Venus in copper

I put both hands on her shoulders; she braced herself against the weight. 'My darling, I do know -' I pulled her towards me. She resisted, but not hard enough.

'Marcus, I ca

I gathered her closer. 'I'm here -'

'Let me go, Marcus.' Helena was leaning away from me; I must have stunk of uncooked fish.

'No; let me make things right -'

'I don't want you to!' she answered, in that same thin, despondent voice. 'Marcus, I don't want to be bamboozled by some clever piece of oratory. I don't want to co-operate in cheating myself. I don't want to hear you squirming, 'Helena Justina, I didn't invite you because I knew you were coming anyway; Helena, I'm letting you blame me because I deserve it-'

'I am sorry. Don't tell me I'm a bastard; I'll say it myself-' Helena nodded rapidly. 'I won't insult you by saying I love you, but I do, and you know it -'

'Oh stop pretending to be so strong and comforting!'

Grateful for the hint, I wrapped myself around her. 'Forget I've been cuddling a turbot; come here ...'

Her face crumpled as she leaned against my fishy chest.

Maia poked her head in through the new door curtain, saw us and blushed. 'Shall we lay another bowl?'

'Yes,' I said without consulting Helena. Maia disappeared.

'No Marcus,' said Helena. 'I'll be friends; I ca

She had no time to finish. Before she could demolish me utterly, someone else started banging at my door. Petro would go. I could imagine his dread in case he found another girlfriend smirking on the threshold ... I grimaced at Helena and started off to assist. Before I reached the doorway he burst in.

'There's a panic on, Marcus; can you come?' My quiet friend looked highly excited. 'It's a posse of damned Praetorians'. Only Mars knows what they are after-but apparently you asked Titus to bring his di

This had all the makings of a social disaster. I winked at Helena. 'Well! Are you just going to stand there looking beautiful-or are you going to rally round?'

Chapter XLIV

She saved me. She had to. She was a girl with a conscience. She would not risk exposing Titus Caesar to embarrassment from a clutch of raucous plebians. Helena ground her teeth, I gri

The members of my family saw no reason to alter the habits of a lifetime just because I had produced an Imperial guest. Titus had already edged in, looking startled, before Helena and I could emerge with the kind of refined welcome he had learned to expect. My relations immediately grabbed him and sat him on a stool with a bowl of olives on one knee, to watch his turbot cooking. Next thing I knew, everyone seemed to have introduced themselves without waiting for me, Helena was testing the fish with a knifepoint, Petronius shoved a full winecup under my elbow, and the chaos redoubled while I stood there like a drowned vole in a thunderstorm.

After five minutes and a cup of inferior Campanian wine, Titus had grasped the house rules and joined in with the rabble shouting advice. None of my family was snobbish; they accepted him as one of us. Most of them were much more curious about the superior young lady whose sweet-scented head was bent close to mine over my makeshift cooking pot.

The Praetorians had to wait outside. Luckily, when the Didius women bring bread rolls for a party they supply enough to send out several basketfuls if any high-ranking visitor happens to bring his bodyguard.

'What kind of sauce?' Helena murmured, dipping in her finger.

'Caraway.'

'It hardly tastes.' I was looking up the recipe-one I once stole from Helena herself. She peered over my shoulder and spotted her own handwriting. 'You ruffian!... It says a scruple; I'll put more-did you squash them?'

'Have you tried grinding caraway seeds? They sit there and laugh at you.'

She tipped in more from the bag. 'Don't crowd me; I'm doing this!'

'You're the staff; I'm the chef-I'll get the blame.' I sampled it myself. 'Rasps a bit!'

'That's the mustardseed and peppercorns.'

'Stir in a spoonful of honey while I make the thickening -'

'This man is good!' cried Titus; the kind of guest I like,

'My younger brother is extremely self-sufficient,' Junia boasted complacently. (Junia had always cursed me as an incompetent clown.) I caught Helena's eye. My sister Junia took great pride in her civilised behaviour and good taste; somehow at any family gathering she seemed stiff and out of place. I was pleased to detect it was Maia the madcap whom Helena already liked best.

It took four of us to transfer the fish from his bath. I hooked up the cabbage nets on the end of a spoon; the cooked turbot proved firm enough for us to ease him out whole, then swing the cradle onto my brother's Celtic shield which Petronius was holding. As we fiddled about removing the nets, the heat of the fish, conducted through the metal shield with amazing rapidity, was burning his arms. When he complained we told him it was a test of character. 'Be careful of the prong on the underside!'

'Gods, Marcus; have I got to hold up the fish tray all evening? How can I put this thing down with a spike underneath?'

My brother-in-law Gaius Baebius, the customs clerk, stepped forward. Gaius Baebius (who would not dream of being mentioned in somebody's memoirs by less than two of his names) silently swung an iron cauldron onto the table top. Petro dropped the boss into the pot, which supported the shield quite steadily; Gaius Baebius had created a two-piece comport of some style.

My brother-in-law must have been secretly pla

The turbot looked wonderful.

'Oh Marcus, well done!' Helena cried-almost letting some affection show.

Now the company had expanded, there were the usual party problems: not enough dishes and not enough seats. Titus pretended he did not mind squatting on the floor with his di

Remembering what the pretentious Hortensius family served up to Priscillus at their di

FISH SUPPER AT THE HOUSE OF M DIDIUS FALCO

Salad

The Turbot More Salad

Fruit

Plain-but none of it was poisoned, I could guarantee.

We did have an exquisite wine which Petronius had brought (he told me what it was, but I forgot). And perhaps I exaggerate. My mother's brothers were all market gardeners so our family's idea of a salad had never been just a sliced hard-boiled egg on a bunch of endive leaves. Even my three uninvited sisters sent contributions to make me feel guilty; we had a large tray of white cheeses, plus cold sausage and a bucket of oysters to gobble with the basic greenery. There was food flowing out of the doors-literally, since Junia enjoyed herself more than once taking dishes down to our guest of honour's loitering Praetorians.

Everyone told me the turbot was delicious. As the cook, I was too busy worrying to taste it myself. The Caraway Sauce must have been an effective side dish, since when I looked round for it the serving jug had been scraped bare. By the time I sat down to eat, the only space was in the corridor. There was so much noise my head ached. Nobody bothered to talk to me since I was merely a tired scullion. I could see my mother squashed in a corner with Petro and his wife, discussing their offspring, probably. My brothers-in-law just ate and drank, or farted surreptitiously. Maia had the hiccups, which was hardly surprising. Junia was taking pains to look after His Caesarship, which he tolerated pleasantly-though he appeared much more taken with Helena Justina.