curl, and now we were waiting with our nerves on edge for the inevitable moment when she decided to roar and rampage.
It was, as always, a good dinner, one which would have been more enjoyable had I felt able to relax. I liked Helena's father and no longer disliked her mother. They seemed to have accepted that they were stuck with me. Perhaps they had also noticed that I had not yet lived up to expectations and made their daughter unhappy, nor had I been thrown in jail (well, not lately), barred from any public buildings, lampooned in any scurrilous satires, or featured in the rogues' gallery in the Daily Gazette . Even so, at these gatherings there was always a risk somebody would say something offensive. Sometimes I thought Decimus secretly hoped for the thrill of it. He had a wicked streak. I knew it well; he had passed it on intact to Helena.
"Papa and Mama, you can help us with something," said Helena over the dessert course. "Do either of you know anything about Laelius Numentinus, the Flamen Dialis, and his family?"
"What's your problem with a flamen?" her father demanded.
"Well, I have had an early run-in with the silly old bastard," I hedged, "though it was not face-to-face."
"Naturally. You'd be at arm's length, held off with his precious wand."
"No, he has been retired; his wife died and he had to stand down. Not that it stops him complaining, apparently. The first thing that greeted me in my new post was a crisis caused by his displeasure at unwanted goslings scampering about the Capitol. I managed to avoid meeting him, or I would have been very brusque."
"After a lifetime of being protected from close contact with the real world, he can't be good with people--or birds." Decimus had a definite scorn for the flaminical caste. I had always liked him. He had no time for hypocrisy. And although he was a senator, I reckoned he was politically straight. No one could buy him. That was why he had no money, of course.
He knew few of the right people either; he admitted that Laelius Numentinus was simply a figure glimpsed at public ceremonies.
"What happened to the goslings, Marcus?" asked his wife with amusement.
"I found them a good home," I answered soberly, not mentioning that the home was ours. Helena eyed me trickily.
"And are you expecting more trouble from the man--or is there some other reason for enquiring?"
"There's a child in his family whom they expect to be chosen as the next Vestal. I gather the Laelii can mystically influence the lottery." I aimed the last comment at Decimus.
He raised an eyebrow, this time pretending to be shocked at the imputation of fixing. "Well," he scoffed. "We wouldn't want any little unscrubbed plebeian to emerge as the winner, when there are maidens with mile-long patrician pedigrees yearning to carry the water from the shrine of Egeria."
"Famous for their antique chastity?"
"Absolutely notorious for their purity and simplicity!" concluded Helena dryly.
"No, no. It cannot be," Julia Justa corrected me. "Being a daughter of a flamen counts as an exemption from the lottery."
"She is the Flamen's granddaughter, actually."
"Then the father must have opted out of the priesthood." Julia Justa laughed briefly. For a moment, she sounded like Helena. "I bet that went down well!" In explanation she went on, "That family are known for regarding the priesthood as their personal prerogative. The late Flaminica was notorious for her snobbery about it. My mother was a keen attendant at the rites of the Good Goddess--remember she took you once, Helena."
"Yes. I've told Marcus it was just a sewing circle with dainty almond cakes."
"Oh, of course!"
They were teasing Decimus and me. The festival of the Bona Dea was a famously secretive gathering of matrons, nocturnal and forbidden to men. All sorts of suspicions circulated about what went on there. Women took over the house of the senior magistrate--turfing him out--and then enjoyed letting their menfolk sweat over what kind of
It was, as always, a good dinner, one which would have been more enjoyable had I felt able to relax. I liked Helena's father and no longer disliked her mother. They seemed to have accepted that they were stuck with me. Perhaps they had also noticed that I had not yet lived up to expectations and made their daughter unhappy, nor had I been thrown in jail (well, not lately), barred from any public buildings, lampooned in any scurrilous satires, or featured in the rogues' gallery in the Daily Gazette . Even so, at these gatherings there was always a risk somebody would say something offensive. Sometimes I thought Decimus secretly hoped for the thrill of it. He had a wicked streak. I knew it well; he had passed it on intact to Helena.
"Papa and Mama, you can help us with something," said Helena over the dessert course. "Do either of you know anything about Laelius Numentinus, the Flamen Dialis, and his family?"
"What's your problem with a flamen?" her father demanded.
"Well, I have had an early run-in with the silly old bastard," I hedged, "though it was not face-to-face."
"Naturally. You'd be at arm's length, held off with his precious wand."
"No, he has been retired; his wife died and he had to stand down. Not that it stops him complaining, apparently. The first thing that greeted me in my new post was a crisis caused by his displeasure at unwanted goslings scampering about the Capitol. I managed to avoid meeting him, or I would have been very brusque."
"After a lifetime of being protected from close contact with the real world, he can't be good with people--or birds." Decimus had a definite scorn for the flaminical caste. I had always liked him. He had no time for hypocrisy. And although he was a senator, I reckoned he was politically straight. No one could buy him. That was why he had no money, of course.
He knew few of the right people either; he admitted that Laelius Numentinus was simply a figure glimpsed at public ceremonies.
"What happened to the goslings, Marcus?" asked his wife with amusement.
"I found them a good home," I answered soberly, not mentioning that the home was ours. Helena eyed me trickily.
"And are you expecting more trouble from the man--or is there some other reason for enquiring?"
"There's a child in his family whom they expect to be chosen as the next Vestal. I gather the Laelii can mystically influence the lottery." I aimed the last comment at Decimus.
He raised an eyebrow, this time pretending to be shocked at the imputation of fixing. "Well," he scoffed. "We wouldn't want any little unscrubbed plebeian to emerge as the winner, when there are maidens with mile-long patrician pedigrees yearning to carry the water from the shrine of Egeria."
"Famous for their antique chastity?"
"Absolutely notorious for their purity and simplicity!" concluded Helena dryly.
"No, no. It cannot be," Julia Justa corrected me. "Being a daughter of a flamen counts as an exemption from the lottery."
"She is the Flamen's granddaughter, actually."
"Then the father must have opted out of the priesthood." Julia Justa laughed briefly. For a moment, she sounded like Helena. "I bet that went down well!" In explanation she went on, "That family are known for regarding the priesthood as their personal prerogative. The late Flaminica was notorious for her snobbery about it. My mother was a keen attendant at the rites of the Good Goddess--remember she took you once, Helena."
"Yes. I've told Marcus it was just a sewing circle with dainty almond cakes."
"Oh, of course!"
They were teasing Decimus and me. The festival of the Bona Dea was a famously secretive gathering of matrons, nocturnal and forbidden to men. All sorts of suspicions circulated about what went on there. Women took over the house of the senior magistrate--turfing him out--and then enjoyed letting their menfolk sweat over what kind of
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