Three Hands in The Fountain

XLIII

When I reached Fountain Court, returning by a roundabout route for safety, Petronius was being carried out feet first. Lenia and some of her staff must have found him. They had seen Florius' heavies rushing off in suspicious haste. Not for the first time I wished Lenia could be as good at spotting trouble when it arrived as she was at noticing it leave.

I had run up the back lane, past the lamp-black ovens, the midden and the poultry yard. I hopped over the work in progress in the ropewalk, leapt the cesstrench and barged into the laundry through its rear entrance. In the yard wet clothes slapped me in the face and woodsmoke choked me, then indoors I nearly skidded and upended myself on the wet floor. As I was flailing a girl with a wash-paddle shoved me upright. I skated past the office and flew to a halt in the colonnade.

Petro was lying on a rough stretcher people had made from clothes rails and a customer's toga.

'Stand back; here's his heartbroken boyfriend!'

'Enough of your biting wit, Lenia – Is he dead?'

'I wouldn't be joking.' No, she had some standards. He was alive. His condition was sad, though.

If he was conscious he was in too much pain to show a reaction even when I turned up. Torn bandages covered much of his head and face, his left arm, and his right hand. His legs were badly cut and grazed. 'Petro!' There was no response.

They were dragging him to a litter. 'He's going to his auntie's.'

'What auntie?'

'Sedina, the one with the flower stall. She was fetched over, but you know how fat she is; she'd have died if we'd let her struggle all the way upstairs. Anyway, I didn't want the poor duck to see him until I'd cleaned him up a bit. She's toddled home to get the bed ready. She'll look after him.' Lenia must have patched him up and made all the arrangements.

'Good thinking. He'll be safer than here.'

'Well, he's all right, old Petro.'

'Thanks, Lenia.'

'It was a gang of street rubbish,' she told me.

'I met them myself.'

'You were luckier, then.'

'I had help.'

'Falco, why's he safer at Sedina's?'

'They promised me they'd be coming back for him.' 'Olympus! Is this about that silly little skirt of his?' 'Message from her husband, I was told. Clear, but will he listen?'

'He'll be out of it for days. Where does it leave you, Falco?'

'I'll manage.'

As the litter lurched off, I sent a runner to the vigiles begging for Scythax, their doctor, to attend Petronius at his aunt's house. I asked Lenia whether anyone had told Silvia; before he collapsed Petro had refused to have his wife involved. Well, you could see why. 'And what does he want done about dear little Milvia?' I enquired.

'I must have somehow forgotten to ask him!' Lenia grinned.

Helena Justina had been over at her parents' house and had missed the furore. When she came home shortly after me, I explained what had happened, trying to put an acceptable gloss on it. Helena could tell when I was disguising a crisis. She said nothing. I watched her tussle with her emotions, then she dumped the baby in my arms and briefly put her arms around both of us. Since I was bigger, I was the one who received the kiss.

She had bustled off, busying herself while she came to terms with the problem, when we heard a tremendous racket outside in Fountain Court. I was on my feet before I remembered not to react too sharply in case Helena noticed my nervousness; in fact she was out on the porch ahead of me. Across the road Lenia, watched by a jeering group of her staff, was giving a foully obscene mouthful to none other than the jaunty Balbina Milvia.

When the girl saw us, she scuttled straight across. I waved to Lenia to let me handle it, and curtly nodded to Milvia to come up. We wheeled her into what passed for our ornamental salon and sat her down while we stood.

'Oh, what a pretty baby!' she gurgled, immune to hostility.

'Helena Justina, take the baby to another room. I'll not have my daughter contaminated by street grime.'

'Falco, that's a terrible thing to say,' squeaked Milvia. Helena, set-faced, simply carried Julia off to her cradle. I waited for her return. Milvia stared at me, owl-eyed.

When Helena re-entered she looked even more angry than I was. 'If you came here to see Petronius Longus, don't waste your time, Milvia.' I had rarely heard Helena so contemptuous. 'He was badly beaten up this morning and has been taken to a safe house away from your family.'

'No! Is Petronius hurt? Who did it?'

'A rabble sent by your husband,' Helena explained coldly. Milvia seemed not to take this in so I added, 'Florius, in a touchy mood. This is your fault, Milvia.'

