Falco: The Official Companion (A Marcus Didius Falco Mystery)

by Lindsey Davis

  The Legionary commander, Munius Lupercus was sent along with other presents to Veleda … But Lupercus was put to death before he reached her.

  TACITUS

  Rutilius Gallicus (Quintus Julius Cordinus Gaius Rutilius Gallicus)

  When researching Two for the Lions, I came across a legate who conducted a boundary survey for Vespasian. I could find nothing else about him.

  Immediately afterwards, John Henderson brought out A Roman Life: Rutilius Gallicus on Paper and in Stone, dissecting the poet Statius’ commendatory poem on Domitian’s ‘Chief of Police’ (Urban Prefect, a job equivalent to Mayor of London or New York). Rutilius Gallicus is unique as a figure from the heyday of the Roman Empire who can be studied in detail through both text and inscription and who isn’t part of an emperor’s family … Gallicus appears by turns as a formal public servant, a delicate amateur poet-rhetorician, a workaholic chasing an early grave, the darling of his people, the strongman of the tyrant Domitian, the miraculously resurrected patient of Apollo, and a soldier-hero of the Empire … says Henderson. Sharp intake of breath!

  My Rutilius first appears as a solitary expat: an upright figure, slightly too much flesh, sharp haircut, clean-shaven, bearing himself like a soldier though with too many years out of action to be an army professional. He spoke with an unmistakeable Basilica Julia accent. That greeting alone told me he was freeborn, patrician, tutor-educated, army-trained, imperially patronised and statue-endowed. [TFL] This is too aristocratic, because he probably began as an equestrian; adoption may have advanced his career. But an inscribed statue base exists, so I guessed right about that!

  Gallicus oversees the games in Lepcis Magna where Famia goes to the lions and Anacrites fights. Then Falco (now clearly having read Henderson) reassesses him: When Vespasian became emperor, Rutilius somehow pushed to the front, one of the first consuls of the reign. Nobody had heard of him. Frankly I had taken no notice of the man either – until I met him in Tripolitania. What he did have was ambition. He was stepping up the treads of power as niftily as a roofer with a shoulder-hod of pantiles. [OVTM]

  Next he and Falco host a joint reading event, though they don’t gel. We glimpse his wife, Minicia Paetina. Falco puts up more markers for the future: A celebrity in waiting, [OB] Rutilius wrote epic poetry, his crony Domitian’s favourite, but since none survived we only have Falco’s verdict: He was, as I had always suspected, a far from thrilling poet. [OB]

  As governor of Lower Germany, Rutilius led a raid to capture Veleda, bringing her back to Rome for a Triumph, or more correctly an Ovation; we don’t know for sure if it happened. Perhaps his glory was clouded by some scandal – as occurs in Saturnalia?

  Tiberius Claudius Togidubnus

  It is possible that King Togidubnus of the Atrebates was one of the tribal princelings sent to Rome to be educated before being installed as a ‘client’ king (which Tacitus says he was). His forenames indicate he was granted Roman citizenship by Claudius or Nero.

  Certain domains were presented to King Cogidumnus, who maintained his unswerving loyalty right down to our own times – an example of the long-established Roman custom of employing even kings to make others slaves.

  TACITUs

  It seems quite likely that he allowed a Roman military base at Chichester even before the Claudian invasion; the first stage of the Roman Palace (called the ‘old house’ in my novel) dates from Nero’s day. On the invasion the King surely met the young Vespasian, as legate of the Second Augustan legion, capturing hill forts and subduing hostile tribes throughout the south-west. Togidubnus presumably supported Vespasian’s bid for the throne and was rewarded with a huge palace makeover seven years later.

  Uncertainty about his name devolves from Tacitus who calls him ‘Cogidumnus’ (in most manuscripts). An inscription at Chichester uses the ‘dubnus’ ending; unfortunately the first two letters are missing (!) but ‘Togi’ is preferred by the scholars I prefer. Hence Falco’s jokes, trying to pre-empt angry letters.

  To look at he was clearly an elderly northerner, his mottled skin now papery and pale. On any formal occasion, he dressed like Roman nobility. I had not deduced whether any rank conferred on him actually entitled him to the broad purple stripe on his toga, but he called himself a ‘legate of Augustus’ and he wore that stripe with all the confidence of a senatorial bore who could list several centuries of florid ancestors. [JM] I had to invent such details, and also gave him a friendly relationship with Falco in both books where he appears.

