More wine flowed. It had improved in quality and quantity. Minas had treated us to a Nemean red, rich without being too heavy, clove-scented and appealing. We approached it suspiciously, but were quickly won over. The waiters were counting out eight measures of water to one, swirling them in a huge mixing bowl. At first the result seemed curious, soon it seemed just fine.
Travelling entertainers poked their heads in at the gatehouse. As they scampered in and began acrobatics, our existing musicians were fired up to jealousy. Soon every table was assailed by one or another set of persistent pluckers, tootlers, or bellydancers. We paid the newcomers to go away, then we had to pay the official players to stop sulking. They lined up cheerfully and threw themselves into what they thought Romans liked best: an endless selection of the bland numbers Nero composed for his ‘winning’ performances on his Greek Grand Tour. This would only happen in the provinces; no one in Rome ever plays Nero’s tunes any more. Out here the ghastly ditties seemed firm favourites. Meandering measures bored on interminably; the musicians smiled like fanatics and kept going, even when we had all obviously stopped listening.
The tuneless imperial riffs formed a surreal backdrop, mingled with smoke from the now large bonfire on which cooks were about to roast a mighty shark. This had been donated by Phineus, a present to his clients at their farewell banquet in Greece. Hanging lamps and the firelight provided a warm glow. Polystratus, too, had contributed a main course dish. His donation came in a huge bronze cauldron, within which dark gravy gurgled round a salt pork stew. Alongside this, whole kids were on spits. Characteristic scents of Mediterranean herbs hit us. oregano, rosemary, sage, and celery seed.
While we waited for the next course to be brought, Helena leaned towards me. She indicated the letter Aulus had brought when he arrived.’ Mother!’
I feigned delight. ‘What does dear Julia Justa have to say?’ Helena was silent. Fear struck me.‘The children?’
Helena patted my hand. ‘No, no. They are tearing the house apart and don’t miss us.’
‘Never?’
‘Not much.’
‘Well, I miss them.’ Aulus wriggled closer, taking note of our conversation. He and his sister exchanged a glance. Aulus must know what the letter contained. I thought the worst. ‘There is something you aren’t telling me!’
Helena scowled. She seemed annoyed with me about something. ‘This is just a letter about Forum news, of course. For instance, Marcus, Mother says the esteemed Rutilius Gallicus is returning to Rome after his stint as governor of Germany. I was acquainted with Gallicus - consul, law-giver, and fellow mediocre poet - and I certainly knew Germany. ‘Everyone keeps secrets, don’t they?’ Helena’s tone implied ominous significance. ‘Tell me, Marcus darling - what exactly happened in the forest that time, when you and my brother Quintus crossed over the river into Germania Libera? When you shared an adventure that to this day, neither of you ever talks about?’
I had told her most of it. Not enough, perhaps. What happened was extremely dangerous. It had included a rebel prophetess called Veleda, whose effect on the then-young Camillus Justinus explained why neither of us had ever broken our silence back at home.
Helena reached out and poured herself more wine. She knew more about our escapade in Germany than she had ever acknowledged. ‘Rutilius Gallicus has captured Veleda. He is bringing her in triumph to Rome.’
With a pang, I realised what that would mean to Justinus. He had never forgotten Veleda. First love had struck him hard. The prophetess had been foreign, exotic, powerful, and beautiful. The best thing about her was that none of us had ever expected to see her again…
I nodded to her brother. ‘Aulus, let me guess. your mother is changing her instructions. She wants us to go home.’
LXIII
I had a feeling of failure which was hard to dispel. I set aside my wine; it was not helping. Minas was wrong about this evening achieving solutions. Any minute now we would be given the main course dishes. Then the serving tables would be cleared for fruit and cheeses. After that, everything would be over. There would be no drama. There would be no court case, come to that. The evening would drag on pointlessly until we were all half asleep, then I would assemble my own small group to ride back into Athens. Helena and I, perhaps with Aulus, would arrange to sail west as soon as possible. The Seven Sights party would travel east tomorrow, crimes unsolved, murderer at large, justice denied for ever.
I had come so close. Knowing the truth was not enough. I had to prove it. For once, vital evidence had never surfaced. For once, I could take the case no further.
Polystratus and Phineus were cooking their gifts themselves; Seven Sights always liked to save money. Phineus had his long sleeves rolled up, and was slicing the shark into belly steaks, using a great knife in a way that I found worrying. He doused the steaks in olive oil and herbs, then panfried them individually, as and when people wanted a cut. Restless as ever, Volcasius, the loner, had wandered up with his notebook and was studiously writing down the recipe. Then he badgered Polystratus for details of the salt pork stew, forcing him to list every roasted herb. ‘Aniseed, cumin, fennel, thyme, coriander… The liquor is white wine, grape juice, and white wine vinegar. Honey is optional. Bread to thicken everything…’ Volcasius peered into the cauldron curiously; Polystratus pushed him away.
At this stage, the waiters were serving barbecued kid and a couple of bream stuffed with soft cheese. In a province full of dozy waiters, these were the slowest ever. Half the time they just chatted to the musicians.
Indus came up. ‘Well, we’re all off tomorrow, Falco. Just wanted to thank you for your efforts. You’re back to Rome, I hear?’ Word flies around.
‘Some of you are finding happy endings,’ Helena told him, smiling as she thought about him running away from his mother.
As it was their farewell evening in Athens, he felt the need for pompous summing up. ‘There have been a few tragedies, but most of us will feel ourselves the richer for our experiences.’
Sertorius Niger, passing, humphed. ‘Waste of time and money!’
I had noticed that my nephews had sneaked off; I excused myself. Gaius and Cornelius were crouched under a serving table, heads together with young Tiberius. He saw me coming; ever the coward, once again he made himself scarce. Cornelius nudged Gaius. ‘Show him, then!’
