Last Act In Palmyra mdf-6

by Lindsey Davis

  'How?' Philocrates spat at me; no use to a mule who was looking for entertainment. One ear up and one ear down, the fun-loving beast gazed across at me sadly, deploring its lot.

  'Philocrates,' I advised him like a brother, 'you are the only suspect who has no alibi.'

  'What? Why? He was well equipped with interrogatives.

  'Facts, man. When Heliodorus was murdered you say you were bunked up in a rock tomb. When Ione died in the pools of Maiuma, you came up with exactly the same shabby story -bumping a so-called "cheeseseller". Sounds fine. Sounds in keeping. But do we ever have a name? An address? Anyone who ever saw you with either of these bits of flotsam? A furious father or fiance trying to cut your throat for the insult? No. Face it, Philocrates. Everyone else provides proper witnesses. You only hand me feeble lies.'

  The fact that the 'lies' were completely in character should offer him a good defence. The fact that I also knew he had not been on the embankment at Bostra when Musa was attacked clinched his innocence for me. But he was too dumb to argue.

  'As a matter of fact,' I continued the pressure, as he kicked his natty boot against a stone in helpless outrage, 'I do think you were with a girl the night Ione died -I think it was Ione herself.'

  'Oh come on, Falco!'

  'I think you were the lover Ione met at the Maiuma pools.' I noticed that every time I said Ione's name he jumped guiltily. Real criminals are not so nervous.

  'Falco, I'd had a fling with her – who hadn't? – but that was long past. I like to keep moving. So did she, for that matter. Anyway, life is much less complicated if you confine your attentions outside the company.'

  Ione herself was never that scrupulous.'

  'No,' he agreed.

  'So do you know who her special lover in the company was?'

  'I don't. One of the clowns could probably enlighten you.'

  'You mean either Tranio or Grumio was Ione's special friend?'

  'That's not what I said!' Philocrates grew snappy. 'I mean they were friendly enough with the silly girl to have heard from her what she was up to. She didn't take either of those two idiots seriously.'

  'So who did she take seriously, Philocrates? Was it you?'

  'Should have been. Somebody worth it.' Automatically, he swept one hand back across his sleek hair. His arrogance was intolerable.

  'You reckon so?' I lost my temper. 'One thing about you, Philocrates: your intellect is nowhere near as lively as your prick.' I fear he took it as a compliment.

  Even the mule had registered its master's uselessness. It came up behind Philocrates, gave a sudden shove with its long-nosed head, and knocked the furious actor face down.

  A cheer went up from the rest of our group. I grinned and walked back to my own slow, solid-wheeled ox-cart.

  'What was going on there?' Helena demanded.

  'I just told Philocrates he's lost his alibi. He'd already lost his cartwheel, his mule, his temper and his dignity – '

  'The poor man,' murmured Musa, with little sign of sympathy. 'A bad day!'

  The actor had told me virtually nothing. But he had cheered me up completely. That can be as much use as any piece of evidence. I had met informers who implied that to succeed they needed not just sore feet, a hangover, a sorry love life and some progressive disease, but a dour, depressing outlook too. I disagree. The work provides enough misery. Being happy gives a man a boost that can help solve cases. Confidence counts.

  I rode into Bostra hot, tired, dusty and dry. But all the same, every time I thought of Philocrates' mule flooring him, I felt ready to tackle anything.

  Chapter XLVIII

  Bostra again.

  It seemed an age since we had arrived here the last time and performed The Pirate Brothers in the rain. An age since my first effort as a playwright was ignored by everyone. Since then I had grown quite used to critical hammerings, though when I remembered my early disappointment I still did not like the place.

  We were all glad to stop. Chremes staggered off to see about a booking. He was plainly exhausted; he had no sense of priorities and was bound to bungle it. He would come back with nothing for us; that was obvious.

  Nabataean or not, Bostra was a capital city and boasted good amenities. Those of us who were willing to spend money on comfort had been looking forward to leaving our tents on the waggons and finding real rooms to stay in. Walls; ceilings; floors with spiders in the corners; doors with cold draughts flooding under them. Chremes' no-hope aura cast a blight. I clung to my optimism and still meant to find lodgings for Helena, Musa and myself, a basic roost that would not be too far from a bathhouse and not noticeably a brothel, where the landlord scratched his lice discreetly and the rent was small. Being unwilling to waste even a small deposit on rooms we might not enjoy for long, I waited for the manager's return before I booked a place.

