So although I am not keen on Christmas, Saturnalia will always be for me a very happy book.
Alexandria
First published in 2009
During Saturnalia and Alexandria I was secretly writing a very different novel, my enormous English Civil War story, Rebels and Traitors. I have never used libraries much for Falco, but the British Library was invaluable for my Seventeenth Century research. I felt I was a student again, though doing rather more work this time. It was, pleasingly, double research once I started this book, because I used my experience of what very grand libraries are like to work in.
Reconstruction of interior of Trajan’s Library, Rome
The book was to be set in Egypt, examining not the world of pharaohs and pyramids on which most novelists dwell, but the relatively unexplored Roman-administrated province that was the personal treasure house of emperors from Augustus on. For Falco and Helena, as for my modern readers, the story of Cleopatra and Mark Antony would resonate, but I wanted to show a country where very ancient traditions are now coloured by Roman masters. It is not an unhappy world, but when a dead librarian is discovered in the Great Library (unavoidable, really!) solving the case is a diplomatic problem. Incidentally, I made it a locked-room mystery (something I never have much patience with) but my solution derives from what I know of public building maintenance.
Enter Falco, who has really come to Egypt so Helena can add more of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World to her collection. In fact she has seen the Colossus of Rhodes off-stage on their journey from Rome, which may have been a waste on my part. Such are the riches of the ancient world, I can toss away in a paragraph a scene that could have developed into a whole book …
It was metal, beautifully ornate with a lion’s head, and fixed on the inside of one of the doors. Its beam shot into a post that had been specially fixed to the other door to receive it. This lock would have a slotted turning key. Operated through the door, from outside in the corridor, the key would turn, moving pins inside the lock. However, a ward plate also inside the lock ensured the slots on the key had to line up; only the correct key was able to turn through this plate – and it had to be inserted right on line. I had seen keys that were made with hollow stems, so they were pushed in over a guide to keep them straight. [AL]
The Nilotic scene
Of all the difficult projects I have tackled, describing Roman Alexandria would be the worst. All the famous ancient monuments were lost to an earthquake and disappeared into the sea; although the underwater archaeology exploring the muddy harbour is fascinating, it has not yet told us much about such buildings as the royal palaces, the Library, the tomb of Alexander … Even the locations of these famous old buildings remain uncertain. At least we know where the Lighthouse was, and have descriptions. A desperate dramatic scene takes place there.
Lindsey and Michelle find some remains (at last) in Alexandria
I went to Alexandria briefly with my friend Michelle, and it was not my best piece of organising. We glimpsed Cairo too, in case we never had a chance to revisit; we saw the Pyramids and Sphinx – in a driving sandstorm, just as Falco and his family do. At Alexandria we were mobbed by eager schoolgirls at the Fort, which stands where the Lighthouse was. We had hoped to visit the Romano-Hellenic Museum – only to discover it was closed indefinitely for renovation, so thoroughly removed from sight that we never even found it. This was not the first time I had promised Michelle a museum treat only to be thwarted by administrators who don’t even tell you on their websites that an amenity is closed … She took it stoically.
Despite all that, I managed to find enough to write about. The themes concern books: why we collect them, how we store, catalogue and discard them. Arising from it are considerations about knowledge – how we value that:
Doctrines swotted to the small hours by bug-eyed, crew-cut
Students sustained by lentil soup and thick porridge.
PERSIUS
That scholars are layabouts, other-worldly, lustful for women or highly peculiar, is a running joke, though eventually students come good: Aelianus, who has crossed over from Greece, makes an amiable assistant, while a group of young men set to and help combat a fire using the latest technology.
Once the Librarian dies, by fair means or foul, a race begins to succeed him. Appointments are a matter of Roman interest, so Falco witnesses the seedy contest at close quarters (besides, someone who coveted the job may well be the murderer – if there was a murder). The in-fighting and jealousy which ensue are, of course, no reflection on my father’s old department which, being stuffed with people teaching political subjects, was a hotbed of intrigue. (They all wanted to go into politics so much that at least three became Members of Parliament.) Nor does it reflect my own experience as a civil servant, where machinations were marginalised by out-manoeuvring the real opposition: members of the public and our generally defective ministerial masters.
The most fascinating gadget Heron told us about was his aeolipile, which he modestly translated as a ‘wind ball’. His design for it used a sealed cauldron of water, which was placed over a heat source. As the water boiled, steam rose into pipes and into the hollow sphere. As I understood it, this resulted in rotation of the ball.
‘So what could it be used for?’ asked Helena intently. ‘Some kind of propulsion? Might it move vehicles?’
