He stopped. And smiled. And cleverly left any statement of treason unsaid.
‘Am I right, Falco?’
‘Yes, sir-up to a point.’
‘What point?’ he enquired, still perfectly pleasantly.
‘Where your political judgement - which looks pretty shrewd - ought to tell you what we all have to accept: that a violent cycle of events has reached its natural conclusion. Rome, and Italy, and the Empire, are exhausted by the civil war. By popular consent Vespasian is the candidate who survived. So whether anybody else could, in theory, have challenged him is, in practice, no longer relevant. With all due respect to you, sir!’ I declared.
At this juncture Aufidius Crispus rose in order to pour himself some wine at a pedestal table. I declined. He inflicted some on Helena without consulting her.
‘This is not the woman you came with!’ he commented satirically to me.
‘No, sir. This is a kind-hearted lady who volunteered to help me find you. She’s good at blind man’s buff?
Helena Justina, who had not previously spoken, put down the wine cup untasted. ‘The lady Didius Falco came with is my friend. I shall never mention this conversation to Fausta but I do feel concern about what you intend for her.’
Crispus looked astounded by this female initiative, but soon managed to answer with the same frankness he had shown me: ‘It might be tempting to reconsider my position there!’
‘I can see that! Hypothetically, of course,’ Helena challenged.
‘Of course,’ he interrupted in a laughingly suave tone.
‘A man with his sights on the Palatine might reflect that Aemilia Fausta comes from a good family with one consul among her ancestors and a brother who promises to duplicate the honour. Her face would look dignified on the back of a silver denarius; she is young enough to bear a dynasty, sufficiently devoted to prevent any scandal-‘
‘Too devoted!’ he exclaimed.
‘Is that your problem?’ I chipped in.
‘It was. Indeed it is.’
‘Why did you let her dine with you?’ Helena hectored him.
‘Because I see no reason to humiliate the lady. If you are her friend, try to explain to her that I could marry for policy - but not with such intensity on her side and such lack of it on mine.’ He prevented himself from shuddering, but only just. ‘Our marriage would be a disaster. For her own sake Aemilia Fausta’s brother ought to give her to somebody else-‘
‘That would be extremely unfair to some other poor man.’ Helena plainly thought him selfish. Perhaps he was; perhaps he should have tried to make a go of it -and plunged them both into domestic misery, like everybody else. ‘What will you do?’ she asked in a low voice.
‘At the end of the evening take her home to Herculaneum on my ship. Tell her decently, in privacy, that I cannot oblige her. Don’t worry. She won’t be upset; she won’t believe me; she never did before.’
His briskness closed the subject, though none of us objected to letting it rest. Aemilia Fausta’s predicament embarrassed us all.
I got to my feet, and removed from my tunic the letter I had been carrying for so many weeks. He smiled, looking relaxed. ‘Vespasian’s billet-doux?’
‘It is.’ I gave it to him. ‘Will you read it, sir?’
‘Probably.’
‘He wants me to take your reply.’
‘Fair enough.’
‘You may need time to think about it-‘
‘Either there is no answer at all, or I’ll tell you tonight.’
‘Thank you, sir. Then if I may, I’ll wait in the colonnade outside.’
‘Surely.’
He was businesslike about it. The man had talent. He had shown over the problem of Fausta that he possessed some compassion, which is rare. He also had good sense, a cheerful humour, the ability to organize, and an approachable style. He was quite right; he matched the Flavians. Vespasian’s family had years of public service behind them, yet they continued to seem small-minded and provincial in a way this urbane, likeable character never would.
I did like him. Mainly because at bottom he refused to take himself seriously.
‘There is one thing I wish to ask you, Falco.’
‘Ask away.’
‘No,’ said Aufidius Crispus, glancing coldly at Helena. ‘I want to ask you when this lady has withdrawn.’
LIII
Helena Justina shot us both a disparaging look, then slipped out of the room - like the dancing girl, but more aggressive and without a rose.
‘Hates secrets,’ I excused.
