We lived as subtenants in a dire first-floor apartment on the rough side of the Aventine. We had to wash the baby at the public baths and have our baking done at a pie shop. Our dog had brought us several rats as presents, which we reckoned she had caught pretty close to home. This was why I needed decent work, with healthy incomings. The senator would be delighted that his chance remarks had given me the idea for it. He would be even more proud if he ever found out that in the end it was Helena who obtained the work for me.

“Marcus, would you like Papa to ask Vespasian to offer you work with the Censors?”

“No,” I said.

“I thought not.”

“You mean I'm pigheaded?”

“You like to do things for yourself.” Helena replied calmly. She could be at her most insulting when she pretended to be fair.

She was a tall girl, with a strict expression and a searing glance. People who had expected me to find myself some bonny piece with lambs wool where her brains should be were still surprised at my choice, but once I had met Helena Justina I reckoned on sticking with her for as long as she would have me. She was neat, scathing, intelligent, wondrously unpredictable. I still could not believe my luck that she had even noticed me, let alone that she lived in my apartment, was the mother of my baby daughter, and had taken charge of my disorganized life.

The gorgeous armful knew that she could run rings around me, and that I loved to let her do it. “Well Marcus, darling, if you won't be going back to the Palace this afternoon, could you possibly assist me with an errand on the other side of the city?”

“Of course,” I agreed handsomely. Anything to put myself out of reach of Anacrites.

Helena's errand required us to take a hired carrying chair for a distance that made me wonder if the sparse coins in my arm purse would cover the fare.