“Oh, I do,” Helena answered. With a cool turn of her head, she offered her cheek for Titus Caesar to kiss, which he stalwartly did. Before I could stop her, she then leaned in like some old childhood friend who was about to kiss him back. Instead she added very, very gently, “It was four years ago; my uncle is dead; the conspiracy was completely unraveled; and no question marks ever hung over my father’s or my brothers’ loyalty. Sir, what I see is just a feeble excuse!”
Titus had turned back to his lustrous lady love, pretending to make a joke of it. “This is an exceptional couple!” Berenice looked as if she thought so too, though not for the same reasons. “I love them both dearly,” Titus Caesar proclaimed.
I grabbed Helena’s hand and tucked it firmly in my arm, pulling her back and keeping her close to me. Then I thanked Titus for his confidence in us, and took my defiant girl away.
She was extremely upset. I had seen it even before she answered. Titus, of course, had no idea. She would talk to me about it, although probably not for days. When she did speak, she would be raging. I could wait. I just kept my arm tightly around her while she controlled her immediate anger.
We walked together in silence for some distance. Since Helena was wrapped in her own thoughts, I could sink into mine. The pressure I felt upon me now was the same old dead weight. In addition to the domestic tragedy that I was trying to avert from the Laelii, my task had acquired much wider significance. This new burden, of saving Berenice from grief for Titus, was a tricky one.
So that was the ravishing Queen Berenice! If this had happened to my brother Festus, a scented notelet would have followed before he reached the street door.
Mind you, when Didius Festus visited fabulously beautiful women, he made sure that he went by himself.
IN NERO’S DAY the entire ground floor of the Esquiline Wing of the Golden House had been given over to dining rooms. There were matched pairs, one half looking into a spacious courtyard, the complementary mirrored groups facing out over the Forum, where Nero installed a wildlife park but where Vespasian was now building his Amphitheatre. With his rather different lifestyle, Nero had needed not one elegant hall for feeding flatterers-his best being the famous Octagonal Roombut complex suites in threes or fives that would contain the wild parties he loved. It was among the labyrinth of these that we had seen Titus.
The Flavians were another breed from Nero. They conducted most official imperial business in the old Palace of the Caesars, high on the Palatine. It was said they intended to dismantle the Golden House soon. It represented not just hated luxury, but Nero’s contempt for the people he had deliberately burned out and displaced in order to build it. The Flavians respected the people. At any rate, they would do, so long as the people respected them. But they were also frugal. While their predecessor’s mad, gloriously ornate dwelling still existed, it did seem proper to them that Rome-in the person of the frugal Flavians-should make use of it. It had cost a great deal and Vespasian was hot on the value-for-money principle.
I had been here for private meetings before, and for one formal conference held in the Octagon. Titus often lurked here when he was off duty. He would call me in sometimes for a staid heart-to-heart.
The place was vast. Tall frescoed corridors ran in all directions. Most of the rooms were not too ostentatious sizewise, but they ran into each other in a bemusing honeycomb. There were peculiar backdoubles and dead ends, due to this wing having been hewn from the naked rock under the Oppian Hill. Unescorted, it would have been easy to get lost.
There was a casual atmosphere. Occasional Praetorian Guards had parked themselves in corridors, not least because Titus was their commander now. On the whole, nobody looked at visitors too closely, and it seemed possible to wander at will.
Somehow, you never did. Somehow your feet were guided out of the building quite rapidly and on what I was coming to realize was a wellworn path. The result was that despite the huge number of rooms, with their variety of exits and entrances, and despite the temptation to tiptoe into them to collect ideas for home decor, if two groups of people were visiting Titus on the same evening for the same purpose, although it hardly seemed feasible, they would actually end up faceto-face.
That was how Helena and I met Rubella and Petronius.
Those two big snide bastards were not pleased.
“Looks like we got to the buffet first,” I greeted them. I knew they would be hopping mad that the vigiles were firmly refused permission to investigate the Laelius house, whereas I had been called in specially. The gap between private informers and the vigiles would never close. “Don’t worry; I gave Titus Caesar a thorough briefing. You can just show your faces, then bunk off back to your patrol house.”
