The Case of Luna by Francis M Mulhern

Author:Francis M Mulhern [Mulhern, Francis M]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-10-29T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter XII

Mother was happy to see me when I arrived home, her cup of wine almost empty. “Your father sent a message to warm the Lavatrina,” she said with an anxious smile. “Has the day gone well?” It was a question that I hadn’t expected though I immediately realised that my father would not have had an opportunity to send word of the events at the Regia.

“Yes,” I replied. “It all went well. In fact I believe it went very well.” That seemed to relax her. “Here, come and have some of this soup. I got it from the stall at the corner of the Capitolinus and it is excellent.” She followed me to the kitchen and we chatted about the Regia and what had happened as one of the kitchen girls heated the soup. When a natural silence occurred in our conversation I ventured a question, thinking that my mother might have a better sense of womanly things than I. “Mother, might I ask about the priestesses at the shrine of Minerva.”

“Oh, you simply cannot have them removed, Secundus. They should stay where they are. Everyone says so.”

“Everyone?”

“Of course they do, dear. It is tradition, you shouldn’t upset it.”

“It is only a tradition set by Drusus’ grandfather.”

“Someone has to start these things, Secundus. Let them stay, they’re lovely ladies and they won’t be any bother to you.”

“But where will Fabia and I stay if they are in the rooms.”

“Oh, Fabia won’t live there dear. Thank you,” she added this last comment to Siphony the younger slave girl who had placed a bowl of the soup on the table with a silver spoon. I nodded my thanks too as one was passed to me.

“Fabia won’t stay there? What do you mean?”

“It’s too small dear, she said so. Did you not speak to her? Oh, this is very good. Where did you say you got it? Betula, Siphony, try this,” she pointed at the soup and both girls appeared with wooden spoons which they dipped into the soup.

“Barley, pepper, salted fish, onion, carrot…” Betula was listing what she tasted. Her pallet clearly better than my own.

“Mother, what do you mean she won’t live there?” It was the second time I’d heard this and I felt like I was stranded on a boat that was slowly floating out to sea without an oar or an anchor to arrest my journey.

“There’s a hint of garlic too,” she continued discussing the soup with the slaves and ignoring my question.

“Mother!”

“You really need to speak to Fabia, my dear. Could you make this?” she’d spoken to Betula who was rolling another spoonful around in her mouth.

My bowl sat untouched as my mouth dropped open and I watched them all dipping into the broth and discussing the ingredients.

“How can I, she’s left the city,” I grumbled.

Mother gave me the same look she used to give me when I was a child and I’d complained that I had no friends and nobody liked me. “Take the path that gives you the least problems, Secundus.

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