  Some of the group were camping as usual. Pretending it was just my day for helping out, I presented myself as if by chance at the waggon that was driven by Congrio. Our weedy bill-poster had little equipment of his own. On the road he took charge of one of the props carts; then, instead of putting up a tent, he just hung an awning off the side of it and huddled under that. I made a show of lending a hand to unload his few bits and bobs.

  He was not stupid. 'What's this for, Falco?' He knew nobody helps the bill-poster unless they want a favour.

  I came clean. 'Somebody told me you came in for the stuff

  Heliodorus left behind. I wondered if you'd be prepared to show me what his effects consisted of.'

  'If that's what you want. Just speak up another time!' he instructed grumpily. Almost at once he started pulling apart his baggage roll, tossing some things aside, but laying certain items in a neat line at my feet. The discards were plainly his own originals; the kit offered up for inspection was his heirloom from the drowned man.

  What Phrygia had passed on to him would not have raised much excitement at an auctioneer's house clearance. My father, who was in that business, would have dumped the dead playwright's clothes with his glassware porter for use as packing rags. Among the awful duds were a couple of tunics, now pleated on the shoulders with large stitches where Congrio had taken them in to fit his skinnier frame; a pair of disgusting old sandals; a twisted belt; and a toga not even I would have plucked off a second-hand stall, since the wine-stains on it looked twenty years old and indelible. Also a battered satchel (empty); a bundle of quills, some of them partly whittled into pens; a rather nice tinderbox; three drawstring purses (two empty, one with five dice and a bronze coin with one blank face, evidently a forgery); a broken lantern; and a wax tablet with one corner snapped off.

  'Anything else?'

  'This is the lot.'

  Something in his manner attracted my attention. 'You've laid it out nice and correct.'

  'Practice!' sniffed Congrio. 'What makes you think you're the first busybody wanting to do an inventory?' He was enjoying being difficult.

  I lazily lifted one eyebrow. 'Somehow I can't see a finance tribune trying to screw you for inheritance tax on this lot! So who was so intrigued? Is somebody jealous because you came in for the hand-out?'

  'I just took the stuff when I was offered. If anybody wants to look at it, I lets them see. You finished?' He started packing it all up again. Even though the items were horrible his packing was systematic and his folding neat. My question remained tantalisingly unanswered.

  If Congrio was hedging, my interest grew. The clothes had a nasty, musky smell. It was impossible to tell whether this had derived from their previous owner or been imposed since they were taken over, but nobody with any taste or discretion would want them now. The other objects mostly made a sad collection too. It was hard to see in anything here either a motive or any other clue.

  I shook two of the dice around in my hand then let them fall casually on a spread tunic. Both turned up six. 'Hello! Looks like he left you a lucky set.'

  'You found the right two to test,' said Congrio. I lifted the dice, weighing
them in my hand. As I expected they were weighted. Congrio grinned. 'The rest are normal. I don't think I've got the nerve to use those two, but don't tell anyone, in case I change my mind. Anyway, now we know why he was always winning.'

  'Was he?'

  'Famous for it.'

  I whistled quietly. 'I'd not heard. Was he a big player?'

  'All the time. That was how he gathered his pile.'

  'A pile? That wasn't part of your hand-out. I take it?'

  'Hah! No. Chremes said he would take care of any cash.'

  'A nice gesture!' We grinned wryly together. 'Did Heliodorus play dice against the other members of the company?'

  'Not normally. Chremes had told him it caused trouble. He liked to go off and fleece the locals the night we left a place. Chremes was always nagging him about that as well, afraid one day we'd be followed by an angry mob and set upon.'

  'Did Chremes know why Heliodorus had such permanent good luck?' I asked, shaking the dice tellingly.

  'Oh no! He never looked like a bent player.' He must have been a subtle one. From what I had already heard about his ability to judge people, cleverly finding their weak points, it made sense that he could also pull the old weighted-dice trick without being detected. A clever, highly unlikeable man.

