A Body In The Bath House

by Lindsey Davis

  'Well,' I said quietly. 'I don't suppose Pomponius had many friends here.' That did raise a cynical murmur. 'Most of you represent larger groups; in theory, anyone off the site could have born a grudge and gone for him last night.' Downcast eyes and silence were now my only reward for this frankness. 'But my starting point,' I warned them, 'is that the killer, or killers, was somebody of status. They are permitted to use the King's bath house and last night Pomponius accepted their presence when they joined him in the caldarium. That rules out the labourers.'

  'Ruling us in?' concluded Magnus wryly.

  'Yes.'

  'I object!'

  'Out of order, Magnus. Pomponius will receive the same consideration as anyone. Being a bad team leader, even a highly unpopular one, does not excuse violent removal. Brutus and Cassius realised that.'

  'So you would have offered a crown to Pomponius, Falco?' Magnus scoffed.

  'You know what I thought. I loathe that type - it changes nothing,' I said tersely. 'He still gets a funeral, a Daily Gazette obituary and a courteous report on his demise for his grieving parents and the old friends in his hometown.'

  I nearly said and for his lovers. But that meant Plancus, for one. He was a suspect.

  Plancus had already handed in his tablet; I glanced at it, looking casual. He claimed he was dining with Strephon. Strephon still held his own tablet, but I knew it would confirm the tale. There was supposedly no love lost between the two junior architects, yet they had somehow produced cover for each other last night. Was it true? If true, was it pre-arranged? And if so, was taking a meal together normal or exceptional?

  People had noticed me looking at the Plancus offering. There was a general move to collect and deposit the other statements. I publicly declined to look through the tablets. Camillus Aelianus, still laid up with his bitten leg, could play with these fabrications for me. I had no patience with their obstructiveness.

  Magnus was still trying to force issues. 'Surely your concern, as the Emperor's man, is how losing Pomponius causes yet another hitch in the project?'

  'The project will not suffer.' I had worked this one out while I lay awake in bed last night.

  'Shit, Falco - now on top of everything, there is no project manager!'

  'No need to panic.'

  'We need one -'

  'You have one.' My tooth gave a twinge, so I may have sounded curter than I meant. 'For the immediate future, I myself will take over.'

  Once the words were out, it made me gulp myself.

  As their outrage boiled up, I interrupted levelly: 'Yes, Pomponius was an architect, which I am not. But the design is good - and it is complete. We have Plancus and Strephon to take forward the concept; they will be assigned two wings each to supervise. Other disciplines and crafts are controlled by you people. You were chosen as leaders in your field; you can all cope with autonomy. Report to me on progress and problems.'

  'You have no professional training -' gasped Cyprianus. He seemed truly shocked.

  'I shall have your competent guidance.'

  'Oh stick to your brief, Falco!' Magnus roared. I had suspected that Magnus would seek control himself. Maybe I would recommend it - but not while he was, with the rest, under suspicion for Pomponius' death.

  'My brief, Magnus, is to steer this project back on target.'

  'I concede you are a tough auditor. But do you think you have the expertise to supervise?'

  'That would be nonsense.' I kept my reply gentle. 'In the long term Rome has to appoint a man with standing and professional skills.' Plus man-management and diplomacy, if I had any say. 'It will not necessarily be another architect.' Magnus cheered up. 'In the interim, I can supply common sense and initiative enough to stitch things together until we appoint a replacement.'

  'Oh, this needs approval from the governor, Falco.'

  'I agree.'

  'He won't allow it.'

  'I'll be pushed out then. But Frontinus is renowned for technical nous and practicality - I know him. I've worked with him. I came to Britain because he asked for me.'

  That silenced most of them. Magnus did mutter, 'Someone else seems to have a lust for power!' I ignored that. So he sought to bamboozle me with 'We're held up by some major indecisions, Falco.'

  'Try me.'

  'Well, what is to be done about incorporating the old house?' he demanded with ill-concealed truculence.

  'The King wants it. The King is an experienced client, prepared to endure any inconvenience - so go ahead. Raise the floor levels and bring the existing palace into the new design. Had you already looked into this?'

  'We did a feasibility study,' Magnus affirmed.

  'Let's define that,' I offered light-heartedly. 'Feasibility: the client proposes a project, which everyone can see will never happen. Work is held in abeyance. Some disciplines do carry out independent preliminary work, failing to inform the project manager that they are doing so. The scheme then revives unexpectedly, and is thrown into the formal programme with inadequate planning...'

  Magnus finally had the grace to soften up.

  'Strephon!' I disturbed his dreams. 'I said we'd divide the blocks between you and Plancus. You take the east and south wings, including the old house. Consult with Magnus over its incorporation, then bring your conclusions to the next meeting, please. Anything else?'

  'My bloody collection tank!' put in Rectus gloomily. He was a man who came to site meetings expecting to be thwarted.

