Two For The Lions mdf-10

by Lindsey Davis

  I noticed that although there was loose corn sprinkled on a bare patch of ground, the geese were foraging in a heap of faded grass clippings. Interesting. I cleaned my boot on some of the greenery that had been supplied to the hissing guard-poultry" "I have to talk to you about your corn supply."

  The custodian groaned. "Nothing to do with me!"

  "The weekly sacks of grain?"

  "I keep telling them we don't want so much."

  "Who do you tell?"

  "The drivers."

  "And what do they do with the surplus?"

  "Take it back to the granary, I guess."

  "The geese don't eat corn?"

  "Oh if I scatter some for them they toss it about a bit"

  But they prefer greens."

  "Where do you get their green feed then?"

  "The men at Caesar's Gardens; they bring me their clippings. It eases the load, given that they have to cart their rubbish outside the city. And some of the herbalists who have market stalls bring me unsold bundles when they're getting limp, rather than carry them home again."

  This was classic bureaucracy. Some clerk believed that the Sacred Geese required a large supply of grain because his predecessors had left him a brief saying so. Nobody ever asked the keeper of the poultry yard to confirm what was needed. He probably did complain to the drivers, but the drivers didn't want to know. No chance they would report back to the suppliers at the Granary of the Galbae. The suppliers were being paid by the Treasury so they kept on posting out the sacks. If you could find the original order clerk it could be put right; but nobody ever did find him.

  "What's the rationale for the corn then?"

  "If the poor can have a corn dole, so can Juno's geese. They saved Rome. The city shows its gratitude."

  "What; a hundred thousand skivers receive their vouchers for free corn-and one of the dockets is routinely made out to the Sacred Honkers? I suppose they get best white loaf wheat too?"

  "No, no," soothed their elderly gooseboy, who was slow to appreciate irony.

  "This has been going on for five hundred years?"

  "All my time," nodded the custodian self-righteously.

  "Is it possible," I asked, wearily because my cold was getting the better of me now, "That the drivers take your rejects away and sell off the sacks cheap?"

  "Oh gods, don't ask me," scoffed the custodian. "I'm just stuck here talking to birds all day."

  I told him I did not want to worry him, but he really ought to think about it seriously since today's sacks must have been tampered with. He could have ended up in charge of a pile of pillow feathers. When I mentioned the dead ostrich, he did finally react.

  "Ostriches!" It had brought forth real contempt. "Those bastards will eat anything, you know. They like to swallow stones." He seemed fonder of his geese now, by comparison.

  "The ostriches don't object to corn, and it looks as if they get it," I said shortly. "Look, this is serious. First we had better collect up what you've put down today, and then don't give the geese any more unless you've tested that sack on some bird who's not sacred."

  It took a bit of persuasion, but the threat of losing his charges worked in the end" I tied Nux to a tree-where the geese came and pretended to mob her-then the custodian and I spent half an hour on our knees, carefully picking up every speck of corn we could see.

  "So what's this about?" he asked me when we finally stood up and stretched our aching backs.

  "It's part of a war to the death between the keepers of the wild beast menageries that supply the arena. If their stupidity has brought them too close to the Sacred Geese, it needs to be stopped right now. I have to find out how and when the sack that did for the ostrich found its way off the granary cart-"

  "Oh I can tell you that."

  "How come?"

  "The drivers always stop at the caupona at the bottom of the hill and have a warming drink before they toddle off again. In winter they have their beaker indoors. Anyone who knows their habits could come and have a quiet word about any spare sacks on the cart. Of course it would be risky-the sacks are labelled for the geese. What's just happened must have been a one-off."

  "Reckon so?"

  I thought Calliopus' ostriches had probably been fed cheaply on the sacred grain for longer than the custodian wanted me to think. It was possible-and indeed it was the most plausible solution-that this cheery old fellow took a cut from the grainsack scam. Doing so was probably the traditional perk of his job. I could land him in big trouble if I reported it-but I wasn't after him.

  "Thanks for your help."

  "I'll have to put in a report about my geese being nearly poisoned today."

