The Lydian Baker (Marcus Corvinus Book 4)

by David Wishart

  I stared at him. Jupiter! The guy was worse than Priscus! And I'd never got the hang of the Athenian calendar. A lunar year that staggers around like a drunk in a gale is bad enough, but any society that counts forwards and backwards depending what third of the month you're in needs its communal head examining.

  'Uh...what does that work out to in Roman, pal?' I said.

  The guy gave me a look like he was weighing me up for a suppository.

  Callippus sighed. 'The third of Munychion was the day Melanthus disappeared,' he said. 'And two days before the end of Elaphebolion was five days previous to that. Three days before the kalends of April, in case you'd forgotten. Happy?'

  That was more like it. Juno's knickers, the guy was a real grouch this afternoon! 'Yeah,' I said. 'Sorry. Just checking.'

  'Fine.' He turned back to Laughing Boy. 'Go on, sir.'

  'Demetriacus has the misfortune to suffer from a chronic stomach ailment which is more severe at some times than others and gives him great pain. The period in question lay in such a time. I was able to inform the Watch Commander that my patient was confined to bed on my orders throughout said period, and it was only on the fifth of Munychion – that is two days after the third, Lord Corvinus, and so four days ago...'

  'Yeah, I'd worked that out for myself. Thanks anyway.'

  '...that he was recovered sufficiently to rise, and then only for part of the day.'

  I frowned as I worked out what all that came to. Hell. I'd been right in thinking I wasn't going to like this. Lysimachus might've put it in a less fancy way, but the message was clear enough: the night Demetriacus was supposed to be having his friendly chat with Melanthus prior to slitting his throat he was bed-bound a mile off with a serious gut ache.

  There went the case. No wonder Callippus was peeved.

  'Ah...you're sure about this?' I said.

  That got me another terminal glare. 'Quite sure.'

  'Hundred-per-cent spit on your grandmother's grave and cross-your-heart sure? I mean, he couldn't've been putting it on?'

  The glare went critical. 'Are you impugning my professional diagnosis of the patient's condition, sir? Or perhaps it is my veracity that is in question?'

  Callippus had closed his eyes and his lips were moving like he was praying. Finally, he opened them again. 'Corvinus, just shut up, will you, please?' he said mildly. 'Have you got all that, Critias?'

  'Yes, sir.'

  'Good.' He turned to the doctor. 'Lysimachus, I don't think we need detain you. If I have any further questions I'll be in touch. My thanks for your trouble.'

  'No trouble at all.' The guy stood up. He was still glaring at me. 'Mmmum!'

  'See the doctor to his carriage, Critias,' Callippus said. He waited until the door had closed and then rounded on me. 'Corvinus..!'

  'Yeah, yeah, I know.' I held up a hand. 'I'm sorry. But the bastard's lying. Demetriacus must've bribed him.'

  Callippus went through his praying routine again. 'Lysimachus of Cos is one of the best doctors in Athens, not to mention the richest. He does not lie. And he has no need for bribes.'

  'That's all you know, pal.' Gods, I felt sick: if you believed Corpse-face the theory was well on its way right down the tube. I was almost sure he'd thrown us a wobbler, but still...

  'Look, I'm as disappointed as you are,' Callippus was saying. 'But you cannot argue with the facts.'

  If I had to go, I'd go fighting. 'What facts? The only "fact" here is that that po-faced quack has taken a back-hander big enough to buy him another block in Cydathenaeum.'

  Callippus paused. 'How did you know Lysimachus speculated in property?' he said.

  'I didn't, pal, but it doesn't surprise me. Scratch a doctor and you get a compulsive property developer. Back in Rome my father's freedman Sarpedon might own half the Velabrum and be able to buy me out twice over but the bastard still sucks up to patients with a spare acre or two.'

  'Well.' Callippus rubbed his jaw. 'You may be right. Although if you remember when we talked to him Demetriacus did say that he'd been ill.'

  'Sure he did. But what he didn't say was that the evening Melanthus did his disappearing act he'd been at home rolling around hugging his guts; in fact, he didn't say anything much at all apart from deny that he'd met the guy full stop. Because at that point he didn't know we had no real proof.'

  'And he does now?'

  'He's still walking free, isn't he?'

