Ode to a Banker

XVIII

Later, in bed, I asked Helena, 'Do you ever yearn to be a "woman of independence" like Junia?'

'Running a caupona?' she chuckled. 'With the solemn approval of Gaius Baebius?'

I shifted my feet, with an effort. Nux, who was supposed to sleep in our third room guarding Julia, liked to sneak in and lie on the foot of our bed. We sometimes sent her back, but more often Julia moutaineered her way out of the cradle and came toddling after the dog so we just gave in. 'Running anything. You could certainly match Lysa and found your own bank.'

'We'll never have that much money, Marcus!'

'Ah, to quote an excellent Greek philosopher: "Why do bankers lack money, even though they have it? – They just have other people's!" That's Bion.'

'Naturally your favourite – Bion who said, "All men are bad". I'm not sure he was right about bankers lacking money… So – a little business of my own,' she mused. In the darkness I could not make out her expression. 'No; I have a full life with your affairs to run.'

'That makes me sound like Pa, with a female secretary constantly keeping him where he ought to be.'

'Flora ran her own caupona at the same time. And not badly. You must admit, Marcus, it has its own gruesome character. It has lasted for years. People regularly return there.'

'Dogs like peeing on the same column.'

'Don't think your father fails to notice your orderly life,' Helena said, ignoring my uncouthness as if she knew informers were not worth chastising. 'Even though you do your best to escape my efforts.'

'I'm just a lump of wet clay on your potter's wheel… What about Pa?'

'I went to see him today. He asked me to take over Flora's inventories and accounts. I said no – but it made me think of Maia. I didn't tell her that he had asked me first, because both of them will enjoy believing they took the initiative. Geminus won't reveal that he asked me; it's not his style. He is as devious as you are -'

'Oh thanks!'

'Maia does not want to be the second runner in anything – in so far as even she knows what she wants.'

'What is she uncertain about? That sounds as if something is going on?' Helena did not answer me. I tightened my grip on her. 'I detect a mystery. What has she told you in your girly chats?'

'Nothing.'

'Nothing, eh?' Using my stylish knowledge of women, I made a note to look out for whatever it was. 'And what do you want in life, fruit?' This was a serious question. Helena had deserted a world of senatorial luxury and ease to be with me; I never lost sight of that. 'Apart from a handsome dog with poetic sensitivities, who is very good in bed?'

Then Helena Justina, refined daughter of the most noble Camillus, gave a loud snore and pretended my efforts at marital companionship had put her to sleep.