See Delphi And Die

by Lindsey Davis

  ‘Remember me? I am Didius Falco. We met in Rome. I need an urgent talk with you, Polystratus.’

  Polystratus, the facilitator, remembered to look amazed at meeting me out here in Greece - though I had a feeling it was no surprise at all.

  LI

  Polystratus was wearing the long, vomit-yellow tunic I remembered from when I first met him, at Seven Sights Travel’s crude booth in the Alta Semita. I noticed that he was less tall than me, and must once have had a spare frame, though he looked as if he could handle himself in a ruck. Misguided eating and drinking had put weight around his midriff. He was still the pot-bellied, dark-chinned smooth operator, full of bluff and braggery. He seemed brighter than I recalled. I would need to watch how I treated him.

  I led him to a nearby seafood caupona. It had two tables outside. A couple of locals were playing dice at one, squabbling mildly; we took the other. People could sit there to watch boats landing and fishermen messing with nets on the quayside. There was a pergola shading the area and a scent of frying squid. A water jug appeared instantly on the table, but then nobody hurried us.

  Now that I had met Phineus, I could see similarities in this man. Polystratus sat down with the same cheerful, easygoing manner, as if he too spent a lot of time talking to contacts in wine bars and eateries. This was his natural environment. When he grinned at me, he had missing teeth too, though more than the couple Phineus lacked. Amazingly, I had forgotten just what a wide front gap disfigured Polystratus’ mouth.

  ‘Just landed?’ I asked.

  He betrayed not a flicker. ‘Been across the Gulf.’

  ‘Delphi?’

  ‘That’s it.’ There was no pretence. He must know that I knew that Phineus had sent somebody to Delphi. Now I was wondering if Phineus had gone there too.

  ‘Go on your own?’

  ‘Oh I’m a big boy! Someone said you were seeing Delphi, Falco.’

  ‘Who told you that?’ No answer. Polystratus had been struck by salesman’s deafness. ‘You knew I was in Greece?’

  ‘Word spreads.’ He appeared to forgive me for any deception. ‘I gather our meeting in Rome was not a complete coincidence?’

  ‘Business.’ He did not ask me to explain. ‘So why did you go to Delphi, Polystratus?’

  ‘Looking for poor Statianus.’

  ‘Did you find him?’ I asked quickly.

  ‘Oh yes.’ So it was Polystratus who went to the inn at Delphi and ate with Statianus. ‘That man has had his troubles. We don’t like to think of a client of ours struggling to cope on his own.’

  ‘Oh? Would you be able to swing it so your client wins the Delphi lottery and gets a question at the oracle?’

  ‘Sometimes we can,’ Polystratus boasted. And sometimes not, I thought. But you never know. In a province like this, where the ancient sites were losing ground politically and where commerce mattered, even the most aristocratic establishments might cosy up to a firm that was brash enough, one that could bring plenty of visitors. Bribes would help. Seven Sights Travel must achieve most of its business success from knowing when to give backhanders, who needed them, and how much. Even at Delphi, they might know how to swing it.

  ‘Did you offer to obtain question rights for Statianus?’

  ‘No.’ Polystratus shook his head, so I leaned away in case the overdone gleaming hair oil shed drops on me. ‘Delphi is shutting down for the winter now. The oracle goes into hibernation. He’s lost his chance there.’

  ‘So you made him depressed by telling him that - and you left him?’

  ‘Yes, I left him.’ It was said matter-of-factly. In some people such a casual tone would confirm their honesty.

  ‘You didn’t encourage him to try his luck elsewhere - at Lebadeia, for instance?’

  ‘Where? asked Polystratus. He was lying. The waiter had said he and Statianus talked about Lebadeia.

  I was losing my grip on this slippery sea-slug, so I changed the subject. Let’s talk about you. Do you hail from Greece, Polystratus?’

  ‘Italy.’

  ‘Brundisium?’

  ‘Aye; that’s how I know Phineus.’

  ‘Are you two in full partnership?’

  ‘Known him for years, Falco.’

  ‘Well, he’s done a bunk now.’

  ‘Good heavens,’ said Polystratus, with knowing blandness.

  ‘He was in jail. He slipped his chains.’

