The Bull Slayer apsm-2

by Bruce Macbain

  “How much longer do you think you can keep me here?” The banker’s voice was truculent. “I have influential friends, you know. They won’t stand for Roman bullying.”

  “Indeed,” said Pliny mildly, “I’ve had a look at your books, I’m impressed by your clientele. Now this needn’t take long at all if you’ll cooperate with me.” He drew a sheet from the folder and held it to the lamp. “This is a letter from the Sun-Runner to the Lion. It was found among Balbus’ papers. The Lion, it appears, had complained that another member of the cult, someone known as the Persian, owed him money and was refusing to repay. The Lion wanted him punished by expulsion. The Sun-Runner is unwilling to do this. ‘You are both too important to our enterprise,’ he says. And the letter is dated only a few days before Balbus was found dead.”

  He slipped the page back into the folder and fixed his eyes on the banker. “Vibius Balbus was the ‘Lion’ in this illicit cult to which you belong. You are the ‘Persian’ he refers to. You and he quarreled over a large sum of money, he complained about you, perhaps he threatened you physically, we know Balbus was a violent man, quick to use his fists. I sympathize with you, Didymus. You were frightened, anyone would be. Finally, you saw no way out except to kill him. You recruited Glaucon to help you. These facts are not in dispute. I’m giving you a chance to tell your side of the story. It can only help you. Fill in the details for me. Who is this Sun-Runner? Who are the other initiates? Where is the cave where you worship Mithras? What purpose brought you all together? You’re a small fish, Didymus. Give me the bigger fish and you may yet save yourself. Unless we can conclude this quickly I will have to leave you in prison for several weeks, even months, while I resume my tour of the province. You don’t want that, do you? Come now.”

  There was a long moment of silence. Outside, a distant trumpet call signaled the changing of the guard. The banker picked an invisible speck of lint from his tunic, shifted slightly on his stool. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Governor. I’m an honest man. I have nothing to do with any secret cult. I worship the same gods as everyone else. And, as I’ve already told you, I never had business dealings with the procurator. You say you know I killed him? You don’t know any such thing.”

  “Balbus was murdered on the morning of the fourth day before the Ides of October. Where were you?”

  “At home or in the bank. Ask my wife and son, they’ll vouch for me.”

  “Oh, I’m sure they will. It’s of no importance. We know where you were. You knew exactly where to intercept Balbus on his way to the cave.”

  “I don’t know anything about a cave.”

  “Let’s talk about Glaucon. Where did you get the poison you used on him?”

  “I never!”

  “His whole family died-wife, children, mother, the lot. Surely you feel badly about that?”

  Didymus passed his hand over his eyes. “I didn’t poison anyone.”

  Pliny drew another page from his folder. This is a question that Glaucon submitted to Pancrates’ oracle. Will I be punished for slaying the lion? Pancrates couldn’t understand it, but I do. Balbus was the Lion. It seems Glaucon was suffering remorse, perhaps even on the verge of confessing. I’m less clear about why you set a fire that killed Barzanes, the high priest of your cult.”

  At the mention of Barzanes the banker sucked in his breath, he hooked a foot behind the leg of the stool and squirmed. “You can’t think I…I don’t know any Barzanes.”

  “To kill that venerable old man, that was a desperate step. What did you think he might tell us?”

  The night wore on. Pliny and Suetonius took turns firing questions at the banker with such rapidity that he hadn’t time to answer one before the next was asked, circling back again and again to the same points: How long had he belonged to this cult? What hold did he have over Glaucon? Where did he get the poison? Who helped him set fire to the tenement? How many initiates are in the cult? What did he do with the money he owed Sophronia? And again and again, who is the Sun-Runner? Through it all Didymus rocked back and forth on his stool, gazed here and there in the room, wiped his face with the back of his hand, and denied everything. The lamps guttered and had to be refilled. Towards dawn his cupid’s bow mouth contracted into a tight O and he stared at Pliny with unblinking eyes. Clearly he was done talking. Pliny summoned his lictors and had them take the banker away, this time to a cell in the dungeon. He and Suetonius regarded each other wearily.

