Read Online The Course of Honour by Lindsey Davis - Free Book Online

at her, ‘Well then; are you going to let me kiss you?’ At once he mimicked her crazily, ‘ “No, I’m not!” Well, don’t expect me to tussle with you in front of other people. Good night, girl. Dream of me and wonder.’
    Caenis swallowed. She had no doubt of the energy with which this strong, competent man would take his pleasures—nor his ability to give delight in return. ‘Wonder what, lord?’
    â€˜Wonder—what you missed!’
    Looking at him, while trying not to, she felt aware of that.
    The house porter was starting to pay attention. She touched Vespasian’s hand briefly and turned to go in. ‘Good night, Caenis.’ They were friends again. His voice dropped; once more she felt stricken by its private, benevolent note.
    She looked back. Vespasian had started walking down the narrow alley between the house and the temple which would eventually take him back down into the Forum or to the Circus Maximus; then he also turned. Suddenly smiling, he raised his arm in farewell. She watched him retrace his steps, closely shadowed now by the two guards. Rome at night was dangerous, yet he had a knack of walking without haste so he seemed invulnerable. Lunging towards him from their dreadful alleyways, robbers and bullies would stay their intended ambush and wait for easier prey.
    It was how he walked through life: steady and unperturbed, a man who knew his way and who would arrive unscathed.

 
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7
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    V eronica knew about the walk in Caesar’s Gardens by next day. ‘Well; you were seen, Caenis!’
    People called Rome a place where everything was noticed, and Veronica made it her business to ensure that any snippets about anyone’s indiscretions were certainly picked up by her.
    â€˜I can assure you,’ Caenis commented bitterly, ‘I have done nothing—’
    â€˜Glad to hear it,’ Veronica interrupted. ‘Make them wait. They enjoy it more if they’re keyed up—and if
they
enjoy themselves there is always a slim chance you might too! He’ll bring you a present next time, to make sure.’
    About to protest that he already had done so, Caenis realised that her powers of rhetoric would not stretch to justifying a Lucanian salami and a parchment of pickled fish.
    â€˜He won’t,’ she declared in a tiny saddened voice. ‘I have decided not to see him again.’
    This was dismally true. She had wrestled with the problem all night. It was the most anguished decision she had ever engineered.
    â€˜Oh yes; I usually do that,’ Veronica languidly returned. ‘But when they turn up with their present, what can you say?’
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    Caenis and Veronica had met at the baths. Caenis went every afternoon now, to a women-only one that was open all day (the mixed ones held women’s sessions only in the morning, which was useless). She had a general arrangement to meet Veronica, an arrangement which Veronica kept with surprising regularity. She would arrive laden with trinkets that she had collected from admirers, filling the changing room with wafts of cheap perfume, taking up too many pegs with her baskets and mantles and handkerchiefs and scarves. She gave the impression she led a scatterbrained life, blown hither and yon by chance meetings with her numerous pursuers. In fact, fitting so many men into a regular scheme where the paths of those who minded about the others never crossed had long ago taught Veronica to be supremely organised.
    Caenis always spent her first fifteen minutes at the baths boot-faced with bad temper. There was a convention that public baths charged women an
as
, while men only had to pay half. Caenis did not see why. In her opinion women were cleaner. It was men who used the exercise yards and swimming baths most often; men who stayed longest clattering over court cases with their friends; men who indecently assaulted the bathhouse attendants;