A dying light in Corduba

XXVII

I spent the night at the Annaeus house. The notables let me feed at their table (well, their tenants' table). They loaned me an empty cell in their slaves' barracks. It was near the well, so I even managed to get something to wash my wounded neck – and tnere was all I could wish for to drink. What civilised people. Next morning their steward sent me away on a very slow horse which he said I could borrow indefinitely since its useful life had run out. I said I would report my gracious treatment by the Annaei to the Emperor. The steward smiled, openly showing his contempt.

The three sons had come home at dawn. I met them thundering in as I rode away. On principle they left me in a cloud of dust again, though the initiative had gone out of them to some extent and they were all looking faintly tired. As far as I knew the daughter was still out. Women have more stamina.

The Camillus estate lay bathed in sunlight when I finally rode back. As I expected, Helena had already followed up her promise to go over to the Licinius Rufius spread and pursue the next suspect for me. Marmarides, looking annoyed at having his nose put out of joint, told me Marius Optatus had driven her.

It gave me time to bathe and change my tunic, then to hang around the kitchen until the cook found me the kind of nourishing breakfast certain old women like to lay before an honest young man who is known to have fathered an almost-born baby and who clearly needs his strength built up. As I enjoyed the food, she cleaned my cut neck with a thyme wash and stuck on some sort of salve. Needless to say, its main ingredient was olive oil.

Helena returned to find me still being pampered. She grabbed me by the scruff of the neck and inspected the damage. 'You'll live.'

'Thanks for the loving concern.'

'Who did it?' I winked; she took the point. We walked outside to the shady area of garden near the house, where a bench was placed under a fig tree on a wall. There, safe from being overheard, I told her about the shepherdess. Helena winced. 'You think this pageant queen all bundled up in smelly wool is the "dancer from Hispalis"?'

I did not want to say I had definitely recognised her, since that gave a false impression of me gawping too keenly at women. 'Striking down men from behind certainly seems to be her trademark. But Anacrites and Valentinus were then rammed against walls. Apart from the fact that there were none available last night, if it was Selia, she made no attempt to follow up.'

'Maybe she relies on her two musicians to do the dirty work, and didn't have them with her.'

'Then what was the point of the stone? It seemed random – more like a warning than anything.'

'Marcus, if the stone had hit you on the head, would you have been killed?' Sparing Helena's feelings, I said no. It certainly could have done more damage. But stone- throwing takes a good aim.

'Don't worry. What it's done is put me on my guard.' Helena frowned. 'I do worry.'

So did I. I had been struck by a recollection of Anacrites mumbling 'dangerous woman' when I said I was coming to Baetica. I now realised it was not Helena he had meant. He too must have been warning me – about his assailant.

To lighten the atmosphere I related my experience with Annaeus Maximus. 'I gained some insight into his attitude. His family is in a political trough. He is socially crippled by what happened to Seneca. Undeserved or not, the taint has lingered. Wealth alone might recapture the family's old lustre, but they've clearly lost heart too. Maximus certainly does not want a career in Rome, though he doesn't seem to mind being the big boy around here. Still, the Annaei are yesterday's heroes, and now it all depends whether running Corduba will be enough for them.'

'Will it?'

'They are not stupid.'

'What about the younger generation?' Helena asked. 'Running wild with great panache.' I described what I had seen of the sons and the jewel-clad daughter.

Helena smiled. 'I can tell you about the daughter – including where she stayed last night!'

I pricked up my ears. 'Scandal?'

'Nothing like it. Her name is Aelia Annaea. She was at the Licinius Rufius house. Despite the alleged feud between their families Aelia Annaea and Claudia Rufina, the other fellow's granddaughter, are good friends.'

'Flow sensible you women are! And so you met both of them today?'

'Yes. Claudia Rufina is quite young. She seems genuinely good-natured. Aelia Annaea is more of a character; the bad girl enjoys knowing that her papa would hate her to accept hospitality from Licinius when the two men aren't speaking.'

'What does Licinius feel about it?'

'I didn't meet him.'

'Aelia sounds a bundle of trouble. And if Licinius encourages her to upset her father, he sounds a wicked old man.'

'Don't be a prig. I liked Aelia.'

'You always like rebels! What about her little friend?' 'Much more serious. Claudia Rufina yearns to endow public buildings and earn a statue in her honour.' 'Let me guess: the Annaea babe is pretty -'

'Oh, you thought so?' Helena asked quickly; she had not forgotten me saying that I had seen Aelia Annaea at her home last night.

'Well, she's rich enough to get herself admired for her necklaces, and she's polite,' I corrected myself. 'Honestly, I hardly noticed the girl… Nice sapphires!'

'Not your type!' Helena sneered.

'I'll decide my type, thank you! Anyway, she was being picked up by someone last night; I bet she's betrothed to the handsome god I saw in the carriage when she went off. I suppose the Rufius poppet with the commendable social ambitions will be very plain -'

Helena's eyes were bright. 'You're so predictable! How can you ever judge human nature when you're so bound up in prejudice?'

'I get by. Human nature makes people fall into distinct pigeonholes.'

