Part 26 (1/2)

The concept of fooling some other woman pleased both Ma and our litigious client, Ursulina. Sisterhood was not their style. They were eager to help.

'Do you know Euboule's daughter?' Helena asked as they perked up. 'I believe her name is Zeuko.'

Ursulina reeled back. She acted out horror like a creaking tragedian at the least popular day of some tired and dusty festival. 'Far be it from me to insult people -'

'Oh go on!' urged my mother, wickedly. 'These are bad women.'

'What's wrong with Zeuko?' frowned Helena. 'Is she dirty? Lazy? Does she drink?'

'Oh she's competent, some would say.' 'She has had high-ranking customers.'

'They are fools. Her mother's a legend and I wouldn't let Zeuko foster a dead rat.' Ursulina Prisca shuddered dramatically. 'I can find her. But don't take your own along - you might never get the little darling back.'

Helena asked Ma to look after the baby and Julia - but Ma, playing against type, quickly claimed Albia could No wonder I was an informer. Nosiness was in my blood.

The litter was brought. I was borne away on my hopeless errand. By now, the praetor would have a long queue of supplicants. And there were still dog hairs on my toga.

XLVII.

Time: afternoon.

Place: patrol house, Aventine.

Subject: conversation between L. Petronius Longus, Fourth Cohort of Vigiles, and M. Didius Falco, informer.

Mood: depressed.

'How was your morning?'

'Dire.'

'Procreus turn up?' 'No.'

'Praetor see you?' 'No.'

'Charges dropped?' 'No.'

'Back again tomorrow?'

'd.a.m.n well have to. Any good news for me?'

'Sorry; no.'

'The Second made any progress?'

'No. Perseus is not found yet, and your steward's a no-go. He's a freedman. They can't touch him. They threatened him - but then he threatened them with appeal to the Emperor.'

'He could talk voluntarily.'

'He says no: he's too loyal.'

'Who's he loyal to?'

'He's too loyal to say.'

'Stuff him then. Stuff everything.'

'That's right. Take the tolerant view!'

'I'm off home.'

'Best thing, lad.'

'Thanks anyway.'

'That's all right. What are friends for?'

XLVIII.

Time: evening.

Place: a town house full of wet cloaks, sodden shoes drying on the stairs, below the Aventine.

Subject: conversation between M. Didius Falco, informer, and Helena Justina, confidante.

Mood: stubborn.

'Where are you?'

'Here.'

'Where's here?'

'In this room.'