'I hear you're on holiday?'
'Oh it's just a few days,' warbled Junia offhandedly.
'Of course you'll have four months at your private villa in Surrentum once the weather bucks up!' I was joking, but my sister blushed because that was what they liked to imply to people who knew them less well. 'Gaius Baebius, I need to talk to you.'
'Have some breakfast, Marcus.' My sister probably hoped I would say no, so although I had bought myself a bread roll on the way to their house, I accepted on principle. Some folk when they acquire money spend it avidly; Junia and her husband belonged to the other type, and were painfully mean in some ways. They were always changing the furniture, but hated to waste money on starving relatives.
Junia led the way to their dining-room. It was about three feet wide. Their apartment was the usual small rental, but Gaius Baebius had recently improved it with some odd partitioning. It stayed up, provided no one leaned against the walls, and enabled them to pretend they had a separate triclinium where banquets could take place. In fact people now ate squashed on stools in a row against a low table. Unfortunately, my brother-in-law's interior-design scheme meant if you had the table there was no room for even one proper eating-couch. I squeezed in without comment; he was really proud of their superior living style.
Junia served me a small chunk of loaf-making sure I got the black bits-and a sliver of pallid, tasteless cheese to help it down. Meanwhile Gaius Baebius carried on munching a mound of cold meats.
'New plates?' I asked politely, since much of mine was visible.
'Yes, we thought it was time we invested in Arretine. Such a wonderful gloss-'
'Oh these are not bad. We bought some ourselves,' I countered. 'Helena and I wanted something just a little more original. We hate to go out to dinner and find the same service we dine off at home… Ours was a present from a friendly potter at a little place I discovered when we were staying in Germany.'
'Really?' Junia had always been impossible to tease. She did not believe my foray into fancy dinnerware.
'I'm quite serious.' On the rare occasions when I managed to surpass these snobs I liked to make it known.
'Fancy that!' Junia rattled her bracelets and applied her gracious air. 'What did you want to ask Gaius Baebius?'
Insulting my hosts paled, so I settled down to business. 'I'm being forced to unravel a muddle our beloved Festus left behind. ' I saw them exchange a glance; word of my mission had run ahead of me. Junia surveyed me as if she knew Festus was about to be exposed as a villain and she blamed me for everything. 'Did you meet the soldier who was camping out at Mother's house? He's dead-'
'And you're supposed to have done it?' Trust Junia.
'Anyone who thinks so needs a new head, sister!'
'We didn't like to say much.'
'Thanks, Junia! Leaving things unsaid until the pot boils over is a fine art in our family, but this time it won't work. I'm desperate to clear myself before I'm in court on a murder charge. It all seems to hang on Festus and his business network. Gaius, the soldier came up with some story about imports. Can you tell me this: when Festus was sending items to Italy from abroad, did his ships land at Ostia?'
'As far as I know. I expect,' offered Gaius Baebius prudishly, 'Festus thought that having a brother-in-law in customs meant that he could dodge his harbour dues.'
I grinned. 'He certainly thought it! No doubt he was wrong?'
'Of course!' exclaimed Gaius Baebius. No doubt it was sometimes true.
'Would your records show whether a particular ship landed? I'm talking about the year he died, so we have to go back a bit.'
In between large mouthfuls of breakfast, Gaius Baebius addressed the subject in his slow, pedantic way. 'Is this the ship that's supposed to be missing?' More of this story must be current than people had previously acknowledged.
'The Hypericon, that's right.'
'If she did land, someone would have her listed. If not, no.'
'Good!'
'If she fully unloaded at Ostia, Ostia will have the records. If her cargo went into barges and came up to be sold at the Emporium, it would be recorded here in Rome. Festus wasn't selling through official channels though, so you probably want Ostia.'
'Well, Ostia's close enough,' I replied airily. 'What if she was beached somewhere else in Italy?'
