See Delphi And Die mdf-17

by Lindsey Davis

  PART FIVE

  ATHENS

  At first sight visitors would doubt that this was the renowned city of the Athenians, but they would not take long to believe it. For the most beautiful things in the world are there… They have festivals of all kinds, and temptations and stimulation of the mind from many different philosophers; there are many ways of amusing oneself, and non-stop spectacles… the presence of foreigners, which all of them are used to and which suits their temperaments, makes them turn their thoughts to agreeable things…

  HERAKLEIDES OF CRETE

  LIII

  Athenae.

  Do not expect a description of the monuments and sights. This is a case report, not some Achilles-to-Zeus travel guide.

  LIV

  Of course we saw the Acropolis. There it was, spectacular on its domineering bluff, crammed with monumental gatehouses and gaily painted temples, just as it was supposed to be. Our hearts stopped – mine only for a moment. The others went on squinting into the distance to make out the light which shone off the bronze helmet on the great statue of Athena. I was too busy keeping an eye out for inebriated philosophers, fly-by-night old courtesans, inefficient pickpockets, and loose sheep. Yes, I said sheep.

  As usual, we had landed too late in the evening. By the time we had negotiated for a hire cart at a less than extortionate price, dusk had fallen. We were running out of money. Helena could tap into her father's banker tomorrow and I knew Pa had a financial contact here, whom I would try to bluff into parting with coinage, but that evening we had only just enough cash left to get our bags hauled into town, with none over for a deposit at an inn. Helena had picked out a four-tower mansio on her trusty map, where we yearned to stay in luxury and recover from the privations of the Elephant at Corinth – but not tonight, my friends.

  We knew where Aelianus lived. Although senators and their families by custom lodge with aristocratic cronies, no one expects a student to lumber himself with being endlessly polite to some old buffer his father knew vaguely, thirty years ago. Our boy had a hired room. Unluckily for him, he had told us where it was. The six of us headed straight there, and since Aulus was out and we were exhausted, we took possession of the place and turned in.

  'This is a tip! How can a nicely brought up boy stay here? Mother would be horrified.'

  'I bet your father likes the price, though… This bed has no mattress cords. No wonder he stays out all night.'

  In fact Aulus came home about four hours after darkness fell. We knew about it when Nux barked at him. She may not have recognised Aulus, but he knew who she was even in the dark and he growled my name irritably. Like most students, he was not at all surprised to find six people, some of whom he had never met before, fast asleep in his room. He fitted himself into a space between Gaius and Cornelius, chucked his heavier items of clothing into a corner, and fell silent again.

  'Who is this man?' I heard Cornelius whisper to Gaius.

  'Total stranger to me. Give him a knee in the bollocks if he tries to bother you.'

  'Keep your knees to yourselves – or I'll have you!' remarked Aulus, in the crystalline accents of a senator's son.

  After the briefest of pauses, Gaius feigned an apology. Any friend of Uncle Marcus is… 'an idiot.'

  With a large sigh, Helena commanded, 'Please be quiet, all of you!'

  I found myself unable to drift off again once they had disturbed me. When Aulus stumbled in, it had seemed polite to wake up enough to mutter, 'Hello; it's us!' As leader of the party, I had accepted that matters of etiquette were my job; I could not leave it to Nux to greet our host. Now I lay awake, holding Helena gently against my shoulder and occasionally shifting as she kicked out in some bad dream. In her head she was probably still travelling from Corinth. Beyond a shutter, the little owls of Athena took over the city. The level of snoring within the room rose gently, led by the dog; the level of brawling in the streets outside gradually fell. That allowed me to hear the squeaks and scuffles of the Athens rats.

  As we came from Piraeus, I had barely taken in the sights, but my tired brain must have recorded them. Now my first impressions all crowded back. In any city, the street from the port looks dusty and impoverished; it tends to be lined with workshops for peculiar trades and restaurants where not even the locals eat. Now I smiled to myself over the sordid scenes that greeted visitors. Athens was in decline. In fact, Athens must have been declining for three or four centuries. Its golden age had been replaced by the drabbest kind of village life in daytime, and nights of riotous debauchery. I was now in the heart of Greece, the Greece that had sent Rome art, literature, mathematics, medicine, military engineering, myth, law, and political thought. And in Athens, the golden city of Pericles, the famous public spaces might be filled with vibrant life, but the shantytown houses were derelict, rubbish stank out the crystal air, rats scampered underfoot, and the Panathenaic Way was full of wandering sheep.