'Florius wouldn't -'

'Florius just did. How does he know what's going on? Did you tell him?'

Milvia faltered for once. She even blushed slightly. 'I think it must have been Mother who mentioned it.'

I bit back an oath. This was why Rubella had been forced to suspend Petro; Flaccida was too dangerous, and it was her life's work to cause trouble for the vigiles. 'Well, that was a bad day's work.'

'I'm glad Florius knows!' cried Milvia defiantly. 'I want -' 'What I am sure you don't want,' Helena cut in, 'is to destroy Petronius Longus. He is already seriously injured. Face facts, Milvia. This can only make him consider what it is he wants. I can tell you the answer to that: Petronius wants his job back, and as a loving father he wants to be able to see his children again.' I noticed that she had not mentioned his wife.

Milvia looked at us. She was hoping to find out where he was; she realised we were not intending to say. Used only to handing out orders, she was stuck.

'Give Florius a message from me,' I told her. 'He made a mistake today. He had two free citizens beaten up, in my case without lasting effects but it happened in front of witnesses. So I have an aedile, a judge, and two senior centurions who will support me if I take Florius to court.' Helena looked startled. I could not afford litigation; I would resent wasting my money, too. Still, Florius was not to know that. And as an informer I often did court work; at the Basilica there were barristers who owed me a few favours. I meant it when I told Milvia, 'Your husband will come unstuck if I raise a compensation claim. Tell him if he bothers either Petronius or me again, I shall have no hesitation.'

Milvia had been brought up by gangsters. Although she pretended to know nothing about her background, she must have noticed that her relatives lived in a world that thrived on secrecy. The publicity of a court case was something her father had always shunned (at least until the case where Petronius had had him arraigned). Her husband was a novice in crime, but he lived obscurely too. He gambled, an activity based on hints and bluff, and was now involved with rack-rents; that relied on heavy threat, not open writs.

'Florius won't listen to me.'

'You'll have to make him,' snapped Helena. 'Otherwise it won't only be his name that is spread all over the Daily Gazette. You'll be there among the scandals too. You can kiss goodbye to the last threads of respectability attaching to your family. All Rome will know.'

'But I haven't done anything!'

'That's the whole point of the Daily Gazette,' smiled Helena serenely. Trust a senator's daughter to know how to crush an upstart. There is nothing more ruthless than a born patrician lady wiping out a new man's wife. 'Forget the corn supply schedules, Senate rulings, articles on the Imperial family, Games and Circuses, portents and miracles. What Romans want to read about are people who claim they never did anything wrong having their love affairs exposed!'

Milvia was still little more than twenty – not yet sufficiently hard-faced to brave it out. She would be. But with luck, Petronius had met her before she learned to be bad with courage. Helpless, but like a true flighty bit, she changed the subject petulantly. 'Anyway, I came about something else.'

'Don't annoy me,' I said.

'I wanted to beg Petronius to help.'

'Well, whatever it is, your husband has prevented that.' 'But it's important!'

'Tough. Petro's unconscious – and he's fed up with you anyway.'

'What is it?' Helena asked her, having noticed an edge of genuine hysteria. I had noticed it too, but I didn't care.

Milvia was on the verge of tears. A poignant effect. Petronius would probably have fallen for it, were he not laid up. It didn't impress me. 'Oh, Falco, I don't know what to do. I'm so worried.'

'Tell us what it is then.' Helena's eyes had a glorious glint that meant any minute she would lose her patience and dot Milvia with a dish of marinading celery hearts. I was eager to see it, yet I preferred the idea of eating them. With any luck Ma had brought these for us; if they came from our family market garden on the Campagna, they would be flavoursome specimens.

'I wanted to ask Petronius, but if he's not here, then you'll have to help me, Falco -'

'Falco is very busy,' Helena responded crisply, in the role of my able assistant.

Milvia cantered on, undeterred: 'Yes, but this might be connected with what he's helping Petronius to work on -' The celery hearts were in danger again, but I was in luck. Balbina Milvia's next words gave Helena pause. In fact she silenced both of us. 'My mother has vanished. She hasn't been home for two days and I can't find her anywhere. She went to the Games and never came home. I think she's been captured by that man who cuts up women and puts them in the aqueducts!'

Before Helena could stop me I heard myself replying cruelly that if it were true then the bastard had appalling taste.