Heron laughed. ‘I do not consider this invention to be useful, merely intriguing. It is a novelty, a remarkable toy. The difficulty of creating sufficiently strong metal chambers makes it unsuitable for everyday applications – but who would need it?’ [AL]
I did this time produce an ancient autopsy; it was fascinating to write and quite moving. I also had a daft scene with a gigantic crocodile, using one piece of research Michelle and I managed; we had paced out a mummified croc at the Cairo museum. And although his dates may be a bit too close for comfort, I introduced Heron, the inventor whose work had been mentioned in my previous books: Not for nothing was Heron known as the Machine Man. We already knew of him from his work with automata, famous devices he made for theatres and temples: noises like thunder, automatic opening doors using fire and water, moving statues. He had produced a magic theatre, which could roll itself out before an audience, self-powered, then create a miniature three-dimensional performance, before trundling away to resounding applause. As we sat enthralled, he told us how he once made another that staged a Dionysian mystery rite; it had leaping flames, thunder and automatic Bacchantes who whirled in a mad dance around the wine god on a pulley-driven turntable. [AL] It is Heron who solves the locked-room puzzle.
Although the setting is so far from Rome, regular characters are present. Falco and Helena stay conveniently with Fulvius and Cassius, to whom I gave rather short shrift before. I play with ambiguity about their social role, especially after Geminus joins the party, to Falco’s intense annoyance. Thalia appears, since the plot involves exotic species; her presence will have unexpected and very far-reaching consequences.
The decisions made by the appointments board are probably as cynical as anything I’ve written. But I must be mellowing; so too my protagonists, who view it almost optimistically: ‘There are men,’ says Helena, after the worst candidate succeeds, ‘men with limitations at the outset, who nonetheless defy opinion and grow into a new position.’ To which Falco responds with resignation, He might come good. In the terrible satire that is public life, you have to have some hope.
Nemesis
First published 2010
Soon farewell town house, country estate by the
Brown Tiber washed, chain-acres of pasture-land,
Farewell the sky-high piles of treasure
Left with the rest for an heir’s enjoyment …
HORACE
From time to time in a series, an author has to be ruthless, to maintain the dynamism. The start of Nemesis will be shocking to some; stark events occur for Falco and Helena. From this moment, their lives will change utterly. What will never ch
ange, I promise, are their characters.
I intended that book twenty would gather up strands; towards the end several plot-lines actually offer possibilities for the future if I choose to continue. As always, I wanted to write so new readers can just begin here; they shouldn’t feel left out. I hope references back are done with a light hand. Despite a self-imposed challenge to include a subliminal reference to each previous book, I never forced that and I haven’t ticked them off.
An Etruscan altar
The first chapters cover extremely sad events, though lightened by dry moments. Out of this situation, a murder plot unexpectedly grows.
Geminus has been selling statues to adorn the nearly completed Flavian Amphitheatre. (Oliver thinks it profligate that I only toss in this idea in passing – ‘wasting’ what could have been the foundation for a whole book!) This storyline takes Falco to the coast, where he learns of the strange disappearance of his father’s husband-and-wife suppliers. Soon the man is found cruelly murdered near Rome, his corpse laid out in a strange ritualistic fashion (I had never done strange ritualistic corpses!). So Petronius becomes involved.
The chief suspects are named almost immediately: a family of imperial ex-slaves, who live in the dangerous Pontine Marshes. They have become a social menace which the authorities seem impotent to tackle. They thieve, get drunk, beat people up, have quarrels with neighbours, batter their own wives, collect knives and live with vicious dogs. Few hold down long-term jobs or manage decent family life. Nothing is done about the situation (or so it seems initially). The freedmen claim immunity; they have protection high up in Rome. Astonishingly, their protector is identified by Falco and Petro as Anacrites, the Chief Spy. Soon the vigiles are pulled off the case while Anacrites threatens Falco and Petro to make them drop their interest. Even his colleagues – Laeta, Momus and Perella – seem afraid to address his plainly corrupt involvement. They, too, warn off the two friends – thereby ensuring they will never let go.
It can be no surprise to regular readers that we are heading towards a deadly confrontation with Anacrites. Falco and Petro see dealing with the spy as their personal responsibility, enflamed by the antagonistic history we have followed for so long. The spy goads them; they try to out-manoeuvre him. After his past dark affair with Maia, he now starts hovering around the apparently vulnerable Albia. A showdown is inevitable. (Surely nobody thinks the book’s title only refers to the winged goddess of equitable fortune?)
While Anacrites dogs them, often literally putting them under surveillance, Falco and his team tackle the serial killers. I dislike overt sadism in escapist novels; however, it has to be known that the deeds are dreadful. My depiction of the killings is informed by cases many people know about, which I hope lessens the need for lurid details of abuse, torture and death; for a long time many murders are only suspected, while all happen well ‘off-stage’ until, almost at the end, a character we have met is killed. I had to distinguish carefully between these serial killers and Thurius in Three Hands in the Fountain. The stress here is not so much on the crimes but the family involved and their increasingly relevant background. Of course the killers are psychopaths and there must be no sympathy for Anacrites when he associates with them. He tolerates them, shields them, and gives them work. How can such people pressurise or blackmail him? Is he just as cruel as they are?