  'So Heliodorus knew better than to upset the party by cheating his own? Yet if Chremes issued a warning, does that mean it happened once?'

  'There were a few rows,' offered Congrio, his pale face crinkling up slyly.

  'Going to tell me who else was involved?'

  'Gambling debts are private,' he replied. He had a cheek. I was not prepared to give him a bribe.

  'Fair enough.' Now I had a clue to work with, I would simply ask someone else. 'Davos told me Heliodorus went through a phase of being friendly with the Twins.'

  'Oh you know then?' It had been a lucky connection on my part; the bill-poster looked irritated by my guessing correctly.

  'About them all drinking together at one time? Yes. Did they dice too? May as well tell it, Congrio. I can always ask Davos. So was there gambling going on among those three?'

  'I reckon so,' Congrio agreed. 'Nobody tells me things, but I got the idea Heliodorus won too much off them, and that was when they stopped drinking with him.'

  'Was this once? Was it a long time ago?'

  'Oh no,' sneered Congrio. 'It was always happening. They'd pal up for a few weeks, then next thing they weren't speaking. After a bit they'd forget they had quarrelled, and start over again. I used to notice because the times they were friendly with Heliodorus was when the Twins caught his nasty habits. He always shoved me around, and while they were in league with him, I copped for it from them too.'

  'What phase of this happy cycle were they all in when you went to Petra?'

  'Ignoring each other. Had been for months, I was happy to know.'

  I applied my innocent face. 'So who apart from me,' I enquired suddenly, 'has been wanting a perusal of your wonderful inheritance?'

  'Oh just those clowns again,' scoffed Congrio.

  'You don't like them?' I commented quietly.

  'Too clever.' Cleverness was not an offence in Roman law, though I had often shared Congrio's view that it ought to be. 'Every time I see them, I get knotted up and start feeling annoyed.'

  'Why's that?'

  He kicked at his baggage roll impatiently. 'They look down on you. There's nothing so special about telling a few jokes. They don't make them up, you know. All they do is say what some other old clown thought up and wrote down a hundred years ago. I could do it if I had a script.'

  'If you could read it.'

  'Helena's teaching me.' I might have known. He continued boasting recklessly: 'All I need is a joke collection and I'll be a clown myself.'

  It seemed to me it would take him a long time to put together enough funny stories to be a stand-up comic of Grumio's calibre. Besides, I couldn't see him managing the right timing and tone. 'Where are you going to get the collection, Congrio?' I tried not to sound patronising -without much success.

  For some reason it didn't bother him. 'Oh, they do exist, Falco!'

  I changed the subject to avoid an argument. 'Tell me, did the clowns come together to look at your property?' The billposter nodded. 'Any idea what they were looking for?'

  'No.'

  'Something particular?'

  'They never said so.'

  'Trying to get back some I-owe-yous, maybe?'

  'No, Falco.'

  'Did they want these dice? After all, the Twins do magic tricks -'

  'They saw the dice were here. They never asked for them.' Presumably they did not realise the dice were crooked. 'Look, they just strolled up, laughing and asking what I had got. I thought they were going to pinch my stuff, or ruin it. You know what they're like when they're feeling mischievous.'

  'The Twins? I know they can be a menace, but not outright delinquents, surely?'

  'No,' Congrio admitted, though rather reluctantly. 'Just a pair of nosy bastards then.'

  Somehow I wondered about that.

  Chapter IL

  He was right. The two clowns mere clever. It would take more than a bland expression and a quick change of subject to trip them up. I was aware before I started that the minute they had any idea I was trying to squeeze particular information from them, fending me off would become a joyous game. They were seditious. I would need to watch for exactly the right opportunity to tackle them. And when I did, I would need all my skill.

  Wondering how I could choose the moment, I came back to my own tent.

  Helena was alone. She told me that as I had predicted, Chremes had bungled acquiring a booking here.

  'When he was waiting to see the town councillor who runs the theatre, he overheard the fellow scoff to a servant, "Oh, not the ghastly tribe who did that terrible piece about the pirates?" When Chremes finally got in to see the big man, relations failed to improve. So we're moving off straight away – '

  'Today?' I was horrified.