  Sextus Julius Frontinus

  If he was the usual age for a consul he was forty-three; forty-four if he had had this year’s birthday. Clean-shaven and close-shorn. A Vespasian appointment so bound to be confident, competent and shrewd. Undeterred by my scrutiny and unfazed by his poor surroundings. He was a man with a solid career behind him, yet the energy to carry him through several more top-notch roles before he went senile. Physically spare, a trim weight, undebauched. Someone to respect – or walking trouble: primed to stir things up. [THF]

  Julius Frontinus was equal to shouldering the heavy burden and rose as high as a man then could rise. He subdued by force of arms the strong and warlike nation of the Silures, after a hard struggle, not only against the valour of his enemy, but against the difficulties of the terrain.

  TACITUS

  It’s very difficult to give a physical description of a real person of whom there are no known likenesses! I had to draw conclusions. Frontinus was governor of Britain in the AD70s, in a period of expansion and consolidation: the large reconstruction of Fishbourne Roman Palace and major building in Roman London date from then. In AD95, under Nerva, Frontinus became Curator of the Aqueducts in Rome; he conducted a detailed survey of the aqueducts and wrote his two-volume work on the subject, from which many details in Three Hands in the Fountain derive. It is my conceit that his interest may have been piqued by working with Falco. Frontinus also wrote a book on military strategy.

  I have assumed he appreciates Falco’s practical sense and efficiency, so he asks for Falco to clear up the troubles at Fishbourne Palace, then quickly hands over the murder of the King’s henchman and associated gangster problem in The Jupiter Myth. Here, at the start of what was clearly a successful term as British governor, Falco assesses him again and still approves: Frontinus had all the makings of an old-time Roman in power: soldierly, cultured, intrigued by administrative problems of all kinds, decent, absolutely straight. After listing in detail the plans Frontinus has, Falco decides: If all this came off, Britain would be transformed. Frontinus would haul this marginal, barbarian province properly into the Empire. [JM]

  In a few decades’ time I could well find myself smiling as the Daily Gazette saluted an Annio Novus extension, when I would remember standing here above Nero’s lake, while an engineer’s assistant earnestly propounded his theories … [THF]

  Tiberius Catius Asconius Silius Italicus

  He had a heavy build, not grossly fat but fleshy all over as a result of rich living. It had left him dangerously red in the face too. His eyes were sunk in folds of skin as if he constantly lacked sleep, though his clean-shaven chin and neck looked youthful. I put him in his forties but he had the constitution of a man a decade older. His expression was that of someone who had just dropped a massive stone plinth on his foot. [AC]

  Classical scholars treat this man with respect, perhaps awed by the fact he produced a historical epic poem, the Punica, in no fewer than seventeen books. Its survival makes him better known than his colleague Paccius, though to me they are tarred by the same brush. He was consul in the year Nero died, AD68, and achieved the high honour of being proconsul of Asia – though he had to wait longer than normal for it. This could be due to the taint of his earlier career – ‘distinguished orator’, according to classicists, yet an informer of the despised Neronian type. When Vespasian assumed the throne, all senators had to swear they had done nothing to harm others; Silius abstained, and was thrown out of the Senate temporarily. After rehabilita
tion, he seems to have kept his head down, turning to that refuge of politicians and models, writing fiction. At the age of seventy, he committed suicide stoically, while afflicted with a tumour.

  Caius Paccius Africanus

  Paccius made the mistake of not writing a long epic poem, or not one that survived, so scholars don’t have to respect him. He too was a Neronian informer. He too was a consul, in AD67, in which year he denounced several enemies of Nero – perhaps being rewarded for this with his consulship. When required to take the oath of not having harmed anyone by his actions, he declined and was expelled by force from the Senate. The results seem to have been no worse than temporary expulsion of a rogue Member from the House of Commons: everyone gasps, but the man sneaks back.

  Certainly Paccius survived, and achieved the proconsulship of Africa, the same year as Silius in Asia.