'Wrong!' Helena said crisply. 'Claudia is just rather serious.' I still reckoned Claudia Rufina would turn out to be plain. 'The three of us had a civilised chat over a refreshing tisane. And you're wrong about Aelia Annaea too.'

'How's that?'

'She was happy and light-hearted. Nobody has burdened her with a future husband of any kind, least of all a gooddooking untrustworthy one.' Helena Justina had never liked handsome men. So she claimed, anyway. There must have been some reason why she chose to fall for me. 'She was overdressed in jewellery, but wore nothing like a betrothal ring. She is very direct. If the situation called for it, she would have asked for one.'

'The arrangement may not be public knowledge yet.'

'Trust me; she's not spoken for! Claudia Rufina, on the other hand, was sporting a heavy bracelet of garnets, which cannot be to her taste (she told me she collects ivory miniatures). The awful bracelet looked just the thing a man would grab at a goldsmith's for a girl he feels obliged to present with a formal gift. Expensive and horrible. If she does ever marry the man who gave it to her, she will be obliged to treasure it for a lifetime, poor soul.'

I found myself smiling. Helena herself was dressed simply, in white, with hardly any extra decoration; while pregnant she found wearing jewellery uncomfortable. She unconsciously fingered a silver ring which I had given her. It was a plain design with its love message hidden inside. It represented the time I had suffered as a slave in a silver mine in Britain. I hoped any comparison she was making with Claudia Rufina's gift was favourable.

I cleared my throat. 'Well, did you meet any male hangers-on today?'

'No, but there was talk of "Tiberius", who was thought to be at the gymnasium. He sounds like the man you saw. If he's good-looking enough to irritate you, he's also bound to be crazed on sports.'

'Because he's handsome?' I chortled. In fact having seen him I agreed he must be a handball lout. The man I saw had a thick neck and probably a brain to match. When he chose a wife he would be looking at the size of her bust and wondering how readily she would let him run off to exercise or hunt.

The thought of hunting made me wonder if his formal name was Quinctius.

'The youth you saw being sick on the steps was probably Claudia's brother.'

'The lad who was taken to Rome with the Baetican group?'

'He never appeared this morning. He was still in bed. I heard distant groans that were supposed to be him with a wine-headache.'

'If the handsome dog is after Claudia I bet there's a scheme to marry her brother to her best friend Aelia.' I was always a romantic.

Helena was scathing: 'Aelia Annaea would eat a young lad for lunch!' She seemed well disposed towards both girls, but I could tell Aelia Annaea was the one who really appealed to her.

I scowled. 'There's not much to gain from courting the young people. It's the old men who run Corduba. From what I saw last night that's wise; their heirs look thoroughly overindulged: bored girls and bad young men.'

'Oh, they're just rich and silly,' Helena demurred. Her trip to the Licinius house had cheered her up since yesterday. Her mother's highly expensive midwife had advised me to keep her mind occupied for these last few weeks – though the woman probably did not expect Helena to be gallivanting about Baetica.

'So what's your verdict, my darling? Have we decided these young creatures just have too much spending cash and too little parental supervision – or are the brats up to no good?'

'I don't know yet, Marcus. But I'll find out.'

I stretched lazily. 'You should enjoy yourself more. A good long bathe is what I recommend. If you whistle loudly while you're steaming, Optatus and I will keep out of the way.'

Helena Justina patted her bulge and told the child-inwaiting that if she had as many baths as its father suggested the baby would be washed away. Sometimes I wondered if Helena saw through my schemes. It would be like her to have found out exactly what the midwife had told me – and to disobey deliberately.

'So I've seen the gem-encrusted Aelia. What's Claudia Rufina like?'

'Neat, smart, and rather shy,' said Helena. 'She has a rather big nose which she unfortunately accentuates by tilting back her head then looking at people over it. She needs a tall husband – which is interesting, Marcus, because from the way Marius Optatus insisted on driving me today instead of Marmarides, I'd say he has a yen for Claudia! When we got there he vanished to discuss farrning with the old man, but I swear he only wanted to go so he – could offer greetings to the girl.'

I raised my eyebrows. Naturally I disapproved of unions that broke barriers. 'Unless I've misunderstood the rules of Baetican etiquette I reckon Optatus is risking it!'

'He's a free man,' Helena reminded me snootily. 'Anyway, when did the fact that a girl was unsuitable ever stop a man taking a chance?'

I grinned at her.

At that point we shelved the discussion because Optatus himself came out into the garden. He was splitting his sides over the decrepit horse I had brought home, and said he hoped I had not paid out money for it; I assured him it was a virtual gift from the gracious Annaei. Marius Optatus gravely replied that the Annaei had always been renowned for their generosity.

I noticed a whiff of smoke and burnt rosemary hanging around his work clothes. It would not surprise me if he was the serious sort who quietly cleansed his stables each Parilia with a private lustration made in genuine reverence. The sober tenant seemed like a dedicated farmer with no space in his life for frivolity. But once I had started to see him as a ladies' man, eyeing up the handsome dowry of a neighbour's rather big-nosed granddaughter, anything could be possible.