  ‘I wonder what made him do that, Falco?’

  I was not wasting time on why, I just wondered where he had disappeared to.

  ‘He knows what he’s doing,’ said Polystratus. ‘He’s done nothing wrong. The authorities can’t hold him.’

  ‘So did he come across with you to Delphi?’

  ‘Why would he? He gave me that job. So he stayed here.’

  ‘When did you first get here from Rome then?’

  ‘About a week ago. Is it relevant?’

  ‘Could be,’ I said, hoping to rattle him. Thinking back, it could have been Polystratus I had glimpsed with Phineus in the Forum, the day I ducked my head and walked away, en route to the Corinth acropolis with Cleonymus.

  Wine was brought to us. I could not remember ordering. Maybe Polystratus was the type who, wherever he went, had a drinks flagon placed on his table automatically. It was not bad wine either. I wondered whether that surprised me.

  I foresaw that I would be paying the bill. That’s the way with men who have multiple business contacts. Unless they want to put you under an obligation - which can only be bad news - they tend to jump up and leave, a moment before the bill comes.

  My father would actually ask for the bill with a lordly gesture - then slip away with perfect timing just as the waiter wrote his equals sign in the addition.

  I drank in silence for a while. Thinking of Pa, always dampened my mood.

  Then I asked Polystratus, in a noncommittal voice, to recount what had happened on his visit to Delphi.

  ‘Not a lot.’ He shrugged, narrow shoulders rising within the slightly overlarge hollows of the yellow tunic. He passed a hand over his darkly stubbled chin. ‘I wanted to bring the client back here with me to rejoin the others, but he refused. As a rescue mission, it was pointless. I saw him one evening at his lodging - he mentioned you, Falco. And your lady is here, I gather?’

  I stuck to my point. ‘So Statianus proved stubborn - but did he tell you what he was intending to do next?’

  ‘No, he didn’t.’

  ‘And you yourself then left Delphi?’

  Polystratus looked surprised. ‘I had to get back. I’m needed. We have people stranded here, as you must know. Phineus called me out to Greece to help him deal with the quaestor’s office. The bright boy in purple won’t let our group leave.’ He pretended to look sideways at me. ‘Anything to do with you, Falco?’

  ‘Aquillius decided to hold them under house arrest all on his little own.’

  Polystratus nodded, though of course he and Phineus blamed me. Aquillius may even have said it was my fault. ‘We are trying to get hold of the governor. He should sort this problem out for us.’

  ‘Do you and Phineus know the governor, Polystratus?’ Nothing would surprise me.

  ‘Oh, you are supposed to be the man with heavy contacts, Falco! Do you know the governor?’

  ‘No,’ I said sadly. I left it for a beat. ‘I only know the Emperor.’

  We were getting on superbly. We were the best of friends now. Sharing a drink; gazing at the sparkling waters of the Gulf of Corinth; considering whether to indulge in a plate of crispy whitebait; each wondering just how much the other knew.

  ‘You must have spent several days across the Gulf,’ I said. ‘When Statianus refused to accompany you back,’ I asked, ‘what were your movements?’

  ‘I went to a local village,’ replied Polystratus. ‘Things to organise on my own account. Things to buy. Sidelines, you know.’

  ‘In the big jars?’

  ‘Salted tuna. Want a taste? I’ve kept one open in case any
one asks for a sample. I’d rather sell on out here and save the shipping costs, if I can manage it.’

  I agreed to taste. It was an easy way to check his story. He borrowed a spoon from the men at the other table, who looked bemused but surrendered the implement as if they thought he was somebody important. Like Phineus he had that air; he expected to get his own way.

  I stayed where I was. Whistling, Polystratus walked over to his cart, where he fiddled with one of the globular amphorae. He brought me a spoonful of fish, not too salty. I doubted it would travel well, but I had tasted worse.

  ‘Not bad.’ I challenged him about the containers. Most you see in Greece are the tall slender type. ‘Last time I saw those fat, round-bellied amphorae, they were in Baetica, used for olive oil. I didn’t know that shape ever came east for other commodities.’

  Polystratus immediately nodded. ‘Recycled. The miser I buy from doesn’t even supply new jars… Can’t interest you? I’ll keep trying. Someone may like the stuff. I’ll have to lug the whole consignment around with me, when we move.’

