Ode to a Banker

XLVI

In mother's neighbour Aristagoras, the little old fellow, was sunning himself in the portico. Ma always kept the commonareas of her block spick and span. Over the years, she must have saved the landlord hundreds in sweeper's fees. There were bright pots of roses by the front entrance, which she tended too.

Aristagoras called out a greeting; I raised an arm and kept going. He was a chatterer, I could tell.

I ran lightly up the stairs to the apartment. Most days, Ma was either out, whirling about the Aventine on errands and causing annoyance, or else she was in, scrubbing away at pots or chopping like fury in her cooking area. Today I just found her sitting still in a basket armchair that my late brother Festus had once given her (I knew, though she did not, that the cheeky beggar won it in a game of draughts). She had her hands folded rather tightly in her lap. As usual, her dress and hair were scrupulously neat, though a fine aura of tragic gloom enveloped her.

I closed the door gently. Two eyes like burnt raisins bored into me. I pulled up a stool beside her and squatted on it with my elbows on my knees.

'You heard about the Aurelian Bank?'

Ma nodded. 'One of the men who works for Anacrites came to see him early this morning. Is it true?'

'Afraid so. I've just been down there – all closed up. Did Anacrites manage to remove his cash?'

'He had notified the agent that he wanted to make a withdrawal, but the money has not yet been paid to him.'

'Tough.' I managed to sound neutral. I gazed at Ma. Despite her anxious stillness, her face was expressionless. 'They probably knew they were in trouble, you know; they would have slowed up on shelling out. I wouldn't be too concerned about him. He may have lost a packet with the Aurelian, but he must have plenty more hoarded away in other safe places. It goes with his job.'

'I see,' said Ma.

'Anyway,' I continued gravely, 'there are liquidators appointed. All Anacrites has to do is toddle along to see them, mention that he's the influential Chief Spy, and they will ensure he'll be top of the list of creditors who get paid in full. Only wise move they can make.'

'I'll tell him to do that!' Ma exclaimed, looking relieved on behalf of her protege. I ground my teeth. Telling him how to bail himself out had not really been my plan.

I waited, but Ma was still keeping her worries to herself. I felt a wrench of embarrassment, as one of her youngest children talking about her finances. For one thing, we had a long-standing tussle about whether I was ever allowed to take charge of anything. For another, she was desperately secretive.

'What about your own money, Ma?'

'Oh well, never mind that.'

'Stop fooling. You had a lot on deposit with that bank, don't pretend otherwise. Had you drawn any out recently?'

'No.'

'So they had it all. Well, Anacrites is the idiot who made you put it there; you should get him to lean on them for you.'

'I don't want to bother him.'

'Right. Look, I have to deal with Lucrio on another issue. I'll ask what the situation is. If there's any chance of getting your money back, I'll do what I can.'

'There is no need to go to any trouble. You don't need to worry about me,' wailed Ma pathetically. That was typical. In fact, I would never have heard the last of it if I had left her to stew in anxiety. I said politely that it was no trouble; I was a dutiful boy who loved his mother and I would happily devote my days to sorting out her affairs. Ma humphed.

This might have been the moment to mention the rumours about Anacrites growing too close as a lodger. My nerve failed.

I could hardly imagine Mother and the spy alone together. She had nursed him when he was desperately ill; that would have involved intimate personal contact – but it was surely different from having an affair. Ma and him in bed? Never! Not just because she was a lot older than him. Perhaps I just did not want to imagine my mother in bed with anyone.

'What's on your mind, son?' Ma noticed me thinking, a process she always regarded as dangerous. The traditional Roman virtues specifically exclude philosophy. Good boys don't dream. Goodmothers don't let them. She swiped at me. Out of long experience, I ducked just in time. I managed not to fall off my stool. Her hand sliced through my curls, missing my head. 'Own up!'

'I've heard a few rumours lately…'

Ma bristled. 'What rumours?'

'Just some nonsense.'

'What nonsense?'

'Not worth mentioning.'

'But worth thinking about until you get that silly grin!'

'Who's grinning?' I felt about three years old. The feeling was confirmed when my mother took hold of my ear, with a fierce grip that I knew too well.

'What exactly are you talking about?' demanded my mother. I wished I were fighting Bos again.

'People get the wrong idea.' I managed to writhe free. 'Look, it's none of my business -' My mother's Medusa stare told me that was probably true. 'I just happened to hear someone insinuate – obviously under a ridiculous misapprehension – that you might have taken up with a certain person of the male variety who sometimes frequents this place…'

Ma leapt out of her chair.

I sidestepped and hurried to the door, more than happy to leave indisgrace. With the door safely opened, I turned back and apologised. Ma said rigidly, 'I'll thank you – and I'll thank whatever busybodieshave been gossiping about me – to keep their noses out of my affairs.'

