I didn’t move. ‘Did Titus’s father know you two were an item?’ I said.
The knife stopped. ‘No. I said: Titus didn’t tell him, no more nor I told mine.’
‘He might’ve found out another way.’
‘Another way such as what?’
It was my turn to shrug. ‘I don’t know. But it’s possible.’
‘Anything’s possible. Doesn’t mean it has to happen, though, does it?’
‘True. Even so, the chances are that Titus and he had a … well, let’s call it a difference of opinion just before the old man died. You know anything about that?’
‘No. If he did then he never mentioned it. But then we keep off the subject of each other’s families. It’s better that way.’
Yeah, I supposed it would be, under the circumstances. Still, I only had the lady’s word for it, and I didn’t trust Aia more than half.
‘He was himself that day?’ I said. ‘The day of the murder? Just as usual, I mean?’
‘’Course he was. Why should he be any different?’
‘You’ve got long-term plans, you and him? As an item, that is.’
‘Look.’ She set the carrot down, but she was still holding the knife. ‘I’ve no more to say to you and I’ve got the lunch to see to. I don’t know nothing, or no more than I’ve already said. So just push off, all right?’
‘Fair enough.’ I stood up. ‘Thanks for talking to me.’
She didn’t answer. I left her to her scraping.
Well, we were within a stone’s throw of the Cabirus place, so I might as well call in and see if Titus was around: I hadn’t asked, when I was at the procurator’s office, whether he was on duty that day, but then Aia had been the priority in any case. Now, though, would be a good time: when I faced him with the porky about where he’d been the day of the murder, I could check that their stories matched before they got together and made sure that they did.
He wasn’t at home, but he wasn’t on duty, either: Diligenta was out, which was fine with me because it avoided awkward questions, but the maid Cotuinda told me I’d find him at the baths down by the Narbonensian Gate. So that’s where I went.
I paid my copper piece to the guy on the door, collected my towel and rented oil-flask and scraper, deposited my purse in one of the lockers they had for hire – you don’t leave money lying around in those places, whether you’re in Gaul or Rome – and went inside. We were still too early for the usual busy time – most punters who can manage it have their bath in the afternoon, when work, at least for the lucky few, is over for the day and they can relax with a hot steam and a chat with friends before dinner – but it was pretty busy all the same, mostly with off-duty squaddies from the auxiliary barracks next door. There was no sign of Titus in the changing room, but I hadn’t expected it; Cotuinda had said that he’d been gone for a good half-hour before I arrived, so he’d already be in full bathing mode. I stripped off, leaving the rest of my gear in one of the few vacant cubbies, and went straight through to the sweat room.
Most of the benches were full. I looked around: no Titus as yet. Well, we’d give it a few minutes and then move on. I sat down beside two punters who obligingly shifted up to give me room – auxiliaries, evidently, because they were chatting away in a language that I didn’t recognize, but wasn’t Latin, or even close – and communed with nature.
So. What was I to make of the girlfriend? She’d seemed straight enough at base, barring the all-important detail of Titus’s – and her own – movements the afternoon of the murder, and even there I could’ve been mistaken. Not telling their respective parents about their relationship was fair enough too; I’d already seen Papa Doirus’s reaction when I told him about it, and no doubt if it transpired that their son was showing an interest in the daughter of a farmer with the scars of the council’s lash on his back Cabirus Senior – and probably Diligenta, too – would’ve hit the roof in the same way. Even the bit about keeping off the subject of family altogether made sense: if Aia were genuinely smitten with Titus then given the events of three years before it was an area she might not want to let herself think about. The same went for Titus’s job.