  'Yes.' Callippus frowned at his desk. 'Yes, I suppose you're right.'

  'Never mind.' I forced a grin, even if with my theory threatening to collapse round my ears I felt more like howling. 'Asking the doctor was a good idea, it just backfired, that's all. If Demetriacus is lying we'll nail him eventually. He's human, like the rest of us, and he must've slipped up somewhere.'

  'Indeed.' Callippus didn't grin back, but his mood lifted a little. 'So. Any news your end?'

  'Yeah. You could say that.' I told him about Felix. 'You know him, by the way? Professionally, I mean?'

  'No. He's certainly not here in any sort of official capacity, which is understandable from what you tell me. You say your paths have crossed before?'

  'Yeah.' I didn't elaborate: Prince Gaius's involvement in the Sejanus affair wasn't exactly public knowledge, and besides as a Greek Callippus had about as much interest in backstairs Roman politics as he had in sexing chickens. Less.

  'And you believe his involvement and that of his principal is limited to a legitimate interest in the statue?'

  He sounded hopeful, but not too confident. I grinned. 'You seen any flying pigs recently? "Legitimate" isn't a word I'd use of Felix. Or Prince Gaius. In either of its meanings.'

  'Ah.' Callippus didn't smile; if anything, he looked sadder than ever. 'I see.'

  'Felix isn't a murderer, though. At least I don't think he is.' I hesitated. 'At least...'

  'You mean he has scruples?'

  'Scruples?' I laughed. 'Felix?'

  'I take it that means no.'

  'In spades. Felix has as many scruples as a snake has toenails. Especially where his boss's interests are concerned.'

  'His boss's interests. Exactly.' Callippus moved a pen from one side of the desk to the other. 'Corvinus, we have to go carefully here. Very soon, perhaps before the year is out, Gaius will be emperor.' I kept my face expressionless. 'If his agent is involved – criminally involved – in this affair then whatever the consequences I will do my duty and arrest him; however if there is any doubt – any doubt – then he has the private right of any citizen to be free from molestation.'

  'Felix isn't a citizen. He's a slave. Or at most a freedman.'

  'That's beside the point and you know it. I don't care if the man's a bloody female contortionist in disguise' – I blinked: I'd never heard Callippus swear, ever – 'I won't touch him with gloves and a ten-foot pole, for you or for anyone. Not without solid proof. Now is that clear?'

  'Yeah. Yeah, it's clear.' Jupiter! 'Calm down, Callippus, no sweat, okay?'

  'I am calm. I'm also being very, very serious. Never more so. As such my advice to you is to stop all this silly theorising before it lands you in real trouble. Or if you can't help yourself don't involve me until you've got some hard facts to back you.' Callippus stood up. 'Now I've got other things to do this afternoon, like looking after the rest of the City's population. You'll excuse me?'

  'Sure.' I swallowed.

  Well, that was that. End of ball-game. I might as well pack up and go home.

  34.

  The first thing I saw as I left the building was Memnon lounging on the back steps of the Town Hall and looking about as inconspicuous as a tap- dancing rhino. Jupiter knew how he'd picked me up again, but personally at that moment I couldn't have cared a penny toss. I gave him the big wave just to show him he'd been spotted, then headed up the Panathenaia towards the Rock. Let the guy get blisters, I thought sourly. They'd be about all he did get from me today. Whether Demetriacus's tame pill-pusher was bent or not, all I wanted now was to go home
and spend the rest of the afternoon and evening getting quietly stewed.

  'Bent or not.' Yeah, well, if Corpse-face was telling the truth then maybe I should think a little more deeply about Felix. Sure, if you took the current theory he didn't fit. He had no connection with Melanthus, as far as I knew, and Melanthus was crucial. The same went for Demetriacus...

  Or did it?

  I stopped. A bald-head behind me in a sharp mantle gave me a glare as he pushed past; judging from the hurry he was in he was headed for the public latrine at the corner of Attalus Porch and doubted if he'd make it.

  Okay. Maybe I'd been guilty of too many assumptions here. Stripped of its incidentals, the plot was pretty straightforward. Argaius had done a deal with Priscus to sell him the statue. His partner Smaragdus had done his own deal, unbeknownst to Argaius, and tried to con him. Then Argaius had been murdered and his body dumped by the Founders' Statue of Ptolemy on Market Way...