  "Oh don't do that, or we'll all have to waste a great deal of time over it."

  "What's your name?" he insisted.

  "Didius Falco. I work for the Palace. Trust me; I'll deal with this. I'm intending to interrogate the man behind the poisoning. It shouldn't happen again-but take my advice: if you don't want all the corn sacks, ask your superiors to reduce the official order. Otherwise, one day some interfering auditor with less good manners than me is going to raise a stink."

  There must have been unwanted corn coming up to the Capitol since records began. I could have just ended one of the Empire's most historic supply rackets. Vespasian would be proud of me. On the other hand, there were going to be some pretty skinny ostriches entertaining the crowds. Our new Emperor wanted to be popular; he might prefer me to ignore the stolen sacks and keep the exotics big and fit.

  I picked up Nux for her own safely. As I left, the custodian was still muttering about his duly to inform various official… that disaster had been leveled at the precious geese. I reckoned it was all for show. He must know it was best to keep quiet.

  Once he realised that I had stopped listening, he returned to his normal tasks. Walking down the hill towards the corner of the Forum, I heard him teasing the sacred birds with an affectionate cry of "Roasted in Green Sauce!"

  It was about then I realised that while I had taken my eyes off her, Nux must have been rolling in the unpleasant goose droppings.

  XXVII

  Helena Justina placed a deliciously cool hand on my forehead, then told me I was certainly not going out again. She carried the baby off to another room, and set herself to look after me. This could be fun. She had seen me battered by villains plenty of times, but in the three years I had known her I had probably not had a streaming cold.

  "I keep telling you to dry your hair properly before you leave the baths."

  "It's nothing to do with wet hair."

  "And your arm's so horribly burned. You're probably feverish."

  "I'll need nursing then," I suggested hopefully.

  "Bedrest?" asked Helena, in a rather mocking tone. Her eyes had the glint of a girl who knows her loved one is sinking, and will be in her power.

  "And massage?" I pleaded.

  "Too soft. I'll prepare you a good strong aloe purge."

  This was just banter. She could see I was not malingering. Lunch was bestowed upon me, with the daintiest titbits tenderly passed my way. Wine was warmed. My boots were eased off and replaced with slippers' A steaming bowl of pine oil was prepared for me to breathe under a napkin. A message was sent to the Saepta to inform Anacrites I had retired hurt and was being kept at home" Like a pupil granted a day off school, I felt better at once.

  "You can't go out to dinner tonight-"

  "I have to." Playing the dutiful patient under the napkin, I called out the story of the dead ostrich and the Sacred Geese.

  "That's terrible. Imagine the furore if the geese had been killed instead. Marcus, the last thing Vespasian needs at this juncture is the public imagination inflamed by a bad omen."

  From all I had heard, Vespasian was himself pretty superstitious; it went with being country born. I popped out of the inhalent tent and was firmly pushed back under again. "Don't worry," I coughed as the aromatic heat enveloped me. "I warned the custodian to keep his mouth shut-
"

  "Keep breathing." Thanks, darling!

  "Vespasian need never know."

  Helena sounded crisp: "Saturninus should be challenged, however. He must be behind poisoning the sacks of corn, as revenge for Calliopus freeing his leopardess."

  "It wouldn't have been in anyone's interest to kill Juno's geese."

  "No. So the threat of unwanted imperial attention might help cool the quarrel. I'll go to dinner with Saturninus tonight and warn him-"

  "Either we cry off-or we both go."

  "Well then; I'll do the talking." All my life women who reckoned they knew what was good for me had been telling me that.

  I nodded, as best I could in my position, crouched over the inhalant bowl, for once grateful not to have to take control. I could trust Helena to say the right thing and to ask the right questions.

  Bored, I came up for air, only to wish myself hidden again. We had a visitor: Smaractus must have been watching to see if I came home for lunch. The fact that he had allowed me long enough to eat it and to mellow warned me that his mission must be serious.

  "Is there a funny smell here, Falco?" He must have caught a whiff of the goose dung Nux had wallowed in.

