“What can he do then?” insisted my darling, being stubborn herself.

“Aelianus ought to present himself at the house of the Arval Master when the Brothers start assembling for today’s feast. He should declare what he saw, making his involvement known at least to their chief, and if possible to the whole group. While he is there, he must keep his eyes open. If he notices any particular Brother is missing, he can deduce the identity of the corpse.”

Helena Justina seemed satisfied. In fact, she seemed to believe I was helping her brother rather more than I had agreed to do.

“That’s wonderful, Marcus. So while Justinus is away in Spain, you have somebody to work as your partner after all!”

I shook my head, but she just laughed at me. Before we left the Arx, we shared a moment surveying the city. This was Rome. We were home again.

If anyone has heard that a procurator attached to the cult of Juno once kissed a girl on the sacred ground of the Auguraculum, it’s just winged rumor flitting around with her usual distaste for truth. Anyway, legate, that girl was my wife.

MAIA WAS BEING far too careful to look normal. She shrank from being hugged as if it seemed an unnecessary display. She was pale but neatly dressed as always, with her dark curls combed back from her face. She wore a dress that I knew was her favorite. She had taken trouble to reassure us; she was certainly making an effort. But her mouth was tight.

With her came all her four children, and when I took them into the other room to show them my goslings, Maia’s eyes followed her little ones overprotectively. Always well behaved, they were even quieter than before, all intelligent enough to know their father’s death would have drastic consequences, the elder ones secretly shouldering responsibility for bringing everyone through the tragedy.

“They make a lot of mess,” said Ancus, now six, as he carefully handled one of the fledglings. He looked very worried. “What are you supposed to do about clearing up?”

“I have to find them somewhere else to live, Ancus. I made arrangements this morning for them to go to Lenia’s laundry over the road. They can waddle around the yard and forage in the back lane.”

“But don’t they belong on the Arx?”

“There are enough geese on the Arx at the moment.”

“So you can keep the spare ones?”

“Perk of my new job.”

Ancus noted that gravely, seeing it as a career inducement.

“It doesn’t seem a good idea to have geese pooping in a place where clothes are being nicely cleaned,” remarked Cloelia. She was about seven or eight, and believed herself frightened of creatures, but it had taken her no time to get the hang of shoveling their porridge and mashed nasturtium leaves into my charges. The practical one.

Lenia’s laundry had never been salubrious. I only went there because it was handy and she pretended she gave me cheap rates. She was hoping that geese would guard the laundry from the evil attentions of her recently divorced husband. Having failed to wrest the property from her, Smaractus was trying to drive her out of it. “Lenia hasn’t thought of the mess, so we won’t mention it. Do you want to help me take them to their new home?”

We all went in procession, carrying the little birds, their basket, and their porridge pot. This gave Helena and Maia a chance to talk alone.

“We’d like the pot back eventually,” I told Lenia.

She threw back her ghastly fox-red hair and croaked, “Not too soon, Falco! I’ll be wanting the pot for cooking these geese when they get big enough.”

“She doesn’t mean that, does she?” Ancus whispered in my ear nervously. Knowing Lenia, I was pretty sure she did.

“Of course not, Ancus. They are sacred. Lenia will be looking after them very carefully.”

Lenia laughed.

We found Petronius outside the laundry, on his lunch break, so he invited himself to join us, bringing a melon as his entrance fee.

Helena gave me a private scowl when she saw Petro, but it seemed to me he would be a great help in jollying Maia. His idea of doing this was to wink at her and leer, “The new widow’s looking spruce!”

“Grow up,” said Maia. Her gaze followed Cloelia, who was handing out food bowls rather precariously. “And that does not mean you can drive me mad being nice to me. Just act normally!”

“Whoops. I thought you’d be sick of normal people murmuring ‘ However will you cope?’ You will, don’t worry.”

My sister gave him a tart look. “Is it true what I hear-that Arria Silvia and her potted-food man have decamped to live in Ostia?”

Petronius was milder than I had expected as he confirmed this new disaster in his own life. “Apparently, the gelatinous clown reckons there is a great market for his ghastly produce on the quays. And yes, Silvia has taken my daughters. And no, I do not expect to see the girls more than once a year in future.”

“I am sorry,” commented Maia briefly. We all knew he would miss his daughters; but at least he would be there if they really needed him. Her children could no longer say the same about their father.

Petronius, who had installed himself on a bench at the table, stretched his long legs in front of him, leaned back, folded his arms, and returned quietly, “Sole purpose of presenting myself-to give you somebody else to feel sorry for.”

Maia, who thought Petro an even worse scoundrel than me, took it well, at least for her: “Petronius and Falco: always the boys who had to be different. Now listen carefully, you two. The official set speech runs like this: My husband was a ne’er-do-well whose death may turn out to be the best thing that happened to me; if I want anything I have only to ask-though of course it means don’t ask for anything that requires money or time, or causes embarrassment; most important, you have to tell me that I am still young and attractive-all right, you can say ‘fairly attractive’-and that somebody else will soon turn up to take Famia’s place.”

Petronius Longus lifted Rhea, the silent three-year-old, onto his lap and started filling her bowl for her. He had been a good father, and Rhea accepted him trustingly. “Take Famia’s place in being a ne’ er-do-well, is that it?”

“What else?” said Maia, grudgingly allowing herself a half smile.

“Has enough time passed for us to tell you that you should never have married him?”

“No, Petro.”

“Right. We’ll keep that one in reserve.”

“Don’t worry; I can dwell on it for myself… Isnt it rich-how eagerly people want to tell you that the person you chose was not worth it! As if you were not already wondering what life was for, and why you seem to have wasted half of it! All, of course, preceded by ‘I feel I have to say this, Maia!’ So thoughtful!”

“You have to remember,” Petronius advised in a dark voice, like one who knew, “that it all seemed to be what you wanted, at the time.”

Helena had been placing various serving dishes on the table; now she joined in, taking up their ironic tone. “I’m sure there must be plenty of pious souls explaining that you have four beautiful children who will be your consolation, Maia? And that what you must do is devote yourself to them?”

“But not let myself go!” Maia growled. “‘In case something comes along.’ Meaning, oh Juno, let’s hope Maia fixes herself up quickly with a new man, so we don’t have to worry about her for too long.”

“Your words have a horrible resonance of Allia and Galla,” I commented, referring to two of our elder sisters, who were particular mistresses of tact. “And does that mean,” I asked her hollowly, “that our mother has started plaguing you to be nice to poor Anacrites?”

This time Maia snapped. “Oh, don’t be so ridiculous! Marcus darling, mother would never do that. She has already been warning me not to bat my eyelids that way because Anacrites is far too good for me-”