Time to Depart

by Lindsey Davis

  ‘Back off what?’ I answered pleasantly. ‘Exactly which group of uncompromising social misfits have you been sent to represent?’

  I saw Helena close her eyes in despair, thinking this the wrong attitude. Apologising meekly would have done no better, and I knew it. The men had come to terrorise us; they would not leave until they saw us cowering. They would enjoy inflicting pain. With a pregnant woman, an innocent rookie and a baby to answer for, my main interest was making sure it was me they chose to damage.

  There were two of them and three of us, but we were outranked in power. There seemed no way I could get us out of this, yet I had to try. I would have liked to tackle the small man first, but there was no space to move; my scope for action was limited.

  I said, ‘I think you should leave.’ Then I passed the baby to Porcius and squared up as the wide man came for me.

  It was like being tackled by an altar stone on legs. Like a marble slab full in the guts, he caught me in a wrestling hug. His grip was unbearable, and he was not even trying yet.

  The baby screamed again. The small man spun around to Helena. He grabbed her. Porcius slipped the child out onto the balcony, then he jumped on Helena’s attacker from behind and tried to pull him off. Porcius was yelling, which might have brought help, had any one of my fellow tenants been the type to notice murder happening. They were deaf. We had to sort this out ourselves.

  The others skirmishing did slightly distract my man. I forced my elbows outwards just enough to get my hands down low. I used the squeeze. I used both hands. The wide man’s face creased into an angry grimace, but my attempt to pestle his privates had no other visible effect. I was for it. He lifted me off my feet merely by expanding his chest. He would have raised me overhead, but the room was too small. Turning slowly, he prepared to crash me against a wall instead. I glimpsed Porcius staggering backwards; he had yanked the small man away from Helena. They fell against us; the wide man changed his mind about making wall decoration out of me; Porcius and his captive bounced off again.

  The wide man kept his hold, but swung me back the other way. Now I was to be a weapon; he was intending to attack Porcius using me as a battering ram.

  Suddenly Helena grasped a hot pan of broth from the cooking bench. She upended the vessel over the small man so that the scalding liquor flowed down his face and neck.

  Porcius saw her coming; he let go and sprang back just in time. The small man became a shrieking mess. The wide one shifted his grip on me. He seemed genuinely troubled by his friend’s cries of agony. I was fighting back now. I was doing everything right. It was hopeless – like trying to mould set concrete with bare hands.

  Porcius rushed back, punched the small man a few times, then he and Helena started battering the fellow to chase him out of doors, Helena now trying to brain him with the pan’s red-hot iron base. He was still yelling, and trying to get away. Somehow he found my fallen knife. Next minute he was crouching and making vicious feints with the blade. Helena and Porcius pressed back against the balcony door. Even scalded and trying to pluck boiling-hot lentils from his tunic neck, he was dangerous.

  I was in deep trouble. Every move I made brought me closer to asphyxiation. I pushed the heel of one hand beneath the wide man’s chin, forcing his head back as far as possible. He pulled a face like a demonic mask, but continued to crush me. My other arm seemed useless; he had badly mauled it. I started losing consciousness.

  Then I was aware of other people rushing up the stairs outside. Helena was crying out for help. I heard tramping feet. Suddenly something flew through the air to fasten itself on the great arm that was crushing my head. The wide man yelled and tried to shake himself free; I slid to the floor. My saviour was Nux, her jaws clamped on my attacker, though she still growled loudly.

  The room filled up with shrieking women. The small man dropped the knife; I grabbed it. I lurched to my feet. Without waiting, I plunged my knife into the side of the wide man’s neck. It was a poor blow. There was no time to aim, and he was too large to stop with one stab wound anyway. But it hurt. The blood gushed – always worrying.

  ‘You’re dead!’ I snarled (though I doubted it). He brushed at the cut like a man swatting wine flies – one-handed, because the dog Nux was still hanging on to his other arm with rigidly clenched jaws. The more he hurled her about, the more fiercely the creature clung on.

  A boy slipped through the crush – my nephew Marius. He leapt for the balcony and let out a piercing whistle. ‘Up here, officers – and be quick!’ He was apparently calling down to a troop of vigiles.