The horrid answer emerges slowly. As Anacrites manoeuvres, he makes awkward social overtures. He throws a dinner party, a crazy set piece which draws upon clichés of Roman entertainment. There is a Trojan Hog, something known from Petronius’ Satyricon: The chef took up a knife and with a nervous hand cut open the pig’s belly left and right. Suddenly, as the slit widened with the pressure, out poured sausages and blood puddings. The staff applauded this piece of ingenuity and let out a concerted cheer … It is during this episode that Albia takes it upon herself to tackle Anacrites; betrayed by Aulus, she has become depressed and fatalistic. She risks her safety in a brave scenario that could easily become tragic; the mere possibility that the spy will harm her, or has already harmed her, is enough to give Falco motivation for extreme action.
During the book we see just how tough Falco and Petronius can be. In one striking scene they are questioning someone, the situation is desperate, their methods become brutal and an angry Helena points out that their behaviour comes very close to that of the criminals with their victims. In the present climate of distaste for how intelligence services obtain information through tortures like waterboarding, this is highly topical and an extremely dark moment. The two friends are shocked (which I hope redeems them); I am shocked too.
At the end of the book we see the ghastly unearthing of numerous bodies. My knowledge of the area where it happens came about by a lucky chance. While appearing at the Edinburgh International Book Festival, I had dinner with Donald and Susan Adamson. The son of my first principal in the civil service, a man I much admired, Donald is a keen amateur archaeologist. He had been investigating sites from the Second World War landings at Anzio, Roman Antium – not far from the Pontine Marshes. Our discussion of the striking terrain suggested the forest where corpses are discovered and the frightening ravine where the main criminal is confronted.
Falco and his comrades have put a stop to the killing spree. Unfinished business remains, however, and for political reasons it will need a brave solution. The sheer number of corpses found at Antium is meant to prepare us for an unavoidable final scene.
Helena calls a family council; this was the ultimate Roman device, when a deadly situation affecting family members arose, especially if legal recourse was unavailable. During this story, Helena and Falco have more than one dreadful decision to take, some personal. They must cope with death and birth, acquisition and loss. Grief, good fortune and unwelcome responsibilities have all been dumped on them. People close to them have had their lives jolted, with repercussions I have not even begun to explore. I devised turns of fate that even startled me; for instance, the old apartment in Fountain Court will have an occupant again. And we finally learn just why Anacrites has in so many ways envied, snuggled up to, and yet preyed upon the Didius family.
One previously open-ended issue has to be resolved. In keeping with much of the series, this will have Falco, aided by Petronius, acting outside the law – not just from personal motivation but for the health of the Empire. Ultimately, their role as heroes requires them to pursue justice even if they have to go solo.
It’s short and sweet. I quite enjoyed it. Like an informer, sometimes an author has to be ruthless.
The Characters
Falco and Helena, with Their Household
Marcus Didius Falco
I know him now without thinking. His birthday is 23 March. He has no luck, talks too much, supports the Blues, reads, loves plants, is a republican at heart, can’t swim and gets seasick. Though worldly-wise, he can be a soft touch. As a series author I can even play at viewing him from new perspectives, such as that of Paccius Africanus in The Accusers or a young relative who has overheard her parents’ comments: That man is Marcus Didius, who married our cousin. His manner can be abrupt, but that is because he has plebeian origins. It makes him uncomfortable in ornate surroundings. He is more intelligent than he lets on, and he makes jokes that you don’t realise until half an hour afterwards. He does work that is valued by the highest people, and is thought to have as-yet under-explored qualities. [JM]
He is a relatively poor man, or he would not be a detective at all. He is a common man or he could not go among common people. He has a sense of character or he would not know his job. He will take no man’s money dishonestly and no man’s insolence without a due and dispassionate revenge. He is a lonely man and his pride is that you will treat him as a proud man or be very sorry you ever saw him. He talks as the man of his age talks – that is, with rude wit, a lively sense of the grotesque, a disgust for sham, and a contempt for pettiness.
CHANDLER
Appearance and personal character
>
Falco began as a voice; people don’t describe their own looks. In Shadows in Bronze I provided the dark, wild curly black hair, brown eyes, and that overwhelming grin. They were qualified by Helena’s teasing: one of those long, straight, superior noses off an Etruscan tomb painting; eyes that keep moving, in a face that never reveals what they have seen;good teeth; dimples! (Who, I wonder, thinks of Falco with dimples?)
I hammered loose studs back into my best boots … I wiped the oil from my sword … I checked the blade and sharpened it with my sharkskin buffer … Then I filed my dagger with pumice … ‘Aulus Camillus said, if there was to be any action, I should watch you getting ready. He said it always impressed him to see you change from a clown to a soldier … He said, “When the eyes stop smiling, you can feel safe”.’ [STH]
He is always conscious of clothes, regarding it as a professional duty to have good gear – boots, belt, weapons, etc. He takes against tunics’ colour, views askance his embroidered Palmyrene outfit, and is embarrassed when a bad cold sees him wrapped up like some little hunchbacked Celtic forest god [TFL] in his hooded Gallic coat (reminiscent of duffle coats). However clothes, he says, are just surface adornments: I came with more subtle trappings, skills which no slippery businessman should take for granted. I had been around; I hoped it showed. I sported an Aventine haircut and an Aventine stare. I was ready for anything and would take no nonsense. [SDD]
Falco: The Official Companion (A Marcus Didius Falco Mystery) Page 11