A Dying Light In Corduba Part 27

'That makes it all right then.'

'Does it? I don't think so, love!' Suddenly unable to bear being apart from her, I tightened my grip to pull her up from the chair. 'Come and wield a strigil for me, sweet-heart. I'll never reach my own back tonight.'

We had edged around my guilt and her withdrawal. Helena Justina held herself against me for a moment, her soft cheek pressed to my stubbled one, then she took my arm, ready to walk with me to the bath-house. 'Welcome home,' she whispered, and I knew she meant it now.

LIII LIII.

The bath-house at the villa was designed for hardy old republicans. I won't say it was crude, but if anyone hankered for the unluxurious days of dark, narrow bathing places with mere slits for windows, this was ideal. You undressed in the cold room. Unguents were stored on a shelf in the warm room, which was certainly not very warm at night; you got up a sweat by vigorously shaking an oil jar to try to dislodge the congealed contents.

A single stoker kept the fire alight and brought water in buckets. He had gone for his supper but was summoned back. Since the bath was reserved for Optatus, Helena and myself, plus any visitors, he seemed glad of a rare chance to show off his skills. We needed him this evening. The promised hot water had been used up by someone else.

'That's just typical!' Helena stormed moodily. 'I've had three days of this, Marcus, and I'm ready to scream.'

I was stripping, very slowly. I hung my foul togs on my favourite hook, tossing aside a blue tunic that had been left by some previous bather. n.o.body was in evidence now, which was just as well. Helena insisted on kneeling to unstrap my boots for me. I helped her upright, then kept hold of her. 'What's the matter, fruit?'

She took a deep breath. 'I have about four different events to relate; I've been trying to keep them neatly arranged in my mind -'

'You're so organised!' I threw back my head, smiling at the antic.i.p.ated luxury of listening to Helena. 'A lot has been happening? You mean Constans?'

'Oh ...' Helena closed her eyes. The young man's death had affected her profoundly. 'Oh Marcus, I was with his sister and Aelia Annaea when the news was brought; I feel I'm part of it.'

'But you said it was an accident. Truly?'

'It had to be. I told you; he was alone. It was such a shock. Everyone is very distressed. His sister is so young. I have not seen his grandparents, but we've all been imagining how distraught they must be -' She stopped, and suddenly became weepy again. Helena rarely gave way like that.

'Start from the beginning,' I said, stroking her neck.

Taking a lamp, we walked through a heavy door into the so-called warm room. This part of the bath-house was deadened to sound by the thickness of its walls, though somewhere at the far end of the hotter room I could hear vague shovelling sounds as the slave began replenis.h.i.+ng the fire; the rattling and b.u.mping noises travelled through the floor. Helena Justina rested on the low ledge against one wall as I worried a flask to extract a few dribbles of oil. She had presumably bathed once today, so she retained her undertunic modestly and forwent the full cleansing procedure.

She linked her hands and began rather formally: The first thing, Marcus, was that I had a letter from home - from my brother Justinus.'

'The lad! How is he?'

'Still in love with his actress.'

'It's just a crush.'

'So it's dangerous! Well, he's been working hard on Aelia.n.u.s anyway, which he complains cost him a lot of drinks. Aelia.n.u.s is feeling terribly guilty; his friend Cornelius, the one who wrote the famous secret dispatch, has written from Athens telling Aelia.n.u.s not to talk about it to anyone called Quinctius.'

'But Aelia.n.u.s had already done that?'

'Apparently.'

'He told me he fell out with Quadratus when your father was being cheated over the oil pressing.'

'Well, quarrels don't last among lads. But Aelia.n.u.s now says he and Quadratus did meet in Rome, though it wasn'ta success. Their row in Baetica had soured the friends.h.i.+p so by the time of that dinner it had cooled permanently.' 'Too late!'

'I'm afraid so. Justinus has found out that Aelia.n.u.s has been bottling up a disaster. Before he went to the Palace, he had had the report with him at the Quinctius house. He left it with his cloak, and when he collected it the seal looked different. He picked it open again - as he confessed to you, he had actually read it once - the second time the letter had been altered to give a quite different a.s.sessment of how serious the cartel was.'

