Poseidon's Gold

by Lindsey Davis

  He looked for us then ordered a drink, in that order. He came over without fuss, politely bringing his flagon with him.

  Then he gave me a second look, so I would notice it, and said, ‘You must be related to Didius Festus?’ People who had known my brother always spotted the likeness.

  I acknowledged the relationship. Petronius introduced us both, without commenting on why I was there.

  ‘I checked your story,’ Petronius told the centurion. ‘Regarding your whereabouts when the murder was committed, you’re in the clear.’ The man moved his head, accepting that Petronius had a job to do, and that it had been done fairly. ‘I’ve brought you your crony’s kit; there’s nothing we need as evidence. You gave us an affidavit. If you want to leave Rome to return to your unit, I have no objections. But I do have a few other questions,’ Petro said, throwing it in unexpectedly as the centurion prepared to leave us. Laurentius sat down again.

  His eyes went to me and I said, ‘Censorinus had been staying with my mother.’ Again he acknowledged the situation with a small turn of the head. I added quietly, ‘Before he moved out to here.’

  Laurentius glanced around the bar swiftly. If there was alarm in his eyes, it seemed the right sort of shock. ‘Is this where…?’

  Petronius nodded, staring at him steadily. Realising what was going on, the centurion returned his gaze with a cool, almost angry expression. ‘I have never been here before.’

  We believed him.

  Released from the test, he looked around again. He was simply a man whose friend had died there, showing the natural sad interest. ‘What a place to go…’ His eyes fell on Epimandos, who jumped and darted away somewhere into the back room. ‘Did that waiter find him?’

  ‘The owner discovered him,’ said Petro. ‘A woman called Flora. She went in to ask for his rent.’

  ‘Flora?’ It was the first I had heard of this detail. ‘I thought “Flora” was a myth!’

  Petronius said nothing, though he seemed to give me an odd look.

  Laurentius was now becoming more upset. ‘This trip of ours has all turned into a horror-I’m regretting we ever bothered.’

  ‘Long leave?’ asked Petro politely.

  ‘I’m taking a break. I’ve asked for a new posting. The Fifteenth has been reassigned to Pannonia-I can’t stand a tour in that tedious backwater.’

  ‘Will you get a new legion?’

  ‘Should do. I’m looking for action. I’ve asked for Britain.’

  Petro and I, who had served there, exchanged a wry look. ‘You seem confident.’

  ‘Oh yes. The chance of a move is a bonus for those of us who held the fort in Judaea while the rest came home with Titus for his official Triumph.’ Laurentius glanced at me with a slight smile. ‘The Festus principle, you know-never volunteer for anything, unless you’re volunteering to be left out!’

  ‘I can see you knew my brother!’ I grinned.

  The military chat had relaxed the tense atmosphere. Laurentius turned back to Petro, asking confidentially, ‘Have you no idea what happened to Censorinus?’

  ‘None,’ Petro said slowly. ‘I’m beginning to think it must have been just one of those casual encounters that go wrong sometimes. We may solve it one day. If so, it’s most likely to be solved by accident.’

  ‘Pity. He seemed a good man.’

  ‘Had you known him long?’

  ‘On and off. He wasn’t from my own century.’

  ‘But you were in the same investment club?’ There was no change in Petro’s tone as he asked, and he appeared to be looking at his wine. But once again, Laurentius knew what was happening.

  ‘This is about that?’ He glanced from Petronius to me.

  Petronius Longus adopted the frank approach: ‘I asked Falco to be here because he needs the same answers as I do. Your pal had a fine old row with him, and we would like to know why. Falco needs to know, because the quarrel implicates him in the death.’

  ‘Wrongly?’ the centurion asked me in a light, easy tone.

  ‘Wrongly,’ I said.

  ‘Nice to be sure of these things!’ Laurentius folded his hands calmly on the table. ‘Anything you want to know, Watch Captain,’ he said. ‘If it will help find the killer.’