OK; that was the case for the defence. The prosecution, now …
The bottom line was that she’d consciously taken up with a guy whose father had had her father flogged, solely for the crime of trying to protect the family’s future. Worse, that he might not have been personally involved – he couldn’t have been that; he’d’ve been too young at the time to join the proconsul’s troop – but he was sure as hell part of the same set-up now, with all that entailed. Also, she’d told me that she hadn’t known who Titus was until the relationship was well established, and that I just found too hard to swallow: according to her father, she’d been working for the Volentus family for nine months before she took up with Titus Cabirus seriously, they were practically neighbours, and in any case Lugdunum was small enough and insular enough for the possibility to be a faint one, at best. While on his side I’d be interested to know if he’d known anything at all about the flogging episode to begin with, before Aia had chosen to tell him …
So where did that leave us? With the original proposition, that was where: that she’d set him up for reasons of her own. And that meant she was still very firmly in the frame. Nothing that I’d seen, or that she’d said, went against that. To what extent Titus himself was involved, mind, was another matter, and that was worrying: slice it how you liked, if Aia was the perp then Titus had to be in on it. Otherwise why the too-coincidental coincidence that he’d bunked off from duty the afternoon of the murder by pretending to be ill? That he certainly hadn’t been, because Diligenta had told me right at the start that he hadn’t been around because he was on duty. And now it transpired that he was with Aia. Where he’d been, of course, was a moot point entirely …
The guy next to me nudged me in the ribs. I turned towards him.
‘Yeah?’ I said. ‘What is it?’
He indicated the scraper at my feet. ‘You want?’ he said.
‘Hmm?’ He pointed to my back. ‘Oh. Oh, right. Thanks, pal.’ That’s the thing about going to the baths on your own; some bits you can’t do for yourself. Still, there’s usually a good-natured punter like Smiling George here who’ll lend a hand. I gave him the scraper and he set to work, hissing through his teeth as he did it, like he was grooming a horse. Cavalryman, obviously.
His mate said something in whatever language they’d been using, and they both laughed.
‘What’s funny?’ I said.
‘My mate say, “Romans no hair. Like baby’s bottom.”’
I grinned. That certainly didn’t apply to those two; I reckoned that they had enough hair on their chests and backs between them for half a dozen cavalry ponies.
‘True,’ I said. ‘Mind you, it saves all that faffing around with curling-tongs.’
That got translated, and they both creased up; yeah, well, auxiliary humour is pretty basic. The guy handed the scraper back to me, and I finished the job on the parts that I could reach.
OK, that was me for the present. Cut it short; best be moving on, or I might miss Titus altogether.
‘Thanks again,’ I said to the horse-groomer. ‘Enjoy the rest of your bath.’
‘Welcome.’
I nodded to the rest of the punters steaming quietly on their benches and went back out into the corridor to check the other rooms. He wasn’t in the dry heat room, nor among the guys hanging around the cold plunge. I took a quick dip to cool off, came out shivering – July it might be, but ‘cold plunge’ was right – and carried on through the portico into the exercise yard.
There he was, sitting on a bench on the other side of the yard talking to a big middle-aged man with an impressive moustache and braided hair; common enough features in Lugdunum, sure, although the Romanized part of the citizenry favoured clean-shaven and short back and sides, but this guy stripped to the buff and with his rippling muscles could’ve modelled for old
Vercingetorix himself. When he saw me, Titus broke off the conversation and gave me a wave. The big Gaul glanced in my direction, scowled, got to his feet, and stalked off as I came over. Obviously the outgoing, friendly type.
‘Hello again, Corvinus.’ Titus grinned. ‘Were you looking for me, or did you just fancy slumming it in the public baths with the plebs?’
‘The first, actually.’ I sat next to him. ‘Why did you lie about being on duty the day of your father’s death?’
The grin vanished. ‘I didn’t,’ he said. ‘I was.’
‘Not in the afternoon, you weren’t. I checked the roster. You reported sick.’
Long silence. ‘So?’ he said at last; no friendliness now.
‘So where were you? Not at home, or at least not officially, because your mother was under the impression – she still is – that you were at the procurator’s offices until sundown.’
‘That’s none of your business.’
‘Yes, it is. Mind you, it’s a rhetorical question, because I know damn well you were with your girlfriend Aia.’
He turned to stare at me. ‘How the hell do you know about Aia?’
‘I know. Where did you go together?’
Another long silence. ‘Over to Condate, as it happens.’