I nodded. 'So either Quadratus or his father Attractus deliberately tried to underplay the situation. Did Aelia.n.u.s challenge his pal?'

'Yes, and that was when they quarrelled again. Then Aelia.n.u.s was frightened that he couldn't alter the scroll any more without making a thorough mess of it, so he just handed it in to Anacrites and hoped everything would be all right.' Helena sucked her lip. 'I have strong views on Quadratus - which I'll come to next!'

'How has he been annoying you?'

'He'll annoy you too, because we've been landed here with the dreadful bull-necked, spoiled-brat, insensitive rich girls' delight "Tiberius" himself.'

'Here?

'It's your fault.'

'Naturally!' I know my place. Helena was clearly furious; I kept hold of the oil flask in case she let fly with it. 'Even though I was a hundred miles away?'

'Afraid so.' She had the grace to grin at me. I put down the oil flask. Helena Justina had a smile that could freeze all my capillaries. Our eyes met, a glance that was rich with feeling and memory. Only friends can exchange so much, so rapidly. 'It was because of your horse, Prancer.'

'Prancer belongs to Annaeus Maximus.'

'And you lent him to Quadratus and Constans. Quadratus brought him back.'

'I told him not to.'

'Well, isn't that just like him?' Her voice grated. 'And now the irritating creature has come to stay here, where everyone loathes him, and he's using all the bath water! - If I challenge him about it he will apologise so politely I'll want to hit him with an oven hook. I can't prove that he does it deliberately, but he makes life a trial from morning to night for everyone around him.'

I tutted. 'He has to be a villain. I'll prove it yet! - But Helena, my heart, you still haven't told me: why has this social woodlouse become our guest?'

'Your horse threw him. He has hurt his back.'

'I won't hear another word against Prancer: the horse has taste!' I cried.

Growing too cold, we both stepped into wooden-soled clogs and braved the steam of the hot room. Helena took a bronze strigil and started sc.r.a.ping me down while I braced my aching limbs against her steady strokes. I could take as much of that as she was prepared to indulge me with, especially now that her mood had softened up.

'So Quadratus is bedridden?'

No such luck. He can shuffle about. Everywhere Optatus and I try to go, he appears, making himself agreeable.'

'That's disgusting!'

'He decided it was courteous to take an interest in my pregnancy. He keeps asking questions I don't want to think about. He's worse than my mother.'

'The man's a complete lout. Worse than a girl's mother? That's as low as he can get! By the way, how is your pregnancy?'

'Don't bother, Falco. When you try to take an interest, I know it's all fake.'

'You know I'm a fake you can trust.'

'You're the fake I'm stuck with, anyway ...'

She looked tired. I pried the curved strigil from her hand and took over ridding myself of sweat, oil and filth. Then we both sank on to the wooden bench to endure what elsewe could of the heat. Helena collected the damp strands of her hair and wound them into a clump, holding the weight off the back of her neck.

'Marius Optatus could go out in the fields and olive groves, but I've been stuck with our unwanted guest. I had to talk to him. I had to listen too - unendingly. He is a man. He expects to hold the floor. What he has to say is ba.n.a.l, humourless and predictable. He expects admiration in inverse proportion to content, of course.' I was chortling. I loved to hear Helena condemning somebody else.

'Has he made advances to you?' I demanded suspiciously. I knew how I would react if I had Helena Justina to myself for days.

'Of course not.'

'He's an idiot then!'

'He regards me as a mother-G.o.ddess, I believe. He pours out his heart to me. His heart is about as interesting as a burned cinnamon bun.'

'Has he admitted he's a bad boy?'

'He doesn't know,' said Helena, summing him up with furious clarity. 'Whatever he does, he never even thinks about whether it's right or wrong.'

I sucked my lower lip. 'No fascinating hopes and joys? No undetected talents?'

'He likes hunting, drinking, wrestling - with opponents who are not too professional - and telling people about the future he has planned.'

'He told me how good he was going to be as quaestor.' 'He told me the same,' she sneered. 'I expect he tells everyone.'

'I expect some are impressed.'

'Oh lots would be,' she agreed readily. 'People think mere self-confidence equates to n.o.bility.'

She fell silent for a moment. I'm confident,' I mentioned, since she was obviously thinking it.