  ‘Right.’ Then Petronius raised a hand so his trooper Martinus, who had been hanging about at the counter, came back into the caupona and sat down with us. Laurentius and I exchanged half a smile. Petronius Longus was doing things properly. Not only was he making sure he had a witness to his own procedure when he interviewed two suspects (one of them known to him), but Martinus brought out a waxed tablet and openly took notes. ‘This is Martinus, my second in command. He’ll be keeping a record, if the two of you don’t mind. If what we talk about is shown to be a private matter which has no bearing on the murder, then the notes will be destroyed.’

  Petro skewed round to ask the waiter to step out and give us some privacy, but for once Epimandos had discreetly disappeared.

  LVII

  Petronius asked the questions; at first I sat tight.

  ‘Centurion, are you now prepared to volunteer what it was you and the dead man wanted from the Didius family?’ Laurentius nodded slowly, though made no reply. ‘You were trying to recover your stake money from an investment which Didius Festus had organised?’

  ‘In effect.’

  ‘Am I allowed to ask where the money came from?’

  ‘None of your business,’ Laurentius answered pleasantly.

  ‘Well,’ said Petronius, at his most reasonable, ‘let me put it this way: the dead man’s quarrel with Falco over this money has been cited as a possible motive for Falco stabbing him. I know Falco personally, and I don’t believe he did it. I do know that we are talking about the price of a statue by Phidias, and it could be suggested that a group of centurions on active service in the desert might have found it difficult to come up with so much ready cash?’

  ‘It was not difficult,’ Laurentius informed him laconically.

  ‘Resourceful fellows!’ smiled Petronius. This was all extremely civilised-and it did not help.

  The centurion had enjoyed dodging but was not, in fact, trying to be difficult. ‘The money we are trying to replace now we had gained on a previous flutter; it would have been doubled by another sale which Festus was hoping to make. I came to Rome to ascertain what happened about that second sale. If Festus went ahead, we’re well in profit. If he didn’t, we’re back level; we’ll just have to give it the gambler’s shrug and start again.’

  I felt obliged to intervene. ‘You sound nicely philosophical! If that is your attitude, why was Censorinus so desperate when he tackled me?’

  ‘It was different for him.’

  ‘Why?’

  Laurentius looked embarrassed. ‘When he first came into the syndicate, he was only an optio-not one of us.’

  The trooper Martinus was grimacing at Petro, not understanding the reference. Unlike us, he had never been in the army. Petro quietly explained to his man. ‘An optio is a soldier who has been nominated as suitable for promotion to centurion, but who is still waiting for a vacancy. It can take a long time for one to come up. He spends the waiting period acting as second in command in the century-much like yourself.’ There was a slight edge in Petro’s voice. I knew he had long suspected that Martinus was trying to encroach on his position-though he did not think Martinus was a good enough officer to push him aside.

  ‘I’d better come clean on the whole story,’ said Laurentius. If he had noticed the personal atmosphere, it was one he understood.

  ‘Clarification would be appreciated,’ I agreed, as mildly as I could.

  ‘A group of friends,’ Laurentius explained, ‘found the money for an investment-never mind how-‘ I avoided looking at Petronius; this was almost certainly a reference to raiding the legionary savings bank.

  ‘Don’t write this down,’ Petronius instructed Martinus. Martinus awkwardly lowered his stylus.

  ‘We made the investment suc
cessfully-‘

  ‘And I hope you replaced your capital?’ Deliberately I let him know I had guessed where they had taken it from.

  Laurentius smiled demurely. ‘Relax. We did! Censorinus was not part of our syndicate then, incidentally. On that first scheme we made something like a quarter of a million profit, between ten of us. We were happy men, and Festus was already a hero in our eyes. There was no way to spend the money in the desert, so we sank it into another investment, knowing that if we came unstuck we could now just thank the Fates for being vindictive, and we’d lost nothing overall-though if we made our sale, we could all retire.’

  ‘Censorinus then came in with you?’

  ‘Yes. We had never talked about our winnings, but when people have a windfall word always gets out. Censorinus was already being considered as a candidate for promotion. He was becoming friendly with our group in anticipation of his co-option. Somehow he must have heard we were on to a good investment. He approached us, and asked to come in on it.’