‘You after her?’ His eyes narrowed with that semiserious glint he used when he was amusing himself manipulating people. ‘I can probably arrange it…’
‘Nice present, but the lady won’t look at me!’
He grinned. ‘Falco, you’re an odd sort for a Palace messenger! If Flavius Vespasianus has written to me personally, why send you as well?’
‘Hiring in professionals! What did you wish to ask me? And why not in front of the lady?’
‘It touches on her husband-‘
‘Ex-husband,’ I stated.
‘Pertinax Marcellus; divorced from her, as you say . What do you know about Pertinax?’
‘Over-ambitious and under-intelligent.’
‘Not your type? I saw his death announced recently,’ he murmured, giving me a speculative look.
‘True.’
‘Is it?’
‘Well, you saw it announced!’
He stared at me as if I had said something that might not be genuine. ‘Pertinax was involved in a project I know something about, Falco.’ Crispus’ own role as a plotter had never been proved and I could hardly foresee him admitting it. ‘Certain people had collected substantial funding - I wonder who has it now?
‘State secret, sir.’
‘Does that mean you don’t know, or you won’t tell?’
‘One or the other. You say first,’ I offered bluntly, ‘why you need to know?’
He laughed. ‘Oh come!’
‘Excuse me, sir, I’ve better things to do than sit on a stool in the sun watching grapes ripen. Let’s be frank! The cash was being hoarded in a pepper warehouse by a man who has apparently disappeared - Helena Justina’s uncle.’
‘Wrong!’ Crispus shot back. Lies dead, Falco.’
‘Really?’ My voice rasped as once again I smelt the decaying flesh of that body I had flushed down the Great Sewer.
‘Don’t play games. I know he is. The man wore a ring; a monstrous great emerald, rather low taste.’ Even for his banquet Crispus himself had not troubled with jewellery, apart from one flat onyx signet ring, good quality but discreet. ‘He never took it off: But I’ve seen the thing, Falco, I was shown it here, earlier tonight.’
I did not doubt it. He was talking about one of the rings which Julius Frontinus the Praetorian captain had wrenched from the swollen fingers of the warehouse corpse. The cameo which I had lost.
So while we were in Rome Barnabas had found it. And Barnabas must have been in Oplontis tonight.
Thinking quickly, I worked out that Crispus was hoping he could still get his hands on the sticky ton of bullion which the conspirators had assembled, and that he intended using it to further plans of his own. Half Latium and a fancy yacht might not be enough to secure the goodwill of all the provinces, the Senate, the Praetorian Guard, and the lively Forum mob…
In the hope of convincing him to abandon his plans, I declared what I had guessed: ‘Curtius Gordianus wrote to warn you that the Pertinax freedman Barnabas has turned himself into a freelance killer? He was here tonight, wasn’t he?’
‘Yes, he was.’
‘What was he after?’ I queried, keeping my voice unsensational. ‘Trying to bring you in as a backer for this chandlery lark of his?’
‘I think you’ve lost me, Falco,’ Crispus remarked, in his pleasant, winsome way.
He gazed at me. I let the subject drop, like a fool who had accidentally stumbled on to a du
e, without understanding its significance.
I didn’t understand it, that was true. But I was never the kind of amateur who would make his own uncertainty a reason to give up.
I had begun to suspect that wherever the grain importing fitted into this conundrum, Aufidius Crispus would be well to the fore of it. I wondered if he, and perhaps Pertinax before he died, had devised some private embellishment to the original conspiracy - an extra wrinkle, all their own. Was Crispus still hoping to pursue it? Had Barnabas come here tonight wanting to resurrect whatever fiddle Crispus had been intending with his master? And did frank, helpful, honest broker Crispus then decide that Barnabas would be better occupied telling me his life story in some dripping prison cell?
‘You know Barnabas is wanted for the Longinus murder now? Are you turning him in, sir?’
I knew that under the affable exterior, Aufidius Crispus was a dangerous man, and like most of them, as quick to remove an embarrassment from among his own associates as he was to obliterate an opponent. Quicker, in fact. ‘Try the Villa Marcella,’ he suggested, without a second thought.
