The Ides of April: Falco: The New Generation (Falco: The Next Generation)

by Davis, Lindsey

  I had left scraps, never hoping any fox would come. Now Robigo sat up there, watchful but relaxed. Almost as soon as I saw him, he decided to slip down the wall. We stayed quiet and observed: those busy paws brought him to what I had left to be eaten, his nose low. He was close enough for us to see his amber eyes, white muzzle, whiskers, black-tipped tail. He ate, then unusually sat there, looking casual. He yawned. He engaged in rapid scratching of the fur behind one of his black ears.

  All the time, I felt Faustus’ hand, heavily on mine as if he had forgotten it was there. Only when Robigo had silently streaked away did he release me.

  The time had come to go. When I stood to leave, rather abruptly, Faustus screwed himself upright and steadied my elbow. That last afternoon, I was reluctant to break from his company. I wanted to take him to my apartment. Today, he was one man I would welcome there. Was it because he carried the aura of power? Or simply because his maturity and steadiness appealed to me?

  My instinct said he wanted to come with me. It would be for inevitable reasons. I wanted to go to bed with him, to make spine-cracking, shout-aloud love so we obliterated recent pain and memory. He wanted consolation too; he had said so. It could be a once-only. We were strong people.

  ‘Are you all right?’ he asked, rather intensely.

  ‘Not really.’

  I said he could see me back to Fountain Court, if he was desperate to be useful. ‘Nuts, olives – a little afternoon delight?’

  We were standing close. I liked the faint smell of him. Close to, it was a lotion so light it could almost be the natural scent of clean skin.

  He dropped his forehead lightly onto mine. ‘Don’t tempt me!’

  Why not?

  I knew some reasons. His history said he could be passionate, but the past had made him wary. He was rich, occupying an élite position; he needed an unsullied image. I was on a vigiles’ watch-list. No aedile with ambitions could afford the risk.

  His excuse was not one I expected. ‘It would be more than enjoyable. But you know what would happen. Afterwards, we would be hiding down alleys to avoid each other. I liked working with you, Albia. I had hoped that in future we might help one another again. Let’s stay friends.’

  That hideous cliché. Any woman understands what it really means.

  I know to this day that if I had kissed him, he would not have resisted. But I smiled and stepped back, releasing us both from pressure.

  I thought back to the day when I first went to see him, when I visited the Temple of Ceres and bumped into Faustus on the threshold of the aediles’ office. I had dressed to impress a magistrate, amusing myself with how my sisters believed that when you go to that much trouble you will meet somebody special …

  His interest in me as a colleague had a kind of innocence. I knew better. In Rome, you cannot overturn the rules. Still, the man possessed a good heart. He had, after all, taken it upon himself to write up that wall poster, calling for witnesses to the death of little Lucius Bassus. In our bleak world, where most people and few magistrates had consciences, such decency was indeed special.

  I told him I was going to the coast; he looked disappointed. I said I would be back before long and his face cleared.

  ‘Do you always have breakfast at the Stargazer?’

  ‘Most days.’

  ‘Maybe I could come along and join you sometimes.’

  ‘Well, you know where it is.’

  He would be a no-show; he was fooling himself in the aftermath of a case we had both hated. I left it to him, whether he made good the promise. Working together again would be acceptable, if it ever happened.

  So we parted in the Armilustrium, rueful and chaste. The aedile turned towards his uncle’s house. I made my way alone to Fountain Court.

  Historical Note

  During this period some persons made a business of smearing needles with poison and then pricking with them whomsoever they would. Many persons who were thus attacked died without even knowing the cause, but many of the murderers were informed against and punished.

  Dio Cassius, Roman History, Epitome Book 67