  Heron of Alexandria

  We paid a guide a bunch of coins to tell us how a window was arranged high up, through which sunlight streamed at break of day, falling so the sunbeam seemed to kiss the god on the lips. It was a device created by the inventor, Heron. [AL]

  I’ve known a few inventive, practical men. I find Heron extremely attractive and several of his inventions are illustrated in this book. He wrote on many scientific subjects and although he is thought to have died around the time of Falco and Helena’s visit to Alexandria, I was delighted to introduce him, and to honour him by letting him deduce what really happened in the Great Library the night Theon died. Could it be ropes and pulleys? Could Theon have worked some pneumatic device from within his private sanctum? Could some incredibly impractical criminal have set up a crack-brained mechanical killing machine? Impossible of course – you would have found the machine afterwards … [AL] Part of his answer is practical: an earthquake has caused damage which has not been repaired. It is also based on human understanding: an elderly man became confused and left the door locked unintentionally.

  The Public Sector: Vigiles and Bureaucrats

  Lucius Petronius Longus

  My good friend Petronius Longus had many fine qualities. He was tough and shrewd, an amiable crony, a valued law and order officer, a respected man in any neighbourhood he graced. [JM]

  Every private eye needs a pal in the police. He was thirty years old. He arrived dressed in various shapeless brown woollen garments, his usual unobtrusive working uniform … Stuck through his belt he carried a thick cudgel for encouraging quiet behaviour on the streets; these he supervised with a light, reasonable hand, backed up by well-aimed bodyweight. A twisted headband rumpled the straight hair on his broad head. He had a placid mentality he certainly needed when picking through the grime and greed at the low end of Roman society. He looked solid and tough, and good at his job – all of which he was. He was also a deeply sentimental family man – a thoroughly decent type. [PG]

  Petronius is a certain type of man: a cautious investor, suspicious of banks. He takes care of his possessions like a typical ex-soldier; he is a good packer of luggage; he never throws anything away; he has a medicine chest; his spare sword is handy; he carries a substantial note-tablet for making notes about suspects. He is calm and unperturbed. He cares about food less than Falco; he doesn’t go home for lunch, though he routinely has dinner with his children, and slips off from work if he has a household job pending; he is a keen and competent carpenter. Petro has a legendary love of wine, much like my editor, though Petro also likes a bargain: Once he found a crisp white at a few coppers an amphora (with a pétillance he described to me lovingly, as connoisseurs do) Petronius Longus acquired as much as he could: while I left him on his own he had bought a culleus. Seriously. A huge barrel as tall as his wife. At least twenty amphorae. Enough to put a thousand flasks on the table if he kept an inn. More, if he watered the drink. [SB]

  As a vigiles officer, Petronius is thoroughly sound. We see his stubbornness when he pursues the apparently untouchable gangster Balbinus; again in his long-term obsession with Balbinus’ heir Florius. And he’s a good commander. He had strong bonds with his man. He always led from the front. He pulled his weight in routine enquiries and on surveillance he mucked in as one of them … His quiet manner tended to disguise how powerfully built he was. Slow of step and wry of speech, he could lean on wrongdoers before they even saw him coming, but once Petro applied weight, resistance caved in fast. He ran the watch without seeming to exert himself although in private he worried deeply about standards. He achieved the highest. His was a lean, competent squad which gave the public what they paid for and kept the villains on the hop. [TTD] Like Falco, he is several times badly beaten up – usually finding women to nurse him back to health.

  ‘You’ll have to stop chasing the women. A few well-positioned cuts might have made you look romantic – but that’s just ugly.’

  ‘I’ll stop chasing when I find the right one,’ said Petronius. [OB]

  He may be deceptive. Falco says: He has a mild-mannered reputation – behind which lurks the most devious, evil-minded investigation officer anywhere in Rome! [TTD] Petronius certainly lives up to this in Nemesis. The boy Zeno is typically deceived: What the boy saw was a big man waiting silently with a friendly expression, someone who might throw a beanbag about in an alley with the local children. But he’s also an officer whose slam-bang interrogation methods were a legend. Petronius could persuade incorrigible criminals to bleat out damning evidence against their favourite brothers. He could make them do it even if the brothers were innocent, though mostly he did prefer confessions of real guilt. [STH]

  His friendship with Falco is embedded in their army service. I doubt they were as laddish as they make out but Petronius may have been worse than Falco. Good colleagues so long as each remains in his own sphere, when they work as formal partners they find unexpected problems: Petronius was going to sort out our business. (He was going to sort out me.) He would impose order. He would attract new work; he would plan our caseload; he would show me just how to generate wealth through blistering efficiency … He spent a lot of time composing charts, while I plodded around the city delivering court summonses. I brought in the meagre denarii, then Petro wrote them up in elaborate account systems. [THF] Sometimes, Falco and Petronius quarrel bitterly, almost like a husband and wife using one another to release unbearable tension.