  An owl shrieked, very close at hand. Since the room now contained seven people, it became perilously hot. Just as I was preparing to do something about it before somebody collapsed and crossed the Styx, I fell back asleep.

  They all survived. Next morning I felt as if I had eaten rabbit shit, but the rest were cheerful. Helena and Albia had gone out to buy breakfast. I could hear the lads playing ball energetically outdoors in the street. On what passed for a balcony, Young Glaucus was discussing short-distance sprint techniques with Aulus.

  I cleaned my teeth with an old meat skewer and a piece of sponge, splashed my face, combed my hair, and turned yesterday's tunic inside out. Travelling was much like my early years as a run-down informer. Young Glaucus kept himself immaculate but, from his uncombed hair and limp tunic, it looked as though Aulus had taken to the life of a lazy loner. I joined them, saluting my brother-in-law with affection. 'Greetings, exemplary associate! Well, this is a fine problem you have landed me with.'

  'I thought you would be intrigued,' chortled Aulus. Then the hangover caught up with him; he went pale and clutched his head. Glaucus and I rearranged him in a prone position, then as the balcony was cramped Glaucus went out to exercise. I sat quietly reflective until Aulus felt up to hearing all our news.

  Of Helena's two brothers, Aulus made me most wary. I never felt sure which way he would jump. Still, it was good to see him again. We had worked together; I had grown fond of him. He was about my height, sturdy, though with a young man's body – not so hard as me, and bearing fewer scars. He had the family looks, dark eyes and hair, plus the family humour and intelligence. Even in Greece, the land of beards, he had remained clean-shaven like a good Roman. He had always been conservative. Originally he had hated the thought of his sister living with an informer; later, I think he saw my good points. Anyway, he accepted that our marriage was a fact, especially after we had children. He was a cautious uncle to Julia and Favonia, still too raw to be comfortable with very young children.

  There had been problems finding a career for him. He should have gone into the Senate; still could, if he wanted to. The Camilli had had a relative who disgraced himself, which by extension disgraced them. That did not help; then Aulus and his brother Quintus quarrelled over who would marry an heiress. Quintus won her. Aulus lost more than the rich wife, for bachelors don't win elections, so he sulkily gave up on the Senate. He was rootless temporarily, then surprised me by becoming my assistant. During a case where we acted as prosecutors in the Basilica Julia, he decided to become a lawyer. I joked that for a man who complained that my career was seedy, he had chosen one even more polluted. But a legal career would be better than none (and much better than mine.) The senator sent him off to Athens before Aulus had a chance to dither. But his reaction when he heard of the murders at Olympia showed that his time working with me had stuck him with a love of mysteries.

  'Let's not talk about the murders until Helena returns. So, how is the academic life in Athens, Aulus?' He sat up slowly. 'This will be disgusting, I see.'

  'Athens,' declared Aulus, worki
ng his brain into use, 'is absolutely full of pedagogues, all specialists. You can choose any branch of philosophy. Pythagorean, Peripatetic, Cynic, Stoic, or Orphic.'

  'Avoid all of them. We are Romans. We despise thought.'

  'I certainly avoid the dirty ones who dress in rags and live in barrels!' Aulus had always been fastidious. 'Men with big beards and big brains teach absolutely everything – law, literature, geometry – but what they are best at…' He slowed down again, lost for words temporarily.

  I helped out. 'Is drinking?'

  'I knew how to party already.' He closed his eyes. 'But not all night and every night!'

  I let him rest for a moment. Then I asked, 'Want to tell me about your tutor? I gather he's called Minas, and has a stupendous reputation.'

  'Stupendous stamina anyway,' Aulus admitted.