  "Well, it's either something nasty the landlord ought to clear away-or it's the landlord himself: What do you want? I'm ill; make it quick."

  "They say you're involved with the new amphitheatre opening."

  Blowing my nose, I made no reply.

  Smaractus squirmed with ingratiating oiliness. Now I really felt sick. "I wondered if there was any chance of you putting in a word for me, Falco?"

  "Olympus! I must be delirious."

  "No, you heard him," said Helena.

  I was about to tell him to jump in the Tiber wearing lead-soled boots, when loyally to Lenia prevailed. I wanted to get her off my back, for one thing. "It would be a pleasure." With luck it just sounded as though a sore throat made me croak, not reluctance to utter those charming words. "I'll make a bargain, Smaractus. Sign the release for the dowry and divorce Lenia, then I'll see what I can do. If not, well you know my position; as an old friend, I promised to help her sort out her affairs. She would never forgive me if I did more for you than for her."

  He was furious. "I'll see her in Hades first."

  "I'll draw you a map of how to find the Styx. It's your decision. Your outfit is hardly on the list for the opening ceremony. Your gladiators' school is struggling-"

  "Only struggling to expand, Falco!"

  "Think about my terms then. There will be fabulous pickings when the amphitheatre opens. But a man has to act on his principles-" Smaractus wouldn't recognise a principle if it walked up on six legs and bit the end of his nose.

  I buried my head under the napkin and lost myself in soothing steam. I heard a growl, but I did not investigate. Lenia would soon tell me if he did anything-useful or otherwise.

  Various other visitors tried to bother me that afternoon, but by then I was tucked up in bed with the dog warming my feet and the bedroom door firmly closed. As I dozed I was vaguely aware of Helena's voice dismissing the intruders. One sounded like Anacrites. Then I heard my young nephew Gaius, no doubt being bribed to look after Julia for us that night. Another, I was more sorry to hear, could have been my old pal Petronius, but he too was sent away. I found out later he had brought me some wine, his favourite remedy for colds as it was for everything. There are doctors who agree with him" Mind you, there are doctors who will agree anything. Plenty of dead patients could testify to that.

  Eventually, just when I felt happy to stay where I was for the rest of the week, Helena roused me and brought me a basin of hot water to wash. I made a cursory effort with a sponge and comb, then pulled on several undertunics and finally the new russet garment. It was so pristine it was just waiting to have a really purple sauce accidentally spilled down it. It felt too bulky, and the sleeves resisted free movement. Whereas my old green number had sat on me like a second skin, in this one I was, constantly aware of itchy cloth and folds I wasn't expecting. It smelt of fullers' chemicals too.

  Helena Justina made herself deaf to my muttering. Once I was ready-as ready as I was prepared to make myself-I lay on the bed and watched glumly as she quietly dressed her hair. Before she left her father's house to live with me, maids would have curled her long soft locks with hot tongs, but now she had to comb, wind and spear her hair herself: She had become adept with the fine knobbed pins; she made no complaint. Then she peered into a blurry bronze hand mirror, trying to apply wineless rouge and lupinseed powder by the dim light of a small oil lamp. At that point she did start muttering to herself: December was a poor month for beautification. The fine eye-work with colours drawn from green glass flasks on silver spatulas entailed bending close to the rectangular mirror set into her jewel casket, and even that caused explosions of frustration. I heaved myself upright and refilled the lamp for her, not that it seemed to help. And I was in her way, apparently.

  According to Helena she was not really bothering. That would be why this took over an hour.

  Just when I was comfortable and nodding off again, she pronounced herself ready to escort me to dinner. She was now tastefully bedecked in pale green, with her amber necklace and wooden-soled slippers, topped off by a thick winter wrap that hung around her rather alluringly. She made a graceful contrast to me in my tortuous russet.

  "You look very smart, Marcus." I sighed. "I've borrowed my parents' litter so you won't be exposed to the weather. It's a cold evening though-" As if the new tunic were not trouble enough, then she hit me with the ultimate embarrassment: "You could wear your Gallic coat!"