'The only way to discover that would be to visit every possible port and check their lists-if the local officials are willing to let you look at them. And always assuming,' Gaius Baebius added heavily, 'the Hypericon behaved in a legitimate fashion.' Something we both knew must be open to doubt. 'And paid the proper duty.'
'If not,' I agreed despondently, 'she could have slipped into land anywhere and had the cargo smuggled ashore.'
'And it was years ago.' He liked to be optimistic.
'And she may really have sunk, so I'm wasting my time.'
'Sinking was certainly the story. I remember the fuss Festus made about it.'
'At last somebody seems to know something about the problem!' I flattered him. 'I think we can assume the Hypericon never came into Ostia. Either she did sink-or she would have been hidden away. But would you be prepared to do something for me, old son? To help the family?'
'You mean check up on her?'
'Not only her. I want you to examine the lists for that whole year.'
'I'd have to go to Ostia.'
'I'll pay your mule hire.' He would pinch official transport anyway, if I knew him.
I could see he was prepared for the inconvenience; probably it was a good excuse to escape from Junia. As for her, she would let him go off on the trip because Festus had been her brother too. Junia must have been watching this possible scandal unfolding with more horror than the rest of us; after all, she was the one who had refined ideas.
'Let's get this straight, Falco. You want to see if Festus had any other commissioned vessel that came into Ostia?' Gaius Baebius loved that. 'Oho! You think he transferred the goods?'
'I've no idea. I'm simply looking into every possibility. I should have done this before, as his executor. Even if this cargo was submerged, there may be something else worth looking for. What I'm hoping is that I may discover a cache of property belonging to Festus that I can sell to get his legion off our backs.' What I was hoping was to find more than that.
'Why don't you just tell them there is nothing?' demanded Junia angrily.
'I've already done that. Either they don't believe me, or they intend to be paid regardless of whether it ruins the whole family. ' I held my tongue about the savings-bank theory. 'Gaius Baebius, are you prepared to help me? Will the lists still exist?'
'Oh they should exist all right. Have you any idea, Falco, how many vessels come into Rome in a season?'
'I'll help you look,' I volunteered quickly.
'It will still be a job and a half,' Gaius grumbled, but it was plain he would do it. 'I could go out to the coast today and see my pals at the port. I can have a look at what we're letting ourselves in for.' Gaius Baebius was a true bureaucrat; he loved to think he was so important he had to ruin his holiday by rushing back to work. Most people would baulk at a round trip of twenty miles, but he was ready to gallop off to Ostia immediately. 'I'll be back by the end of the morning.' The man was an idiot. If I carried out enquiries at such a dash, I would be worn out. 'Where can I find you later?'
'Let's have a late lunch. I'll be at a wine bar near the Caelian.'
Junia pricked up her ears. 'I trust this is not a place with a bad reputation, Marcus?' My sister kept her husband out of trouble; not that he exerted himself getting into any.
'It's not called the Virgin for nothing.' Junia looked reassured by the name of the drinking-house and told Gaius he could go.
'There may be one other problem,' I confessed. 'Any ship Festus chartered could be registered in the name of an agent he was using. Unluckily, no one I have been able to speak to-'
'He means Father!' snapped Junia.
'Is able to
supply the agent's name.'
Gaius Baebius bristled. 'Well, that's a blow!'
'All right, all right! I'll sort it out somehow-'
'Gaius Baebius will have to help you,' my sister told me snootily. 'I do hope there is not going to be any unpleasantness, Marcus!'
'Thanks for the support, dearest!' I lifted a slice of veal sausage from my brother-in-law's laden plate as I took my leave.
Then I had to go back for another, to use for distracting the dog.
XXXII
My next task was trickier: I went to see my mother to ask about the knife.
She was being extremely vague on the subject. I learned no more than she had already told Petronius. 'Yes, it looked like mine. I really can't be expected to remember where something disappeared to when I probably haven't seen it for twenty years…'
'Somebody must have walked off with it,' I told her grimly. 'Allia's the prime candidate.'