  Hold on. Stop there. Sure, Perilla had thought dumping Argaius at the Ptolemy statue was a chichi egghead clue, but maybe she was wrong. Or rather she'd been clever in the wrong direction, which was par for the course. The Scallop was near Ptolemy's Gym, and if Felix had wanted to point a finger at Demetriacus that was just the cryptic way of doing it that might appeal to the cerebral little bastard.

  This needed thinking about.

  I was level with Phoenix's wineshop now, opposite the temple of the Two Goddesses. There were a couple of empty tables – rare for Phoenix's – and I was tempted to go in and order up a jug. Being just round the corner from the Roman Market, Phoenix's catered more for western taste than most City wineshops; which meant they served Falernian. Real Falernian, too, not the fake stuff you saw sometimes masquerading under a whacky label. It cost an arm and a leg, though, and after my contribution to the carriage drivers' benevolent fund my purse was pretty light. Too light. I sighed, and went on past.

  So. If we were thinking laterally then what about Felix's own theory of the Argaius murder? That Smaragdus had done it himself to take the heat off? That fitted, too, if for Smaragdus you read Felix. More, handing me the real solution on a plate – letting me think it was a throwaway idea when it was the truth all along – was just the sort of twisted intellectual game the devious bugger enjoyed. Felix could've set Argaius's death up with Smaragdus as easy as Demetriacus could. And a double bluff would be just his style.

  Right, so let's follow that through with a scenario. Felix and Smaragdus acting together have got rid of Argaius. Smaragdus stays in hiding while keeping in touch with Felix. So far, so good: the sale's finalised, Felix is just waiting until the dust settles and it's safe to move the statue, or maybe he's arranging a transfer of funds from Rome and generally fixing things up for Smaragdus and his boyfriend to split for quieter climes. Trouble is, at that point Valerius Corvinus sticks his nose in. He traces Harpalus who in all good faith reports back to Smaragdus that one of Felix's agents wants to get in touch. Before Smaragdus can check if the guy's legit or not the Roman's knocking on the door of his shack. Smaragdus realises there's been a mistake, only it's too late to remedy. So he takes the nosey Roman to the original cave – now empty – and fobs the sucker off with a sob story of theft and grim deception.

  Then Smaragdus dies...

  Smaragdus dies. I frowned. This was the tricky bit, the part that didn't fit. Smaragdus's death had been an accident, sure, but the guy had been running scared at the time, I'd bet my last obol on that. With Demetriacus out of the picture what reason would he have? Who was there to run from? Not Memnon: if Felix knew where the guy was hiding already he wouldn't have needed me to lead him to the beach hut, and besides why should Smaragdus be afraid of Felix's agent? Besides, I knew already who'd chased Smaragdus because he'd admitted it himself, as well as to killing Argaius. The visitor must have been Prince Charming; and Prince Charming didn't fit into this setup at all. Not nowhere, not never...

  Unless he was Felix's second-string.

  The back of my neck prickled. Wait a minute. Wait a minute. The idea had come, but I didn't know why yet. I'd have to work this one out.

  Okay. PC is working for Felix, along with Memnon, and both of them are tailing Corvinus. As such, they witness the meeting on the beach and suspect that Smaragdus might be throwing another wobbler by showing me the real cave. That would fit; the guys couldn't be sure where we went, because we took the Alcyone and they couldn't follow. I'd know PC from Argaius's place, sure, but the first time I'd seen Memnon was at the Aphrodisian Gate, when he must have tailed Lysias with the coach. So the pair come to an agreement. As the unknown tail Memnon goes after me while PC waits for Smaragdus to get back. He doesn't make his move straight away; he stays hidden and watches to see what Smaragdus will do next. And what the guy does is pack. Misunderstanding on both sides. As far as Smaragdus is concerned, he's moving to the second hideout up in Acte to avoid future contact with the nosey Roman, but PC doesn't know that. He thinks the bastard is staging yet another double-cross, and he moves in fast. Smaragdus has never seen PC before, his nerves are shot to hell, and he runs. PC makes the reasonable assumption that he's suffering from a bad case of conscience and gives chase to ask him why. Misunderstanding perpetuated, Smaragdus zeroed...