Uh-huh. ‘You do this often? Bunk off duty so you can be with your girlfriend?’
‘No!’
‘Why this time, then?’
‘She sent me a message to say that she had the day off. Unexpectedly. The family she works for were eating out. That hardly ever happens, so we took advantage of it. Maybe I was out of line shamming sick, but there wasn’t much on at the time so it was no big deal.’
‘You know about her father? That your father had him flogged a few years back?’
He was getting angry now, and obviously trying to keep it in check. ‘For resisting a sequestration order. Yes. Aia told me. The whole story. What does it matter?’
Well, at least she’d been that much up front. ‘Not to you, maybe,’ I said. ‘But I’d say it gave her a pretty valid reason for holding a grudge against your father, wouldn’t you?’
Titus’s hands clenched into fists.
‘Look, Corvinus,’ he snapped. ‘I’ve had just about enough of this! I told you; it’s none of your business!’
‘And I told you it was,’ I said equably, keeping half an eye on his hands. ‘Which it is, because we’re talking about the time of the murder and you’re lying through your teeth again. I saw Aia earlier this morning. According to her, that day you met her by prearrangement at the Ocean Gate and you went for a walk in the country. The other side of town, in other words, nowhere near Condate. And the Volentus family hadn’t made any alternative dinner arrangements; that afternoon, all she had was a couple of hours free. So one of you is telling porkies, or rather it’s my bet that both of you are. You care to tell me the truth now?’
I thought he’d hit me, and I was ready to block the punch, but he just stood up, his hands clenching and unclenching.
‘Fuck off,’ he said. ‘You just fuck right off and leave me alone, OK?’
I stood up too. ‘Fair enough,’ I said. ‘When you’ve cooled down, you think about it. Have a word with the girl, talk things over. If you change your mind you know where to find me.’
I left him glaring and went back inside to get changed.
When I reached the residence, it was to find Quintus Cabirus in the conservatory waiting for me. I’d been right about Diligenta tearing a serious strip off him; she’d evidently done it with a vengeance, and the guy looked not so much subdued as walked on all over with hobnailed boots.
‘Afternoon, Corvinus,’ he said. ‘Diligenta thinks I owe you an explanation.’
‘Yeah, well, more of an elucidation, really.’ I sat down opposite him. ‘You were skimming off some of the profits, yes?’
He swallowed. ‘Nothing major, not enough to damage the company, but yes, I’m afraid I was.’
‘You like to tell me why?’
‘I like gambling and I’m not very good at it. Sometimes I had to’ – he hesitated – ‘borrow from the firm to settle an urgent debt.’
‘Did your brother know?’
‘Latterly he did. Right at the end, in fact. Silus told him. Oh, I don’t blame Silus; he’s a company man first and foremost, always has been, and I’d got complacent and careless. It wasn’t difficult for him to spot what was happening.’
‘So how did he react? Your brother, I mean?’
‘How do you think?’ Quintus gave a weak smile. ‘He was furious, of course, called me every name he could lay his tongue to. I promised I’d pay the money back – which I will, over time; I meant it when I said “borrow” earlier – and eventually he calmed down. It wouldn’t’ve been in either of our interests to have made a big thing of it. I told you: we worked well together, we each had our own strengths. If there’d been a rift the company would’ve suffered.’
‘He didn’t tell your sister-in-law?’
‘No. He said he wouldn’t. What would’ve been the point? When push came to shove it was between the two of us, and as far as he was concerned the matter was closed.’ He gave me a straight look. ‘I didn’t kill him, Corvinus, that I swear to. I wouldn’t, whatever he’d decided.’
‘OK.’ Not that I was totally convinced; like I’d told Perilla, I didn’t trust Brother Quintus as far as I could throw him. ‘So what happens now? Where you and the company are concerned?’
‘Nothing. Or nothing drastic, anyway; it’s business as usual, except that I’m on probation, as it were. And as I say I’ve promised Diligenta that over time I’ll repay every copper piece.’
‘Just out of curiosity. Your nephew Titus. Did he know as well?’
