“Stuck with the birds.”

He grinned frankly. “You deserve the status, but can’t you ditch the aviary?”

“I am supposed to feel honored.”

“Bugger that!”

Helena’s mother gave him a sad look, and decided to lead me to my dining couch before her rude husband infected her newly respectable son-in-law with disreputable views. Until now, I had been the dangerous republican and Decimus the conventional Curia hack. I felt slightly unnerved.

As we reclined, Julia Justa placed olive bowls and saffron prawns before me with her long beringed hands. Helena leaned over and stole the prawns. “Tell me, Marcus,” said her mother, resplendent in white and gold that glittered almost as much as her new, worrying friendliness. “I have always wondered-how exactly do they persuade the Sacred Geese to stay on their purple cushion when they are being transported in a procession?”

“I’ll find out for you. I suspect they make them hungry first, then a man walks alongside with a fistful of grain to bribe them to sit still.”

“Like taking a child to a party,” said Helena. Her mother looked approvingly at ours, who was sitting quietly in the arms of a slave, chewing her pottery rattle; she had even tactfully chosen to gnaw a toy her grandparents had bought for her.

Planning her moment. Little Julia knew how to disrupt mealtimes. She had learned new skills since the estimable Camilli last had a chance to dote on her.

“Isn’t she good!”

Helena and I smiled the shameless public smiles of experienced parents. We had had a year to learn never to confess that our cutelooking dimpled baby could be a screaming troublemaker. We had dressed her nicely in white, combed her soft dark hair into a sweet curl, and now we were waiting with our nerves on edge for the inevitable moment when she decided to roar and rampage.

It was, as always, a good dinner, one which would have been more enjoyable had I felt able to relax.