us. Although I believed that his relationship with his wife Julia Justa was as open and confiding as it traditionally ought to be, a disloyal thought did cross my mind that her husband might not yet have told her that Justinus had written home. Julia Justa had taken the elopement pretty hard. For one thing, the missing girl's elderly grandparents had arrived in Rome all the way from Spain only two days afterwards, intending to celebrate Claudia's betrothal and marriage; Julia Justa had had to endure a tricky period with the furious old couple as house guests before they left in a hut}:
“He's got as far as Carthage.” The senator spread the mapskin from his home library “Clearly has no idea of geography.”
“I expect they fled on the first boat going south.” Acting the peace-keeper was not my natural style. “Carthage is a short hop from Sicily.”
“Well, now he knows,” said Camillus, placing one forefinger on Carthage and the other virtually at arm's length away on Cyrene, “That he's in the wrong province, with a ships' graveyard between him and his purported goal.”
Yes. There was Carthage, Rome's ancient enemy, west of Sicily, high on the tip of the proconsular sector of the province of Roman Africa. Right around the double curves of the dangerous Syrtes, eastwards past the Tripolitanian sector of Africa, into Cyrenaica, and almost as far as Egypt in fact, lay the town of Cyrene which had once been the resplendent entrepot for the sought-after silphium The troubled waters of the great bays Syrtis Minor and Syrtis Major, across which our traveller would now have to transport himself on his mad quest, had sunk quite a few ships.
“Could he travel by land?” asked Helena, in an unusually meek voice.
“It's about a thousand miles,” I mentioned. She knew what that meant.
“Much of it desert. Check with Sallust,” her father said crisply. “Sallust is very good on the burning wind that rises in the desert and swirl… sandstorm, that fill your eyes and mouth with dust.”
“We need a nice plan to keep him in Carthage then,” suggested Helena.
“I want him home!” snapped her papa. “Did he tell you what they are doing for money?”
Helena cleared her throat. “I believe they may have sold some of Claudia's jewellery.” Claudia Rufina was an heiress of the best quality; she had possessed a great many jewels. That was why we had thought she was such a catch for the elder son of the family. Aelianus had hoped to boost his standing in the Senate elections with this financially adept marriage; instead, shamed by the scandal, he had now stood down altogether and was loafing at home with no career for another year. Meanwhile Claudia's dowry was being spent by his brother on Carthaginian hospitality.
“Well, they won't have to sell themselves into slavery as camel-drovers then.”
“Afraid they might have to, sir,” I admitted. “Justinus tells us they accidentally left the main jewellery chest behind.”
“In the excitement, no doubt!” Camillus senior gave me a sharp look. “So, Marcus; you're the horticulture expert.” I refrained from protesting that my only connection was one grandfather who ran a market garden where I had sometimes stayed in childhood. “I've been told the crazy story about looking for silphium. What chance is there that Justinus will actually rediscover this magic herb?”
“Slim, sir.”
“Thought so. I gather it was all grazed out years ago. I shouldn't imagine the shepherds who have let the silphium be eaten will welcome an offer to reclaim their grazing fields and turn them back into a big herb garden. I don't suppose you fancy a trip across the Internal Sea?”
I looked sorrowful. “I'm rather too busy tied up with my Census work, I'm afraid" As you know, it's very important that I do well and establish myself.”
He held my gaze rather longer than I found comfortable but then his expression changed to a more indulgent one. He rolled up the mapskin briskly. “Well! I expect it will be sorted out.”
“Leave the map,” Helena offered. “I'll make a copy and send it to Quintus when we write. At least he'll know where he is then.”
“He knows where he is,” her father quipped bitterly. “In deep trouble. I can't help him; it would be insulting to his brother. Perhaps I should send my gardener to look after him. When Claudia's emeralds run out he's going to have to be damned quick with his search for the precious herb cuttings.”
To change the subject, I introduced the story of Leonidas Helena wanted to know whether I had succeeded in meeting Rumex after she and Maia were turned away.
“Turned away?” asked her father.
I rushed into how I had met Saturninus and his prizefighter, hoping to avoid worrying the senator with his daughter's scandalous attempt to meet a gladiator. “Rumex is a typical hulk: immaculate body and brain like an ox, but he speaks slowly and carefully, as if he thinks himself a philosopher. The trainer, Saturninus, is a more interesting character-” I decided not to mention that Helena and I were to dine with the lanista the next day. “Incidentally, sir, Saturninus has given an alibi for Rumex by saying that when Leonidas was killed they were together at the house of an ex-praetor called Pomponius Urtica. Have you come across the man?”