  'Was that why you latched on to him?'

  'He found me. Tutors lurk in the agora, looking for newly arrived Roman innocents whose fathers will pay fees. Minas chose me; next thing I knew he had persuaded Father's banker to pay him directly: leave it to me, dear Aelianus; I will arrange everything; you will be troubled by nothing!'

  'For heavens' sake!'

  'I am just a lump of dough, thumped breathless daily.'

  'Fight back before the pace kills you! He recognised your senatorial stripes; you should have travelled incognito.' I saw it all. 'He assumes your loving papa is a multi-millionaire. Now Minas can have a really good time – which Decimus is paying for.'

  'I haven't worn purple stripes since I left Ostia. He can just spot a young Roman.'

  'It's all in the haircut, 'I informed him sagely.

  'He earns his money, Marcus.' Aulus grinned. 'He takes me to the very best dinner parties, sometimes several in an evening. He introduces fabulous women and exotic boys. He shows me drinking games, dancing girls, flautists and lyre-players – and then we talk. We talk at length, and about all moral issues – though in the morning I remember not a word.'

  'I must point out, Aulus, your mother has paid for me to come here and see what you are up to.'

  'Then I retract!' he chortled. 'I deny mentioning dancing girls.'

  He subsided into a weak heap. I gazed at him, impressed. 'So, Aulus Camillus Aelianus, son of Decimus, tell me: have you learned any law yet?'

  Then Aulus Camillus Aelianus, prospective top-class barrister, looked at me without guile. Before he put his throbbing head back into his trembling hands, he just smiled regretfully.

  LV

  Helena's foray into the markets produced an excellent Athenian breakfast of steaming hot honey-and-sesame pancakes. Those of us who were without a hangover tucked in, afterwards filling up any crannies with barley bread and olive paste, all topped off with pears.

  'What's for lunch?'

  'Anything you like, apparently – so long as it's fish.' That would explain why the Panathenian Way was so full of fish-heads, fish guts, crab claws, prawn shells, and cuttlefish.

  Aulus asked us to stop talking about food.

  We propped him up, made belated introductions where necessary, and shared our various discoveries about the murders. Aulus had nothing to tell us about Marcella Caesia and little to add to the details we had learned for ourselves about Valeria Ventidia. But he could tell us more of Turcianus Opimus, the invalid; he had met the man.

  'He was desperately ill. It was horrible. He was being eaten up inside.'

  'So you think his death was entirely natural?' Helena asked.

  'I know it was.'

  'You were with the group when they went to Epidaurus,' I chipped in.

  Aulus looked embarrassed. 'The others were all twittering on about their aches and pains,' he complained. 'They were booking themselves into dream cells – and when they came out next morning there was a big fuss because Marinus had been bitten by a dog. None of them seemed to realise that their little rheumatics – and even a few septic teeth marks – were nothing to what Turcianus was going through.'

  'So?' Helena, who knew her brother well, was watching him closely.

  'Well, I just felt so sorry for Turcianus. He was struggling to keep up a facade of jollity. He tried not to be a nuisance. But he must have been regretting that he ever came on that last journey, he was in so much pain. Keeping it all to himself, he must have been lonely, for one thing.'

  'So?'

  'When the medics had assessed him, they tipped me the wink he was on his way out. Nobody else volunteered, so I sat by his bedside all that night. No one did anything to harm him. I was with him when he died.'

  Aulus fell silent. He was about twenty-seven. As a senator's son, he had led a sheltered life in some respects. He would have lost grandparents and family slaves, maybe one or two men in his command while he was a tribune in the army. In Rome, he had once found a bloody corpse at a religious site. But nobody had ever died right in front of him before.

  Helena put her arms around him. 'Turcianus was dying, alone and far from home. I am sure he knew you were there; you must have reassured the poor man. Aulus, you are good and kind.'

  Gaius and Cornelius were shifting about awkwardly at this sentimental moment. I saw even Albia raise her eyebrows in that sceptical way she had. She had a tomboyish relationship with Aulus, which certainly had not involved seeing him as a philanthropist. We all tended to think of him as a cold fish. I for one was shocked to imagine him sitting with a virtual stranger, murmuring supportive words through the small hours, as the man slipped away.

