The Ides of April

XLIX

Tiberius stood with his thumbs in his belt, as if ensuring Laia was off the premises. When he turned and noticed me, I almost thought his expression lightened. I was innocently scratching moss off the shell-shaped fountain bowl. Dropping the stick, I brushed my hands clean. "Oh there you are!" I said off-handedly. If he feared I had seen his odd moment with Laia Gratiana, he did not blush.

I followed him into the room he occupied, which at least I had never been in with Andronicus. It must have been decorated for the aediles. Stirring wall frescos showed heroes shedding the blood of monsters, watched by vacuous maidens, in various rocky locations: the sort of lurid adventure people suppose takes place abroad. I had been abroad, and knew otherwise. None of the characters had all their clothes on. There were borders of pretty foliage and distant hints of the seaside. I could live with it. Not from choice, however.

I was offered a ladies' armchair, still warm from the thin backside of Laia. I hopped off that and found a cushioned X-stool. Tiberius took a hard man's stone seat. Not quite marble; Pa had several better ones in a corner of the antiques warehouse.

I sat meekly while my companion relayed all I had overheard Laia saying. He tipped back his head and looked down his nose at me, as if he guessed I had eavesdropped.

Tiberius sighed. "We have a problem."

"Really?"

"Andronicus escaped-

"Yes, while you were sauntering round the Aventine to give yourself courage, he was calmly eating an apple at my place and helping himself to my last sewing needle."

"I'm afraid he just walked out of our house with a basket of old documents, saying he was taking them to the rubbish-heap. The porter had not been warned, because we did not want to alarm Andronicus with any whiff of trouble coming. But he must have sensed it; he never came back. At least we have found and arrested the apothecary who supplied his poison, and warned others. Apparently Andronicus was quite open about who he was. He claimed he needed the drug to paint on arrows to shoot rats in the archive store."

"Every poisoner says that," I grumbled. "You would think apothecaries would be trained to report mad-eyed people who have a rat problem."

"You know him," replied Tiberius wearily. "A few smooth jokes about the vermin being unfeasibly tenacious, that big-eyed confident look of his, and he would convince anyone."

Me, for instance.

"Sorry," apologised Tiberius, although I had not spoken. He became brisker. "Look, I haven't time to be delicate about your love life. Plans must be made. You are not the only person to be harried by Andronicus since he walked free. Laia Gratiana is in danger. She felt somebody was following her around yesterday, and when she arrived home from the station house last night, she definitely saw a man lurking outside her apartment. She is sure it was the same person she glimpsed when Ino was attacked. She described Andronicus' build and distinctive colouring."

I felt hard-hearted about Laia. At least her harasser had not invaded her apartment, and she did not live alone. People would always be around her, and in addition to her large household, Tiberius said she and her brother were to be provided with a day-and-night protection squad from those fine squaddies in the Urban Cohorts.

Well, jolly good for the cult of Ceres! Andronicus was probably unaware that Laia's brother even existed. I did point out that all I was assigned were a couple of near-useless vigiles. Tiberius annoyed me by saying that was because I was thought more capable.

Then I learned that the "problem" was more complex and risky than safeguarding a couple of target homes until the killer was caught. Tonight there was a serious risk that Andronicus could strike again. Despite having been stalked-presumably because Andronicus was enraged she had put Venusia out of his reach-Laia was insisting on joining in an after-dark ritual that was a high spot of the Cerialia: the cult women would be roaming the Aventine, dressed in white and carrying torches, as they re-enacted the goddess Ceres' search for her missing daughter. I groaned with disbelief, as I imagined the scene: women who had no street-sense at the best of times, running about in all directions as they called for Proserpina at all the crossroads. There were many of those on the Aventine, most of them in seedy areas, overlooked and underlit.

"Tiberius, we cannot allow this! Surely for just one year, Laia Gratiana can sit it out and weave at her loom at home?"

"She absolutely refuses." Well, who likes weaving?

"Get her brother to lock her in the house."

"No, he thinks she is wonderfully brave and spirited." The runner looked at the floor. "Of course, this has to do with Faustus."

"She sets herself up as a target, in revenge for his unfaithfulness? If anything happens to her, all the blame lands on him?"

"She won't think of it like that, not consciously. But you are right: as organisers, the aediles are responsible for the cult women's security. Normally all it entails is keeping drunks away from them." Tiberius dropped his face into his hands for a moment. When he looked up, he was unusually satirical. "And keeping them away from the drunks sometimes… Albia, this will be a nightmare. You must have seen it. You have a bunch of women who are not safe handling fiery torches, and who in my opinion have secretly tucked into wine fortified with very dubious substances. They run amuck like bacchantes, shouting their heads off and threatening to burn down the whole bloody region."

This was a deliciously intimate revelation about a ritual most people suppose to be sedate. I giggled, partly at his despair. "If it's that kind of wild party, I may join in myself."

Tiberius sat up. He said that was the best idea anyone had had so far. He would be one of the group patrolling the area, and I could go with him. Then he could personally look out for my safety while I could lend my eyes to assist him.