'Sorry, Ma. Of course, I never believed it -'

Her chin came up. She looked as if someone with his boots fresh from a cow-byre had dared to walk across a floor she had just washed. 'If I wanted a little bit of comfort in my final years, I am surely entitled to it.'

'Oh yes, Ma.' I tried not to look shocked.

'If I did have a friend I was rather fond of,' explained Ma heavily, 'assuming I dared to think I would be allowed to get away with it – then you and your high-minded sisters could rely on me to be discreet.' So she guessed it was one of my sisters spreading the story. I had better warn Junia to leave Italy.

'Sorry, Ma -'

'The least I could expect in return is a modicum of privacy!'

Dear gods. As a rebuttal, this was much weaker than I had hoped to hear. 'Yes, Ma.'

'I am not entirely decrepit, Marcus! I have had my opportunities.'

'You are a fine woman,' I assured her, unintentionally echoing Aristagoras. 'You can do what you like -'

'Oh, I will!' agreed my mother, with a dangerous glint.

As I retreated slowly down to street level, I was feeling tired even though I had done hardly anything that morning. In fact, I felt as if I had been sucked down a whirlpool then spat up stark naked on some extremely pointed rocks.

The old man in the portico had managed to fix on somebody, so I slid past unobtrusively – only to hear my name called in a loud bellow by a horribly familiar voice. I turned back in horror.

'Pa!' Olympus, this was turning into a family festival.

I felt astonished. I had not seen my father in this vicinity since I was seven years old. He and Ma had never met since he bunked off. For years, Ma pretended Pa did not even exist. When they were a couple, he had used his real name, Favonius. To her, the auctioneer 'Geminus' was a raffish scamp both her sons had sometimes chosen to mess about with in some masculine world she would not deign to investigate. When he wanted to communicate, even to send her money, it had to be done through an intermediary and using codes.

A mad thought struck, that when she had been talking about a new friend she might be fond of, Ma had meant that after Flora died she had made up her old fight with Pa.

No chance.

'What on earth are you doing sloping round Ma's front porch, Father? It's risking a thunderbolt.'

'Time some things were sorted.' I winced. Pa must be crazy. Interference from him was likely to bring wrath on all our heads. 'Junia just brought in the caupona takings. She told me the fine news that Junilla Tacita has acquired a follower!'

'Our Junia loves a vulgar story to spread -' With a quick glance at Aristagoras, who blinked at us from under his sunbathing hat with bright-eyed curiosity, I tipped Pa the wink that we ought to bunk off to a winebar. As one, we gave the old neighbour a farewell grin and wheeled off together, Pa's arm heavily around my shoulders in unaccustomed amity. We must have looked more like brothers than father and son.

As soon as we were out of sight, I shook myself free; I dragged Pa as far as I could – not far enough, but he soon started grumbling and wanting the drink. I reminded him that my suggestion was not really for refreshment, but saving our skins if Ma had come out and foundus gossiping. 'I just tackled her, and got a sore ear – literally. That was before she told me what she thinks of people spreading rumours – a diatribe I won't dwell on.'

My father laughed. He could. It was not his ear she had twisted with her brutal digits. Well, not this time. But he looked as if he remembered the experience. We wheeled into a bar and plumped ourselves down on benches.

'Of course it must be a mistake,' I raved bitterly. It was time somebody stood up to Pa. 'We all think she's in bed with the lodger – but perhaps it's much more disgusting: she may be secretly getting back together with you.'

'Now there's an idea! Think she would hear it?' Pa never had any sense – or any tact, either. He leaned across the bar table urgently. 'So what's the real story with Anacrites?'

'Don't ask me. I've been forbidden any scandalous speculation. I'm not stupid enough to risk it now.'

'This is dreadful, son.'

I was close to agreeing, then found myself wondering – as Ma would do – what possible connection there could be with him.

'Come off it, Pa. That it's the spy is horrible enough – and it's certainly bloody dangerous – but you have a nerve interfering with Mother nowadays.'

'Don't be pious!'

'Nor you then. She says she is entitled to a private life – and she's right. Maybe she's doing it just to annoy other people.'

'Me, for instance?' muttered Pa darkly.

'How did you guess? Who knows what's really going on. Mother always enjoyed a situation where everyone else was going frantic, while she just let them think whatever they liked.'

'But not if it involves that creep Anacrites!'

'Ah well.' I tried viewing it philosophically. 'He has been behaving too well lately. It was time he did something in character again.'

