The Jupiter Myth mdf-14

by Lindsey Davis

  It may have helped Petronius Longus. His discussion with the governor must have been fairly forceful, and he obtained a decent escort for a plan he still had. I learned next morning that at nearly nightfall, Petro crossed the river and rode out to the Norbanus villa. He was convinced it must be searched that night, so he chinked off on horseback in the eerie light of torches. I knew why: he had decided that Florius – not Norbanus – had been secretly staying there.

  Much later, Petronius returned to Londinium, disappointed. His search party had failed to find any evidence. The villa seemed to have been stripped. A guard was left, with orders to conduct a meticulous search the following morning in the light and then to wait in case either gangster should return. Petronius rode most of the way back to town, but it was too dark to cross the river so he stopped off at the mansio on the south bank where he had been lodging, and slept there. That was good because if he had been given next morning's message in person, I know he would have sneaked off and dealt with it alone. I mean the message that Popillius brought for Petro from the two gang leaders.

  Popillius arrived at breakfast time. He looked embarrassed. Since Petronius was absent, the governor ordered the lawyer to speak up. Anxiously Popillius repeated the message from Norbanus and Florius. When we heard it, we accepted that he had acted as a go-between from decent motives. Popillius had realised the situation was desperate. So did we.

  The text was brutal. It was a ransom demand, though not for money. The gang said they had Maia. They were offering to return her – in exchange for Petronius.

  L

  There was panic. A swift search revealed that my sister was nowhere at the residence. Nobody had seen her for at least a day. The residence was large and people came and went at will. Then in the excitement over identifying the gangsters, she had not been missed. Her room looked the same as when Helena and I went in there yesterday morning; Maia had not slept here last night. Worse, although the gangsters had not mentioned them, none of her children could be found.

  All anyone could remember was that Maia had considered accepting the invitation to visit the Norbanus villa. I now wondered if Petronius had been anxious last night over more than the hunt for Florius. Had he gone chasing off there in the dark because he was afraid Maia might have been lured to the gang's hideout? Of course, she did not know Norbanus was a villain. Maia had shared the general opinion that her admirer was 'a nice man'.

  Aelia Camilla anxiously admitted she had given Maia permission to use the procurator's boat. This vessel, which I knew to be a substantial flat-bottomed barge capable of plying up the coast, was now missing from its mooring. Its crew were gone too.

  Petronius was found. His immediate response was to rage at me for 'allowing' my sister so much freedom.

  'Oh, don't be ridiculous.' Terrified for her, I flared up myself. 'Maia does what she wants. She never answers to me, or anyone. If I tried to stop her, on the pathetic grounds of being her male guardian, she would behave even more defiantly – and probably sock me in the eye first.'

  'She's unwittingly put herself in the wrong place,' murmured Helena. 'She doesn't know who she is dealing with.'

  'I'm afraid of her reaction,' Petro growled. 'Maia will speak out, and feisty confrontations with violent criminals are damned dangerous. If they knock her about…' He checked.

  'Norbanus may still be charming,' Helena tried to reassure him. The thought of Maia enjoying a lovers' tryst with Norbanus produced no happy reactions in Petro and me. 'Anyway, Lucius, you didn't find them at the villa. Tell yourself she's safe. Maybe Norbanus really does like her.'

  'He set it up.' Petro's reaction was darker. 'Right from the start he was using her as bait.'

  'Florius.' I was ahead of him. Well, it was obvious. 'Norbanus approached her, because he was a stranger. Florius had to keep away; he might have been recognised. But Florius is behind this scam. Norbanus could visit the governor in safety. At first it was to find out what Frontinus knew about the Jupiter protection gang, but once you were identified as one of the vigiles, Petro -'

  'Bloody governor should have kept quiet! Florius would have known at once that if their British operation was to flourish they had to get me out of the way.'

  I agreed. 'Florins carefully planned this as a means to get to you. From the moment they knew you were affectionate with Maia, she was a marked woman.'