  Suetonius yawned. “I don’t know about Didymus, but I’m ready to confess to anything.”

  Pliny made an effort to smile. “That should be amusing. We’ll save that for another day.”

  “Is it possible he’s telling the truth?”

  Pliny leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. “He’s lying, I’m sure of it. But I have no proof and he knows it. And with the businessmen baying at my door I need an ironclad case before I proceed against him. I can’t hold him much longer or I’ll have a riot on my hands.

  “What now?”

  “Get some rest. We’ll have another go at him in a few hours. I have one trick up my sleeve. I’m reluctant to use it but if I have to, I will.”

  ***

  Pliny slid under the covers, careful not to wake Calpurnia. He stretched his legs, arched his aching back, closed his eyes and was instantly asleep. He dreamed of rats. Rats running over his feet, up his legs. In a terror, he sat bolt upright. The first gray light of dawn sifted through the latticed windows.

  “What is it?” Calpurnia murmured.

  “Rats.”

  “What! Where?”

  “Not here, I didn’t mean here. I had a dream about them. Do you believe that dreams tell us things?”

  “I suppose so.” She looked a question.

  Pliny was out of bed and fumbling for his shoes.

  “Where are you going at this hour?” she asked.

  “To look for rats.”

  ***

  “Galeo,” Pliny said to his lictor, “how does a rat happen to get trapped in a bank vault?”

  “Sir?”

  Pliny alighted from his litter in front of Didymus’ bank. Galeo and another lictor were with him. He told the soldier who guarded the door to unbolt it. The narrow lane was already crowded with foot traffic; a few passersby stopped to watch. Inside, he surprised the banker’s wife, a stout, pale-haired woman, who stared at him with anxious eyes.

  “Forgive me, madam,” he said, “please go back upstairs and stay there. We have business here.”

  “My husband-?”

  “Is still my guest. Do as I ask.”

  Pliny had confiscated the key to the vault and now he turned it in the heavy lock. The door swung open and two fat, brown rats scurried out. Galeo jumped back. They had come equipped with torches. Pliny stooped and entered the narrow chamber. In the flaring light more pairs of eyes glittered.

  “I hate the damned things,” said Galeo, who came in behind him.

  “Yes, but they’re telling us something. When I was first here and Didymus opened the vault for me, one of them ran over my foot. It didn’t occur to me then to wonder how it got there.”

  “What are we looking for, sir?”

  “I’m not sure. It could be I’m letting my imagination run away with me. Hold the torch nearer to the floor.”

  Step by step they circled the room, shifting chests, peering in the dark corners.

  “Sir!” Galeo whispered. “Over here.” He pointed to an iron grating set in the floor behind a stack of chests; a hole just large enough for a man to crawl through. As they watched, a frightened rat squeezed between the bars and disappeared.

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  If Pliny had slept little, Didymus looked like he had not slept at all. His eyes were red and there was a tremor in his one hand. His cheeks were covered with a day’s growth of beard and bits of straw clung to his clothes and hair. But his little mouth was set in a stubborn pout.

  “This is an outrage. You Romans-”


  “I know you’re uncomfortable,” Pliny cut him off. “Are you thirsty? Suetonius, pour our friend a cup of wine. We needn’t prolong this, you know. And you know I’m quite prepared to see you as the victim here. I don’t think you instigated any of this. I’d very much like to hear your side of it.”

  Didymus waved the wine away. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “I paid a visit to your bank this morning and what do you suppose I found? A tunnel, quite a well-made one, that runs under the street from your vault to a warehouse on the docks. My men and I searched it. There isn’t much in the warehouse at the moment, bales of cloth, innocent cargo. But in the tunnel we found a few of these.” Pliny held up a silver four drachma piece stamped with the emblem of Heraclea Pontica. “This is tax money, Didymus, conveyed to the warehouse in-I’m guessing, sacks of dried fruit? jars of oil? — and smuggled through that tunnel into your bank vault. Now, my friend, tell me why, tell me who was behind this. Help yourself while you still can.”