  It was all too much. A landing full of extra witnesses – my mother, sister Maia, and Marius – was unwelcome even to our visitors. There was no space for beating anyone up properly. And now Marius had summoned further help. The two of them decided that if the vigiles were coming up they had better rush down. With a mighty effort, the wide one forced the dog’s jaws apart and flung her to the floor.

  ‘Be wise, idiot!’ he shouted at me. Then both men took a run for the door (chased by the little dog, barking ferociously). They barged past Ma and Maia, and thundered downstairs.

  Porcius grabbed the dog by its neck fur and dragged her in as he slammed the door. Nux flung herself against it, still trying to chase the villains. Now tearful, Marius threw himself on me. ‘There, there! They’ve gone now, Marius.’

  ‘When they reach ground level they’ll realise I was whistling at thin air.’

  When they reached ground level they would be exhausted. One was covered in blood, even if his wounds were far from fatal. The other was quite seriously scalded. ‘Trust me, they’ve gone. You were a brave boy.’

  ‘They’ll be back,’ commented Ma.

  ‘Not tonight.’

  We took precautions, then we men started clearing up while the women exclaimed over the incident. I thanked the recruit for his help. ‘You’re a bright lad, Porcius! Where did Petro discover you?’

  ‘I was a cold-meat-seller’s son.’

  ‘Wanted to clean up society?’

  ‘Wanted to get away from pickled brains!’

  Helena had brought in the baby from his refuge on the balcony. She passed him to me; I jiggled him comfortingly, using one arm, though I soon handed him to Ma, for reasons of my own. As his screaming subsided, I watched Helena anxiously. Her face was white, but she seemed calm as she swept her hair up tidily and refixed two side combs just above her ears. We two would talk after the rest had left.

  As I felt my body surreptitiously, checking for permanent damage, I noticed Ma staring at Helena. There was nothing to suggest Helena was feeling bilious, but Ma’s face tightened. Sometimes she piped up at once when she recognised a secret; sometimes it pleased her more to keep quiet. I winked at Helena. Ma said nothing. She didn’t know we knew she knew.

  Helena looked around the disordered room. Catching her eye, the little dog leapt straight into her arms, licking her frantically. As a jumper it could have won a crown at the Olympic Games.

  ‘I am not adopting a dog,’ I tried instructing them both sternly.

  Helena still clutched the mad bundle of fur. The dog was full of life. Well, she was now she saw a chance of worming her way into a cosy home. ‘Of course not,’ Ma said, finding a space to sit down and recover. ‘But the dog seems to have adopted you!’

  ‘Maybe you could train her to guard your clothes at the baths,’ suggested Porcius. ‘We get a lot of theft. It can be very embarrassing to come out naked and find your tunic’s gone.’

  ‘Nobody pinches old rags like the tunics I wear!’

  Ma and Maia were fussing over Marius. Glad to have someone even younger to look down on, Porcius chucked his chin. ‘You’re a quick thinker, Marius! If your uncle’s still in this business when you grow up, you could make him a fine assistant.’

  ‘I’m going to teach rhetoric,’ insisted Marius. ‘I’m grooming my brother to work with our uncle.’

  ‘Ancus?’ I laughed at the way I was being set up. ‘Will he be any
good?’

  ‘He’s useless,’ Marius said.

  Life’s a basket of eggs; I invariably pick out the one that’s cracked.

  Ma and Maia had arrived at a lucky moment, but now I had time to think about it I knew there must be a reason, one I didn’t like. ‘Thanks for interrupting the festivities, but what brought you? Don’t tell me Tertulla’s still lost?’ They nodded, looking grim. Maia reminded me I had promised to organise a search party, and gave me the fabulous news that most of my brothers-in-law – a crass gang of idlers and idiots – would be turning up shortly to assist. I groaned. ‘Look, she’s always running off. I’ve got enough on at the moment. Does a naughty child call for all this fuss?’

  ‘She’s seven years old,’ Maia rebuked me. In silence we all thought about the brutal assaults that could be inflicted on a child.