  Petro showed an interest: ‘The rest of you were risking your profit-but he had to draw on his savings?’

  ‘Must have,’ shrugged Laurentius. Again he was revealing embarrassment. ‘Obviously we expected him to match what we put into the kitty.’ Since their kitty was founded on an illegal loan from the savings bank, this was wondrously unfair of them. They had pulled off a scam-and immediately overlooked their good fortune in getting away with it. ‘Actually, I now realise he put in everything he had and then borrowed some, but at the time the rest of us were pretty offhand about where he was finding the cash.’ Petro and I could imagine how cocky the others would have been; how insensitive to a newcomer. ‘Look, there was no pressure on him to join us. It was his choice.’

  ‘But when your project fell through it hit him much harder than the rest of you?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes. So that’s why,’ Laurentius said to me with a hint of apology, ‘he did tend to become hysterical. He was a bit of a jumpy beggar anyway, in my opinion-‘ That was shorthand for saying Laurentius himself would not have promoted him. ‘I’m sorry. With hindsight, I ought to have handled the whole thing myself.’

  ‘It might have helped,’ I said.

  ‘Did he explain?’

  ‘Not properly. He was very evasive.’

  ‘People like to be suspicious,’ Laurentius commented.

  I drained my winecup with a wry smile. ‘And your syndicate is suspicious of me?’

  ‘Festus always said he had a very sharp brother.’ That was news. I set the cup down again carefully. Laurentius murmured, ‘Our second investment seems to be mislaid. We did wonder if it might have been found by you?’

  ‘I don’t even know what it is,’ I corrected him gently-although by then I thought I did know.

  ‘It’s a statue.’

  ‘Not the drowned Poseidon?’ asked Petronius. His man Martinus made a jump towards his stylus again, but Petro’s great paw clamped over his wrist.

  ‘No, not the Poseidon.’ Laurentius was watching me. I think he was still wondering whether I might have found this second piece, perhaps when Festus died.

  Meanwhile I myself was wondering if Festus had disposed of it deliberately, and diddled his mates.

  ‘Everyone’s keeping secrets!’ I told the centurion levelly. ‘You’ll be glad to hear I live in squalor. The watch captain will assure you I’m not soaking in luxury with profits that should have been yours.’

  ‘He lives in a pit!’ Petro grinned, confirming it.

  ‘This special item seems to be lost,’ I said. ‘I searched my brother’s property after he died, and I’ve looked in his store since, but I haven’t found your treasure. My father, who was my brother’s business partner, never heard tell of a second statue. And as far as we can see, even the agent Festus was using for your business never knew it existed.’

  ‘Festus thought the agent was an idiot.’

  I was pleased to hear that. I thought so too. ‘So where did this statue come from?’

  ‘The same island as the other,’ said Laurentius. ‘When Festus went to Greece to inspect the Poseidon, he found out that the temple actually owned two they might sell.’ I could imagine my brother giving Orontes the slip, and getting talking to the priests on his own. Festus never took agents on trust. His winning style could easily have uncovered further information that the sellers had withheld from Orontes, who lacked all my brother’s charm, as I knew well. ‘We only had enough cash to buy the Poseidon at first. We had to sell on-‘

  ‘To Carus and Servia?’

  ‘Those were the names. What we got from them replaced our original stake money, and enabled your brother to go back to Greece with our profit-‘

  ‘But without Orontes?’

  ‘Without Orontes.’

  ‘And he bought?’

  Laurentius smiled with resignation. ‘That time he bought a Zeus.’

  LVIII

  Later the same day, for the first time in history, my father had himself brought over to Fountain Court. When he arrived Helena was wrapped in a blanket, reading, while I scrubbed a bucket of mussels. He expected her to vanish so we could enjoy a manly chat, as happens in normal households, but she waved to him graciously and stayed where she was. He then expected me to shove the bucket away shyly under the table, but I carried on.

  ‘Gods! I’m killed by the stairs… She’s got you hard at it then?’

  ‘This is how we live. No one asked you to turn up and criticise.’