  Behind Didymus’ back Suetonius raised his eyebrows in astonishment. He was hearing this for the first time.

  “Tunnel? Oh, that. Been there for ages. I didn’t know where it went. You said a warehouse?”

  Pliny lunged forward. “Stop this nonsense! I already know enough to convict you. Lying only makes it worse. You have one more chance to help yourself. Who dragged you into this mess?”

  The little banker stared at the floor. When he looked up his face was white and wet with sweat. Pliny could smell the fear. “Balbus, of course. Who d’you think?” His lips twisted in a sneer.

  Pliny leaned back in his chair and smiled. “Excellent! I’m glad you’re seeing reason at last. Now, if you would, tell me exactly how it worked.”

  Didymus answered in a voice that was barely audible. “Four navy ships collect the money from the coastal cities-Heraclea, Sinope, Amisus, the others-and bring it here. One of those ship captains, I don’t know his name, was Balbus’ accomplice. Somewhere along the coast at night Balbus would meet him in a ship he owns and they’d transfer some of the money, disguising it, like you said, as innocent cargo and offload it at the warehouse, which Balbus also owns. The customs inspector never suspected anything or maybe he was bribed, I don’t know.”

  “The crews of the two ships would have to know what was going on. No one talked?”

  “They were paid not to.”

  “The money chests are tallied at the treasury. Silvanus must have known about this then.”

  “I don’t think so. When Balbus would make up the assessments every year he would levy, say, eight talents from Sinope and write that in his book, but he told the Sinopeans to pay nine talents. The extra talent he would divert; it’s like it never existed.”

  Pliny exchanged a stunned look with Suetonius. The enormity of the thing was almost too much to take in. He would have to arrest all four captains and put them through whatever was necessary to find the guilty one.

  “And how did you get involved in this?”

  “Well, he needed someplace to keep the money, didn’t he? And a way to distribute it. I only did what he told me, I was nothing but his tool.”

  “Distribute it to whom?”

  Didymus shut his mouth tight and shook his head.

  “Come now, you’ve told me this much. This is where the cult comes in, isn’t it? That’s where you two met. Who are the others, Didymus? What was the money used for? What has all this got to do with a barbarian sun god?”

  The banker was silent.

  “I can drag in everyone you’ve loaned money to and question them.”

  “You think that would be wise, Governor?”

  Pliny felt an urge to reach out and grab the little man by the throat and shake him. He took a deep breath and struggled to get himself under control. “It seems you’re more afraid of these Mithras worshippers-this Sun-Runner-than you are of me. I can protect you from them.”

  “But you can’t!” The little man’s voice rose, the stump of his arm flailed the air. You’ll go home in a year or two. It doesn’t matter what happens to me but I have a wife and son who have to live here the rest of their lives. My son hopes to follow me in my business.” He was near tears.

  Pliny held up his hands. “Yes, of course, I see that. You’ve gotten yourself in quite a fix, haven’t you? But let’s come back to Balbus. You had a falling out with him and you killed him.”

  “I deny it and you have no proof.”

  “Haven’t I?” Pliny sighed. He had hoped it wouldn’t come to this. “Suetonius, if you would, go out and bring in the witness, he’s waiting in the antechamber.”

  Suetonius led Aulus in.

  “You!” Didymus leapt off his stool, knocking it over. He spat and made the sign of the horns with his fingers.

  “When we first spoke, I found it curious how you insisted that Balbus’ son wasn’t right in his head and saw things that weren’t there. What were you afraid he saw, Didymus? You and Glaucon murdering his father? Well, he did,” Pliny lied, “and he’ll testify to it in court.”

  “Keep him away from me!”

  Aulus blinked his eyes and began to sway; Pliny could see a seizure coming on. “Take the boy out, Suetonius,” he said quickly. “It’s enough.”

  Pliny looked severely at Didymus. “I would rather have spared you both this confrontation. Now tell me what Balbus did to you that drove you to kill him.”

