A dying light in Corduba mdf-8

by Lindsey Davis

  Marius and I exchanged glances, wondering if one of us could keep watch while the other climbed up to inspect the body. The possible gains were not worth the risk of discovery. We chose to avoid the howls of outrage.

  In an adjacent reception room Licinius Rufius and his wife were seated, completely motionless. Both were clad in black. Both looked as if they had neither slept nor eaten since they learned of their grandson's death. Neither showed much interest in the fact we had brought back their granddaughter, though they seemed to be pleased that the rest of us had come to share their grief. The atmosphere was stultifying. I sympathised with their tragedy, but I was still weary and short-tempered after my long journey to Hispalis. I could feel my patience ebbing fast.

  Chairs were produced. Claudia sat down immediately with her hands folded and her eyes downcast, resigned to her duty. Helena, Marius and I took our places more uneasily. There was a good chance we could all imitate statues for the next three hours and not hear a word spoken. I was angry, and I felt such passivity would not help.

  'This is the most terrible tragedy. We all realise how deeply you are suffering.'

  A slight reaction passed over the grandfather's face, though he made no attempt to reply to me.

  Will you come to the funeral?' Claudia Adorata, the old lady, asked me in a hushed voice. She belonged to that group of women who seek their comfort in formal events. Marius and I both agreed to go; I had already decided with Helena that she should excuse herself. Nobody would thank us if she caused a disturbance by giving birth in the middle of the drawn-out obsequies.

  I had to speak out: Licinius Rufius, Claudia Adorata, forgive me for raising unwelcome issues. I speak as a friend. It has been established that somebody who has not come forward must have been with your grandson when he died. The situation needs to be looked into.'

  'Constans is gone,' Licinius dragged out. 'There is no point. You mean well,' he conceded in his autocratic way.

  'I do, sir. I respect your wish for privacy -' I knew it remained possible that the young man's death had been a sad – but avoidable – accident. I kept my voice calm and respectful. 'I would like to speak to you in private; it concerns the safety of your granddaughter.'

  'My granddaughter!' His eyes flew to me, and met a cool reception.

  No doubt Claudia Rufina would be smothered with attention after the funeral, but at the moment she was not being granted her due. The old man was sufficiently formal to stop discussing her in what amounted to a public situation, so he stared at me, but then indicated I could follow him to another room. Claudia herself made a swift movement as though she wanted to assert herself and come with us, but Helena Justina shook her head surreptitiously.

  Licinius sat. I stood. It gave him status; I did not need it.

  'I'll be brief. Your grandson may have died because of a bungled task, or it may have been more than an accident. Perhaps that only matters if you want to know for your own peace of mind. But I saw you and Constans at the proconsul's palace; I have drawn my own conclusions about why you took him there. I strongly believe there are people who will' not have welcomed Constans speaking out – and they will be feeling relieved now he has been silenced.'

  'You said you wished to speak about my granddaughter, Falco.'

  'This does affect her. Will you tell me what Constans knew?'

  'I have nothing to say on that subject.'

  'If Constans was aware of something illegal – perhaps the cartel I discussed with you recently, or maybe something even more serious – then you should consider the position very carefully. I knew them only a short time, but it seemed to me that Constans and Claudia were very close.'

  'Claudia Rufina is deeply upset -'

  'It's worse than that. She may be in danger. Other people, those who had an interest in your grandson's silence, may now be wondering whether Constans told his sister what he knew.'

  Licinius Rufius made no remark, but he was listening to me much less impatiently.

  'Don't lose them both!' I warned.

  The girl was not my responsibility. Her grandfather possessed ample means for ensuring her protection. I had seeded his mind, anyway. He rose, looking gruff though on principle. He hated to acknowledge that anyone else knew better.

  As he started to leave the room he turned to me with a faint smile. 'Your skills seem limitless.'

  'Not at all. I cannot, for instance, lure you by any method I know into discussing the proposed cartel.'

  At last he allowed me to mention it, though he still sang the old refrain: 'There is no cartel.'

  'I may even end up believing that.' I smiled. 'Try this, sir: a group of you, chosen for your prominence in the business world, were invited to Rome by an influential senator. A suggestion was made which you rejected out of hand. Then somebody – not necessarily the senator himself – made a stupid mistake. It became known that the Chief Spy was showing interest in your group. Somebody lost his head and arranged a couple of murderous attacks. The rest of you recognised a dangerous bungle, one which only drew attention to the unpalatable plan. You left Rome fast.'

  'Convincing,' Licinius Rufius commented coolly. He was now walking slowly, as if due to his age and his bereavement. This would allow us a certain period of discussion before we rejoined our companions.

  'Then I turned up here, suggesting you were all still in the thick of the conspiracy… Actually, sir, I've changed my mind: those of you who were important enough to run a cartel are well placed, by your very prominence in the oil- producing world, to ensure fair prices. You could be the people who take a stand against price-rigging.'

  'I told you that was my view, Falco.'

  'Olive oil is a rich commodity? There will be enough for everyone?'

  Licinius Rufius gripped my arm and stared at me keenly. 'What's more, because the product has universal applications, including large consumption by the army, we producers should take care. Otherwise the whole industry may be taken over and state-controlled.'