‘I thought so! I was short of an excuse to search the place, but if that’s a firm tip, I can pick the freedman up-‘
‘My tips are always firm,’ smiled Aufidius in his elegant, easy-going way. Then his swarthy face hardened. ‘Though I suggest, Falco, that you prepare yourself for a surprise!’
He had finished with me. He was holding Vespasian’s unopened letter and I was anxious to leave him free to read that ancient piece of papyrus before the ink faded and beetles ate into it. I had the latch off the door when I stopped.
‘About your friend Maenius Celer. I hit him because he was assaulting a lady.’
‘That’s Maenius!’ he shrugged. ‘He means no harm.’ ‘Tell that to the lady!’ I rasped; Crispus seemed surprised. ‘Camillus’ daughter? She looked-‘
‘Immaculate; she always does.’
‘Is this a formal complaint?’
‘No,’ I growled patiently. ‘This is the explanation of why I hit your noble friend!’
‘So, what’s your point, Falco?’
I could never explain.
He was a clever, efficient operator. In a contest with the Flavians I might easily have given him my support. But I knew that stern, old-fashioned Vespasian (who agreed with me that the only point in taking women to bed was with their glad consent) would hold a grim view of jolly Maenius Celer and his so-called harmless escapades. I had found that men who shared my views on women made the best benchmates in politics. Which meant that Aufidius Crispus had just lost himself my vote.
There was nothing to gain by extending the conversation; I went straight out.
LIV
Helena had vanished. I wanted to find her, but I had told Aufidius Crispus I would wait in the colonnade.
For no obvious reason, I started walking along the veranda, away from the main body of the house. Only when I was beyond the sounds of other people, where a few desultory lamps lit the shadows, did I stop.
I stood still, hearing sea water rippling against a small pier thrust out into the Bay. From what Crispus had said about me being an odd messenger, I knew that however approachable he had appeared at our interview, he despised me. So long as Vespasian employed me, Crispus would despise Vespasian too.
The weight of my inability to influence him was suddenly too much. I lost all faith in myself. I needed a friend to console me, but now that Helena had taken herself off I was completely alone.
Sharp footsteps rang in the distance. Crispus emerged swiftly from his room. He was in front of the main building; I was in one wing, further back from the sea. I could see him but he was too far away to catch as he strode off.
I could have called out. There was no point. He made no attempt to look for me. He had reached his decision: Vespasian’s letter would receive no reply. I had believed the man could be deflected from his purpose; but if so, it was evident that the messenger who achieved this tricky task would not be me.
I never give up that easily. I set off after him.
The scene indoors had grown disorganized during my absence. I found no one with sufficient command of their senses to ask which direction Crispus had taken. Thinking he might be collecting Aemilia Fausta, I headed back to the triclinium where I had seen her last. She was there, still looking lonely; he was not.
This time she spotted me. ‘Didius Falco!’
‘Madam -‘ I stepped across the prone figures of several young gentlemen who had been having a better time tonight than their aristocratic constitutions could endure. ‘Seen Crispus?’
‘Not recently,’ admitted Fausta, with a close look which implied suspicions relating to dancing girls. Feeling thwarted myself, I sat down to be sociable. ‘You look depressed, Falco!’
‘I am!’ I leaned my elbows on my knees, rubbing my eyes. ‘I deserve a rest; I want to go home; I need an affectionate woman to tuck me into bed with a beaker of milk!’
Fausta laughed. ‘Nutmeg or cinnamon? In your milk?
I laughed too, reluctantly. ‘Nutmeg, I think.’
‘Oh yes; cinnamon turns grainy if it stands…’ We had nothing in common. The pleasantries petered out.
‘Seen Helena Justina?’ I felt restless. I wanted to consult Helena about what had happened after she had left.
‘Oh, Helena went off with my brother. Something far too private to need any witnesses!’ Fausta warned me in an arch tone as I started to my feet. A knot formed in my windpipe; I tried to ignore it. The magistrate’s sister smiled at me with a silkmess that said she was a hungry sea anemone and I was a drifting shrimp. ‘Helena Justina will not thank you if you intrude-‘
‘She’s used to it. I worked for her once.’
