“Howdareyou? I have worked all my life with not one penny’s help from you, and what have you ever done? You took everything Father handed you as your birthright—”
“Itismy birthright! I am the eldest son!”
“Yes, you are the eldest, and you have every right to keep all the good things of the earth for yourself,” Titus said savagely. “And as a result, Hadrian and Claudius are dead, you and I have not spoken in years, and Vespasian will never speak to you again. You chose to be ‘head of the family’ when you might have been a brother, so you have no brothers any more. And I hope you are more of a father to your younger children than ours was, because I tell you what, Augustus, for a man with five sons, there was very little sorrow at his funeral.”
“You cannot speak so to me,” Augustus said, panting. “You cannot speak of my family.”
“You spoke very freely of Nico’s family, and you have spoken to me with nothing but contempt since you arrived. You may be the head of the family, Augustus, but I am not its foot!”
“It seems to me that you are the one throwing insults here,” Augustus said. “Your manner is grossly uncivil and your accusations wild and offensive. And this is all blown up from a trivial comment. I cannot understand you.”
It was so wretchedly familiar: the tone, the words, the gambits.You’re making a fuss about nothing, andHow dare you raiseyour voice at me, andYou’re always so unreasonable. Titus wanted to shout, or to scream, or, deep in a long-trained, guilty part of him, to apologise. He clenched a fist, resentment boiling over like milk on a stovetop.
Nico was watching his face. Perhaps he even read it, because he said, very calmly, “If I may interrupt, mon ami?”
“Your opinion is unwelcome, sir,” Augustus spat. “This is a family matter.”
“He didn’t ask you, and this is not your table,” Titus snapped back.
“Gentlemen,” Nico said loudly. “A great deal has been said on both sides. I suggest you both let tempers settle before you continue.”
“It is not your affair!”
“Monsieur Augustus, your brother is my dear friend, and his well-being is my affair until he tells me otherwise,” Nico said. “Titus, mon ami, I believe you have said all you need. I fear you will regret it if you say more.”
Titus took a long breath in. He wanted to brush Nico’s words aside and keep shouting the most hurtful things he could manage.
And if he did that, any chance of repairing things would be gone. Probably it was gone anyway, but he would rather it wasn’t entirely his fault.
He let the breath out, slow and steadying. “Thank you, Nico,” he said. “Augustus, I apologise for losing my temper—”
“I should hope so. Your manner—”
“I had not finished,” Titus said loudly. “I apologise for losing my temper, but I meant what I said. We have a great deal to discuss if we are to have a civil relationship in the future, including what we expect of one another. I don’t think we can do that tonight: I am tired, and I daresay you are too. So we will speak tomorrow, and now I am going to sit down and eatmy dinner. If you would rather have a plate in your room, I can ask for that.”
He sat as he spoke. Augustus hesitated, weighing up the need to keep equal dignity against his obvious desire to storm out, and finally sat, saying, “Nonsense. I eat at a dining table, and I am quite happy to have a civil conversation at any time.”
“Excellent,” Nico said. “Let us have one now.”
“You were speaking of a painting,” Titus said, grasping for the closest topic. “I have not seen it, have I?”
“Did I not show you? I daresay it is not worth your notice.”
“A Madame Le Brun?”
“Merely an unfinished work,” Nico said, with unfamiliar humility. “Its value lies in the subject.”
“The French Queen was a frequent subject of the paintress’s,” Augustus instructed him. “And I must dispute your description of it as a personal work. The Queen is wearing an immense diamond necklace, so it is hardly an informal composition.”
“A diamond necklace?” Titus repeated. “An immense—Nico?”
Nico shot a look at him that Titus couldn’t read. He hesitated for a fraction of a second, then said, “Oui, mon ami. That necklace.”
“You arejoking.”
“What necklace?” Augustus demanded.
“Why have you heard of my mother, monsieur?” Nico retorted. “You know what necklace. The one for which the Queen of France lost her honour, Jeanne de La Motte her liberty, and the French royals their divinity. And, eventually, heads.”