Ode To A Banker

by Lindsey Davis

  ‘People get the wrong idea.’ I managed to writhe free. ‘Look, it’s none of my business -‘ My mother’s Medusa stare told me that was probably true. ‘I just happened to hear someone insinuate - obviously under a ridiculous misapprehension - that you might have taken up with a certain person of the male variety who sometimes frequents this place…’

  Ma leapt out of her chair.

  I sidestepped and hurried to the door, more than happy to leave indisgrace. With the door safely opened, I turned back and apologised. Ma said rigidly, ‘I’ll thank you - and I’ll thank whatever busybodieshave been gossiping about me - to keep their noses out of my affairs.’

  ‘Sorry, Ma. Of course, I never believed it -‘

  Her chin came up. She looked as if someone with his boots fresh from a cow-byre had dared to walk across a floor she had just washed. ‘If I wanted a little bit of comfort in my final years, I am surely entitled to it.’

  ‘Oh yes, Ma.’ I tried not to look shocked.

  ‘If I did have a friend I was rather fond of,’ explained Ma heavily, ‘assuming I dared to think I would be allowed to get away with it - then you and your high-minded sisters could rely on me to be discreet.’ So she guessed it was one of my sisters spreading the story. I had better warn Junia to leave Italy.

  ‘Sorry, Ma -‘

  ‘The least I could expect in return is a modicum of privacy!’

  Dear gods. As a rebuttal, this was much weaker than I had hoped to hear. ‘Yes, Ma.’

  ‘I am not entirely decrepit, Marcus! I have had my opportunities.’

  ‘You are a fine woman,’ I assured her, unintentionally echoing Aristagoras. ‘You can do what you like -‘

  ‘Oh, I will!’ agreed my mother, with a dangerous glint.

  As I retreated slowly down to street level, I was feeling tired even though I had done hardly anything that morning. In fact, I felt as if I had been sucked down a whirlpool then spat up stark naked on some extremely pointed rocks.

  The old man in the portico had managed to fix on somebody, so I slid past unobtrusively - only to hear my name called in a loud bellow by a horribly familiar voice. I turned back in horror.

  ‘Pa!’ Olympus, this was turning into a family festival.

  I felt astonished. I had not seen my father in this vicinity since I was seven years old. He and Ma had never met since he bunked off. For years, Ma pretended Pa did not even exist. When they were a couple, he had used his real name, Favonius. To her, the auctioneer ‘Geminus’ was a raffish scamp both her sons had sometimes chosen to mess about with in some masculine world she would not deign to investigate. When he wanted to communicate, even to send her money, it had to be done through an intermediary and using codes.

  A mad thought struck, that when she had been talking about a new friend she might be fond of, Ma had meant that after Flora died she had made up her old fight with Pa.

  No chance.

  ‘What on earth are you doing sloping round Ma’s front porch, Father? It’s risking a thunderbolt.’

  ‘Time some things were sorted.’ I winced. Pa must be crazy. Interference from him was likely to bring wrath on all our heads. ‘Junia just brought in the caupona takings. She told me the fine news that Junilla Tacita has acquired a follower!’

  ‘Our Junia loves a vulgar story to spread -‘ With a quick glance at Aristagoras, who blinked at us from under his sunbathing hat with bright-eyed curiosity, I tipped Pa the wink that we ought to bunk off to a winebar. As one, we gave the old neighbour a farewell grin and wheeled off together, Pa’s arm heavily around my shoulders in unaccustomed amity. We must have looked more like brothers than father and son.

  As soon as we were out of sight, I shook myself free; I dragged Pa as far as I could - not far enough, but he soon started grumbling and wanting the drink. I reminded him that my suggestion was not really for refreshment, but saving our skins if Ma had come out and foundus gossiping. ‘I just tackled her, and got a sore ear - literally. That was before she told me what she thinks of people spreading rumours - a diatribe I won’t dwell on.’

  My father laughed. He could. It was not his ear she had twisted with her brutal digits. Well, not this time. But he looked as if he remembered the experience. We wheeled into a bar and plumped ourselves down on benches.

  ‘Of course it must be a mistake,’ I raved bitterly. It was time somebody stood up to Pa. ‘We all think she’s in bed with the lodger - but perhaps it’s much more disgusting: she may be secretly getting back together with you.’