‘Show me what?’
‘I’ve got something for you,’ Gaius announced. ‘I had to trade with Tiberius. It took my hoplite helmet.’
‘However did you get a hoplite helmet?’ We had seen them on souvenir stalls, but they were bronze and cost a purseful.
Gaius winked. Always unhealthy, he had a sty. His mother would say I mistreated him. Well, she could have him back now and neglect him herself.
He stood up and surreptitiously slipped folded material into my hand; it looked disturbingly like one of his grubby loincloths. I felt something heavy and metallic. Cautiously, I investigated the bundle. The boys watched, hoping for praise.
Wrapped in the cloth was a jump weight, in the form of a wild boar. Made of bronze, with a worn old handgrip and a narrow top crest. ‘Without the pair it has less value, I told Tiberius,’ Gaius bantered professionally.
‘You sound just like your grandfather.’ Pa must have taught him. Sensing a revelation, my voice was faint. ‘You know what we are looking at?’
‘Yes, we saw the one Glaucus got for you at Olympia.’
‘Gaius, I’ve had this weight ever since then. Have you been poking through my luggage?’
‘Oh no, Uncle Marcus! Tiberius had this one. The killer must have kept it as a trophy, like you said.’
‘This is the second one?’
‘Tiberius doesn’t realise what he’d got.’
‘There was no need to do a swap. If you told me he had it, I could have dealt with Tiberius…’ No member of the Didius family could miss bargaining, however. ‘So, Gaius, where did Tiberius get it?’
‘Oh it comes with complete provenan
ce, Uncle Marcus,’ Gaius assured me, still sounding as brazen as Pa. I raised an eyebrow. Gaius was a ghastly tyke, but good-natured under the weeping tattoos. ‘I only parted with the helmet on condition he told me where he got this. Tiberius pinches things from the other travellers.’ He would. ‘He took it from some luggage that belongs to the odd man, Volcasius.’
I refolded the napkin. I thanked the boys and sent them to Helena.
Volcasius was now talking to Minas. Well, that was convenient. I walked around the courtyard to reach them. Other guests shouted greetings, as I went by. I smiled faintly. On my way I passed Polystratus, with his cauldron on his hip and a ladle. He was moving from table to table, sharing out his salt pork stew. Everyone was tucking into the roast kid and shark steaks, so he failed to arouse much interest. He filled their foodbowls anyway.
I took my time, moving surreptitiously. I glanced over to our table, meaning to signal to Helena, who had just been served by Polystratus. After several bad bouts of stomach upset, she avoided hotpots nowadays. I noticed that she quietly bent down and placed the bowl on the floor for Nux.
Minas had seen me coming, and had read my expression. I turned my back to the crowd and unfolded the napkin, showing Volcasius the jump weight. He gave an exaggerated start. ‘How did you get that, Falco?’
‘No - how did you get it, Volcasius?’
‘It’s the weapon that was used to kill Valeria.’
‘I know.’
‘I didn’t kill her.’ I knew that too. ‘I was just doing your job for you,’ Volcasius sneered.
He still believed he was better at my job than me. I remained calm. He was a witness. Minas needed him. Besides, although I would have got around to it, eventually, Volcasius had carried out the necessary search and I gave him credit. ‘Where was this, Volcasius?’
‘In his luggage pack.’
‘Whose luggage pack?’ Minas asked magisterially. ‘Name him!’
‘Polystratus.’
I turned back to the crowd. I thought Helena might be watching me, aware from the boys that I was on to something. Her attention was on something else. I saw a horrified expression seize her. Her stole slipped off, as she raised her arm and pointed, looking alarmed. She was calling to Nux.
I was too far away but I started to run. I was shouting in panic for Aulus and Glaucus. Then I was yelling at the dog.
Nux had her nose down in Helena’s foodbowl. The dog was carefully cleaning up a piece of bone against the side of the bowl. The bone was of crunchable size, but she lifted it out delicately and placed it on the ground for special treatment. As I reached her, a final fast lick revealed a gleam of metal. It was a man’s ring. I had seen a smaller one just like it. a decent piece, gold, probably bought in Greece, since it had a squared-off Greek meander pattern… We had found Statianus.
I had a momentary flashback to the globular amphorae Polystratus unloaded at Corinth. My gorge rose as I remembered tasting tuna. I could hardly bear to think about what must have been hidden in the other containers. I dared not imagine the butchery involved in filling them.
I bent to retrieve the finger-bone and the ring. Nux straightened her short legs in guard mode. A low grumble emerged from the back of her throat in defence of her bone. At the same time, because I was her master, her short tail wagged madly.
Aghast, Helena slid from her dining couch. She banged a goblet hard on the table. Those closest had noticed; they stopped talking.
‘Everyone!’ Helena called out. ‘Please stop eating.’ The party noise subsided. People were already raising goblets. They thought it was a toast.
Polystratus abandoned his cauldron and moved towards Helena. Glaucus and Aulus went for him. Glaucus kicked out. I saw a couple of jabs and a lightning move, then Polystratus was lying on the ground, with Young Glaucus astride him, one arm pressed to his throat. His father must have taught him that; I must ask him to show me.
Nux noticed Polystratus too. The growl changed from mere warning to frantic barks. Gaius rushed to restrain her before she attacked.
Helena spoke again. For the rest of my life I would remember her there, standing tall and erect in her silvery blue gown, clear-voiced and desperate. Nobody who heard her would forget it lightly.
‘Please, everybody, place your foodbowls back on the serving tables. We will collect them up. If you want to avoid nightmares, I beg of you all - Do not eat the stew!’
- The End -
See Delphi And Die Page 32