Time To Depart

XLVII

MILVIA WAS AT home. This confirmed my previous impression that she led a lonely life. It seemed she rarely went out. Still, staying in this afternoon had brought the lucky girl the pair of us.

`I'm getting too old for this,' I joked as Petro and I waited for her to be told her good fortune. No doubt she wanted to jump into her nicest frock.

`You've forgotten how. Just follow my lead.'

We sat up and tried looking like sober citizens as Milvia tripped through the door.

She seemed delighted to see us. When she rushed in, all pleated white stoles and dainty ribbons, I had forgotten quite what a pretty girl she was. This was certainly more pleasant than exchanging barbs with that hard nut her mother. Of course we did not place too much faith in Milvia; in our time, Petronius and I had been flattered then dumped in a midden by plenty of round-eyed, honest-looking girls.

When we asked her again about the glass flagon, she told the same tale: a present from someone to Florius. Petronius demanded a sight of her household shelves. `But you have looked at them!' Milvia cried wonderingly.

`I'd like to look again.' Petronius Longus could manage to sound as, stern as if he were inspecting an unauthorised standpipe on an aqueduct, yet with a subtle hint of approving comment on a woman's physique. What a dog.

Milvia was worried. This was good. Milvia would complain to her mother; Flaccida, not having been here, would find that very disconcerting. Flaccida would wonder why Milvia had been singled out for an extra visit, and what dangerous hints Milvia might have given away.

`Falco is going to take a look with me this time.'

`Oh you're the nice one!' Milvia obviously remembered me. Petronius gave me a cheesy grin, then dug me sharply in the small of the back as we marched to the kitchen.

For about an hour we gravely surveyed miles of expensive tableware on shelves, in cupboards, displayed formally on buffets, or tucked tidily into niches. Redware and lead glaze, glass and gilded metalware. It was all in sets, and the sets were meant for civic banquets of fifty people or so. It made a poor comparison with the wonky shelf of bowls Helena and I owned at Fountain Court – barely enough for a quiet one-course supper for two people, especially if they were entertaining a foundling. and a hungry new dog.

There was no glass that I recognised. Since the house had already been searched by the Fourth Cohort, I expected no surprises. I gave Petro the headshake several times, but he seemed in no hurry to leave. He smiled at Milvia, who had been showing off the household goods herself. `Let's return to the salon and get some details straight…'

We trooped back and sat down. It was a decorous room in whites, greens and blues, but I hate Egyptian summerhouse furniture that looks so light the legs may snap if you wriggle. Its pert young owner was not my kind of girl either. Once I had liked the ones who smile a lot and look admiring, but I had grown up since then. I was starting to feel alone in this sophisticated attitude.

Petro had on his stubborn look. Milvia was unreliable, but just the kind of bright-eyed puppet Petro always wanted to discuss the weather with. The whole situation took me back ten years. It was like trying to drag him out of a British meadmaker's hovel once the biddy in charge had swung her golden plaits at him. As always I was at a loss how to deal with it. When he was in this mood tutting and mentioning other social engagements would only make him linger. I had already dragged his wife into the conversation, in some forced context to do with tureens. Any more would just make me sound like a surly prude…

I would not have minded, but as an informer I was the one who had always had to fight off a reputation for chasing women.

`Nice room!' smiled Petronius, glancing around. He was very relaxed. He spoke in a kindly, reassuring tone, and Milvia smiled back at him.

`Watch out,' I muttered. `He'll try to sell you mediocre frescoes if you show an interest.'

Milvia giggled at me. `You two are not like law officers at all!' `Is that right?'

Petronius smirked at me, then set about some genuine work. `So. Let's just get this straight. The flagon you gave to Didius Falco -'

`I gave it to his charming colleague, actually. Is the glass flagon what your enquiries have all been about?'

`Charming colleague, Falco?' Petro asked. `Helena,' I owned up. Well, it wiped off his smirk.

`After all, I had been talking to her mostly,' Milvia carried on. `Had you really?'

`We all have our methods,' I told Petro.

`The flagon,' Petro began again with Milvia, looking dangerous. `Was brought home by my husband.'

`Was brought home by Florius. Florius had it from?' `From somebody he knows.'

`A mysterious benefactor. Have you asked him who?' `Why should I? He seemed rather vague.' `Does Florius keep things to himself?'

`Not particularly.'

`Do you and your husband discuss his daily business?'

`No, not much.' Milvia glanced down at her lap, aware how her answer could be interpreted.

`That's very sad,' Petronius Longus commented sombrely. `Don't be snide,' I said.

`It was a straight comment.'

`There's nothing wrong!' Milvia cried defensively.

`But you're not close,' Petro decided, looking pleased about it. `We are perfect friends.'

`And some other friend of Florius gives him expensive gifts.' There was a small pause.

Milvia looked from Petronius to me and back again. `You are proper law officers.'

`If you're honest that won't worry you. Was it a woman?' I enquired. There was no point now being soft on her. It was possible, if her marriage mattered to her, that we had just destroyed it in a couple of suggestive remarks. Even if Florius was as chaste as dew we might have ruined the relationship. Suspicion is an evil ingredient in any match.

`Could your husband be taking gifts from a woman?' I pressed Milvia again.

`I didn't think so.'

`But could he have been?'

`That was not the impression he gave me. Did you have any particular woman in mind?' Milvia managed to riposte proudly.

`No. But no doubt now you will ask Florius.'. That came from Petronius.

`I think,' Milvia decided more firmly than I would have expected, `if you want to know, you should ask Florius yourself.'

Petronius smiled quietly. `I shall do that.'

But Florius was not at home.

Petronius was now in a tenacious mood. Nothing would put him off until he traced the flagon right back from its arrival in this house to when I first left the glass with Pa at the Emporium. When we came out of the house he told me he intended to return there that evening to tackle Florius in person. I naturally started making arrangements to come with him, but he reckoned that unnecessary. Florius, apparently, was viewed by the watch as a soft custard; a witness would be superfluous.

'Hah! Don't come the innocent – I know what that means, you gigolo!'

Petro graciously suggested that instead of spreading slander I could devote some time to the search for my niece.

In fact I went to the Temple of Castor baths, where I gave a couple of useful hours to exercise with Glaucus. My shoulder still felt delicate, but I managed to work on the rest. I wanted to be fit. I felt we were starting to twist the tensioning cord on the whole enquiry now. I could tell Petronius shared some of this feeling, though if his idea of getting fit was a romantic interlude, he was welcome to Milvia.

We were both on the alert, with that special edge that only comes when action is just around the corner. Neither Petro nor I were the least prepared for what actually happened next.