Enemies at Home

46

Dromo squatted on the kerb, still clutching the baby. I crouched down by him.

‘Aargh — she’s done something!’

‘They do … hand her to me, Dromo.’

He could not give her over fast enough now. I sat the baby on my knees, holding her fragile torso, surveying her. She seemed so surprised, she stopped crying. She wore a tiny tunic that seemed to be made from a floorcloth, and a fibre bracelet that looked like a pulled thread from a different garment.

‘Oh, little one! You may grow up to be a beauty, and let us hope you do, but at this moment you are all milky pooh and snot — and far from pretty. I am your sister in misfortune and I tell you, sweetheart, this is where you start out on your own. The good thing is that every day you live through, every gain you ever make, will be better than the absolute nothing you possess today.’

I saw Dromo looking at me in wonder.

‘You want to know what I am talking about, Dromo? Well, my dear, this is a sad story, but I will tell you. You must decide for yourself if it had a happy ending … When I was a baby myself, in faraway Britannia, the native tribes had a terrible grievance so they rose up in rebellion. They burned Roman cities and massacred their inhabitants. I was found all alone, not much bigger than this child, screaming in the ashes of a half-built town called Londinium.’

‘Where were your parents?’

‘Dead, for certain.’

‘Killed by the barbarians? Did they just leave you behind or had they dropped you by accident?’

‘Those who found me always said I had been hidden carefully.’

‘What happened to you after?’

‘People took me in, because finding a live baby when all around had been destroyed and burnt seemed like a miracle.’

‘How did you come here?’

‘The first people were no good in the end. Better, more generous people one day became my Roman family.’

‘So whose baby were you?’

‘No idea.’

‘Don’t you want to know?’

‘There is no way I shall ever find out.’

‘Are you going to have her?’ Dromo then demanded gruffly, indicating Myla’s baby. I could tell he really thought I would. I suppose to him it seemed obvious.

‘I never take in strays.’

Even a puppy would be too much for me, and I like dogs. Plenty had given me entreating eyes, even dogs of obvious character. But I was realistic. Tied to a baby I stood no chance.

When I was much younger I might have taken this poor tot home to Mother, but I now realised what a burden that would be. Helena Justina would do it if I pleaded; she would do it out of love for me. That didn’t mean it was right to ask her.

‘Understand, Dromo, the baby is not mine to adopt. She is an orphan, yet she is a slave − which makes her someone else’s property. Taking her would be theft.’

The innocent boy really wanted to believe he had saved the child for a decent life. ‘If she is worth money, they will look after her?’

‘I dare say.’ I had already heard this babe being discussed by her owners, so I had doubts. She was Aviola’s daughter: posthumous, and damned by his legitimate heirs.

We clambered to our feet, with Secundus, Myrinus and Fauna, preparing to leave.

‘I never saw somebody die, right in front of me,’ Dromo announced. He was white-faced, needing to share his shock.

I answered him quietly. ‘If you want to talk about it later, we can do that. Here is my advice, don’t brood. Right now, it is better for you to keep busy. I have a little job for you. While we are so near, please go up the Aventine and tell Manlius Faustus what has been happening. You can find your way. Over the market — don’t slip in the blood. There’s the Trigeminal Gate waiting for you, then straight up to Ceres.’

‘You have to write it all down, what you want to tell him. The messages I take are written.’

‘Get a grip, Dromo. You can describe what you saw this morning. You were there and I was not.’

Dromo remained agitated. ‘No, he likes it written by you; he has a laugh, the way you put things.’

‘Well, none of this is hilarious, so you can go and tell your master for me.’

Dromo still gnawed away. ‘I’ve seen him read your tablets, having a good chuckle-’

‘Not today. Go, Dromo.’ I had nothing to spare for the slave boy; I wanted Faustus to see his distress and take over. Faustus ought to comfort him. The boy belonged to him, so he must do it. I had my own sadness to deal with.

I watched Dromo set off, stumbling over his feet in his unhappiness. Then the rest of us began to trudge homewards with the orphaned baby.

Behind us, ships plied upon the river, people went to the cattle market, the vegetable and flower markets, the Temple of Fortune and the Temple of Portunus, while the hot June sun beat down upon the bridge, where the pavement was already drying.