  'Tonight. We get a day's rest, then go.' It was goodbye to booking rooms then. No landlord was going to screw me for a night's rent when I only had a few daylight hours for sleeping. Helena sounded bitter too. 'Chremes, with his nose put out of joint by a rude critic, does not dally for more insults. Canatha here we come! Everyone is furious -'

  'That includes me! And where's Musa?'

  'Gone to find a temple and send a message to his sister. He seems rather low. He never gives much away, but I'm sure he was looking forward to spending some time here, back in his own country. Let's just hope the message Musa is sending his sister doesn't say, "Put out my slippers. I'm coming home…" '

  'So he's a homesick boy? This is bad news. He was miserable enough with mooning over Byrria.'

  'Well, I'm trying to help out there. I've invited Byrria to dine with us the first time we stop properly. We've been doing so much travelling she must be lonely driving all by herself.'

  'If she is lonely, it's her own fault.' Charity was not on my agenda at the moment. 'She could have had a lusty young Nabataean to crack the whip for her!' Come to that, she could have had pretty well any man in the company, except those of us with strict companions. 'Does Musa know you're brokering romance for him? I'll take him for a decent haircut and shave!'

  Helena sighed. 'Better not be too obvious.'

  'Really?' I grinned, grabbing hold of her suddenly. 'Being obvious always worked for me.' I pulled Helena close enough for my own obvious feelings to be unmissable.

  'Not this time.' Helena, who had had a great deal of practice, wriggled free. 'If we're moving on, we need to sleep. What did you find out from Congrio?'

  'That Heliodorus was a hardened gambling cheat, and his victims may just have included Tranio and Grumio.'

  'Together or separately?'

  'This is unclear.'

  'Lot of money involved?'

  'Another unknown quantity.' But my guess was, probably.

  'Do you plan to questio
n them next?'

  'I plan to know just what I'm asking before I attempt anything. Those two are a tricky pair.' In fact, I was surprised that even a seasoned cheat had managed to mug them. But if they were accustomed to feeling sure of themselves, being fleeced might have come as a nasty surprise. Congrio was right; they had a streak of arrogance. They were so used to sneering at others that if they found they had been set up, I hated to speculate how they would react.

  'Do you think they are hiding something?' Helena asked. 'Something significant?'

  'More and more it looks that way. What do you think, fruit?'

  'I think,' Helena prophesied, 'anything with those two in it will be even more complicated than it looks.'

  On the way to Canatha I asked Davos about the gambling. He had known it went on. He also remembered Heliodorus and the Twins arguing on occasions, though nothing too spectacular. He had guessed the playwright used to swindle local townsfolk. He himself had nothing to do with it. Davos was a man who could smell trouble; when he did he walked away.

  I was reluctant to speak to Chremes about financial smears on Heliodorus. It touched too closely on his own problems, which I was holding in reserve at present. I did ask Phrygia. She assumed gambling was something all men did, and that cheating came naturally into the process. Like most disgusting male habits she ignored it, she said.

  Helena offered to make enquiries of Philocrates, but I decided we could manage without help from him.

  If Byrria was in a receptive mood, we would ask her when she came to dine.

  Chapter L

  Halfway to Canatha, on a high, flat, volcanic plain with distant views to the snow-capped peak of Mount Hermon, Helena and I tried our hands as matchmakers. For reasons we only found out later, we were wasting our time.

  Entertaining two people who like to ignore each other's existence is quite a strain. As hosts we had supplied tasty wines, delectable fish, stuffed dates (stuffed by me, in my masquerade as an efficient cook), elegantly spiced side-dishes, olives, nuts, and sticky sweets. We had tried to place the romantic pair together, but they gave us the slip and took up stations at opposite ends of the fire. We sat side by side between them. Helena found herself talking to Byrria, while I just glared at Musa. Musa himself found a ferocious appetite for eating, buried his head in a bowl, and made no attempt to show off. As a wooer he had a slack technique. Byrria paid no attention to him. As a victim of his wiles, she was a tough proposition. Anyone who managed to tear this daisy from the pasture would need to tug hard.