The Course of Honour by Lindsey Davis Page B

daughter you can marry. You need a fat landed dowry and you must become respectable if you want a career.’ This was true; he acknowledged her wise advice. Duty and propriety compelled a citizen to marry, marry a woman of good background and character, then produce children. The
cursus honorum
, the official career ladder for senators, depended on it. ‘I am sorry if there has been a misunderstanding,’ Caenis concluded in anxious apology.
    â€˜Straight question: straight answer. Perfectly understood!’ He was not angry, but bitterly hurt. With an unusual flash of spite he demanded, ‘Got some fellow slave lined up, then? Jealous, is he? Think I’ll scare him off?’
    â€˜Don’t be simple,’ Caenis rebuked him. ‘Though I imagine you would; you’re frightening me . . . I will not have a companion even from among the other slaves. I want to be by myself.’
    He was not yet ready to let her smooth his ruffled crest. ‘You should have told me you were so scrupulous!’
    This time she would not reply; it was up to him whether he chose to see her distress.
    Around them began Rome’s terrifying transformation into night. Goods had been whisked from pavements; leaves of folding doors were drawn across shop frontages; bolts thumped heavily into sockets and elaborate padlocks rattled on cold iron chains. Above theirheads a woman’s thin-wristed arms hooked a cat and a pot of flowers from a window-ledge then slammed the shutter on a shadowy interior. It was now extremely dark. There were no streetlamps and hardly a chink of light showed where the crowded lodging houses faced the unfriendly streets. The grimmest alleys were emptying. Soon the city would be given over to a lawlessness where even the vigiles who were supposed to police the various districts were likely to dive into a drinking-house rather than answer a call for help.
    Vespasian’s slaves began to shuffle restlessly.
    â€˜Please come,’ Caenis cajoled, concerned for his two guards.
    â€˜Well!’ he complained crossly. ‘Why did you bother with me, girl?’
    Then Caenis answered with plain honesty, ‘Because I do like you.’ In for an
as
, in for an
aureus.
‘I like you,’ she admitted, stony-faced, ‘more than anybody I have ever known.’
    She could tell that although he stayed where he was, indignant and disappointed in the public thoroughfare, Vespasian was utterly disarmed. Other women may have felt attracted to him, but others were not so direct. Suddenly Caenis recognised his solid exterior concealed genuine sentiment. He would never be able to resist anyone who confessed to wanting him; she dared not contemplate how warmly he would respond.
    That was not for her.
    â€˜I suppose,’ she acknowledged, ‘this means I shall not see you any more?’
    It was darker; she could not properly make out his face, but she heard his short bitter laugh. ‘What do you take me for?’ She dropped her head, though his voice was already softening. ‘Oh lass; don’t be so feeble. You know when you have some poor beggar on your hook!’
    â€˜Well, why do
you
bother with
me
?’ she flung back.
    He said very quietly, ‘You know that too.’
    His stance relaxed; he began to saunter on in silence, pulling her after him with a curt gesture of his head.
    Â 
    He had brought her to Antonia’s house. ‘Here we are; your palace, lady!’ he declaimed mockingly. His guards were loitering discreetlybehind the Temple of Victory as he lowered his voice. ‘Going to give me a kiss?’
    â€˜No, I’m not.’
    She shrank back, but after a brief stare he merely banged on the main door for her. He was persistent, but never aggressive. The porter squinted through his grating then began the extended process of unfastening locks. In the tiny square of lamplight Caenis saw a gleam in Vespasian’s eye as he murmured back