Ma knew my sister Allia was always popping into someone else's house to borrow half a loaf or a set of loom weights. She was famous for not bothering to have her own possessions while there was anybody else she could count on to supply her needs.
Not that I was suggesting Allia was implicated in the soldier's death.
'I suppose you're right.' Whilst apparently agreeing, Ma managed to put mysterious doubts into her tone.
Under strain, I could hear myself getting annoyed. 'Well, will you ask all the family what they know about this thing? It's important, Ma!'
'So I gather! I heard you were arrested, but you let yourself be bought out!'
'Yes, my father released me,' I answered patiently.
'Last time you were in prison, I was good enough to bribe the jailer!'
'Don't remind me about that.'
'You ought to have more pride.'
'Last time had been a stupid mistake over nothing, Ma. This time a murder-court judge happens to have a pressing case against me. The position is rather different. If they haul me in front of a jury, your precious boy may be lost. The surety cost heavily, if that's any consolation. Geminus will be feeling the gap in his purse.'
'He'll feel it even more if you run off!' My mother clearly saw me as even more of a ruffian than Pa. 'So how are you getting on?'
'I'm not.'
Ma gave me a look as if she thought I had deliberately arranged my arrest to escape having to exert myself on my brother's behalf. 'So where are you dashing off to now?'
'A wine bar,' I said, since she already thought the worst of me.
It was true, anyway.
Finding a seedy bar I had visited only once before, five years earlier, at the end of a long night's entertainment, when I was depressed and drunk, took time. I spent nearly an hour roaming alleys round the Caelian. When I finally came across the Virgin, Gaius Baebius was already there. He looked tired, but smug.
'Ho there, my travel-stained amicus! How did you manage to arrive so promptly? I've been wearing myself out looking everywhere. Do you know this place?'
'Never been here, Falco.'
'How did you find it so quickly then?'
'I asked someone.'
After working off his breakfast and working up another appetite with his mad gallop to Ostia, he was tucking into a substantial lunch. He had bought and paid for it; there was no offer to include me. I called for a small flagon and decided to eat later on my own.
'The records still exist,' mumbled Gaius, chewing happily. 'It will take a few months to wade through them.' He was a slow worker. I could speed him up, but I knew in advance it would frustrate me.
'I'll help if they will allow me in. Can I look at them with you?'
'Oh yes. Any citizen with a legitimate reason can inspect the shipping lists. Of course,' he said, 'you have to know the procedures.' From Gaius Baebius this was a message that he was doing me a favour, and would remind me about it in future at every opportunity.
'Fine,' I said.
My brother-in-law started making elaborate arrangements for meeting me tomorrow, while I groaned inwardly. I hate people who complicate life with unnecessary paraphernalia. And I was none too pleased at the prospect of spending days in his dreary company. Lunch was bad enough.
I was looking around. The place was as grim as I remembered. Gaius Baebius sat eating his bowlful of beef and vegetables with the impervious calm of an innocent. Maybe my eyesight was better. I was filled with unease by the dark corners and sinister clientele.
We were in a dank cellar, a hole cut half into the Caelian Hill, more a burrow than a building. Beneath its filthy arched roof stood a few battered tables lit by tapers in oily old jugs. The landlord had a lurching gait and sported a viciously scarred cheek, probably acquired in a bar fight. His wine was sour. His customers were worse.
Since my last visit one of the rough-cast walls had acquired a crudely drawn pornographic picture in wide swathes of murky paint. It involved some mightily furnished manly types and a shy female who had lost her guardian and her clothes but who was gaining some unusual experience.
I summoned mine host. 'Who did your striking art work?'
'Varga, Manlius and that mob.'
'Do they still come in here?'
'On and off.' That sounded useless. It was not a den where I wished to hang around like a critic or a collector until these flighty artists deigned to appear.
'Where can I look them up while I'm in the neighbourhood?'
He made a few desultory suggestions. 'So what do you think of our frescos?'
'Fabulous!' I lied.