'You're confident for good reason. And when that's inappropriate you're filled with doubt. What Quinctius Quadratus lacks is judgement.'

We were again silent. The slave had done his duty with a will, and the room quivered with steam now. Wetness streamed over my forehead from the hair flattened on my head. I scooped water from a basin and threw it over my face and chest. Helena was looking very flushed. 'You've had enough,' I warned her.

'I don't care. I'm just so pleased to be with you, to be talking to you.'

It was too hot to touch another person, but I took her hand and we exchanged a slippery embrace.

'Why do we hate him?' I mused after more reflection. 'What has he really done? Other people think he's wonderful.'

'Other people always will.' Helena had clearly had plenty of time to evaluate the hero.

'He's likeable.'

'That's what makes it so bad; he could be worthwhile, but he's chosen to waste his potential. We hate him because he is bound for success, which he doesn't deserve. He is an empty sh.e.l.l, but that will not prevent him rising.'

'His underlings will buoy him up.'

'And his superiors will avoid the effort of reporting his inadequacy.'

'He'll introduce stupid procedures and make terrible decisions, but by the time the results show he'll have moved on up the ladder and be wreaking havoc somewhere else.'

'And he will never be called back to answer for his mistakes.'

'It's the system. The system is rotten.'

'Then the system must be changed,' said Helena.

Left to myself I would have sunk into a heavy sleep, but I managed to rouse us both enough to wash in the warm pool. 'So what's the story of poor young Constans?'

'I told you most of it.'

'You were with Aelia Annaea?'

'Tolerating Quadratus was becoming too much. Optatustook to finding excuses to ride into Corduba. Aelia and Claudia came to rescue me; we sneaked off in the Annaeus carriage, and then we spent the day at Aelia's house.'

'This was today?'

'Yes. Then this afternoon a desperate message came for Claudia Rufina to rush home because of the tragedy. Her brother had been working on the estate; I think maybe there had been some trouble about the life he had been leading - that party you went to with Aelia's brothers has had its repercussions throughout the neighbourhood. Anyway, Rufius Constans had promised to reform himself. Hard work was his way of showing it.'

'What caused the accident?'

'New stones had been delivered for an oil press, and he went to inspect them. n.o.body thought he would attempt to move them on his own. When he failed to return for lunch with his grandmother a savant was sent out, and he was found dead.'

'An accident,' I repeated.

'n.o.body else had been there. As for Quinctius Quadratus, he was here; we all know it. Without question he is unable to ride. He could never have got to the Rufius estate. Besides, why would he harm his young friend?'

I shook my head, unable to suggest an answer. Then I did say, 'I saw Rufius Constans before I left. He and his grandfather were at the proconsul's palace, trying to gain an interview.'

Helena looked at me. 'Intriguing! But you cannot ask Licinius Rufius what they were doing there. He and his wife will be heartbroken over their loss. So much was invested in Constans.'

'And so much wasted,' I agreed, in my most republican mood.

'They had probably gone to ask the proconsul for support in advancing the young man's career!'

That was not how it had looked to me. The old man had been too urgent in his mauner, and the boy too sullen- faced.

Because of the cramped layout of the bath-house, we had to return through the warm room to reach what pa.s.sed for a cold plunge. It was in a kind of cupboard to one side, built off the cold room with the cloak-hooks. Even before we pulled back the curtain which concealed the pool, I had an inkling of something suspicious. Then Helena Justina exploded. 'Oh really! I don't believe this thoughtlessness!'

I did. Somebody had bathed in the small pool so vigorously they had swooshed almost all of the water out on to the floor. Before I squashed down on the sitting ledge and splashed myself as best I could to cool down in the remnants, I glanced back into the outer room. There were wet footprints everywhere, and the blue tunic I threw on the bench had now disappeared. Whoever had used the cold water must have been lurking in the pool when Helena and I first entered. Whoever it was could have overheard all we said. Luckily the thick doors to the warm rooms would prevent sound emerging once we had pa.s.sed through them.

Frankly, if it had been Quadratus eavesdropping, I found it hard to care.

I was pretty well incapable of movement now. When I struggled from the pool, dripping sporadically, Helena had to find a towel and dry me down herself.

'So are you going to tell me your own adventures, Marcus?'