  'Present your docket and I'll sign for it. Anyone else?'

  'The King requests a large formal tree in the central garden,' ventured Timagenes. 'Pomponius had vetoed it - well, it ought to be a pair of trees '

  'Trees agreed.' I had not envisaged that this trip to Britain would include arboretum planting. Hades, I was game for anything now. 'Trees, feature quality, two of same. Agree a species with the client, please.' Next I glared at Cyprianus. 'Did you ever obtain a chief stonemason?' I could hardly remember who had mentioned it. Lupus, perhaps.

  'Well...' For once I had caught out Cyprianus, who looked startled.

  'Has your mason been assigned or not?'

  'No.'

  'Bull's balls - your footings are in, you need to start - I'll courier Rome and plead extreme urgency. Give me the name you want and his current location, plus a second best in case.'

  'Rome has already been told all the details, Falco -'

  'With Rome,' I snapped, 'I always tell the full story every time I communicate. That way, no snooty clerk can thwart you with the old incomplete documentation trick.'

  There seemed no point continuing the meeting so I called a halt. Magnus leapt for the door first, tight-lipped and clutching his instrument satchel as if he wanted to swipe me with it. I signalled to Alexas that now was the time to deal with the bath-house corpse, but Verovolcus stopped me leaving. I could hardly sweep the others out with a besom, so they all hushed and listened in.

  'Falco, the King suggests that perhaps Marcellinus -'

  'Could be called back here to assist?' I was as brisk with Verovolcus as I had been with the rest. I had expected his plea. Instinctively I was opposed to allowing the old menace to return. It was time someone stopped him agitating in the background as well. 'It is an attractive solution, Verovolcus. Leave the idea with me. I must talk to the King - and Marcellinus too...'

  I was being diplomatic in the first instance. From the mutters it caused, the rest of the team failed to grasp that. With Verovolcus mooning at us, I could hardly expound my position. I summed up the previous architect as a difficult autocrat. I wanted him to stay in his retirement villa. But first I would persuade Togidubnus that Marcellinus had served his turn. Then I would have to explain this to Marcellinus himself - in strong terms.

  While the King's representative hovered unhappily, I took myself off to avoid further arguments. Strephon, who had been in whispered conversation with Cyprianus, detached himself and followed me out.

  'Falco! What should I do about that man?'

&
nbsp; 'Which man?' I was anxious not to hang around in case Verovolcus grabbed me again. But I was also waiting for Alexas.

  'The statue-seller.' Strephon dodged aside as Cyprianus pushed past him and stomped off hastily somewhere.

  'Sextius?'

  'Pomponius would not see him. Shall I bring him to you, Falco?'

  I would be swamped with petty decisions unless I trained this crew to take some responsibility. I grasped the young architect by one shoulder. 'Is there a statue budget?' Strephon nodded. 'Right. Your scheme must allow at least one colossal full-length portrait of the Emperor, plus high-quality marble busts of Vespasian and his sons. Cost in family likenesses for the King. Add a bunch of classical subjects bushy-bearded philosophers, unknown authors, naked goddesses leering back over one shoulder, cute animals and pot-bellied Cupids with adorable pet birds. Plan enough to ornament the garden, the entrance hall, the audience chamber and other major positions. If there is anything left in your money chest, then you can play with it.'

  'Me?' Strephon went white.

  'You and the client, Strephon. Take Sextius to the King. See if Togidubnus likes the mechanical toys. They may be technically astounding, but the King is trying very hard to be cultured and he may have more refined taste. Let him choose.'

  'What if-'

  'If the King really wants some plaything with hidden waterworks, be firm about costs. If he's not interested, be firm with Sextius. Clear him off the site.'

  There was a slight pause. 'Right,' said Strephon.

  'Good,' said I.

  Neither Verovolcus nor Alexas had emerged from the plan room. Since I had Strephon's attention, I collared him. 'How was your dinner with Plancus last evening?'

  He was ready. 'Decent pork, but the shellfish starters make my guts gurgle.' It sounded rehearsed.

  'Regular event, was this mutual dining?'

  'No!' He thought I was implying his sexual tastes were all masculine.

  'So why last night?'

  'Pomponius used to lose interest in Plancus. Then Plancus would throw a despairing fit; I had to take him in and listen.'

  'How despairing was he yesterday?'

  Strephon could see where I was aiming. 'Just enough to drink himself under the serving table and be there snoring until dawn. My house slave will confirm that we were stuck with him all night. And that Plancus snores so loudly, I stayed up playing board games with the boy.' An intelligent bit of self-defence had surfaced there.

  'I'll have to check with your boy, if you don't mind... Why had Pomponius dumped Plancus yesterday?'

  'Same reason as always.'

  'Oh buck up, Strephon. What reason is that? Since Pomponius was done in yesterday, yesterday's cause of distress seems relevant!'