  ‘Marcus is the cook,’ said Helena. ‘He likes to feel he’s supervising my domestic education. But I would be allowed to make you some hot honey if you want?’

  ‘Got any wine?’

  ‘Only for those who are stopping to dinner,’ I snapped. My father was incorrigible. ‘We’re nearly out. I can’t feed casual inebriates; I want it for the sauce.’

  ‘I can’t stop. Expected at home. You’re a hard-hearted host.’

  ‘Have the honey. She does it with cinnamon. You’ll have sweet breath, a pleasant temper, and it will ease your poor old chest after the stairs.’

  ‘You’re living with a bloody apothecary, girl!’ Pa grumbled at Helena.

  ‘Yes, isn’t he wonderful? Like a human encyclopaedia,’ she answered, with evil insincerity. ‘I’m going to lease him to Marponius…’ Then she smiled and made sensible drinks for all of us.

  My father gazed slowly around our outer room, deduced there was another just as awful behind the curtain, dismissed the balcony as a disaster waiting to send us to an early death, and turned up his nose at our furniture. I had acquired a pine table. We liked the fact it had all four legs and very little woodworm, but by his standards it was plain and pitiful. Apart from that we owned the mean stool I was sitting on, the chair Helena gave up for him, another she fetched from the bedroom for herself, three beakers, two bowls, one stew-pot, some cheap lamps, and a mixed set of scrolls containing Greek plays and Latin poetry.

  He was looking for ornaments; I realised that we had none. Perhaps he would send us a chestful next time he did a house clearance.

  ‘Olympus! Is this it then?’

  ‘Well in the next room there’s the scallop-end bed you sold me, and a rather nice movable tripod Helena picked up from somewhere. Of course our summer villa at Baiae is a haven of unconfined luxury. We keep our glass collection and the peacocks there… So what do you think?’

  ‘It’s even worse than I feared! I admire your courage,’ he said to Helena, visibly moved.

  ‘I admire your son,’ she answered quietly.

  Pa still looked wounded. The horror of my living quarters seemed a personal affront to him. ‘But this is awful! Can’t you get him to do something?’

  ‘He’s trying his best.’ Helena sounded terse.

  I went out and peed off the balcony to avoid any need to contribute. An angry shout arose from the street below, cheering me up.

  When I came back in, I told my father what I had learned from the centurion about the statue of Z
eus. ‘It makes things neat, anyway. First we have one statue and one ship-now there are two ships and two statues.’

  ‘But it’s not quite symmetrical,’ Helena commented. ‘One of the statues was lost in one of the ships, but the Zeus came ashore with Festus and presumably still exists somewhere.’

  ‘That’s good,’ I said. ‘This one is lost, but we can find it.’

  ‘Are you going to try?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘You’ve had no luck so far!’ remarked my father gloomily.

  ‘I wasn’t looking until now. I’ll find the Zeus-and when I do find it, even if we repay the centurions’ syndicate their share of the investment, there’s still a chance for the rest of us to get rich. In addition to big brother’s agreed percentage of the proceeds, we have four blocks of genuine Parian marble. We can do what Festus must have been planning, and have four copies made.’

  ‘Oh surely you wouldn’t sell fakes, Marcus!’ Helena felt shocked. (At least I assume she did.) Pa gazed at me with a whimsical expression, waiting for me to answer her.

  ‘Never entered my mind! Good copies can fetch a wonderful price in their own right.’ It sounded almost sincere.

  Helena smiled. ‘Who would make your copies?’

  ‘Orontes-who else? We were clambering all over his stuff at the studio; he has a sure touch with replicas. It’s my belief that was all Festus wanted to ask him the night he was looking for the bastard so urgently. Orontes was petrified that Festus wanted a fight with him, when in fact my het-up brother was quite innocent of the Carus fraud, and was just offering Orontes work. Festus had received his military orders. He had to go back to Judaea. It was his last chance to fix the deal.’

  ‘And is Orontes really good?’

  Pa and I consulted each other, remembering again what we had seen of his work at Capua. ‘Yes; he’s good.’