  'Just as corn is! You are a man of sense – as well as probity.'

  We now reached the intriguing situation where it was Rufius who wanted something from me. He had stopped again. We were standing in a corridor. He seemed much more frail than when I first met him, though I hoped it was temporary. I could not press him to a seat, for there were none. I just had to hope I could squeeze him before the old chap collapsed.

  'When I was in Rome, Falco, one of the arguments tha't was put to us was this: somebody at the Palace is extremely eager to assume the state control I mentioned. It was suggested that we all get together in a position of strength -' a position which sounded like the cartel to me – 'Then we could resist that move -'

  'By bribing the official?' I asked calmly.

  He bridled, but replied, 'Was that a reasonable suggestion?'

  'You mean, would it work? Only if there was nothing more subtle in the official's mind.'

  'Is there?'

  'I don't know. If we're talking about a particular official, then anything is possible. He has great power – and a mind like a Cretan labyrinth. Were you told his identity?'

  'No. Do you know who it is?'

  'I can guess.' Claudius Laeta was the name that floated through my mind. I could still hear him gloating 'Liquid gold!' when he and I were 'discussing olive oil.

  Rufius was watching me closely: 'If the threat of state control comes true -'

  'As far as I know, sir, that is not current policy.' I had seen a useful lever. Whatever Laeta might be intending, I had my own ideas about how I would report on Baetica once I returned to Rome. It was not necessarily Laeta who would be my first contact. After all, on other missions I had been received in private by the Emperor himself.

  'Licinius Rufius, I am not empowered to make promises. But if I were putting forward official proposals, I might say that the oil producers of Baetica seem to me a responsible body of men who should be allowed to run their own industry.' It would be cheap at least. Vespasian liked any sy
stem that cost the Treasury nothing. 'Hispania has been a Roman province for a long time. We are not discussing some untrustworthy backwater full of savages in skins. And maybe it's time the Spanish provinces were thought about more carefully.'

  'In what way, Falco?'

  'I can think of a number of provisions that Vespasianmight consider. Granting wider rights of citizenship. Improved status for Romanised towns. Greater encouragement for Hispanians who wish to partake in the Senate or who qualify for equestrian posts in Rome.'

  'Would he do these things?'

  'All I can say is that, unlike others, Vespasian listens to advice.' And he knew the power of social bribes.

  'You are very close to him, I think?'

  'Not close enough for my own sake, sir!' I grinned.

  I was still determined to extract his grandson's secret if I could. 'You won't talk about Constans. I accept that, sir -' His protest died, fairly quietly. Perhaps his resolve was softening. 'May I just ask you again about your visit to the proconsul?'

  Licinius Rufius sighed. He breathed deeply and slowly. I let him take his time. 'Falco, I had a long discussion with my grandson after the party given by the sons of Annaeus Maximus.'

  'You were angry with him for going to the party without telling you?'

  'To start with. That became a minor matter. I sensed he was in serious trouble. He was afraid of something. He told me there had been a dancer at the party who was asking questions. It was rather confusing -'

  'There are two dancers,' I explained.

  'So it seems. All I ever persuaded Constans to say was that he had political information involving one of them.' 'Not the one at the Annaeus party?'

  'I think not. There was another girl Constans and his friends had known, a local entertainer. I dread to think what class of girl -'

  'Not a very good dancer,' I told him.

  'You know of her?'

  'Her name is Sella; she comes from Hispalis.' She had tried to kill me three days ago; I kept that to myself. 'What's the story with Constans?'

  'He had been involved in hiring her once. I cannot imagine how it came about; my grandson was a quiet lad -'

  Light was dawning. 'I think it was Quadratus who wanted her hired – but he had gone back to Rome for the Senate elections. So he wrote and asked Constans to organise this girl from Hispalis to dance at that dinner we all went to on the Palatine?'

  'Something like that.' Licinius was trying to avoid telling me. He had failed to appreciate how important it was. 'It sounds perfectly harmless. My grandson paid her fare and appearance fee – though, as you know, he didn't even attend. It's annoying, and a waste of money, but young people do far worse things. Frankly, I could not understand why Constans became so exercised about it.'

  'And how did this come to light, sir?'

  'Annaeus Maximus had ridden over here after his sons' drinking party.'

  'To complain about Constans being a guest?'

  'No. Maximus came to warn me that his lads had seen fit to allow in a dancer.'

  'Warn you, sir?'

  'The dancer had been asking questions – it is presumably the same woman who had already accosted me. She is taking an interest in what happened when we went to Rome. Well, you must know who I mean! She's asking much the same as you, Falco; Annaeus and I presume you are working with her. She has been hanging around Corduba for weeks.'

  'I can see how that would have alarmed you all!' I avoided comment on the suggestion that I was part of some joint enquiry team. 'And how did this frighten Rufius Constans?'

  'What upset him, and made me persuade him to appeal to the proconsul, was that the dancer who performed for the Annaei had also been asking questions about the other girl. One of the Annaeus boys had then told her that it was Constans who paid for Selia's trip to Rome. On learning that, for some reason, my grandson became hysterical.'