  ‘Now there’s an idea! Think she would hear it?’ Pa never had any sense - or any tact, either. He leaned across the bar table urgently. ‘So what’s the real story with Anacrites?’

  ‘Don’t ask me. I’ve been forbidden any scandalous speculation. I’m not stupid enough to risk it now.’

  ‘This is dreadful, son.’

  I was close to agreeing, then found myself wondering - as Ma would do - what possible connection there could be with him.

  ‘Come off it, Pa. That it’s the spy is horrible enough - and it’s certainly bloody dangerous - but you have a nerve interfering with Mother nowadays.’

  ‘Don’t be pious!’

  ‘Nor you then.She says she is entitled to a private life - and she’s right. Maybe she’s doing it just to annoy other people.’

  ‘Me, for instance?’ muttered Pa darkly.

  ‘How did you guess? Who knows what’s really going on. Mother always enjoyed a situation where everyone else was going frantic, while she just let them think whatever they liked.’

  ‘But not if it involves that creep Anacrites!’

  ‘Ah well.’ I tried viewing it philosophically. ‘He has been behaving too well lately. It was time he did something in character again.’

  ‘Screwing your mother?’ Pa sneered crudely. ‘It’s revolting-‘ He suddenly thought of a fine excuse for his own pompous attitude: ‘I’m thinking about my grandchildren - especially baby Julia. She has a connection to the Senate; she cannot have her dear little reputation soiled by scandal.’

  ‘Don’t bring my daughter into it. I’ll protect Julia Junilla - if it’s ever needed.’

  ‘You couldn’t protect a chickpea,’ said Pa, in his usual affectionateway. He craned his head, checking me over for bruises. ‘I hear you were thrashed again last night?’

  ‘You mean I saved the life of Petronius Longus, stayed alive myself; and rid Rome of a bullying piece of dirt the size of a small house.’

  ‘Time you grew up, son.’

  ‘Look who is talking! After walking out twenty-five years ago, and after all the floozies you have bedded before and since, coming to preach at Mother today is just grotesque.’

  ‘I don’t care what you think.’ He drained his cup. I started to drain mine in a similar gesture. Then I slowed down and deliberately made the move delicate, so as not to look like him. The thoughtful, moderate one in the family (The unbearable, good-natured bastard, my father would say.)

  I stood up. ‘Well, I’ve quarrelled with both my parents now. That’s enough grief for one day. I’m off.’ Pa had leapt up even faster than I did. I felt nervous. ‘Now what are you up to?’

  ‘I’m going to have it out.’

  ‘Don’t be so stupid!’ The thought of him broaching Ma on this subject was so ghastly I nearly brought up the wine I had drunk. ‘Have some self-respect. Well, self-preservation, anyway. She won’t thank you.’

  ‘She won’t know anything about it,’ came his rejoinder. ‘Her boyfriend keeps office hours, presumably - well, he won’t be out taking risks, not him. He’ll have a nice cool nook to hide in - which is about to become hotter than he’ll like. Goodbye now, son. I can’t hang about here!’

  When Geminus stormed off, I had no choice: I paid the bill for our drinks, then, keeping at a safe distance, hopped after him.

  I thought I was the expert at Palace ceremonial. Vespasian believed he had instituted a new approachable system in his court. This Emperor allowed anyone to see him
who wanted to present a petition or a crackpot idea; he had even discontinued the old practice of having all supplicants searched for weapons. Naturally, the main result of this casual attitude was that chamberlains and guards had become hysterical behind his back. To get past the supposedly relaxed operatives who now ran the Palatine could take hours.

  I knew some of the people who worked there; I had also held on to various passes that I had acquired during offrcial missions. Even so, when I reached the suite where Anacrites lurked, Pa must have got in ahead of me. The Chief Spy’s office was in a dim, unpromisingcorridor, otherwise occupied by absentee auditors. It was a place of open doors looking onto dusty rooms with unoccupied clerks’ benches and occasional stored old thrones. Anacrites usually kept his own door firmly closed, so nobody would see if he nodded off while waiting for his lackadaisical runners to bother to report in.

  He had dangerous status. Officially, he worked on detachment to the Praetorian Guard, even though they never supplied him with anyone in armour to flank his office doorway. As top dog in intelligence, he might be incompetent in my eyes, yet he ranked high. Only a fool, therefore, would march in here and take him to task on a personal issue.