  'The harpist,' said Helena. 'He was put here to spy – and it won't have taken him long to know Petronius was very close to Maia and her family. The children were always talking about you, Lucius.'

  'One of the children's most vocal worries was why you had vanished, when you went under cover,' I groaned. 'The gang would have seen immediately why. They may have bought off the half-baked Londinium troops, but you were a different proposition.'

  'And they could get to you through Maia,' Helena said. Petronius shook his head. 'I don't see why they would think that.'

  'Don't fool yourself,' I said tersely.

  'She treats me like -'

  'Oh stop being dense! We all know what's up. Anyway, the harpist saw her go to your room that night.'

  'What?' Helena riveted me with accusing eyes. Petronius himself, normally so relaxed, bit back any comment, but his annoyance was plain. Now they both knew that I had been a witness. My discretion over the incident won me no laurel crowns.

  Restraining his anger, Petronius still tried to gloss it over: 'Just a fling…'

  It was Helena's turn to lose her temper. 'Juno! Lucius Petronius, how can you be so hopeless? It's plain to everyone what Maia feels.'

  He glared. 'Not to me.'

  'Oh, let me tell you then!' Helena prowled the room. She was edgy and desperately worried about Maia. 'You drink too much, you flirt too much, you do dangerous work,' she rattled off. '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.' Petronius looked startled. Helena brought him down to earth: 'And there have been plenty! Maia wants you – but she doesn't want to be deceived by you. Her children love you – she doesn't want them to be let down. And now if you don't do something,' said Helena more quietly, stopping in her tracks, 'she will die because of you.'

  'That won't happen.'

  'So why,' demanded Helena furiously, 'are you just sitting here?'

  'Because this is the game,' Petronius said baldly. He was indeed sitting (in a chair Maia herself had often used). His face was strained, but he must have slept last night and I had seen him look worse on many other occasions. He explained in a grim tone: 'They will give her back and take me instead – but first Florius has to toy with me.' He was right. Florius would humiliate him and torture him with fear for Maia. Only then would Florius reel him in. 'It's no fun unless I suffer. I am sitting here because I now have to wait until the bastard sends instructions.'

  Petronius was very quiet and still. He knew exactly what fate awaited him if he gave himself up to the Florius gang. With Maia at stake, he would make the sacrifice.

  LI

  They gave us a day and another night to suffer. While he waited for his next message, Petronius stayed at the residence. He ate sparingly, rested, occasionally sharpened his sword. He would not be allowed to use it. They would want him unarmed. This obsessive routine was just the old legionary's way of keeping sane before an action. I was doing the same.

  I had my own tensions. From the moment Helena understood how serious the position was for Petronius, she made me responsible for saving him. Her dark eyes beseeched me to do something. I had to look away. If there had been anything I could have done, it would have been in hand.

  Officialdom had finally swung into action. I could not decide if I approved, but it was reassuring to have some movement that was independent of the gangsters. The governor took personal control. He had men very quietly searching every known place connected to the Jupiter empire. Unlike the usual noisy raids conducted by government agencies, the troops went in in small gro
ups, lacking only fur slippers to deaden their footfall. One at a time, they picked through all the bars and other premises that had overt links with the enforcers. The Norbanus house and the villa downstream had already been gone over and sealed.

  Piecing together evidence for the gang's past routine, Frontinus now reckoned they used to collect their gains in the warehouse on the wharf for security, then Florius would come from the villa to transport it downstream in his small boat. A larger oceangoing craft probably nosed up the estuary and took moneychests on board from the villa's landing stage, before making for Italy. Since Petro's search party yesterday evening had found nothing at the villa, it must all have been sent overseas quite recently and would not yet have reached Rome. The navy, the grandly named British Fleet which patrolled the northern waters, had been alerted, though it might be too late to intercept the latest consignment. A cordon was now in place between Britain and Gaul, though realistically the gang might yet slip through. A message was signalled back home to the vigiles. Both Rome and Ostia would be on the alert. It would be a pleasant irony if Florius and Norbanus were brought down through charges relating to import tax. But the penalty would only be a heavy fine, so that would not suit Petronius.

