ODE TO A BANKER

I leaned back my head, like a man who was perplexed, and fell silent. Then, just as the fingertips began exploring that sensitive, rather tingly area of my neck where the tunic edge met my hairline, Passus knocked on the door. I breathed a sigh of relief – or was it regret?

`I'm just off now, Falco.' He had a scroll bundle with him. `This is the stuff you wanted -'

`Thanks, Passus.' Both of us managed not to grin, as I jumped up from the couch and collected the scrolls from him. `I'm finished here.'

That was one way of putting it. `I'll walk along with you. Vibia Merulla, thank you for your help.'

I bade a rapid farewell to the widow, and safely fled.

XXXIX

AGAIN, I decided against lunch at the Clivus Publicius popina. Apart from not wanting to give Passus the idea that I dallied at food stalls – where Petronius and the rest were bound to have told him informers flocked like summer pests – I could now see two of the scriptorium authors leaning on the bar. Had it been the playwright or the love poet, Urbanus or Constrictus, I would have gone down there and joined them but it was the gangling Scrutator spouting at the flashily dressed Turius. Not in the mood for either, I went the other way, up towards the crest of the Aventine and home. There I invited Helena out for an early lunch at a more local eatery.

`Falco, you have a shifty look about you!'

'Certainly not.'

`What have you been doing?'

`Talking to Passus about literature.'

`Lying dog,' she said.

Even when I gave her the scrolls to read, she still looked suspicious for some reason. She leaned over and sniffed my shoulder; my heart pounded a little. I dragged her out to eat before the interrogation became too drastic.

Flora's Caupona was always quiet, though not normally as tense as we found it today. A couple of self-effacing regulars were sitting up straight at the inside table obediently waiting for their order. Apollonius, the waiter, walked forward to welcome us. He was a retired teacher – in fact, he had taught me at school. We never mentioned that. With his usual dignity, he ignored the peculiar atmosphere, as if he had not noticed it.

`We have lentils or chickpeas today, Falco.'

`Jupiter, you're taking the pulse regulations seriously.' Most other food stalls had probably just disguised their pots of fish and meat by leaving them off the chalked-up menu.

`Or perhaps something cold?' he enquired.

`Something cold!' Helena gasped. It was so hot outside, we could hardly move two yards without sweat drenching us. `Junia, just because the edict says you can only serve pulses hot, doesn't mean you are forced to provide steaming porridges even in August!'

My sister clasped her hands upon the spotless pot-counter. (Not her effort; Apollonius took a strange pride in his demeaning work.) `We can make you a salad specially – seeing as you are family,' she condescended primly.

Her son was playing with a model ox-cart where a second table had once stood. We put Julia down with Marcus Baebius and they soon started screaming at each other noisily. I waited for the customers to leave because of the racket. They stuck it out like a bunch of stubborn thick-ribbed limpets that had been excrescences on a harbour groin for twenty years.

Helena and I took a bench outside, the only remaining seat. Junia had made Apollonius prepare the salad, so she came out to patronise us.

`How are you two getting on? When is that cradle going to be occupied again?' Helena stiffened. From now on, she would go to enormous lengths to keep her pregnancy from Junia. `And how is that wonderful new house of yours?'

`Are you trying to make us weep?' Helena demanded, freely acknowledging that the house purchase her purchase – was a bad mistake. `Apart from the fact we are lumbered with the worst building-contractors in Rome – recommended by your father I have now realised it is far too distant from the city for Marcus to do his work properly.'

`Father is talking about selling up,' suggested Junia. `Why don't you do a swap with him?'

Neither of us answered her, though we both had difficulty withholding our delight at the idea of Pa having to deal with Gloccus and Cotta. Even if this had been the best solution possible – and if there was any chance Pa would agree to do it – we would still not have allowed Junia the triumph of suggesting it.

`I'll mention your interest to Pa,' she said bossily. `By the way, did you know Maia has persuaded him to let her work at the warehouse?'

`Goodness,' murmured Helena. `Whoever would have thought of that?'

`She won't stick it out,' Junia decided.

`Wait and see,' I replied, trying to remain calm. `I'll remind you of that statement in ten years' time, Junia, when Maia has become a top-notch antiques expert and the Favonius auction house leads the profession under her shrewd guidance.'

`What a joker,' said Junia. Silently, I willed Mercury the god of commerce to make Flora's Caupona go broke.