Her mother followed me from the room.
'Falco,' she insisted, 'it was an accident.'
I would believe what I heard from Helena herself. 'So what happened?'
'Is it your business, Falco?' For an ordinary woman-or so she seemed to me-Julia Justa could pack a simple question with heavy significance. I let her decide. She went on stiffly, 'My daughter's ex-husband asked to meet her. They quarrelled. She wanted to leave; he tried to stop her. She broke free, slipped, and hurt herself running downstairs-'
'So this is down to Pertinax!'
'It might well have happened anyway.'
'Not like this!' I burst out.
Julia Justa paused. 'No.' For a moment we seemed to have stopped sniping. Her mother agreed slowly, 'The violence certainly increased Helena's distress… Were you intending to come again?'
'When I can.'
'Well that's generous!' cried the Senator's wife. 'Didius Falco, you arrived a day after the festival; I gather that is usual for you-never around when you're really wanted. Now I suggest you stay away.'
'There may be something I can do.'
'I doubt it,' said Helena's mother. 'Now this has happened, Falco, I imagine that my daughter will be quite content if she never sees you again!'
I saluted the Senator's wife graciously, since a man should always be good-mannered to a mother of three children (especially when she has just made a highly dramatic statement about the eldest and sweetest of her children-and he intends to insult her later by proving her wrong).
Then I left the Camillus house, remembering how Helena Justina had begged me not to kill Pertinax. And knowing that when I found him, I probably would.
I walked straight to the Transtiberina and up to his room. I was completely unarmed. It was stupid. But all his personal property had gone; so had he.
Across the street the wineshop was doing a hectic trade, but with a stranger serving. I asked after Tullia and was brusquely informed: 'Tomorrow!'; the waiter could hardly find time to account for her. Men were always calling for Tullia, I expect.
I left no message; no one would bother telling that busy young lady that yet another healthy male with a hopeful expression had been hanging round for her.
After that I spent a lot of time walking. Sometimes I was thinking; sometimes I just walked.
I crossed back to the city, pausing on the Aemilian Bridge. Downstream, the desultory river slapped past the triple peperino arch of the main exit from the Great Sewer. At some time in the past three months a bloated corpse, for which I had responsibility, must have swirled out down there, anonymous amidst the dark storm water that carried him away. And now… Did you know, only emperors and stillborn babies have the right to be buried in Rome? Not that it would have been relevant for our poor scrap of life. I had a wry idea what informal arrangements were made for the relics of early miscarriages. And perhaps if I had been a different man, with a less neutral view of the gods, I might have heard in the sound of the Tiber lapping past the Cloaca Maxima the cruel, punishing laughter of the Fates.
Hours after I had left the Transtiberina I turned up at Maia's house. She took one look at me, then fed me, kept away the children, kept away Famia with his wine flask, and steered me to bed. I lay in the darkness, thinking again.
When I could bear no more, I let myself sleep.