  Bought in Lower Germany in a rash moment, this was a sturdy, shapeless, warm felt robe. It had wide sewn-on sleeves that stuck out at right angles and a ludicrous pointed hood. It was intended to be storm-proof; Stylishness had not been part of its make up. I had sworn never to be seen in my home city wearing anything so crude" But I must have been really sick that night: despite all protests, Helena somehow swaddled me in my Gallic coat, fastening the toggles under my chin as if I was three years old.

  Now I knew I should have stayed in bed. I had planned to waylay Saturninus with my sophistication. Instead, I arrived at his smart house, bundling out of a borrowed litter with a runny nose, fevered eyes, and looking like some little hunchbacked Celtic forest god. What made me most furious was that I realised Helena Justina was laughing at me.

  XXVIII

  Saturninus and his wife lived near the Quirinal Hill. Every room in their house had been painted about three months before by professional fresco artists. The couple owned a large quantity of silver furniture, which they scattered with bright cushions in compelling shades. The neat legs of the couches and side-tables buried themselves in luxurious fur rugs-some still with the heads on. I just managed to avoid stuffing my left foot into a dead panther's dentistry.

  As I was led in and divested of my outer garments, I gathered the wife was called Euphrasia. She and her husband came civilly to welcome us the moment we arrived. She was an extremely handsome woman, about thirty, darker-skinned than him, with a generous mouth, and gorgeous, gentle eyes.

  She led us to a warm dining room decorated in rich red and black. Folding doors led into a colonnaded garden which Saturninus said they used for meals in summer. He showed us briefly; there was a sparkling grotto made from coloured glass and seashells at the far end. With kindly expressions of concern for my health, he brought us back in and had me placed near a brazier.

  We were the only guests. Apparently their idea of entertaining was to keep the party intimate. Well, that fitted with what I had been told about the night they dined with ex-praetor Urtica.

  I tried to remember I was here to work, though in fact the house was so comfortable and my hosts so easygoing that I found I was starting to forget. I had instinctively distrusted Saturninus, yet I was helpless in less than half an hour.

  Luckily Helena stayed alert. Once we had talked of this and that, while eating this an
d that in generous, highly spiced portions, and while I was trying to stop my nose running after the spices, she weighed straight in: "So tell me what your background is. How did you come to Rome?"

  Saturninus stretched his wide frame on his couch. He seemed characteristically relaxed. He was in a grey tunic almost as new as mine, with gold torque bracelets on his upper arms, his fingers glittering with heavy seal rings. "I came over from Tripolitania-oh, about twenty years ago. I was freeborn and favoured in life. My family was well off; cultured, leaders of the local community. We had land, though like most people not enough of it-"

  "This was where? What's your home town?" Helena believed most people were over-keen to impart their life histories, and as a rule she made a point of not asking them. But when she did, she was unstoppable.

  "Lepcis Magna."

  "That's one of the three cities that the province takes its name from?"

  "Right. The others are Oea and Sabratha. Of course 1 will tell you Lepcis is the most significant."

  "Of course." Helena had been speaking in a bright, enquiring voice as if making casual conversation, though as a rather nosy guest. The lanista talked with ease and confidence. I believed his claim that in Lepcis his family were people of substance. But that left a large question mark. Helena smiled: "I don't mean to be impertinent, but when a man from a good background ends up as a lanista, there must be a story behind it."

  Saturninus thought about it. I noticed Euphrasia was watching him. They seemed a companionable couple, but like many wives she viewed her partner with a faint veil of amusement, as though he didn't fool her. I also thought the gentle eyes could be deceptive.

  Her husband shrugged. If he had fought in the arena, he had based his life on taking up challenges. I reckon he knew Helena was no easy touch, and perhaps the risk of giving away too much appealed to him. "I left home claiming I was off to become important in Rome."

  "And so you were too proud to go back before you made your name?" Helena and he were like old friends laughing together sympathetically over the faults of one of them. Saturninus was pretending to be honest; Helena pretended to go along with it.