The Ides of April Read Free

looks recent.’ I nudged it with my toe. The toe had been pedicured; my sandal was new. I often wore shoes more suitable for a lame old lady, laced from front to ankle, in case I had to do a route march; on this visit I had treated myself to more feminine footwear. The soles would make a mark if I kicked someone, but the uppers consisted of just two thin gold straps on a toe-post. If this clerk was anything of a foot fetishist, my high instep would set his pulse racing. ‘I’m glad I am not compelled to steal the keys and set someone free behind your back.’
    ‘You sound as if you would really do it!’ he murmured admiringly.
    ‘That’s me.’
    The tips of his ears had a little turn forward that gave him character, which I could tell involved personality, humour and intelligence. His slim build suggested a plain life; like me, he had probably known struggle. What I liked most was that he looked as if the sun came out for him too, when he found me in their anteroom. I fell for it happily.
    ‘Andronicus,’ he introduced himself. ‘I work here as an archivist.’
    ‘Hundreds of records of market fines?’
    ‘That would be tedious!’ Andronicus said, although I myself had been neutral. Scrupulously-kept public records can be a windfall in my line of work. I never despise bureaucracy. ‘The plebeian aediles receive decrees from the Senate, which they must deposit for safekeeping next door in the Temple of Ceres. All those records become my responsibility.’ He was exaggerating his own importance, though I did not blame him. ‘I tend them devotedly, even though no one ever asks to consult anything.’
    ‘But of course if you ever did misfile a scroll or let a mouse nibble one, that would be the only occasion ever that some pompous piece in purple would requisition it.’
    ‘You know the world!’ Andronicus’ grin was rueful and charming; he was very aware of that. ‘Life has its high spots. Sometimes, the aediles hold a meeting, all four of them – we have two plebeians and two patricians, as I am sure you know. To save them getting ink on themselves, I then have the privilege of being their minutes secretary. I bet you guess that means compiling action notes that none of the spoiled boys will carry out.’
    I knew he was playing me, or he thought he was. Even though I was enjoying the moment, I never forgot that men were sneaky. ‘Do you always flirt with visitors?’ I asked him.
    ‘Only the attractive ones.’ He was respectably dressed; his tunic was clean, not even splattered with ink – yet he managed to give the impression his thoughts were dirty. I liked him enough to share them, though I didn’t show it.
    ‘Ah don’t expect me to fall for blather, Andronicus. I spend a lot of my time explaining to inane women that plain male treachery is the reason their husbands have vanished. Even though my clients’ husbands are always supposed to be the loveliest of men, none of whom would harm flies, nevertheless, my enquiries tend to show they have uncharacteristically run away with a bar girl. A piece with an ankle-chain, invariably. And by then, five months pregnant.’
    ‘Ooh,’ the archivist crooned. ‘Are you part of the emperor’s morality campaign? Do you take these absconders to court?’
    ‘No, I track down loose husbands for abandoned wives who can’t afford to go to law. My clients have to settle for battering the bastards with heavy iron frying pans.’
    ‘I get the impression you hold the men down while it happens?’
    Andronicus was smiling broadly. Why spoil his party? I smiled back. ‘That’s my de luxe service . . . You mentioned your superior,’ I hinted broadly, dragging us back to the point of my visit. ‘I think it’s him I need to see. Is the notable who calls himself Manlius Faustus available? Or are you going to spin me the old line – “sorry, you just missed him”?’
    He gave me a wry gleam. ‘Faustus is, genuinely, out. I hardly dare say this, but he did leave