'Screwing your mother?' Pa sneered crudely. 'It's revolting-' He suddenly thought of a fine excuse for his own pompous attitude: 'I'm thinking about my grandchildren – especially baby Julia. She has a connection to the Senate; she cannot have her dear little reputation soiled by scandal.'

'Don't bring my daughter into it. I'll protect Julia Junilla – if it's ever needed.'

'You couldn't protect a chickpea,' said Pa, in his usual affectionateway. He craned his head, checking me over for bruises. 'I hear you were thrashed again last night?'

'You mean I saved the life of Petronius Longus, stayed alive myself; and rid Rome of a bullying piece of dirt the size of a small house.'

'Time you grew up, son.'

'Look who is talking! After walking out twenty-five years ago, and after all the floozies you have bedded before and since, coming to preach at Mother today is just grotesque.'

'I don't care what you think.' He drained his cup. I started to drain mine in a similar gesture. Then I slowed down and deliberately made the move delicate, so as not to look like him. The thoughtful, moderate one in the family (The unbearable, good-natured bastard, my father would say.)

I stood up. 'Well, I've quarrelled with both my parents now. That's enough grief for one day. I'm off.' Pa had leapt up even faster than I did. I felt nervous. 'Now what are you up to?'

'I'm going to have it out.'

'Don't be so stupid!' The thought of him broaching Ma on this subject was so ghastly I nearly brought up the wine I had drunk. 'Have some self-respect. Well, self-preservation, anyway. She won't thank you.'

'She won't know anything about it,' came his rejoinder. 'Her boyfriend keeps office hours, presumably – well, he won't be out taking risks, not him. He'll have a nice cool nook to hide in – which is about to become hotter than he'll like. Goodbye now, son. I can't hang about here!'

When Geminus stormed off, I had no choice: I paid the bill for our drinks, then, keeping at a safe distance, hopped after him.

I thought I was the expert at Palace ceremonial. Vespasian believed he had instituted a new approachable system in his court. This Emperor allowed anyone to see him who wanted to present a petition or a crackpot idea; he had even discontinued the old practice of having all supplicants searched for weapons. Naturally, the main result of this casual attitude was that chamberlains and guards had become hysterical behind his back. To get past the supposedly relaxed operatives who now ran the Palatine could take hours.

I knew some of the people who worked there; I had also held on to various passes that I had acquired during offrcial missions. Even so, when I reached the suite where Anacrites lurked, Pa must have got in ahead of me. The Chief Spy's office was in a dim, unpromisingcorridor, otherwise occupied by absentee auditors. It was a place of open doors looking onto dusty rooms with unoccupied clerks' benches and occasional stored old thrones. Anacrites usually kept his own door firmly closed, so nobody would see if he nodded off while waiting for his lackadaisical runners to bother to report in.

He had dangerous status. Officially, he worked on detachment to the Praetorian Guard, even though they never supplied him with anyone in armour to flank his office doorway. As top dog in intelligence, he might be incompetent in my eyes, yet he ranked high. Only a fool, therefore, would march in here and take him to task on a personal issue.

My heart sank as I approached. Too many observers were wandering about. There were pale-faced little slaves trotting past on errands. Other bureaucrats were sitting bored in other offices. Despite the carefree regime at the Emperor's private quarters, in these areas there were soldiers on full alert. From time to time, Anacrites' own personnel might appear. They were a seedy lot, and probably owed him favours. As a spy, the least he could do as a manager was to ensure he had bought his own team's loyalty with spare cash from the bribes fund.

From the far end of the corridor I could hear irately raised voices. My father had barged into the sanctum with his blood up. Things sounded even trickier than I had feared. I rushed down and stormed in. Anacrites looked frigid with indignation and Pa was bouncing on his heels, red-faced and roaring insults.

'Didius Geminus, get a grip,' I hissed. 'Don't be damned foolish, Pa!'

'Bugger off- don't prate at me!'

'Leave it alone, you idiot -'

'No fear! I'm going to do this bastard.'

Suddenly it was my crazed parent and me having the set-to while Anacrites himself just stood aloof, looking bemused.

'Oh settle down, Pa! It's none of your business, and you don't even know if it's true.'

'Whether it's true doesn't matter,' roared Pa. 'People should not be saying these terrible things about your mother -'

Anacrites went white, as if he finally saw the problem. My father was now dancing like a rather flighty boxer. I grabbed at his arm. He flung me off.

'Stop it! If you calm down, you may discover the worst Anacrites has done is to lose Ma's savings in a bank that failed.'

Whoops! At that, Pa became incandescent. 'Lost her savings? Thatwill be my money you're talking about! I know for sure your mother has always refused to spend what I keep sending her -'

He was right, and I should have kept quiet. He blew up. Before I could stop him, he rounded again on Anacrites, balled his fist and took a wild swing at the spy.