  Strephon, in whom I had begun to see a glimmer of accomplishment despite his gawky air and his revolting way of copying Pomponius' hair pomade, drew himself up: 'Pomponius was a self centred bastard who easily got bored. Whatever you think of Plancus, he was a true devotee. But Pomponius almost hated him for being so steadfast. When it suited, then Plancus was his darling. When being horrid was more fun, then he avoided poor loyal Plancus.'

  'Right,' I said.

  'Good!' Strephon retorted sparkily, picking up my own repartee. Well, he was an architect. He should have a feeling for elegance and symmetry.

  The door opened behind us. The team was coming out. Foremost in the gaggle, Lupus was joshing Blandus, the chief painter. 'Hope you did an alibi submission for that assistant of yours! He gets around. Whoever knows what he's up to-'

  Alexas squeezed out among them. I nodded to Strephon and we left smartly.

  XXXVIII

  Alexas sent for a stretcher to collect the corpse. We walked back to the old house and waited in my suite for the bearers. Alexas thought he might as well take a look at Aelianus' leg. I was impressed by the meticulous care he applied to the cleaning and re-bandaging processes. The wounds looked foul now, and the patient had grown feverish. That was bound to happen. It was where my worry started. Many a mild dog bite has turned into a will-reading. Aelianus, clearly feeling rough, said little. He must be worried too.

  Alexas spent additional time advising Helena on how her brother should be cared for. He really was thorough.

  'Where's Maia?' I asked. 'I thought she was helping to nurse him?'

  'She probably wanted to bathe,' Helena said.

  'Not today. You've forgotten the corpse. I had the bath house closed.'

  Helena looked up sharply. 'Maia will be annoyed!' I could see she was concerned about the safety aspects, with a killer haunting the place.

  'It's all right. Alexas and I are just going there.'

  'Ask Alexas to look at your tooth, Falco.'

  'Problem, Falco?' he asked helpfully. I showed him. He reckoned the fiery molar needed to be removed. I decided I would live with it.

  'You'll have less pain if it's taken out, Falco.'

  'It may be just a flare up.'

  'When the pain takes over your life, you'll think again.'

  'Is there a decent tooth-puller in this area?' Helena was determined I should act. I must be more irritable than I had realised.

  'I'm not complaining,' I muttered.

  'No, you're trying to winkle it out yourself,' Helena accused me. I wondered how she knew.

  'Well, let me know when you want help and I can find you someone local with a set of pincers,' Alexas volunteered. 'Or Helena Justina, you can take him to Londinium and spend a lot of money.'

  'For the same brutal job!' I grumbled. Alexas grasped he had a difficult patient and offered to grind me a herbal painkiller instead.

  I dragged him off for our unsavoury task. Passing another room in my suite, I spotted our nursemaid obviously about to try on one of Maia's dresses in my sister's absence.

  'It suits the real owner better,' I announced loudly from the doorway. 'Put it back in the chest and mind my daughters, please, Hyspale!'

  Hyspale turned round to the doorway, still unashamedly holding the red dress against her body. She would probably have uttered some surly rejoinder, but saw I had a male stranger with me, so that caught her interest. I informed her the medical orderly was married with three sets of twins - at which the simpering chit had the cheek to tell Alexas that she loved children.

  'If you want her, she's yours,' I offered as we headed down the corridor.

  He looked rightly scared.

  With a sense that everything around me was going wrong, I set off through the internal corridor to the royal bath house. Alexas took a detour through the garden, looking for his stretcher-bearers, he said. He seemed to be avoiding this corpse with every possible excuse; it was odd, because when he showed me the body of Valla, the dead roofer, way back on my first day here, he had been perfectly composed.

  I went on ahead to the baths, where a shock awaited. I could appoint myself the project manager and imagine that I now ran this site - but Fate took a different view. My precautions had been thwarted.

  The entrance should have stayed roped off. My instructions last night had been clear. The rope was there all right. But it had been slung aside in an untidy heap, on top of which lay two battered tool baskets that contained a few chipped chisels, flagons and half-eaten loaves. Squatting in the doorway were a pair of slack-mouthed hopeless workmen. They were holding a wooden spar across the threshold, which gave the impression they were levelling or measuring. They did neither. One was deep in argument about some left-footed gladiator, while the other stared into space.

  'This had better be good!' I roared at them. My imitation of Mars the Avenger had all the effect of a warm-up act at a run-down theatre in the offseason.

  'Keep your curls in, tribune.'

  'You moved that rope?'

  'What rope? You don't mean this one?'

  'Oh yes I do. But you're right - why not untie the thing? It will be a lot easier to use the rope to hang the pair of you!'

  They exchanged glances. They were treating me like any
wild eyed client at the end of his tether - with utter indifference.

  'What are your names?'

  'I'm Septimus and he's Tiberius,' the spokesman informed me, implying that such a question was bad manners. I took out a tablet and pointedly wrote down the names.

  'Stand up.' They humoured me. 'What are you doing here?'