  My heart sank as I approached. Too many observers were wandering about. There were pale-faced little slaves trotting past on errands. Other bureaucrats were sitting bored in other offices. Despite the carefree regime at the Emperor’s private quarters, in these areas there were soldiers on full alert. From time to time, Anacrites’ own personnel might appear. They were a seedy lot, and probably owed him favours. As a spy, the least he could do as a manager was to ensure he had bought his own team’s loyalty with spare cash from the bribes fund.

  From the far end of the corridor I could hear irately raised voices. My father had barged into the sanctum with his blood up. Things sounded even trickier than I had feared. I rushed down and stormed in. Anacrites looked frigid with indignation and Pa was bouncing on his heels, red-faced and roaring insults.

  ‘Didius Geminus, get a grip,’ I hissed. ‘Don’t be damned foolish, Pa!’

  ‘Bugger off-don’t prate at me!’

  ‘Leave it alone, you idiot -‘

  ‘No fear! I’m going to do this bastard.’

  Suddenly it was my crazed parent and me having the set-to while Anacrites himself just stood aloof, looking bemused.

  ‘Oh settle down, Pa! It’s none of your business, and you don’t even know if it’s true.’

  ‘Whether it’s true doesn’t matter,’ roared Pa. ‘People should not be saying these terrible things about your mother -‘

  Anacrites went white, as if he finally saw the problem. My father was now dancing like a rather flighty boxer. I grabbed at his arm. He flung me off.

  ‘Stop it! If you calm down, you may discover the worst Anacrites has done is to lose Ma’s savings in a bank that failed.’

  Whoops! At that, Pa became incandescent. ‘Lost her savings? Thatwill be my money you’re talking about! I know for sure your mother has always refused to spend what I keep sending her -‘

  He was right, and I should have kept quiet. He blew up. Before I could stop him, he rounded again on Anacrites, balled his fist and took a wild swing at the spy.

  XLVII

  ANACRITES SURPRISED me: he was ready for it and knocked Pa’s arm aside. By then, I was hanging on to my father, but as Ipulled down his right arm he managed to let fly with his left fist and caught the spy a mighty clip across the ear. I hauled away my maddened parent, then, as Anacrites jumped forward angrily, I drew back my own arm to hit him and protect Pa. Somebody caught hold of me.

  I turned. I stopped. We all did. The person who had grabbed me with the iron grip was a woman.

  ‘Flying phalluses, Falco! What’s this brawl about?’

  ‘Perella!’ I exclaimed in shock.

  She was a dancer. I mean a good one, not some twirling girl in a two-piece costume with eyes for all the men. Aged somewhere short of fifty but a long way after girlhood, Perella looked like a housewife with a headache on a bad day of the month. She was the deadliest intelligence agent I had ever met.

  ‘Fancy running into you again.’

  ‘No - I ran at you, Falco,’ she said, letting go of me with a contemptuous flick of her wrist.

  ‘Stay still, Pa,’ I warned him grittily. ‘The last person I saw upsetting Perella ended up terminally out of it. She’s a rather clever lady; we worked together on a job in Baetica.’

  ‘You stole that job from me,’ Perella commented.

  I grinned. Perhaps uncertainly. ‘This is my father,’ I introduced him, not mentioning her main occupation since Pa probably thought he was a demon at seducing dancers. ‘He’s a lamb normally. He just happened to hear that Anacrites has been making love to my old mother and he lost his rag.’ Anacrites, who had gone red when Pa hit him, now went white again. I grabbed Pa by the scruff of his tunic. ‘Come on. That’s enough of us playing the fighting Didius boys. I’m taking you home.’

  ‘Sounds as if the Didius boys - and probably your mother - had bestleave town,’ murmured Perella. She was implying how stupid it was to offend the Chief Spy.

  ‘I don’t think that will be necessary.’ For the first time, I looked directly at Anacrites. I spoke quietly. ‘You owe me one for Lepcis Magna, isn’t that right?’

  Perella was looking intrigued. She could obviously tell I had made a serious threat. I had done it in front of other people on purpose.

  Anacrites breathed carefully. At Lepcis, he had fought as a gladiator in the arena. That meant legal infamy. If it were known, he would lose his position, and be stripped of his newly-acquired middle rank. His free citizenship would be meaningless. He would become a nonperson. ‘Of course, Falco.’ He was standing so straight he was almost on parade at attention.