  I could have told him the reason. Perhaps it was better to leave Licinius merely puzzled than to say that Selia's performance in Rome had included murder. Rufius Constans had been her paymaster. I could not believe he had known what he was doing. It seemed much more likely the poor boy was someone's dupe. But it looked bad – and had probably seemed worse to him. It would be easy to suggest that it had been Rufius Constans who panicked and paid Selia to start crashing inconvenient enquirers into Roman walls. My own view was that he was too immature to do that. However, his precise role called for examination, as the boy must have realised.

  I could imagine his thoughts when he heard his grandfather and Annaeus Maximus – two men who were normally barely on speaking terms – anxiously discussing government enquiry agents, then revealing that one official had been told how Selia and Constans were linked. He probably thought he was about to be arrested – and so he should have been, both to protect him as a witness and to allow time to question him. Frankly, if he were still alive, I would be arresting him myself.

  LVIII

  We made a slow and thoughtful journey back to the Camillus estate. I travelled in the carriage this time, and told Helena of my talk with the grandfather. Helena was feeling very tired but still had strength to worry about the bereaved family. 'Something needs to be done for poor Claudia.'

  'What's her problem? I think she's seen through Quadratus.'

  'Quadratus may think much more of her though, now she's the sole heiress!'

  I grinned. 'I wouldn't worry. Claudia may have become a fortune-hunter's dream – though I'm sure her grandpapa is up to the situation. Anyway, as you said yourself once, the Quinctii will be looking for a bride with seven consuls in her pedigree and an ancestry she can trace on copper tablets all the way to the Seven Kings of Rome.'

  'Meanwhile Claudia,' said Helena, 'harbours serious ideas of using her inheritance to make endowments in the local community. She wishes to make her life as a female benefactress to Corduba – and now that she'll inherit the entire family fortune, she'll be even more determined.'

  'Commendable! Still, she's not averse to men.'

  'No,' Helena agreed. 'She is a good young woman with a fine character. She has been well brought up. She is honest, direct, serious, and loyal to those she loves. She ought to be head of her own household; she will make a chaste, intelligent partner and an admirable mother.'

  I knew my girl. 'That's a set speech! What exactly are you planning, fruit?'

  'She could be married with a clause in her dowry that says large sums are supplied for the comfort of her husband and any children – but that Claudia Rufina is to have a fixed annual amount to devote to the community.' 'Married to whom, my darling?'

  'How about someone from a rising senatorial family who are not snobbish about background, but who would be happy to offer their position and refinement -'

  'In return for her glittering collateral?'

  'Oh, don't be crude, Marcus!'

  'It was your idea,' I pointed out.

  'She already knows Aelianus,' mused Helena.

  'Of course she does,' I answered, thinking how much pleasure it would give me to shackle that young man to a serious girl with a rather large nose whose funds he was forced to respect.

  Helena looked pleased with herself. 'She's a nice girl. Marius Optatus may not be too pleased with me, but I think I'm going to invite Claudia to Rome. Obviously she cannot stay with us -' No; our cramped, ill-decorated apartment was not the place to entertain a fabulous olive oil heiress. 'So I shall have to ask Mother to take her instead!'

  'Well, I'm sure she'll conquer Rome with ease, my love – and her fortune should conquer your brother! Just give me a chance to clear up the residue of events from her own brother's disastrous visit to the Golden City first.'

  Our house was quiet and subdued that evening. Nobody took much enjoyment in dinner, and we dispersed quickly afterwards. I was sitting alone in the garden, trying to shape my thoughts into some sort of order, when Marmarides coughed.

  'Something is not right with the carriage, Falco.'

  'That seems fairly typical of
Baetica! Do you need a part fixed?' My heart sank. As I remembered his employer, the ex-legionary Stertius, his invention and prowess with machinery had far excelled mine.

  'There is a difficulty with the hodometer,' Marmarides confessed.

  Well, that was no more than I expected. Over-elaborate gadgets always go wrong. In fact if I come anywhere near them, even simple ones, their rivets snap. 'Do you want me to have a look at it?'

  'Later, perhaps.'

  To my surprise Marmarides deposited his slight figure on my bench then produced a bundle of note-tablets from a pouch at his belt. He opened one or two; they were covered with slanting figures in a big, careful hand. Every line began with the name of a place. Some were dates.

  'What's this, your travel diary?'

  'No; it's yours, Falco.'

  'Are you writing my memoirs for me, or auditing my expense claims?'

  Marmarides laughed his jovial laugh. Apparently I was a crack wit. Then he laid his tablets open on his knee and showed me how every time we took a trip in the carriage he listed it, with the date and the new mileage. When we came to make a final reckoning of how much I owed Stertius, the driver would be able to demonstrate our usage of the vehicle exactly, should I venture to disagree with his reckoning. Plainly his master Stertius thought of everything. Stertius must have dealt with argumentative types before.

  'So what's up?'

  'Today you went over to the Rufius house, stopped on the way where we all talked about the young man being killed, then I drove you home. Now it is evening. I feed the mules, clean the carriage, and sit down with my little stylus to make up the record.'

  'And?'