  We knew Florius was still in Britain. We assumed Norbanus was. Petro's most favoured venue for apprehending them was the warehouse where the baker had been killed. His customs contacts said it had been deserted, but he clung to his theory. The governor believed he could apprehend the fly-by-nights at the brothel. That was his bet as the place where, at the very last minute, my sister would be exchanged for Petronius.

  'Seems fair,' agreed Petronius, in his dry tone. He looked at me, with an expression I remembered from when centurions gave us information we distrusted, back in the legions years ago. He thought the governor was way off. Florius would know now that Petronius had had the brothel under surveillance; he was unlikely ever to reappear there.

  Petronius and I continued to wait at the residence. We had stopped honing our swords.

  The next message arrived in the early evening. This time they did not use Popillius, but a driver who jumped off a passing delivery cart and grabbed the residence steward by the neck of his tunic. In a hoarse whisper, the slave was told, 'The swap will be at Caesar's Baths! Longus is to come in an hour. Tell him – alone and unarmed. Try anything, and the woman gets it!' The man vanished, leaving the steward almost uncertain that anything happened. Luckily he still had the sense to report it straight away.

  There was no question of Petronius going solo. Nor could he go unarmed. He was a big lad, with a distinctive build; we had ruled out sending in a decoy. This was it.

  Provincial governors do not jump to attention just because some lowlife makes the call. Julius Frontinus surveyed the evidence cautiously, before he too decided this was genuine. 'It's right away from the river if they intend making a getaway. But it is near the Norbanus house; maybe they hid Maia Favonia somewhere we missed.' He drew himself up. 'Maybe she was at these baths, or at the bar adjacent to them, all along.'

  Petro and I let it pass. We knew we would not be sent directly to the place where they were holding Maia. Petronius would be drawn to a meet, probably via several staging posts, then Maia would be brought to the last spot – if the gang believed the situation safe.

  'I'd like to put a search party into those baths.' Luckily Frontinus worked out for himself that that would jeopardise everything. 'We just have time to assemble the support team at the venue,' he told us. 'We shall be in place ready, before you two arrive.'

  We nodded. We both still wore our old sceptical expression. I saw Helena gazing at us curiously.

  When almost an hour had passed, Petronius and I combed our hair like boys going out to a party, checked our belts and bootstraps, and solemnly gave each other the legionaries' salute. We set off together, side by side. Behind us at a safe distance came Helena in her aunt's carrying chair, which would bring Maia home if we achieved the exchange. My role was to watch what happened – and find some way to rescue Petronius straight after the swap.

  We walked steadily, shoulder to shoulder. We paid no great attention to whether we were followed or observed; we knew we would be tailed by the governor's men and we expected the gang to have lookouts too. We travelled at a pace that gave messengers time to nobble us. This happened as soon as we turned left on the Decumanus, heading for the bridge over the stream.

  It was the dogman who stepped out in our way. With his group of skinny, mangy hunting curs careering around his legs, he was unmistakable. 'Is one of you Petronius?'

  We stopped and Petro acknowledged his name courteously.

  'Listen to this then.' His long-nosed hounds nuzzled us, gently slobbering on our tunics and bootstraps. 'I was told to tell you, "The meet has been changed. Go to the Shower of Gold". Does it make sense?'

  'Oh yes.' Petronius was almost cheerful. He had bet me the first assignation was a bluff. Luckily I had agreed, so I lost no money. We had enough at stake.

  The governor and his men would sit around outside Caesar's Baths, trying to hide behind bollards and drinking troughs. Petronius would be forced to abandon their support and walk into trouble at some other location.

  We executed an infantry turn in two smart stages. Anyone watching should have been impressed by our precision marching. Now instead of heading northwest we were heading southeast. We walked back past the chair, dividing one each side, and nodded politely to Helena as she stared out at us anxiously.

