Ode to a Banker

XL

We had walked nearly all the way home before I stopped dead in the street and exploded. Helena waited patiently until I stopped ranting.

'I don't believe it!'

'Well, why are you making so much fuss, Marcus?'

'I won't have my mother insulted.'

We were outside the poulterer's in Fountain Court by now. Nobody paid any attention. They were used to me. Anyway, it was midday in August. Those who could had fled to the country. Those who could not were lying prone wishing they could go too.

Perspiration poured off me. My tunic was sticking to my back.

Helena said slowly, 'You don't know whether it is true or not. But you ought to allow the possibility that a woman of your mother's age – any age – may enjoy masculine company. With so many children, she cannot ever have had a cold disposition. She has lived without your father for a long time now, Marcus. She might, she just might actually want someone in her bed.'

'You're as disgusting as Junia.'

'If it was a man with a young girl, you would be thrilling with envy,' snapped Helena. She took our daughter and set off for our apartment, leaving me to do as I pleased.

I had to follow; I was raging with more furious questions. 'What do you know about all this? Is it true? What has Ma said to you? Have the pair of you been giggling over this sweet romance?'

'We have not. Look – there may be nothing in it.'

'Ma has said nothing?'

'She wouldn't.'

'Women always talk to each other.'

'About the men in their lives? Wrong on two counts, Marcus – the ones who chatter are probably discussing men they would like as lovers but can't get, or else men that they have lost. And some never say anything. Maia, for instance. Or me,' said Helena.

She turned back to me from our staircase.

'You never talked to other women about me?' I managed to calm down enough to find a feeble grin. 'I wasn't worth it, eh?'

Helena also relaxed. 'Too important,' she said. In case the flattery went to my head, she added, 'Who would have believed it, anyway?'

'Anyone who ever saw us together, my love.'

Then Helena suddenly tweaked my nose. 'Well, don't worry. If you run off and leave me the way your father left your mother, I shall probably replace you – but like your mother I shall probably wait twenty years and be utterly discreet.'

It was no consolation. I could imagine Helena Justina doing just that.

I could have rushed straight off to see Ma there and then, and it would have probably been disastrous. Luckily, we were hailed cheerily from a balcony above us on the other side of the alley; to ensure our attention, Petronius Longus chucked down an old boot he kept upstairs for that purpose. Helena went indoors, while I waited. Being Petro, once he could see that I had stopped, he took his time.

'Playing the tribune still, Petronius? Come along! I don't have all day.'

'Whatever's the matter with you, Falco?'

'I'm bloody annoyed with my sister.'

'Oh, not Maia and Anacrites again?' he returned dourly. I felt so frustrated I literally tore my hair.

'Junia!' I yelled.

'Oh.' He lost interest.

Assured that he would share my indignation, I had to tell him: 'Never mind Maia; this is a thousand times more horrible – according to Junia, Anacrites is having an affair with Ma.'

Petronius started laughing. I felt better for a moment. Then he stopped laughing sooner than he should have done. He whistled quietly. 'The rotten dog!'

'Come off it. It can't be true, Petro.'

'Oh – right!'

'I mean that.'

'Of course.'

He stared at me. I glared at him. Then he frowned. 'You don't suppose he would go so far as to dally with both your mother and your sister at the same time?'

'You're not listening to me! He has nothing to do with my mother -'

'No. You are right,' said Petronius crisply. 'I know he tried to kill you once – but not even Anacrites would want to do that to you.'

'Well, thanks, friend!'

'Not even to gain the upper hand again…'

Petronius Longus was no use. I changed the subject. It was the only thing to do. I asked him why he had called me, and (once he had finished sniggering over the Anacrites business) he said the shipper, Pisarchus, had turned up and was being held for questioning.