Now that the wall-painting had been drawn to his attention, Gaius Baebius was staring at it so fixedly I felt embarrassed. My sister would have been seriously annoyed to see him studying it so closely, but she would be more furious if I abandoned him anywhere so dangerous. Out of brotherly regard for Junia I had to sit there fuming while Gaius slowly finished his lunch-bowl as he perused the brothel scenes.
'Very interesting!' he commented as we left.
Shedding my inane relation, I followed up the landlord's suggestions for finding the fresco painters, but had no luck. One place the man had sent me was a rented room in a boarding-house. I could go back there at a different time and hope for better results. Any excuse was welcome. Needing food fairly urgently, I took myself off somewhere that by comparison was highly salubrious: back on the Aventine, to Flora's Caupona.
XXXIII
Flora's was in a greater state of misery than usual: they had the decorators in.
Epimandos was hovering outside, robbed of his kitchen but making an attempt to serve drinks and cold snippets to people who did not mind lunching in the street.
'What's this, Epimandos?'
'Falco!' He greeted me eagerly. 'I heard you had been arrested!'
I managed a grunt. 'Well I'm here. What's going on?'
'After the problem upstairs,' he whispered tactfully, 'the whole place is being done up.'
Flora's had been there for at least ten years and never seen a painter's brush before. Evidently a murder on the premises was good for trade. 'So who ordered this? Not the legendary Flora?'
Epimandos looked vague. He ignored my enquiry and burbled on. 'I've been so worried about what was happening to you-'
'So have I!'
'Are you going to be all right, Falco?'
'I've no idea. But if I ever catch up with the bastard who really did kill Censorinus, he won't be!'
'Falco-'
'Don't flap, Epimandos. A whimpering waiter kills the lively atmosphere!'
I looked for a seat. Outside they were limited. The objectionable cat, Stringy, was sprawled over one bench displaying his revolting belly fur, so I perched on a stool beside the barrel where the beggar always sat. For once it seemed necessary to nod at him.
'Afternoon, Marcus Didius.' I was still trying to think of a polite way to ask if I knew him when he introduced himself resignedly: 'Apollonius.' It still meant nothing. 'I was your schoolteacher.'
'Jupiter!' Long ago thi
s hopeless soul had taught me geometry for six years. Now the gods had rewarded his patience by making him destitute.
Epimandos rushed up with wine for both of us, apparently pleased that I had found a friend to take my mind off things. It was too late to leave. I had to converse politely; that meant I had to invite the ex-teacher to join my lunch. He accepted my invitation timidly while I tried not to look too closely at his rags. I sent Epimandos across the road to fetch me a hot meal from the Valerian, and another for Apollonius.
He had always been a failure. The worst kind: someone you could not help but feel sorry for, even while he was messing you about. He was a terrible teacher. He might have been a snappy mathematician, but he could not explain anything. Struggling to make sense of his long-winded diatribes, I had always felt as if he had set me a problem that needed three facts in order to solve it, but he had only remembered to tell me two of them. Definitely a man whose hypotenuse squared had never totalled the squares of his other two sides.
'What a wonderful surprise to see you!' I croaked, pretending I had not been ignoring him every time I had come to Flora's over the past five years.
'Quite a shock,' he mumbled, going along with it as he devoured the broth I had supplied.
Epimandos had nobody else to serve, so he sat down by the cat and listened in.
'So what happened to the school, Apollonius?'
He sighed. Nostalgia was making me queasy. He had had the same dreary tone when he was lamenting some stubborn child's ignorance. 'I was forced to give up. Too much political instability.'
'You mean too many unpaid fees?'
'Youth is the first to suffer in a civil war.'
'Youth suffers, full stop,' I answered gloomily.
This was an appalling encounter. I was a tough man doing a swinish job; the last thing I needed was a confrontation with a schoolmaster who had known me when I was all freckles and false confidence. Around here people believed I had a shrewd brain and a hard fist; I was not prepared for them to see me doling out free broth to this scrawny stick insect with his sparse hair and shaking, age-mottled hands while he flapped over my forgotten past.
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