  ‘Something’s happened.’ Mother pursed her lips. ‘If you can’t help us, perhaps you can suggest what the rest of us can do?’

  ‘I’ll help!’ I snarled.

  ‘Oh you’re busy. We don’t want to trouble you!’

  ‘I said I’ll help!’

  Porcius looked curious. ‘Is this something for the vigiles?’

  ‘Missing child.’

  ‘We’ve had a lot of those lately.’

  ‘Do they turn up?’ I asked.

  ‘They seem to. The parents arrive in hysterics demanding house-to-house investigations, then they come in again looking sheepish, and saying the little one was just at Auntie’s, or out looking for excitement…’ That would have sorted the issue, had he not gone on to report, ‘Petro did think there might be a pattern, but we’ve never had time to look into it.’

  I said, ‘Anyone who kidnaps Tertulla will hand her back pretty quick.’

  ‘Don’t joke,’ retorted Helena, beating Maia to it by half a breath.

  Sighing, I promised to draw up a regular plan for searching. To start with, Helena and my sister could prepare a description for the vigiles. We might as well involve the patrols.

  I would have showed more enthusiasm, but I was trying to hide the fact I was in pain and next to panicking myself. My left arm still hung limp. I was afraid I had suffered permanent harm from the wide man. Porcius finally noticed my distracted air. ‘Oh Falco! You’ve been nadgered – something’s up with your collarbone.’

  I raised an eyebrow. That was still working anyway. ‘You a medical man?’

  Porcius said, ‘Recognising damage was the first part of our training in the vigiles.’

  Helena was upset, mostly because she herself had failed to notice my disablement. Porcius told her he would fetch Scythax, the cohort doctor, to look at me. Suddenly I was being treated like an invalid. When Helena went into the bedroom for a blanket to wrap me in, I told Porcius in a low voice that we ought to have followed the intruders and tried to discover who they were.

  Porcius looked dismayed, but then he smiled. He was tall, well built in a youthful way, and had a rosy glow beneath his outdoor tan. Helping out in the fight, he seemed to have gained confidence. ‘I think I know who they were,’ he assured me. ‘I haven’t met them before, but I bet those two were the Miller and Little Icarus.’

  I was right. I had offended someone – someone I should have left alone. The problem with Tertulla might have to wait. This was far more serious.

  XXXVII

  Porcius went off to fetch Scythax and report to Petronius the bad developments.

  Porcius and I had exchanged a few thoughts: ‘If you’re right, and I have every confidence in your judgement, Porcius –’ he blushed happily – ‘we now know that some of the Balbinus men are back in Rome. That probably means they all are.’

  ‘That makes them suspects for the Emporium raid,’ offered the young recruit. A fast thinker. Good material. Even in the aftermath of a fight he was piecing together the evidence.

  I was thinking myself. ‘Interviewing Lalage, I was with Petro as a member of the cohort. She has no reason to single me out for special treatment. Apart from Nonnius – who’s out of it – the Balbinus females are the only people I’ve visited on my own. The fact that it’s the Miller and Little Icarus who were sent to put me off does point to this being in the family.’ I was convinced this had happened because I had asked too many questions of Flaccida and Milvia. The speed with which they had tracked me down was worrying. I kept that to myself. ‘Maybe we can forget the other gangs. Maybe Petro cut the head off the Balbinus organisation but the body’s still active. We’ll have to find out who’s running it now, Porcius.’ For the safety of my household, we needed to find out fast.

  ‘Do you really think it could be the wife or the daughter, Falco?’

  ‘Or the son-in-law. I haven’t met him yet.’

  ‘Or Lalage,’ Helena put in, refusing to give up her theory. ‘She could easily have taken over the services of the Miller and company.’

  Porcius and I exchanged a surreptitious glance. Face it: it was easier for us to accept that the Balbinus organisation had been hijacked by his deadboat thugs themselves than that it was masterminded by women. Even women as hard-baked as Flaccida and Lalage.

  Neither Porcius nor I were intending to say this to Helena Justina. She came from the same stern mould that had produced the warrior-queen Tanaquil, Cornelia, Volumnia, Livia, and other tough matrons who had never had it mentioned to them that they were supposed to be inferior to men. Personally I like women with ideas. But you have to be genteel when you’re teaching a recruit about life on the streets.

