“This is Gaia Laelia.” Helena gestured to the would-be client, like a seedy conjurer producing from a tarnished casket a rabbit who was known to kick. I could not quite tell whether the disapproval in her tone related to me or to the child. “She has some troubles regarding her family.”
I burst into bitter laughter. “Then don’t look to me for comfort! I have those troubles myself. Listen, Gaia, my family view me as a murderer, a wastrel, and a general all-around unreliable bastard-added to which, when I can get into my apartment I have to bathe the baby, cook the dinner, and catch two baby birds who keep crapping everywhere, running under people’s feet and pecking the dog.”
On cue, a tiny bright yellow fledgling with webbed feet ran out through the gaps in the half door. I managed to field it, wondering where the other was, then I grabbed Nux by her collar before she could lunge at it, and pushed her down the steps; she scrabbled against the backs of my legs, hoping to eat the birdie.
Bangles clonked angrily like goatbells as Gaia Laelia stamped her little gold-clad foot. She lost some of her previous air of maturity. “You’re horrid! I hope your duckling dies!”
“The duckling’s a gosling,” I informed her coolly. “When it grows up”-if ever I managed to nurse it from egg to adulthood without Nux or Julia frightening it to death-“it will be a guardian of Rome on the Capitol. Don’t insult a creature with a lifelong sacred destiny.”
“Oh, that’s nothing,” scoffed the angry little madam. “Lots of people have destinies-” She stopped.
“Well?” I enquired patiently.
“I am not allowed to say.”
Sometimes a secret persuades you to take the job. Today mysteries held no charm for me. The terrible afternoon that I had just spent at my sister’s had killed any curiosity.
“Why have you got it here, anyway?” demanded Gaia, nodding at the gosling.
Despite my depression, I tried to sound proud. “I am the Procurator of Poultry for the Senate and People of Rome.”
My new job. I had only had it a day. It was still unfamiliar-but I already knew that it was not what I would have chosen for myself.
“Flunkey for Feathers.” Helena giggled from inside the door. She thought it was hilarious.
Gaia was dismissive too: “That sounds like a title you made up.”
“No, the Emperor invented it, the clever old boy.”
Vespasian had wanted me in a position which would look like a reward but which would not cost him much in salary. He thought this up while I was in North Africa. At his summons I had sailed all the way home from Tripolitania, eagerly hoping for position and influence. Geese were what the imperial joker inflicted on me instead. And yes, I had been awarded the augurs’ Sacred Chickens too. Life stinks.
Gaia, who knew how to be persistent, still wanted me to explain why the yellow bird was living in my house. “Why have you got it here?”
“Upon receipt of my honored post, Gaia Laelia, I rushed to inspect my charges. Juno’s geese are not supposed to hatch their own eggs on the Capitol-their offspring are normally fostered under some wormy hens on a farm. Two goslings who didn’t know the system had hatched out-and on arrival at the Temple of Juno Moneta I found the duty priest about to wring their sacred little necks.”
“Why?”
“Somebody complained. The sight of scampering goslings had annoyed some ancient retired old Flamen Dialis.” The Flamen Dialis was the Chief Priest of Jupiter, top greaser to the top god in the great Olympian Triad. This menace who loathed fledglings must be a humorless traditionalist of the worst type.
Maybe he had slipped on their mess, which the goslings frequently deposited in large quantities. You can imagine the problems we now had at home.
Gaia blinked. “You must not upset the Flamen!” she commented, in a rather strange tone.
“I shall treat this Flamen as he deserves.” I had managed not to meet him face-to-face; I just heard his moans from a harassed acolyte. I meant to avoid him. Otherwise, I would end up telling some powerful bastard where he could shove his wand of office. As a state procurator, I was no longer free to do that.
“He is very important,” the girlie insisted. She seemed nervous of something. It was obvious the Flamen thought too much of himself. I hate members of ancient priesthoods, with their snobbery and ridiculous taboos. Most of all I hate their undercover influence in Rome.
“You speak as if you know him, Gaia!” I was being satirical.
That was when she floored me: “If his name is Laelius Numentinus, he’s my grandfather.”
My heart sank. This was serious. Tangling with some hidebound king of the cult priesthoods over a couple of ill-placed goslings was a bad enough start to my new post, without him finding out his darling grandchild had approached me, wanting me to act for her. I could see Helena raising her eyebrows and wincing with alarm. Time to get out of this.
“Right. How do you come to be here, Gaia? Who told you about me?”
“I met somebody yesterday who said that you help people.”
“Olympus! Who made that wild claim?”