‘Gods, you have been thinking!’
‘Yeah, I do that sometimes. So?’
‘As a matter of fact he did, yes. He’s no fool, young Titus; he worked it out from the other end.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘Titus isn’t a gambler, or not much of one. But he has friends who are, and they talk. I’d been losing heavily over the previous months, but every time I’d managed to pay up on the nail.’ He shrugged. ‘Titus just got to wondering how, and the answer was pretty obvious. He came to me shortly before Tiberius died and asked me straight out.’
‘You admitted it?’
‘There wasn’t anything else I could do. I told him that it was all over and done with, there’d be no repetition, and that his father already knew. He accepted that; with a very bad grace, mind, and we’ll never be close again, but he’s family, like Diligenta. We’ll all come through to the other side, eventually.’
Uh-huh; well, that explained the sudden coolness, anyway. And Biracus was right, Titus was a secretive cove. Score another for Gallic family solidarity in hiding the dirty linen.
Which reminded me.
‘Why did you leave Augusta twenty years ago?’ I said.
‘What?’ Quintus frowned; fazed for a moment, like I’d expected him to be. ‘What has that got to do with anything?’
‘It’s a simple question, pal.’
‘But I told you already, when we talked last: it was a business decision, a sensible one as things have proved.’
‘Nothing to do with the Florus revolt, then?’
‘Absolutely nothing. Why should it have been?’
He was lying, that I’d bet a year’s income on. And the question had rattled him; I’d place a hefty bet on that, as well. Interesting.
‘When I talked to him Julius Biracus seemed to think it had,’ I said. ‘Or implied it, rather. And he said for definite that your brother-in-law – Licnus, wasn’t it? – had been involved on the losing side.’
‘I don’t … I …’ He stopped. ‘Corvinus, I’m sorry, but you’re prying into what doesn’t concern you. All that’s in the past, some of it is painful – certainly too painful to talk to you about just to satisfy your curiosity – and I promise you it has absolutely no connect
ion whatever with my brother’s death.’
‘You’re up there often enough on business. Do you have anything to do with the remaining family?’
‘That’d be Quadrunia – Diligenta’s sister – and her husband; Licnus is long gone, where to I don’t know and don’t care. In any case, your answer’s no. Quadrunia still lives in the town, as far as I know, unless she’s moved, or unless she’s dead, both of which are possible. I’ve had no contact with her or her husband – none of us have – since the day we left.’
Jupiter, there was real venom there; venom, and something else. What it was, I wasn’t sure, but there was no mistaking it. Even so, there was no point in pursuing things any further.
‘Fine,’ I said. ‘We’ll leave it at that.’
He stood up; he was looking relieved, and a lot more relaxed than he had been when I’d arrived.
‘Very well,’ he said. ‘By the way, how is the investigation going?’
‘Not bad,’ I said. ‘I’m making some progress, anyway.’
‘In any particular direction?’
‘There are one or two leads,’ I said cautiously. ‘You’re off up north soon?’
‘Yes. First thing tomorrow morning, in fact. We’ve a consignment due for shipment upriver, but I’ll be going by road and travelling light, which means I’ll already be in Augusta when it arrives.’
‘Fair enough. Have a good journey. Thanks for coming.’
‘Yes, well, I hope it’s cleared the air. Good luck, in case I don’t see you again before you leave.’
He held out his hand. I shook it.
Hmm.
TEN
Perilla got back just before dinnertime.
‘Did you have another good day, dear?’ she said, kissing me.
‘Not bad. Tell you later. How was yours?’
‘Excellent. Oh, thank you, Bathyllus.’ The little guy had followed her in with her usual barley-water-and-honey concoction on a tray. ‘We did a tour of the local temples. Really local ones, I mean: Sucellus, Taranis and the Mothers. Most interesting.’ Yeah, I’d bet. ‘And then Caninia took me on a visit to a friend of hers, so we spent the afternoon there. Mostly discussing this year’s fashions in Rome. You would’ve been bored stiff.’
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