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 Marcellmus 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 Marcelliniis 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?”
“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?”
Tomponius 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.”
The?” 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 he there snoring until dawn. My house slave will confirm that we were stuck with him all night. And that Plancus snores so loudly, / 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
alex as 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 helpful
ly. 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.
Tm 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 oft 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?”
Tin 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?”
“Spot of work required, tribune.”
“I don’t see you doing it!” I snarled. “You’re loitering at a crime scene, interfering with my security measures, allowing un authorised access and irritating all Hades out of me.”
They pretended to look impressed. Big words and a bad temper were a novelty. I had plenty more of both to call on. And they had plenty of stubborn defiance.
“Have you entered the baths since you took off the rope?”
“No, tribune.”
“You had better hope I believe that.” I did not, but there was no point nit-picking. “Has anyone else been in?”
“Oh no, tribune. Not with us sat here.”
Wrong. At that moment my own sister marched out from the changing room behind them. She was carrying her personal oil flask and scraper and was livid. “This is a complete disgrace-there is no hot water and no heat at all in the steam rooms!”
“My orders, Maia.”
“Well, I might have known!”
“There’s a dead man in the hot rooms not to mention a killer preying on lone bathers. Did you go in past these two brazen layabouts?”
“Well, I stepped over them,” Maia sneered.
Septimus and Tiberius just smirked.
Maia was storming off, but I held her back. “Is anyone else inside?” I asked.
A guarded look crossed her face. “Not now.”
“What do you mean? Was there someone?”
“I thought I heard movement.”
“Who?”
“No idea, Marcus. I was undressed as tar as my under tunic just exploring the cold room-what a waste of time! I didn’t know who had turned up, so I kept quiet.” Maia knew what I thought about her visiting a mixed baths alone. She didn’t care. Being Maia, she might have enjoyed the fris son of risk.
“Next time, drag Hyspale along to stand guard. You may like being leered at by lads looking for women in wet breast-bands but being spied on by a strangler would be a different beaker of maggots.”
“I might just have heard these two messing about,” Maia returned, cheerfully implicating the workmen.
“Oh surely not,” I responded sarcastically. “Septimus and Tiberius would never spy on a lady, would you, lads?”
They gazed at me, not even bothering to lie. Given the dopey way they were hanging about in the entrance when I turned up, playing at voyeurs probably never occurred to them. Besides, my sister exuded the air of a woman who would savage peephole spies.
With a whisk of her skirts, Maia darted away back towards our suite. I let her go. I could ask more questions later, with Helena in support.
Alexas finally turned up. When he saw the two workmen, I thought he looked slightly awkward. They were quite unabashed and greeted him by name.
“You know these scoundrels?” I demanded angrily.
“They work for my uncle.” Septimus and Tiberius “watched our confrontation with the bright eyes of happy troublemakers.
“Your uncle is the King’s bath-house contractor?”
“Afraid so.” Alexas sounded rueful. Well, I knew all about awkward relatives.
“So where is this uncle?”
“Who knows? He won’t be on site!” A true professional.
“What’s your uncle’s name?”
“Lobullus.”
No one I was after, then.
I led the way indoors, heading a convoy that consisted of myself, Alexas, a couple of whey-faced lads carrying a pallet to remove the body, and the two workmen, both suddenly nosier about the corpse than they had professed to be about Maia.
“And where were you last night, Alexas?”
“It’s on my tablet.”
“Tell me anyway.”
“I went into Noviomagus to see my uncle.”
“Will he vouch for you?”
“Of course he will.”
I never like family alibis.
The vaulted rooms were colder than last night. Even with the furnace out of action, it takes a while for the fabric of a bath house to cool. A slight clamminess was creeping through the steaming suite. We reached the final chamber. The dead Pomponius was still lying as I left him, as far as I could tell. If anyone had been in here and tampered with the body, I would never prove it. |
Initially, there was no reason to think anyone had done that.
Everything
looked the same. After my companions finished exclaiming over the way the architect had been mutilated, they hoisted his corpse onto the pallet. I adjusted the small towel to cover his privates. Then I heard a rattle and something fell on the floor.
“Oh look!” cried Tiberius helpfully.
“Something was caught up in the poor fellow’s towel,” added Septimus, bending to capture the object and hand it obsequiously to me. Everyone else watched my reaction. A cynical informer might have thought it was a planted clue.
It was an artist’s paintbrush. Tightly bound pigs’ bristles with carefully shaped tips for delicate work. Traces of azure on the short handle: was that blue frit? There were letters handily scratched there too. ‘ll’.
Comment from me was unavoidable. “Well, that’s a curious hieroglyphic.”
“Would it be the owner’s initials?” enquired Tiberius with almost intellectual interest.
“Hey,” murmured Septimus, suddenly shocked. “You don’t think one of the site painters was responsible for the murder, Falco?”
I had to hide a smile. “I don’t know what to think.” But somebody was trying very hard to tell me.
“An architect wouldn’t bring a paintbrush when he came for a bathe, would he?” Tiberius asked Septimus.
“That painter in charge is called Blandus,” his mate answered. “So he’s not LL.”
“You know, I believe it must be his assistant,” I broke in. Septimus, Tiberius and even Alexas, whose role in this fiasco seemed the most subdued, all looked at each other and nodded, impressed by my deductive powers.
I held the brush in the palm of my hand, looking from the silent Alexas to his uncle’s two workmen. “Congratulations, Septimus. This seems to be an important clue and you just helped me work out what it means.”
I could see what it really meant. Someone was being framed.
I seized the towel and shook it out, in case any other offerings had been deposited. Negative. I replaced the linen rectangle neatly over the dead architect’s loins. I signalled to the bearers to carry off the body.
“So! It looks like that young painting assistant has killed Pomponius. There’s only one way to be sure. I’ll ask him to be a good boy and own up.”
Lindsey Davis - Falco 13 - A Body In The Bath House Page 23