"The arrangement may not be public knowledge yet."

"Trust me; she's not spoken for! Claudia Rufina, on the other hand, was sporting a heavy bracelet of garnets, which cannot be to her taste (she told me she collects ivory miniatures). The awful bracelet looked just the thing a man would grab at a goldsmith's for a girl he feels obliged to present with a formal gift. Expensive and horrible. If she does ever marry the man who gave it to her, she will be obliged to treasure it for a lifetime, poor soul."

I found myself smiling. Helena herself was dressed simply, in white, with hardly any extra decoration; while pregnant she found wearing jewelry uncomfortable. She unconsciously fingered a silver ring which I had given her. It was a plain design with its love message hidden inside. It represented the time I had suffered as a slave in a silver mine in Britain. I hoped any comparison she was making with Claudia Rufina's gift was favorable.

I cleared my throat. "Well, did you meet any male hangers-on today?"

"No, but there was talk of 'Tiberius,' who was thought to be at the gymnasium. He sounds like the man you saw. If he's good-looking enough to irritate you, he's also bound to be crazed on sports."

"Because he's handsome?" I chortled. In fact having seen him I agreed he must be a handball lout. The man I saw had a thick neck and probably a brain to match. When he chose a wife he would be looking at the size of her bust and wondering how readily she would let him run off to exercise or hunt.

The thought of hunting made me wonder if his formal name was Quinctius.

"The youth you saw being sick on the steps was probably Claudia's brother."

"The lad who was taken to Rome with the Baetican group?"

"He never appeared this morning. He was still in bed. I heard distant groans that were supposed to be him with a wine-headache."

"If the handsome dog is after Claudia I bet there's a scheme to marry her brother to her best friend Aelia." I was always a romantic.

Helena was scathing: "Aelia Annaea would eat a young lad for lunch!" She seemed well disposed towards both girls, but I could tell Aelia Annaea was the one who really appealed to her.

I scowled. "There's not much to gain from courting the young people. It's the old men who run Corduba. From what I saw last night that's wise; their heirs look thoroughly overindulged: bored girls and bad young men."

"Oh they're just rich and silly," Helena demurred.

Her trip to the Licinius house had cheered her up since yesterday. Her mother's highly expensive midwife had advised me to keep her mind occupied for these last few weeks—though the woman probably did not expect Helena to be gallivanting about Baetica.

"So what's your verdict, my darling? Have we decided these young creatures just have too much spending cash and too little parental supervision—or are the brats up to no good?"

"I don't know yet, Marcus. But I'll find out."

I stretched lazily. "You should enjoy yourself more. A good long bathe is what I recommend. If you whistle loudly while you're steaming, Optatus and I will keep out of the way."

Helena Justina patted her bulge and told the child-in-waiting that if she had as many baths as its father suggested the baby would be washed away. Sometimes I wondered if Helena saw through my schemes. It would be like her to have found out exactly what the midwife had told me—and to disobey deliberately.

"So I've seen the gem-encrusted Aelia. What's Claudia Rufina like?"

"Neat, smart, and rather shy," said Helena. "She has a rather big nose which she unfortunately accentuates by tilting back her head then looking at people over it. She needs a tall husband— which is interesting, Marcus, because from the way Marius Optatus insisted on driving me today instead of Marmarides, I'd say

he has a yen for Claudia! When we got there he vanished to discuss farming with the old man, but I swear he only wanted to go so he could offer greetings to the girl."

I raised my eyebrows. Naturally I disapproved of unions that broke barriers. "Unless I've misunderstood the rules of Baetican etiquette I reckon Optatus is risking it!"

"He's a free man," Helena reminded me snootily. "Anyway, when did the fact that a girl was unsuitable ever stop a man taking a chance?"

I grinned at her.

At that point we shelved the discussion because Optatus himself came out into the garden. He was splitting his sides over the decrepit horse I had brought home, and said he hoped I had not paid out money for it; I assured him it was a virtual gift from the gracious Annaei. Marius Optatus gravely replied that the Annaei had always been renowned for their generosity.

I noticed a whiff of smoke and burnt rosemary hanging around his work clothes. It would not surprise me if he was the serious sort who quietly cleansed his stables each Parilia with a private lustration made in genuine reverence. The sober tenant seemed like a dedicated farmer with no space in his life for frivolity. But once I had started to see him as a ladies' man, eyeing up the handsome dowry of a neighbor's rather big-nosed granddaughter, anything could be possible.

TWENTY-EIGHT

Helena had invited Claudia Rufina to return her call, but the social rules dictated there should be a short lapse of time first. Our young neighbor was probably dying to inspect Helena's paramour, but the poor thing would have to wait to see my friendly face. Meanwhile I decided to see her grandfather; now I had met Annaeus I needed to compare the rivals soon before I ended prejudiced either for or against the one just because I met him first. Since the Rufius family had had one visit from us today, Helena told me I should wait until tomorrow. It gave me an afternoon loafing about. That suited me.

"You'll like their house," Helena giggled, for reasons she refused to divulge.

I rode over the next morning on my borrowed horse. His name was allegedly Prancer. It must have been given to him a long time ago. I think he wanted to be a botanist. His notion of a canter was a decorous sidle, slow enough to inspect every dockleaf on the way.

The Licinius Rufius estate lay comparatively close, though (given my mount) not as near as I would have liked. This was mainly because of a large number of intervening olive groves which belonged to someone else. Marius Optatus had warned who it was: his ex-landlord, Quinctius Attractus. I surveyed the senator's holding with great interest. He was happily ostentatious. After the olive groves I had to pass his fields of flax, his market gardens, his vineyards, his pig farm and his wheat.

When I did reach the Rufius villa, I saw what Helena Justina had meant: the family had embarked on a truly brave improvement program. It was easy to see where the money for it came from: once I had entered a gateway with their name on a column I had ridden through at least a couple of miles of well-aged olive trees, grand monsters with several trunks growing from stocks with huge circumferences; these were clearly only a fraction of the whole estate. I had passed a working area where they had not one but two oil-presses. Even more significant was the fact that they actually owned their own kilns for making amphorae. This estate, which ran on until it bordered the river, was obviously near enough to water transport at Corduba not to need to use mules for carrying the oil down for shipment. (The estate roads were in fact immaculate.) The kilns were five in number; alongside them were rows of bricks drying in the sun awaiting their turn to be home-fired too.

In an area the builders were using as their yard, I spotted the youth I had last seen being ill at the Annaeus house. He must be the grandson, as we had guessed. He was wearing a brilliant tunic in broad stripes of red and murex purple, a garment that shouted loudly that his family could afford the best. He was helping a bailiff decide something with a carpenter who had a new window frame on a trestle. Young Rufius looked barely into his twenties, awake though perhaps not yet fully alert. Still, he was the one holding the building plan, his relations with the workmen sounded pleasant, and he did appear quite confident discussing the chart. I went past without making myself known and left Prancer under an oak tree; it did not seem worthwhile tethering him.