Jupiter Myth

XXII

Lucius Petronius!"

"Maia Favonia."

"You want to tell me to get lost?"

"Would it work?" Petro asked dryly. Maia was standing, facing my way I had to keep down low. Luckily she was not tall. "Maia, you are not safe here."

"Why; what are you doing?" That was my sister all over: crisp, blunt, brazenly curious. Part of it came from motherhood, though she had always been direct.

"I'm working."

"Oh, but surely the vigiles have no jurisdiction in the provinces!"

"Exactly!" Petro broke in harshly. "Shut up. I'm out of bounds. Nobody must know."

Maia lowered her voice, but she would not let go. "So were you sent here?"

"Don't ask." His mission was official. Well, the bastard kept that quiet! I heard my own intake of breath, more angry than surprised.

"Well, I'm not interested in that. I have to talk to you."

Then Petronius changed his tone. He spoke quickly, in a low, painful voice: "It's all right. You don't have to tell me. I know about the girls."

I was so close I could sense Maia's tension. That was nothing to the emotion I could sense in Petronius. Somebody local came walking up the road. "Sit down," muttered Petro, clearly thinking that by standing in front of him, agitated, Maia was attracting attention. I thought I heard the bench legs scrape. She had done as he said.

After the man had passed, Maia asked, "How long have you known?" The acoustic had changed. I had to strain to catch what she said. She was more obviously upset, now that it was out in the open. "Did a letter reach you?"

"No, I was told."

"Marcus found you?"

"I did see him earlier." Petronius was talking in staccato sentences. "I didn't give him a chance. I suppose that's why he's been searching for me."

"We all are! So who did tell you?"

Petro made a small sound, almost laughter. "Two little boys."

"Oh no! Not mine, you mean?" Maia was angry and mortified. I felt no surprise. Her children had been fretting over where their hero was; they knew about the tragedy; they were an outgoing group who readily took independent action. Petronius stayed silent. Maia finally said ruefully, "So much for telling them not to bother you… Oh, I am so sorry!"

"They caught me right out…" Petronius sounded remote as he began to talk, in the way of the bereaved, needing to recite how he had learned his dreadful news. "I had already spotted Marius. He was sitting on a curbstone, looking depressed. Ancus must have wandered away from him and he saw me-"

"Ancus? Ancus told you?"

Petro's voice softened, though not much. "Before I could growl at him to scarper, he ran up. I just thought he was pleased to see me. So when he climbed up on the bench, I put an arm around him. He stood here and whispered in my ear."

Maia choked slightly. I was stricken myself. Ancus was only six. And Petronius would have had no idea what was coming. "You were never supposed to hear this from children."

"What difference does that make?" Petronius rasped. "Two of my girls are gone! I had to know."

Maia let his outburst quieten. She, like me, must have been worried what young Ancus had blurted out, because she made sure Petronius was given the details properly "This is it, then. You have lost two; we were not told which, stupidly. People are trying to find out for you. Chicken pox. My guess is that it happened shortly after you left Italy. The letter didn't say."

"I must have caught it myself when I said good-bye to them. I infected yours," admitted Petronius. "I blame myself…"

"They survived."

"I survived." He was not the type to say he wished he had died instead, though it sounded close. "Just so I would have to live with this!"

"You will, Lucius. But believe me, it's hard." My sister, who like most mothers had seen a child die, spoke bitterly. There was a silence, then Maia repeated, "I am sorry about the boys."

"It was all right." Petronius was not interested in her apology "Ancus told me, then Marius arrived and they sat down one each side of me and stayed there very quietly." After a while he added, forcing some kindness into his voice, "And now you are sitting with me quietly."

"I lost my first daughter. I know there is nothing else I can do for you."

"No." I had rarely heard Petronius so defeated. "Nothing."

There was quite a long silence.

"Do you want me to leave?" Maia asked him.

"Are you ready to go?" From his hostile tone, I guessed Petro was hunched motionless, staring ahead bleakly. I had no idea what Maia was doing. I had never seen my sister comfort the bereaved. Especially someone she had at least briefly wanted in her bed. That no longer seemed relevant-and yet she had persisted in the search for him. It was the old Didius affliction: she felt responsible. "I have to do this mission," Petronius explained, in a well-mannered, meaningless tone. "I may as well finish. There's nothing else for me."

"You do have a daughter left!" snapped Maia. "And there is Silvia."

"Ah, Silvia!" A new note entered Petro's voice. He showed some feeling at last, though it was not clear whether his ruefulness was a comment on his ex-wife, himself, or even Fate. "I think she may want us to get back together. I already detected it when I saw her at Ostia. That boyfriend she took on is a loser, and now-" It poured out, then he stopped himself. "Now we have a child to console."

"So what do you want?" Maia asked him quietly.

"I can't do it! That's the past." He would know how many men had decided to stand firm in such a manner, only to be dissuaded. Pain and conscience were lined up to entrap him. His surviving daughter's tearful face would haunt him.

"Then Silvia has lost out all around." I was surprised my sister could be so fair. It had even been she who had reminded him that Arria Silvia needed him.

"You think I should?" Petronius demanded brusquely.

"I won't tell you what I think. This is for you. But"-Maia had to add-"don't make a mistake out of guilt."

Petronius gave a small snort of acknowledgment. If it helped him make his decision, he was not revealing his thoughts. He had always been tight over his personal life. When we shared a tent in the army, there were things he could not hide from me, but since then I had had to guess. He kept his feelings to himself; he thought restraint would help. Maybe that had in fact contributed to problems when he was living with Arria Silvia.

Maia must have reckoned she had done all she could. I heard movement. She must have stood up again. "I'll go now." He said nothing. "Take care."

Petronius stuck to the bench but he must have looked up. "So, Maia Favonia! I understand the boys. But why did you come?"

"Oh… you know me."

Another short bark of humorless mirth came out. "No," replied Petronius, his voice blank. "I don't know you. You know damn well that I Wanted to-but that's all over, isn't it?"

My sister left him.

When Petronius leaped up abruptly and went inside the baths, I pre-

pared to leave too. I should have gone after him. He was suffering. But explaining my presence would be too difficult. I had never wanted him to join up with my sister, nor her with him, but I was troubled by the scene I had just overheard.

As I stood undecided, a third party intervened.

"Please!" A sudden muffled whisper almost evaded me. "Please, Falco!" I was in no mood for intrusions. Still, hearing your name somewhere you don't expect it always makes you react.

I stepped into the road and looked up. Above me, at a window in this dump that was called the Old Neighbour, I saw Albia's white face. She did not need to explain she was in bad trouble. And she was appealing for me to get her out of it.

Now I myself was trapped. I had never heard Albia speak before. She was clearly terrified. I had brought her out onto these streets today. Helena Justina had promised her refuge, yet I had put the girl back in danger. There was nothing for it. I had to enter this dark, no doubt unfriendly house and fetch her. The old Didius affliction had kicked in again. Albia was my responsibility.