  ‘You are planning to restart the tour?’

  ‘Oh haven’t you been told?’ Polystratus enjoyed being ahead of me. ‘Aquillius can’t hold up our clients indefinitely. We threatened him with an injunction and he’s released them. We’ll be shifting them to Athens - sniff at the Pnyx, give the Spartan girls the eye on the Erechtheion - are you a caryatids man? - scuttle up the Parthenon to pay respects to Pallas Athena, then sail off from Piraeus across the wine-dark sea.’

  I hid my disappointment - knowing he could see it. I noticed he said ‘we’; did that mean he and Phineus were in contact, even though Phineus was an escapee?

  ‘Apart from Delphi, did you only go to the salt-fish village?’

  ‘You’re fixated, Falco!’ Polystratus gave me the street scoundrel’s look of surprise. ‘Here and there. This and that. What’s the big issue? You’d be surprised how long it takes to persuade some lousy Greek fish-bottler to sell you a few amphorae. A day to roust him out of his hut and wake him up. Another day arguing about the price. A day while you buy him drinks to celebrate him ripping you off…’ Without appearing to challenge me, he asked, ‘ What were you up to over there, Falco?’

  ‘Same as you. Trying to lure Tullius Statianus back to civilisation.’

  ‘No more luck than me?’

  ‘No, after you met him, he left. He went straight off to Lebadeia.’ Polystratus again feigned not to have heard of the place. ‘Trophonius,’ I prompted. ‘Statianus knew it had another oracle.’

  ‘Oh it’s one of those Boeotian shrines!… Phineus takes trippers. We include Trophonius in our Oracle Odyssey route - something a bit different - but there’s not much take-up.’

  ‘I can understand that.’ If Phineus and Polystratus knew Trophonius was ‘a bit different’, presumably they knew all about the ritual. Maybe they even knew how the oracle was really worked. ‘I’d avoid that place in future. Statianus, for one, seems to have discovered that your ‘infinite journey plan’ stopped being infinite in the underground chasm. He vanished, complete with two barley cakes. At least it saves you having to repatriate him in yet another funeral urn.’

  ‘What are you saying, Falco?’

  ‘He’s probably dead.’

  ‘Not another one!’ Polystratus groaned dramatically - then tackled it head on. Are you suggesting Seven Sights Travel may be at the back of this?’

  ‘It looks bad.’

  ‘You have just made a very serious accusation against us.’

  ‘Have I?’

  ‘Prove it!’ cried Polystratus, with the forthright indignation of a businessman who was no stranger to serious accusations. ‘Produce the body - or otherwise, leave us alone!’

  LII

  ‘I don’t like releasing them any more than you do,’ blustered Aquillius. Furious, I had accosted him that same evening at the governor’s residence. He flared up in response. ‘Falco, we can’t show that any of these travellers had a hand in what happened to the bride at Olympia. They are menacing me with a lawyer. Your brother-in-law has put them in touch with his damned tutor in Athens, apparently.’

  ‘Aelianus?’ That seemed unlikely. I had taught him not to intervene in unsolved cases, lest he muddy the clues. Once I thought him positively unhelpful; now I would call him more of a dry observer. But not a meddler.

  ‘He is studying with Minas of Karystos!’ snorted Aquillius, impressed.

  ‘Clearly a cretin.’

  ‘Steady on, Falco. Minas has a stupendous reputation.’

  ‘You mean he charges astronomical fees!’

  Aquillius blinked nervously. ‘I just think you may have overstated the case, Falco. Valeria Ventidia may have been killed by a passing stranger, whom we will never trace.’

  ‘Lampon, the poet, saw who she was with.’

  Aquillius kept going. ‘You raised that query about the sick man - well, I’ve had a medical orderly here from the Temple of Aesculapius, and he swears blind Turcianus was already at death’s door when he arrived at Epidaurus. The doctors knew he would be lucky to last out the night, and in fact he was not left alone in a dream cell but was nursed at their hospital through his dying ordeal. Somebody sat with him the whole time; he was not harmed by any third party.’

  ‘Did he say anything?’

