on the top of its head and a big mouth, to advertise. I thought it looked rather like Uncle Gaius, Junillus’ father, though I never said so.
‘In fact he is extremely intelligent,’ I stated, still defensive.
‘Presumably he needs to be,’ returned Andronicus in a quiet, sensible voice. He was diligently winning back my friendship. I saw no need to make that difficult.
To justify my bad mood, I mentioned my problems today with the law and order boobies. ‘Just a technicality. But when they flaunt their power, they are a menace . . .’ His food came. I waited while he sized it up and had a taste. At the Stargazer they were not ambitious, but they could manage hard-boiled eggs. ‘So! What did you mean about my “history”, Andronicus? Has someone been spreading malicious rumours?’
As Junillus retreated to the counter, he executed a silly dance, for my benefit; he was indicating that Andronicus was of an even worse standard than my usual class of follower. Andronicus happened to catch this from the corner of his eye. In his most teasing manner he commented, ‘I suppose it’s inevitable your family will mock any man-friend they see you with!’
‘Saturnalia will be fun,’ I agreed, not disputing his definition of himself. ‘By then sisters, aunties, Mother’s dressmaker and the pet monkey should all have seen us around together. My life won’t be worth a nutshell.’
‘I think you’ll cope.’ Andronicus had laid down his spoon, probably with relief, as the sour chickpeas hit his tastebuds; my aunt was still using up a sackful she must have bought the year Vesuvius erupted. He spoke in a low, more intense voice. ‘From what I heard this morning, you are tough. And an interesting character . . . You don’t seem perturbed that you have been discussed by people?’
I smiled gently. ‘I always wait until I know exactly which colourful anecdote – or which fanciful lie − has been told about me.’ We tussled in silence for a while, with him resisting in order to tease me, then I added in a murmur: ‘And to whom the lie was told.’
Andronicus projected his wide-eyed amazed look, eyebrows up and forehead wrinkled.
‘Give!’ I commanded more sternly. To help him out, I said, ‘I’ve learned that Metellus Nepos told Manlius Faustus that he was hiring an informer.’ I did not explore why Andronicus had not mentioned to me what Nepos said. Perhaps I should have, but I was more interested in knowing what had happened today. ‘Does that have something to do with this talk of my “history”?’
Andronicus then confessed readily enough. ‘It was only a matter of time, Albia, before Faustus asked for the background on you.’
‘You were right before. He
is
an interfering bastard.’
‘Routine. All he did was to call up the vigiles register.’
‘And he found I wasn’t there.’
‘Ah! Yes, he did.’
The vigiles keep lists of characters the government chooses to monitor. That’s people with low careers, or people who follow foreign religions that encourage lofty morals, certain types of which the authorities find highly dangerous. Among a ragbag of prostitutes and astrologers, these registers include informers.
‘It must be difficult,’ Andronicus suggested. ‘Being on that kind of list?’
‘But I’m not! I couldn’t object; after all, it’s perfectly true we informers follow curious rituals, speculate on ethical questions, and above all, sell ourselves. We try to solve puzzles, like mathematicians. We sit in bars, philosophising – though, thank the gods, it’s not compulsory for informers to grow beards.’
‘Not even when you operate in disguise?’ tried Andronicus wickedly. The way he said it verged on flirting. Very pleasant.
My father’s name was on the vigiles’ list. He thought that was hilarious. They never came to search our house these days, nor bothered to arrest him. His name probably had a ‘Do Not Disturb’ mark alongside, to indicate that he was too
‘In fact he is extremely intelligent,’ I stated, still defensive.
‘Presumably he needs to be,’ returned Andronicus in a quiet, sensible voice. He was diligently winning back my friendship. I saw no need to make that difficult.
To justify my bad mood, I mentioned my problems today with the law and order boobies. ‘Just a technicality. But when they flaunt their power, they are a menace . . .’ His food came. I waited while he sized it up and had a taste. At the Stargazer they were not ambitious, but they could manage hard-boiled eggs. ‘So! What did you mean about my “history”, Andronicus? Has someone been spreading malicious rumours?’
As Junillus retreated to the counter, he executed a silly dance, for my benefit; he was indicating that Andronicus was of an even worse standard than my usual class of follower. Andronicus happened to catch this from the corner of his eye. In his most teasing manner he commented, ‘I suppose it’s inevitable your family will mock any man-friend they see you with!’
‘Saturnalia will be fun,’ I agreed, not disputing his definition of himself. ‘By then sisters, aunties, Mother’s dressmaker and the pet monkey should all have seen us around together. My life won’t be worth a nutshell.’
‘I think you’ll cope.’ Andronicus had laid down his spoon, probably with relief, as the sour chickpeas hit his tastebuds; my aunt was still using up a sackful she must have bought the year Vesuvius erupted. He spoke in a low, more intense voice. ‘From what I heard this morning, you are tough. And an interesting character . . . You don’t seem perturbed that you have been discussed by people?’
I smiled gently. ‘I always wait until I know exactly which colourful anecdote – or which fanciful lie − has been told about me.’ We tussled in silence for a while, with him resisting in order to tease me, then I added in a murmur: ‘And to whom the lie was told.’
Andronicus projected his wide-eyed amazed look, eyebrows up and forehead wrinkled.
‘Give!’ I commanded more sternly. To help him out, I said, ‘I’ve learned that Metellus Nepos told Manlius Faustus that he was hiring an informer.’ I did not explore why Andronicus had not mentioned to me what Nepos said. Perhaps I should have, but I was more interested in knowing what had happened today. ‘Does that have something to do with this talk of my “history”?’
Andronicus then confessed readily enough. ‘It was only a matter of time, Albia, before Faustus asked for the background on you.’
‘You were right before. He
is
an interfering bastard.’
‘Routine. All he did was to call up the vigiles register.’
‘And he found I wasn’t there.’
‘Ah! Yes, he did.’
The vigiles keep lists of characters the government chooses to monitor. That’s people with low careers, or people who follow foreign religions that encourage lofty morals, certain types of which the authorities find highly dangerous. Among a ragbag of prostitutes and astrologers, these registers include informers.
‘It must be difficult,’ Andronicus suggested. ‘Being on that kind of list?’
‘But I’m not! I couldn’t object; after all, it’s perfectly true we informers follow curious rituals, speculate on ethical questions, and above all, sell ourselves. We try to solve puzzles, like mathematicians. We sit in bars, philosophising – though, thank the gods, it’s not compulsory for informers to grow beards.’
‘Not even when you operate in disguise?’ tried Andronicus wickedly. The way he said it verged on flirting. Very pleasant.
My father’s name was on the vigiles’ list. He thought that was hilarious. They never came to search our house these days, nor bothered to arrest him. His name probably had a ‘Do Not Disturb’ mark alongside, to indicate that he was too
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