  'New venue. Don't worry. We expected it.'

  We then passed a troubled fellow, the governor's tail, who was trying to make himself invisible in a doorway while he panicked about our change of plan.

  'Shower of Gold next!' announced Petronius loudly, hoping the man would realise we were not just going back home for a forgotten neckerchief: someone ought to inform the governor that things were more complicated than he had hoped. There could be several of these redirection yet.

  We reached the narrow side road where we had to turn off, then all too soon we halted at the entrance to the tavern's own filthy byway. It was unlit and lying silent. We could see the Shower of Gold halfway along, its door outlined by a faint gleam of lamplight. We stood there, observing. Nothing moved.

  Now we were in a predicament we both dreaded: stuck at one end of a deserted alley, with dusk falling rapidly, in the certain knowledge that someone was waiting somewhere down that alley, intending to surprise and kill us. This was an ambush. It had to be. These situations always are.

  LII

  It was a still evening, with a pervasive cloud cover. It felt cool. The storm had reduced the sultry temperature, but you could still go without a cloak and be comfortable. Dampness was taking over, however. Mist from the nearby river and marshes made our skin and hair sticky. In Britain in late August nightfall varies with the weather. Had it been fine, we would still have had plenty of light. But rain was hovering nearby. In the narrow entry we peered through murk at shadows which could be hiding any kind of trouble.

  Petronius sucked his teeth and swore. 'Classic!'

  The alley looked like a dead end. I could not remember.

  I had only ever come and gone one way. 'I'm twitchy.'

  'Me too.'

  'It's your call.'

  He thought for a moment. 'You'll have to wait here and cover this junction. If we both go in, there's no way out behind us.'

  'Stay in sight as long as you can then.'

  'They'll make me go inside the bar.'

  'No, don't go in unless they send Maia out.' I knew he would ignore that if he believed she was inside.

  We made no move.

  Adjacent buildings lay in darkness. It was difficult to tell if they were houses or commercial premises. In the absence of sun terraces or balconies with windowboxes to laze on, the population had vanished like razor shells in sand. None of the scents I would expect in Rome were present. No resins, or fragrant herbs, or flower garlands, or subtle bath oils pervaded these
chilly streets. They seemed to have neither public bakery ovens nor apartment griddles on the go. Peering at the roofline, all I could see were pantiles and ridge tiles. Windows were closely latched with dense wooden shutters. I glanced behind. Some distance away down the wider cart track I could see Helena's chair. Its discreetly armed bearers stood in position, motionless. Following instructions, Helena remained hidden behind drawn curtains.

  'If they stuff you in the bloody well, remember – hold your breath until I come and pull you out.'

  'Thanks for the advice, Falco. I never would have thought of that.'

  This was a quiet city. No one else seemed to be in the vicinity. No late night cobblers or copper-beaters worked in their artisan booths. Pedestrians were missing. Where Rome would have had a cacophony of delivery carts after sunset, with their wheels trundling, their loads crashing and their drivers famously cursing, Londinium operated no curfew and lay still.

  Silence. Silence and now a fine drift of miserable rain. Londinium, where Petronius and I as earnest young men had seen the worst of human grief. Once a desert of ashes and blood, now a city of small ambitions and great terror.

  'Well, here we are again. Londinium. This bloody place.'

  'Next time we'll know to stay away.'

  'I'll just be happy if there is a next time for anything.'

  'You optimist!' grinned Petronius. Then all at once some hidden device in his soul triggered him; he squared his wide shoulders, touched my elbow in an informal farewell, and set off.

  He walked on light feet, constantly looking everywhere. He kept moving, but he made a gentle pace. Halfway to the bar, he crossed from left to right and paused, turning sideways to scrutinise the house walls opposite. I saw the pale gleam of his face as he glanced my way, then it changed and I knew he was staring down to the far end of the alley. I moved to the corner, intending to scan the other street side.