‘Oh Falco, don’t be so innocent!’
‘Why?’ I forced out, still making conversation. ‘What’s her secret?
‘She sleeps with my brother,’ Fausta proclaimed.
I did not believe her. I knew Helena Justina better than that. There were many men Helena might let her fancy light upon, but I was absolutely certain that brilliant, blond, rangy, successful magistrates - who ignored their escorts at dinner parties - were not her type.
At that moment Helena and Aemilius Rufus came together into the room.
And I believed it after all.
LV
He had his arm tightly round her. Either Helena needed support for some reason, or the magistrate liked holding her. I could not blame him; I liked holding Helena myself.
As Rufus billowed through the door, like a gorgeous crocus in his saffron dinner robe, he bent that golden head towards hers and murmured some intimacy. I could only escape from the room by smacking straight past them, so I stood where I was with my head tipped back. Then Helena exchanged replies with Rufus, who signalled to me.
I walked across, coolly.
Aemilius Rufus inflicted on me his easy-going, meaningless smile. I spared myself the trouble of making a mess of his mouth. No need to hurt my fist. If this was what the lady wanted, no point causing a scene. He had the rank (which did not bother me) but he also had the lady. I could only get the worst of it.
Helena stayed silent and downcast while Rufus took the lead: a strong woman letting herself be made submissive by a conventional man. She was wasting herself on him. Still, most of them do.
It was Rufus who spoke: ‘I gather you act as Helena’s bodyguard from time to time; she needs you now.’ From his lazy manner, he was trying to disguise some disaster I was too low to be told about.
I hate being patronized. ‘Too many prior commitments,’ I refused him stubbornly.
Helena knew when I was angry, especially with her. ‘Didius Falco!’ she appealed to me formally. ‘We have heard something here tonight; if it is true it’s unbelievable. I must talk to you -‘ A train of revellers suddenly crashed into the room, knocking the three of us sideways. ‘Not here -‘ she frowned in helplessness, above the influx of noise.
I
shrugged. I wanted to leave anyway. If Crispus intended taking Fausta home on his yacht, he had left me a free agent for the rest of the night.
Rufus released Helena. ‘I’ll manage for your chair.’
He left the room ahead of us. ‘Found someone to ease your troubles, I see!’ I sneered at Helena. In the lamplight her eyes had grown as dark as olives; they met mine in surging distress at my callous tone. Her unspoken reproach troubled me unexpectedly.
Helena walked quickly after the magistrate; I strode alongside. When we came into the atrium Rufus waved to say his orders were in hand, then went off in another group. Theirs must be a long-standing, casual affair, I reflected bitterly. She and I waited outside, where there was a sea breeze and more peace.
The air was cool, though still pleasant. Even I could admit the Bay of Neapolis was one of the most elegant quirks of geography in the Empire. Extremely civilized by starlight. I saw its fabled attraction. As the summer wavelets lapped a few paces away, I could even imagine why other daft people thought so highly of the sea.
It was a bland, beautiful night and I had nothing left to do with it but share the peace and the starlit scenery with the girl at my side - who had once been so sweet and soft and mysteriously friendly towards me but who tonight was herself; a senator’s daughter and the mistress of a magistrate, completely cut off from a bug like me.
Her chair was too long coming.
‘What happened with Crispus?’ Helena enquired in a colourless voice when our silence became uncomfortable.
‘I failed to convince him.’
‘What will he do?’
‘I can’t tell.’
‘He may not know himself.’ She spoke quietly, frowning. I let her talk. ‘This is what he’s like. He makes up his mind on a whim, then he rapidly changes it. I can remember him talking about horses with Pertinax; after a long debate, when everyone had agreed how they were all going to bet, Crispus would immediately settle on some different horse of his own…’ She tailed off.
‘Did he win?’ I muttered, staring out to sea.
‘No, that was the stupidity. He usually lost money. He could not even grasp how well Pertinax knew horses.’
Shadows in Bronze Page 23