  Yeah. That would work. Sure it would. Maybe I was on to something here.

  The crowd had begun to thin a little when I turned left at the Eleusinion onto the main drag round the north face of the Rock. I glanced back. Memnon was still with me. Just for the hell of it I waited to see if he'd catch up, but he didn't. Suit yourself, pal, I thought, and carried on walking.

  So. With Smaragdus dead Felix is stymied. He has to work on two contradictory assumptions at the same time; one – less likely, but still a possibility – that the sneaky Roman bastard knows where the Baker is, two that he doesn't, but being a sneaky Roman bastard he'll move heaven and earth to find out. So he has PC slug me outside the Scallop and cart me down to a handy cellar where he endeavours to scare the wollocks off me in the hopes that I'll spill any beans I've got just to avoid ending up like Argaius. In the process – for the sake of future security, because killing me is not an option – PC encourages any half-arsed theories I might have as to who's behind the scam. That part was true, at least: if I'd misjudged anyone in the course of this business, it'd been PC. Whatever else he was, PC was no dumbo, that was sure: he'd told me just what he wanted me to know, or think I knew, no more and no less. Okay. So when the strong-arm approach doesn't work and I insist on meeting his boss PC takes the second option. He leaves the cellar and his mate Memnon takes over. Memnon stages a phoney rescue and I'm restored to the bosom of my caring family, full of gratitude and with an idea of the setup as valid as a radish's views on cosmic order.

  Yeah. It held together, and it might even be true. The problem was, there were loose ends. I couldn't just dismiss Melanthus and Demetriacus as irrelevant because that would involve more coincidences than even one of Perilla's favourite dramatists allowed: Melanthus was my professional contact over the Baker, he was definitely involved with Demetriacus, and for him to get himself killed just at the most convenient moment was too pat by half.

  Unless, of course, Felix had lifted him himself to provide his own authentification of the Baker. And the only reason Demetriacus fitted into all this was his connection with Melanthus. But then if Felix didn't have the statue he'd still need Melanthus; so why get rid of the guy before he'd had a chance to use him? Unless he already had used him. But then why should Felix..?

  Ah, hell, there were problems whichever way you played it, and I was giving myself a headache here. Theorising isn't easy when you're sober; maybe I should've stopped at Phoenix's and got expensively smashed after all. Now it was too late to turn back, and home and a jug of my own Setinian was still a long way away.

  Time for a change of plan. Up ahead of me a chubby guy was paying off his litter. I broke into a run and grabbed it a yard in front of an Egyptian tourist who'd evidently decided his gilded papyrus san
dals wouldn't last out the trip back into town. I was grinning as I settled down among the cushions: Egyptian curses are pretty hot stuff, and this guy was clearly an expert. I'd have to remember that one if Perilla and I ever did the pyramid tour.

  Memnon wasn't too pleased either. Especially when I waved goodbye.

  35 .

  Forget the quiet afternoon. When I got back it was to find Bessus the Piraeus stevedore waiting for me in the hall where Bathyllus had left him sitting on the door slave's bench and kicking his plebeian heels. Jupiter! Things were moving now with a vengeance!

  'You've found Tiny, pal?' I said.

  He nodded. 'He showed up first thing this morning, lord. Another loading job. We finished early and I followed him home.'

  'Uh-huh.' As I picked up the regulation wine jug and cup from the hall table and led the way through to the atrium I should've been crowing, but I wasn't. I had a nasty feeling about this. Sure, Bessus couldn't have done it any other way, but I suspected that Tiny was a man who valued his privacy. 'He see you, by any chance?'

  The guy looked uncomfortable. 'He may have done, lord,' he said at last. 'I didn't think it mattered.'

  I groaned. He didn't think it mattered! Oh, great. Fantastic. That put the lid on. Well, it was my own fault, I should have warned him, and there wasn't anything I could do about it now. At least he'd found where the guy lived. I poured and drank.

  'You want some wine?' I said.

  'Sure.' The stevedore grinned; probably surprised I hadn't chewed his balls off.

  I turned to Bathyllus, who'd padded in on my blind side and was pointedly ignoring Bessus. 'Bring us another cup, little guy. And tell Lysias to bring the coach round.'