  ‘He was beyond speech, Falco.’ Aquillius was sounding more and more harassed and annoyed. ‘I never managed to trace anyone who fits the description you gave me of the ‘expensively dressed man’ who allegedly attacked Cleonymus. Maybe he just fell down the hill accidentally. Face up to it: the travellers are in the clear. To tell the truth, I am relieved Phineus managed to escape; we had no real reason to charge him, either. The governor does not want a reputation as a harsh disciplinarian.’

  ‘Why not? Most of them think that’s a compliment.’ Roman rulers came to steal antiques and tax provincials to Hades; the provincials expected nothing else. ‘When Vespasian was praised for his just rule as governor in Africa, that was said with bewilderment. If you ask me, the townsmen of Hadrumetum, who pelted him with turnips, hated him for being too soft.’

  ‘Don’t joke, Falco. Our role in a province is to prevent local discontent. As for your claim that Statianus has met a bad fate, you simply cannot prove it. Without a corpse, this story is going nowhere. For all we know, he is perfectly safe. He could just have got bored with oracles, given up on everything, and sailed off home.’

  ‘I don’t think so, and neither do you. You are abandoning him.’ Aquillius, who had always been good-natured, looked regretful. Still, we were back where we started. After a brief flirtation with honest enquiry, the authorities were once again trying to bury the problem. The fact that more people had died in the intervening period made no difference. ‘Time will tell, quaestor.’

  ‘No; time is what we don’t have, Falco.’

  The quaestor’s new sense of purpose astonished me. That was until Helena worked out its cause. The governor must be coming back from counting milestones. His residence was stiffening up for an onslaught of aggravation. The governor was bound to think his staff had slacked in his absence. That is what governors do. Unwanted questions would be bouncing down the official corridors like boulders off a mountain in a storm. Aquillius Macer had been warned by a clerk in his office that his work output had better start showing improved cost/benefit ratios. No-hopers like this murder investigation were being put out to graze.

  ‘Can I see the governor?’

  ‘No, you bloody can’t. He has noticed how much I’ve charged the kitty on your account - and he’s livid, Falco.’

  So I was paying my own way in future.

  It was all going wrong. I could feel the whole investigation closing down on me. Even with Statianus missing, there was no new impetus. The enquiry scrolls were being filed in library canisters. My hopes of reaching a solution were being dashed.

  I wondered if the disappearance of Statianus would one day be chased up like that of the
young girl, Marcella Caesia. Had I lost hope too easily? I had believed the search we carried out with the assistance of the people of Lebadeia was thorough - but was I wrong? Would someone more persistent have discovered more? If Statianus came from a family as determined as Caesius Secundus, Caesia’s father, maybe in a year’s time some angry relative would arrive in Greece and find a corpse lying on a hillside, even though I had failed…

  No. No other search would ever happen. I had seen his mother, and deduced what kind of man his father was. His parents wanted to duck away from tragedy, not to lose their wits seeking answers. That young man’s one hope of justice now, for himself and for his bride, lay in me.

  But I was proving useless.

  Wearied by our sea journey and by dealing with men who would not see my point of view, I accepted the inevitable. The travel group would be released from custody; no further enquiries would be possible.

  Helena bore the brunt of my frustration. As usual, she came up with a plan that would keep me quiet when she was trying to read in bed. If the travellers are moving on to Athens, let us go there as well. At least we can see Aulus - which is what we came out here to do, remember. We can ask him about this interfering tutor. Perhaps while we are there, Marcus, something new will come out.’

  I doubted that. The mood I was in, I reckoned the killer had succeeded. It had taken several extra deaths, but he had covered his tracks and left my investigation stranded.

  ‘Aquillius made me promise not to report to the Tullius family that we think their son is dead.’

  ‘That’s right, Marcus. You can’t upset them needlessly. We don’t for certain know his fate.’

  ‘How many years will go by, do you think, before those trouble-shy bastards notice that their cherub has not written home? Will they just assume he went abroad and liked it so much he stayed?’

  ‘It can happen.’

  ‘It would never happen in your family. Julia Justa was looking for a letter from Aulus when we could still see his ship sailing away. Dear gods, even my father would one day start wondering why I wasn’t there to be pushed around!… Helena, this is how killers get away with it.’