  I smiled at him. It was not returned.

  ‘So now we are on even terms again,’ he pleaded.

  ‘If you like.’ Not so even as he implied. This fight with Pa would lose its importance very quickly; Anacrites would remain vulnerable to exposure for the rest of his life. No need to insist too strongly. He knew I had him. ‘Take a hint, Anacrites old son - it’s time to move on. My mother has loved having a lodger, but she is no longer young; she is finding it a bit much nowadays.’

  ‘I was intending to move out,’ he said, in a taut voice.

  ‘And one other small point - she is anxious about her savings now the bank has failed.’

  ‘I shall do what I can, Falco.’ Then he asked wistfully, ‘What about Maia Favonia?’

  I had done enough. Never strip a man so brutally that he is left with nothing to lose. Maia would have to be the sacrifice. ‘My dear fellow! That is between you and her, of course.’

  He did not thank me.

  ‘What does he mean?’ demanded Pa.

  ‘Mind your own business.’ I skipped telling him that Anacrites wanted to jump generations; it would only set him off again. Or even if Pa stayed cool, if I thought too much about Anacrites making himself a ‘friend’ to my sister, it might be me letting fly at him.

  I marched my father out of the Palace and dragged him into a closed carrying chair, away from prying eyes. I stayed with him all the way to the Saepta Julia, neither of us saying much. At the warehouse, we found Maia writing figures neatly in the auction daybook. Sheappeared busy, competent, and content. At our entrance together, she looked up in surprise.

  ‘What have you two been up to?’

  ‘Our esteemed father just socked Anacrites.’

  ‘You pair of fools! What for, Pa?’

  ‘Oh… he gave your mother some terrible financial advice.’ Instinctively, both Pa and I decided not to mention to my sister the real subject of the disagreement.

  Maia sidetracked herself, in fact: she had heard about Junia’s idea that Pa and I should swap houses. While she had us together, she decided to extol the virtues of him opting for semi-retirement and moving to the janiculan (nearer the Saepta Julia than his Aventine place,
and perhaps further from the temptation to run wild and hit officials) and of me taking Pa’s tall, spacious house on the riverbank (close to clients, with plenty of room for a family) Subdued, we both listened to her reasonable words. Eventually Maia found it too disconcerting.

  ‘Oh, I can’t stand any more of this! What’s the matter with you two? Why are neither of you arguing?’

  I had played the peacemaker quite enough today. I left Pa to calm her down.

  XLVIII

  I WENT HOME. Helena had returned and was talking to Petronius in our third room. She had her nose deep in a chest where my tunics were stored, lifting them out by the shoulders and subjecting each much-loved antique to a mocking survey.

  ‘I am just checking your wardrobe. You and Lucius need to visit a tailor for new togas, so you may as well acquire some wearable tunics at the same time.’ She looked up, suddenly uncomfortable, as if she had pried into my bachelor storage without my permission. ‘Do you mind?’

  ‘That’s all right, love.’ Seeing a washed-out wine-coloured tunic that I had forgotten I owned, I grabbed the garment and started changing into it. ‘I don’t keep anything in there that I don’t want you to find.’

  Helena went back to her inspection. After a quiet pause she asked me in an amused tone, ‘So, Marcus, where do you hide things you are keeping secret?’

  We all laughed, while I tried not to blush.

  In my bankbox was the answer - or for tricky items that passed through the home temporarily, stuffed quickly inside the slipcase of a cushion on my reading couch.

  To change the subject, I told Helena and Petro what had happened earlier. ‘Frankly I feel more shattered after coping with my parents than I was last night after we tackled that giant.’

  Helena Justina was by then safely out in the main living room, where she had settled to her own devices and started reading a scroll. It must now be the one she had swapped with Passus that morning, when she left Maia here. She was seated in a basket chair like the one Festus had given Ma, with her feet up on a tall stool and the scroll across her knees. She had the intent air l recognised; I could hold an entire conversation with her, but afterwards she would be quite unaware of what had been said. Her mind was locked in the newGreek novel, gallivanting about a strange landscape with Gondomon, King of Traximene, as Passus had been yesterday in the Greek library. Until she finished, she was lost to me. If I had been a jealous type like Pa, I would have been searching for that bastard Gondomon, to take a pot at him.