changed the subject. 'I don't like this trouble between you and Petronius.'
'There's no trouble.'
'There's going to be.'
I've known Petro a long time.'
'And it's a long time since you worked together. When you did, it was back in the army and you were both taking orders from somebody else.'
'I can take orders. I take them from you all the time.'
She chortled seditiously. I joined her at the window and caused a diversion, trying to nudge her off balance. She slipped an arm-around me to save herself; then kept it there in a friendly fashion while we both looked out.
This side of Fountain Court was lower down the hillside than where we lived, so we were almost opposite the familiar streetside row of lockups: the stationery supplier, the barber, the funeral parlour, small pavement businesses in a gloomy colonnade below five storeys of identical apartments, some overpaid architect's notion of thoughtful design. Few architects permit themselves to live in their own tenements.
'Is that our Mock?'
'No, the one next door.'
'There's a letting notice, Marcus.'
'I think it's for one of the shops on the ground floor.'
Helena's sharp eyes had spotted the kind of street graffiti you usually ignore. I walked her downstairs and across the road to check up. The chalked advertisement was for a workshop. It called itself 'well-set-out artisan premises with advantageous living accommodation', but it was a damp booth with an impossible stairway to a disgusting loft. It's true there was a small domestic apartment attached, but the two-room tenancy was for five years. Who could say how many offspring I might have accidentally fathered by that time, and how much space I should be needing to house them all?
Shivering, I let Helena lead me out to Fountain Court. The scruffy dog had found us again, and was stating at me hopefully. She must have worked out who was the soft one.
Since the barber had no customers we dumped ourselves pessimistically on two of his stools. He grumbled briefly, then went indoors for a lie-down, his favounte occupation anyway.
'You know we can live anywhere,' Helena said quietly. 'I have money -'
'No. I'll pay the rent.'
As a senator's daughter she owned far less than her two brothers, but if she allied herself with anyone respectable there was a large dowry still kicking around from her previous failed marriage, plus various legacies from female relations who had spotted her special character. I had never let myself discover the exact extent of Helena's wealth. I didn't want to upset myself. And I never wanted to find myself a kept man.
'So what are we looking for?' She was being tactful now. Refraining from comment on my proud self-respect. Naturally I found it maddening.
'That's obvious. Somewhere we don't risk scum breaking in. Where perverts who come to see me about business won't make trouble for you. And more space.'
'Space for a cradle, and seats for all your sisters when they come cooing over the item in it?' Helena's voice was dry. She knew how to soften me up.
'More seats would be useful.' I smiled. 'I like to entertain.'
'You like to get me annoyed!'
'I like you in any mood.' I ran one finger down her neck, just tickling the skin beneath the braid on her gown. She lowered her chin suddenly, trapping my finger. I thought about pulling her closer and kissing her, but I was too depressed. To provide a public spectacle you need to be feeling confident.
From her position with her head tucked down, Helena was looking across Fountain Court. I felt her interest shift. Gazing at the sky, I warned the gods: 'Watch out, you loafers on Olympus. Somebody's just had a bright idea!'
Then Helena asked in the curious tone that had so often led to trouble, 'Who lives above the basket shop?'
The basket-weaver occupied a lockup two along from Cassius the baker. He shared his frontage with a cereal-seller - another quiet trade, and fairly free of smelly nuisances. Above them rose a typical tenement, similar to
'There's no trouble.'
'There's going to be.'
I've known Petro a long time.'
'And it's a long time since you worked together. When you did, it was back in the army and you were both taking orders from somebody else.'
'I can take orders. I take them from you all the time.'
She chortled seditiously. I joined her at the window and caused a diversion, trying to nudge her off balance. She slipped an arm-around me to save herself; then kept it there in a friendly fashion while we both looked out.
This side of Fountain Court was lower down the hillside than where we lived, so we were almost opposite the familiar streetside row of lockups: the stationery supplier, the barber, the funeral parlour, small pavement businesses in a gloomy colonnade below five storeys of identical apartments, some overpaid architect's notion of thoughtful design. Few architects permit themselves to live in their own tenements.
'Is that our Mock?'
'No, the one next door.'
'There's a letting notice, Marcus.'
'I think it's for one of the shops on the ground floor.'
Helena's sharp eyes had spotted the kind of street graffiti you usually ignore. I walked her downstairs and across the road to check up. The chalked advertisement was for a workshop. It called itself 'well-set-out artisan premises with advantageous living accommodation', but it was a damp booth with an impossible stairway to a disgusting loft. It's true there was a small domestic apartment attached, but the two-room tenancy was for five years. Who could say how many offspring I might have accidentally fathered by that time, and how much space I should be needing to house them all?
Shivering, I let Helena lead me out to Fountain Court. The scruffy dog had found us again, and was stating at me hopefully. She must have worked out who was the soft one.
Since the barber had no customers we dumped ourselves pessimistically on two of his stools. He grumbled briefly, then went indoors for a lie-down, his favounte occupation anyway.
'You know we can live anywhere,' Helena said quietly. 'I have money -'
'No. I'll pay the rent.'
As a senator's daughter she owned far less than her two brothers, but if she allied herself with anyone respectable there was a large dowry still kicking around from her previous failed marriage, plus various legacies from female relations who had spotted her special character. I had never let myself discover the exact extent of Helena's wealth. I didn't want to upset myself. And I never wanted to find myself a kept man.
'So what are we looking for?' She was being tactful now. Refraining from comment on my proud self-respect. Naturally I found it maddening.
'That's obvious. Somewhere we don't risk scum breaking in. Where perverts who come to see me about business won't make trouble for you. And more space.'
'Space for a cradle, and seats for all your sisters when they come cooing over the item in it?' Helena's voice was dry. She knew how to soften me up.
'More seats would be useful.' I smiled. 'I like to entertain.'
'You like to get me annoyed!'
'I like you in any mood.' I ran one finger down her neck, just tickling the skin beneath the braid on her gown. She lowered her chin suddenly, trapping my finger. I thought about pulling her closer and kissing her, but I was too depressed. To provide a public spectacle you need to be feeling confident.
From her position with her head tucked down, Helena was looking across Fountain Court. I felt her interest shift. Gazing at the sky, I warned the gods: 'Watch out, you loafers on Olympus. Somebody's just had a bright idea!'
Then Helena asked in the curious tone that had so often led to trouble, 'Who lives above the basket shop?'
The basket-weaver occupied a lockup two along from Cassius the baker. He shared his frontage with a cereal-seller - another quiet trade, and fairly free of smelly nuisances. Above them rose a typical tenement, similar to
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