  “He beat me! Me, a one-armed man! Called me a thief, a Greekling, he spat on me! They all looked down on me, those high-and-mighty ones, but where would they have been without me?”

  “Why did Balbus beat you?”

  “The whore, Sophronia! I’d had reverses, I couldn’t pay her back. How was I to know she was Balbus’ mistress, that some of the money was his? He said he’d have me expelled from the-the worship. Said they’d find another banker. Not likely! The Roman bully, me a one-armed man- ” Didymus was working himself into a fury, red-faced with tears streaming down his cheeks, his one fist clenched white. He spewed a string of curses that was remarkable for its variety and inventiveness. Suetonius, who was contemplating a monograph on Greek terms of abuse, hoped the shorthand writer was getting it all down.

  Pliny waited patiently until the banker had worn himself out and sat gasping for breath, beyond speech. “You really must take a little wine, my friend. I understand perfectly how you must have felt. Insufferable the way they treated you. Let us just clear up a few details. You intercepted Balbus on his way to the cave. How did you persuade Glaucon to help you? I don’t have the impression that he was much interested either in business or in foreign religions.”

  “He resented his brother Theron always treating him like a half-wit. He wanted to handle money, lots of it, prove himself, even if it was secret. It was me that brought him into the worship, so he had to respect me. And then he actually started to believe it all. He was afraid Lord Mithras would take away his eternal life for killing one of his devotees.”

  “But you didn’t believe that?”

  Didymus shrugged.

  “So you were able to persuade Glaucon to help you kill Balbus.”

  “No, it wasn’t like that. It was an accident. I just wanted to talk to him, beg him not to get me expelled from the worship and give me a little more time to repay his whore. I was afraid to go to his house where I wouldn’t be welcome so I decided to meet him on the path. I only brought Glaucon along for protection in case he started to hit me again. I didn’t know he would have the idiot boy with him. We hid ourselves in the bushes beside the path and we heard them quarreling, the boy whining and pleading. He tried to run away and Balbus ran after him and knocked him to the ground and they struggled. We stepped out and I called him by name. He jumped up and spun around, his forehead bloody where the boy must have hit him. He screamed like some animal and charged at us. I thought he had lost his mind. But Glaucon tackled him and wrestled him to the ground and held him in a headlock. Balbus thrashed about and then suddenly he went limp. Whe
n we realized he was dead we were in a panic, especially Glaucon. He kept crying that he’d killed a devotee of the god and Mithras would deny him his eternal life up among the stars. Well, there was nothing to do but hide the body. We dragged it from the path and threw it down a gulley and covered it as best we could. I wanted to do the same with the boy, he looked dead enough, but Glaucon wouldn’t touch him because he’s cursed and I couldn’t manage it alone with my one arm, so we just left him there.”

  “What did you do then?”

  “Went on to the cave. The others all wondered what was delaying the procurator, especially since he had sent word to the Father only the day before that he was bringing his son for initiation. Finally, we went ahead with our service and the sacred meal afterward. I kept my eye on Glaucon all the time. I was terrified he would break down and confess. He didn’t, but I had no confidence he could hold out for long. I knew then I would have to get rid of him.”

  “So you sent him a present of poisoned honey dates. Where did you get the poison?”

  Didymus shrugged. “I keep it for poisoning the rats.”

  “And then you killed Barzanes, the Father, when you learned we’d talked to him.”

  “No, I never! I swear to you. If someone has killed him it wasn’t me.”

  “Then who do you think killed him?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “But you have a suspicion, don’t you?” Didymus shook his head violently. “Could it have been this Sun-Runner? Who is the Sun-Runner, Didymus? You’ve told us this much, tell it all.”

  “You think I want my family burned up like Barzanes!”

  “Poor man, you really are more afraid of your accomplices than you are of me. Rest assured, Didymus, sooner or later I will find them out, with your help or without it.”

  “But I have helped you all I can. You said if I confessed I’d be helping myself. Was that just Roman lies? What will happen to me now?”