  ‘The Miller and Little Icarus can’t be very bright,’ Helena said. ‘They were frightening, but if they have sneaked back to Rome to run the show they ought to lie low, not draw attention to themselves. Flaccida struck me as clever enough to realise that.’

  ‘Right! So we’re back with Lalage as the queen of intelligent activity!’ I smiled at her.

  Or with somebody we had not thought of yet.

  * * *

  Scythax came quickly. Porcius had made it to the station house in one piece. I had warned him to keep his eyes peeled when he hit street level. He must have told his story with some urgency, for the physician was with us by return. Porcius came back with him, to show him the right house. Petro had sent two members of the foot patrol as guards too. He had recognised the danger I was in.

  Scythax was a brusque Oriental freedman who seemed to suspect malingering. This was understandable. The vigiles patrol-men were always trying to dodge off sick; given the dangers of their work, no one could blame them. Scythax expected people to cry ouch as soon he entered a room; he viewed ‘headaches’, ‘bad backs’ and ‘old knee trouble’ with little patience. He had heard it all before. To get sympathy from Scythax you had to produce a bright red rash or a hernia: something visible or proddable.

  He did concede that my shoulder and arm were genuinely out of action. He was delighted to inform me the shoulder joint was merely dislocated. His treatment would be to manipulate it back into place.

  He did this. ‘Manipulate’ had sounded a gentle enough word. In fact the manoeuvre involved working on me with a brute force that the Miller would have been proud of. I should have realised that when Scythax told Helena and Ma to grip my feet so I couldn’t kick out, while Porcius was to throw himself on my chest with all his weight. Scythax immediately attacked me, bracing his foot against the wall as he leaned back and pulled.

  It worked. It hurt. It hurt a lot. Even Ma had to sit down fanning herself, and Helena was openly in tears.

  ‘There’s no fee,’ Scythax condescended amiably.

  My mother and my girlfriend both made comments that seemed to surprise him.

  To smooth over the angry atmosphere (since he really had mended my shoulder), I managed to gasp, ‘Did you see the body the patrol brought in this morning?’

  ‘Nonnius Albius?’

  ‘You know of him?’

  Scythax peered at me rather wryly, packing away his equipment. ‘I keep abreast of the cohort’s work.’

&nbs
p; ‘So what did you think?’

  ‘What Petronius Longus suggested: the man had been tormented, mostly while he was still alive. Many of the wounds were not fatal in themselves. Somebody had inflicted them to cause pain – it looked like punishment. That fits his position as a squealer who had betrayed his chief.’

  And it called for the same list of suspects as the people who might have taken over afterwards: the Balbinus women, the other gang members, and Lalage.

  ‘He was very ill,’ I mentioned, as the doctor reached the door. ‘Were you able to tell what might have been wrong with him?’

  Scythax reacted oddly. An expression that could almost have been amusement crossed his face, then he said, ‘Nothing much.’

  ‘He was supposed to be dying!’ Helena exclaimed in surprise. ‘That was the whole reason Petronius was able to persuade him to give evidence.’

  ‘Really?’ The freedman was dry. ‘His doctor must have been mistaken.’

  ‘His doctor’s called Alexander.’ I was already growing suspicious. ‘I met him at the house. He seemed as competent as any other Aesculapius.’

  ‘Oh Alexander is an excellent doctor,’ Scythax assured me gravely.

  ‘Do you know him, Scythax?’

  I was prepared for rivalry, or professional solidarity, but not for what I learned instead: ‘He is my brother,’ said Scythax.

  Then he smiled at us like a man who was far too long in the tooth to comment, and left.

  I caught the eye of Petro’s impressionable recruit. His mouth had dropped open as he worked out, slightly slower than I did, the implication of the cohort doctor’s last remark. I said softly, ‘That’s a lesson to you, Porcius. You’re working for a man who is not what he seems. I’m talking about Petronius Longus. He has a mild-mannered reputation – behind which lurks the most devious, evil-minded investigation officer anywhere in Rome!’