the commotion for, boys? Surely Vespasian is not reduced to claiming the pauper's corn dole? He gets good rations at the Golden House, and can eat them beneath the revolving ivory ceiling in the fabulous octagon--'
'Push off!'
I was a man. They were not interested in me. I knew whose orders they must be following, and why. Anacrites had sent them. They were only assaulting women--which in that area was foolish, even in the cause of a national emergency. The beef-butchers' wives are neither pretty nor polite. Despite the December chill, the ladies of the Cattle Market Forum were all barefoot and bare armed. They had strong husbands with bloody cleavers who could manhandle dead oxen--but these sturdy women did not ask their men for assistance; when the Guards tried to 'inspect' them, they weighed in with fists, teeth and feet fearlessly. The Guards' bravado was slipping.
'Looking for someone special, officer?' I enquired (wondering how the Praetorians dealt with not mentioning Veleda)--but blood from a split lip was despoiling his bright breastplate and he was already exasperated. I hopped off without waiting for an answer.
As I marched quickly up the embankment, something struck my neck with a vicious sting. A cobnut bounced on the pavement. When I turned back, a small boy ran away, giggling. We still had ten days of this menace to endure. Io Saturnalia!
More of our national treasures were loafing truculentlyoutside my house. These shiftless wastrels were the soldiers Titus had assigned to me. They looked as bad as I was expecting. I rounded them up from various flower stalls and wine counters where they were ogling pretty garland-sellers and begging for free drinks. I knew without asking that Albia must have locked them out and in this instance I did not blame her. They were bandy-legged ex-marines from the salty First Adiutrix legion, an emergencyoutfit Vespasian had put together in a hurry, who were currently stationed at Moguntiacum on the Rhine. Camillus Justinus had been a tribune in the First for a time. Not a prestigious posting. 'And you lads were the travel escort for she-whom-we-do-not-name? Bad luck.'
'Oh, Veleda was all right, Falco.'
'No, soldier--I mean, bad luck: now you are taking orders from me!'
As they looked at each other warily, I opened up with my key, and led them indoors.
Helena Justina was waiting in the entrance hall, a tall, tart young woman in three shades of blue wool, with ear-rings that shouted not to annoy her. Hiding behind her, Albia was terrified of the soldiers. The acting centurion in charge of them was already inside, chatting up Helena Justina as if she were a wine-seller, while she glared at him stonily. Nux was hiding behind Albia, though when I came in the dog ran out and barked loudly, before scurrying into retreat again.
Head high and bursting for an altercation, Helena cried, 'Marcus Didius! Welcome home.'
Her tone was enough to make the boys of the First shuffled closer together nervously. Even the centurion stepped away slightly. He stopped short in wondering if he dared bully the householder and quickly adopted a respectful hangdog mode. How wise.
I kissed Helena's cheek formally, looking deep into those fabulous brown eyes with mischief and lust in equal measure.
Helena Justina managed to remain calm. 'This is Clemens, an acting centurion. He has explained about the soldiers.' I held her closer than a senator's daughter expects to be clutched, while in close view of a bunch of surly legionaries; then I smiled at her with so much affection she blushed. 'Marcus Didius, I am quite happy living in a very large house with a very small staff' She tried to wriggle free surreptitiously. I held on. 'I will even entertain--with only a small staff--large numbers of relatives over the Saturnalia period. Relatives who make no contribution, and most of whom are yours. But--darling--I do now find myself wondering exactly how I am to manage here, if eleven--' Helena kept my
'Push off!'
I was a man. They were not interested in me. I knew whose orders they must be following, and why. Anacrites had sent them. They were only assaulting women--which in that area was foolish, even in the cause of a national emergency. The beef-butchers' wives are neither pretty nor polite. Despite the December chill, the ladies of the Cattle Market Forum were all barefoot and bare armed. They had strong husbands with bloody cleavers who could manhandle dead oxen--but these sturdy women did not ask their men for assistance; when the Guards tried to 'inspect' them, they weighed in with fists, teeth and feet fearlessly. The Guards' bravado was slipping.
'Looking for someone special, officer?' I enquired (wondering how the Praetorians dealt with not mentioning Veleda)--but blood from a split lip was despoiling his bright breastplate and he was already exasperated. I hopped off without waiting for an answer.
As I marched quickly up the embankment, something struck my neck with a vicious sting. A cobnut bounced on the pavement. When I turned back, a small boy ran away, giggling. We still had ten days of this menace to endure. Io Saturnalia!
More of our national treasures were loafing truculentlyoutside my house. These shiftless wastrels were the soldiers Titus had assigned to me. They looked as bad as I was expecting. I rounded them up from various flower stalls and wine counters where they were ogling pretty garland-sellers and begging for free drinks. I knew without asking that Albia must have locked them out and in this instance I did not blame her. They were bandy-legged ex-marines from the salty First Adiutrix legion, an emergencyoutfit Vespasian had put together in a hurry, who were currently stationed at Moguntiacum on the Rhine. Camillus Justinus had been a tribune in the First for a time. Not a prestigious posting. 'And you lads were the travel escort for she-whom-we-do-not-name? Bad luck.'
'Oh, Veleda was all right, Falco.'
'No, soldier--I mean, bad luck: now you are taking orders from me!'
As they looked at each other warily, I opened up with my key, and led them indoors.
Helena Justina was waiting in the entrance hall, a tall, tart young woman in three shades of blue wool, with ear-rings that shouted not to annoy her. Hiding behind her, Albia was terrified of the soldiers. The acting centurion in charge of them was already inside, chatting up Helena Justina as if she were a wine-seller, while she glared at him stonily. Nux was hiding behind Albia, though when I came in the dog ran out and barked loudly, before scurrying into retreat again.
Head high and bursting for an altercation, Helena cried, 'Marcus Didius! Welcome home.'
Her tone was enough to make the boys of the First shuffled closer together nervously. Even the centurion stepped away slightly. He stopped short in wondering if he dared bully the householder and quickly adopted a respectful hangdog mode. How wise.
I kissed Helena's cheek formally, looking deep into those fabulous brown eyes with mischief and lust in equal measure.
Helena Justina managed to remain calm. 'This is Clemens, an acting centurion. He has explained about the soldiers.' I held her closer than a senator's daughter expects to be clutched, while in close view of a bunch of surly legionaries; then I smiled at her with so much affection she blushed. 'Marcus Didius, I am quite happy living in a very large house with a very small staff' She tried to wriggle free surreptitiously. I held on. 'I will even entertain--with only a small staff--large numbers of relatives over the Saturnalia period. Relatives who make no contribution, and most of whom are yours. But--darling--I do now find myself wondering exactly how I am to manage here, if eleven--' Helena kept my
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