  'Did he happen to say anything?'

  'No, Falco.'

  'Marcus!' Helena rebuked me. I bent my head and looked humble. I had known it was useless. Deathbed revelations do not happen in real life. For one thing, anyone with money makes sure his doctors provide oblivion by giving him a good tincture of poppyseeds.

  Still, I was an informer. So I had to ask.

  'It was all sad, but perfectly natural, 'Aulus assured me. I'll vouch for it; there was nothing untoward.'

  'I'm glad. I don't want to find unnatural deaths at every turn.'

  'From what you say, you have quite enough with Cleonymus and Statianus.'

  'Reckon so.' Mention of Cleonymus made me think of our last venue. 'Aulus, something bothers me. Before we left Corinth, that quaestor, Aquillius, said he wanted to free the Seven Sights group from house arrest because they had threatened him with a lawyer. Your tutor, apparently!'

  'Minas?' Aulus detected my note of disapproval; he was quick to dissociate himself. He shook his head in disbelief. 'I cannot imagine Minas has ever even heard of the group. I've never told him about them. I can't face him making me translate it all into some ghastly legal exercise.'

  'You sure of that?'

  'He wouldn't thank me for discussing a real situation. He may be a master of jurisprudence, but he tries to avoid legal practice nowadays. I am astonished if he has intervened.'

  'They just got hold of his name somehow.'

  'Phineus used it to back up a threat. How could Phineus get the name Minas of Karystos from you?' asked Helena.

  'He didn't.'

  'Aquillius was specifically told that Minas was your tutor.'

  Aulus considered that carefully. 'There is only one way. I wrote to Statianus after I left him at Delphi. For something to fill the scroll, I mentioned that Minas would be teaching me. But I only met Minas after I came to Athens, so nobody else could know. I never wrote to any of the others – Hades, they are a terrible lot! Statianus must have told them.'

  As far as we knew, Statianus lost contact with his travel companions after he went across to Delphi. I had found no letters when I searched his luggage in that dismal hired room. I would definitely have noticed one from Aulus.

  'The news of Minas must have got passed from Statianus to Polystratus. They spent an evening together. We'll have to assume your name came up in conversation.' I did not want to think Polystratus also searched the baggage, after Statianus left, and removed the letter naming Minas.

  'It was just a fr
iendly letter.' Aulus shrugged his shoulders. 'Why does this worry you, Marcus?'

  'Phineus and Polystratus are my suspects. Suspects talking about you – that's not healthy.' He and I exchanged a glance. In front of his sister, I played down my concern. Alert now, he saw why I felt uneasy. 'Don't visit any oracles,' I warned, trying to make a jest of it.

  Young Glaucus, who as usual had said nothing at all, caught my eye, looking professional. I nodded, keeping it discreet. But Helena Justina came right out and asked Glaucus to stick at her brother's side wherever he went. Our big young friend gave a sombre nod. This was why I had brought him, after all.

  It would cause friction tonight when Aulus joined in yet another procession of party-going scholars, trailing around after Minas. Young Glaucus was so clean-living, he would loathe the debauchery. And Aulus became fractious if he was nannied.

  I suggested we could ask the tutor whether anybody from the travel group had ever contacted him. Aulus, now recovering from his hangover, warned me to time it right. 'It's no use trying to see Minas in the morning, Falco. Even if you manage to wake him up, you'll get nothing. You have to wait until he comes alive at party time. Don't worry. I'll ask him this myself tonight.'

  'Still up for another banquet? Well, you enjoy yourself so I can tell your mother you have thrown yourself into the academic life: the star of the symposium. Forget the case: try to find the travel group.'

  'Athens is too big to search for them haphazardly. If they are still here, Phineus and Polystratus will be showing them the sights. Marcus, I suggest you go sightseeing too; you may run into them viewing a temple. Even if you don't, 'Aulus urged,' you are in Athens, man – make the most of it. Take my sister to the Acropolis. Go and be tourists!'

  LVI