  In his love life, according to Falco, He had always been attracted to dainty girls with flat chests and scornful voices who ordered him about. [SB] During his first marriage, no one spotted that he liked to flirt with risk. [BBH] Yes, Petronius Longus cheats on his wife, to our knowledge with Aemilia Fausta in Shadows in Bronze (who bears his child) and, disastrously, with Balbina Milvia, the gangster’s daughter, which precipitates his marriage breakdown. I take the blame here. As Falco settled down respectably I chose to balance that with Petro making a muck of things. Writing about honest, faithful characters is less fun than writing about reprobates. (Incidentally, Ben Crowe, the actor who plays Petronius on radio, was distraught over the Fausta incident, refusing to believe his decent character would really behave like that. Sorry, Ben!)

  When Petro acknowledges feelings for Maia, Falco hates watching their relationship stumbling to life: I had cursed when I found one of my sisters wanting to berth alongside my dearest crony. That can damage a male friendship. But it was far more uncomfortable when Petro was dumped … I would never forgive my sister. [BBH] Things do not go smoothly. Helena tells Petro: You drink too much, you flirt too much, you do dangerous work. You are a risk to a woman who wants a good life – but Maia Favonia is aching to take that risk. You must be the most exciting man who ever courted her. Maia wants you – but she doesn’t want to be deceived by you. Her children love you – but she doesn’t want them to be let down. [JM]

  It is, I feel, a subtlety of characterisation that despite his own behaviour, Petro believes in old-fashioned Roman rectitude for everyone else. He has no truck with the liberal freedoms Falco and Helena exercise, such as sharing confidences about work and travelling to
gether. Will Maia bring him round?

  We rarely hear about his early background, but he has a much older brother (Petronius Rectus, who appears in Nemesis), also cousins with whom he and Rectus jointly own the ox, Nero, aka Spot. After featuring in Shadows in Bronze, Nero reappears in Nemesis, where he is stolen, features in a ‘missing’ poster, and is found in the possession of a serial killer. Petro’s devoted Auntie Sedina owns a flower-shop in Rome.

  Arria Silvia

  We first meet Petro’s wife on holiday (never a good situation) in Shadows in Bronze. Falco says she and her father eyed up Petronius as a potential husband like two old women in a market selecting a fresh sprat for their festival treat – though he admits Petro was keen on the copper-beater’s cash. Initially, the marriage is successful. Petronius loves his three children and demonstrates romantic feelings for his wife. A slightly built, pretty woman; she had small hands and a neat nose, with soft skin and fine eyebrows like a child’s. But there was nothing soft about Silvia’s character, one aspect of which was a searing opinion of me … [IHM]

  In Time to Depart, Falco says Silvia brings him out in a rash. Their antagonism is mutual, although in early books, when Falco and Helena are starting out together and it still looks as if Silvia’s marriage to Petronius is sound, the two couples enjoy a friendly relationship.

  Despite her being abrasive, it’s clear that during most of their marriage Petro and Silvia rub along well. She was weeping, reduced to a disappointed young woman who felt exhausted beyond her strength. Petro was letting her snuffle on his great shoulder while he went on dreaming to himself… [SB] She genuinely cares for him; we see that when he is knocked unconscious and again when he is devastated by the doctor’s murder in Time to Depart. Under impossible pressure Silvia leaves Petro, taking the children to Ostia when she gets a boyfriend, a potted-salad seller. Petronius then gets himself stationed at Ostia (though partly for my convenience). Silvia seeks a reconciliation – sadly too late. Petronius has moved on. The implacable author has other plans for him. In The Accusers Silvia is depressed and even speaks of suicide, though no more is heard of that.