See Delphi And Die (14 page)

XXIX

The sorceress story took a while to be let slip. By then, Cornelius was back among our group, devouring his dinner at a local eatery as if he had never been scared. I noticed that Gaius remained rather quiet, but he was old enough to know they were in disgrace, even though we were no longer carrying on at them. That was still a possibility, once the wine flowed some more. Gaius knew that all the Didius family would moan on for days, polishing up the argument with every sit-down meal until somebody snapped and threw pots at the wall. 'Shut up; it was nothing,' he ordered his younger cousin grumpily.

'No, I know she was a sorceress! She had a conical hat.'

'Well, that proves she was a witch,' mocked Albia. 'Was she casting spells behind a tomb?'

'No, she was beside the road,' muttered Gaius.

'Vials of toad's blood?' queried Helena. 'Purple fire? Dead men's toenails?'

'Jugs of water.'

'We went up the hill for a long, long time,' Cornelius complained. 'We were tired out. We were desperate for a drink -'

'Climbing a steep hill, on a hot day. You took nothing with you?' Glaucus asked laconically, laying his big palms flat on the table edge. He had been trying to teach them to look after their bodies. Both boys became shamefaced again.

'Anyway, it was all right,' Cornelius sounded virtuous. 'We got some. We came on this strange old woman -'

'Really old?' Helena checked with Gaius. He pulled a face, implying not necessarily. 'And how strange exactly?' Gaius saw that defining female strangeness might embarrass him, so he ripped up a loaf and stuffed it in his mouth. Helena and Albia exchanged a glance.

Cornelius rushed on with his tale. 'This old woman was sitting cross-legged on a big ledge. She had water containers and some cups, and she offered us a drink. I was scared of her but we were so hot, I thought we would die if we didn't have any.'

'How much did it cost?' I asked. They wriggled and managed to avoid telling me.

'The thing was.' Now Cornelius was indignant. 'When we got just a little way further on, we came to a spring, which people told us was the upper fountain of Peirene. So we could have had a nice cold drink there for free. She cheated us.'

'No doubt the upper fountain was where she filled her water pots... And that's sorcery?' Helena smiled at him. 'Sounds as if she's just a good businesswoman.'

Gaius cracked a clam shell, deliberately trying to break a tooth. He was mortified at being outwitted by some crone in a straw hat. I assured him the Corinthian drinks scam probably went back centuries. 'You won't be the first sweet-natured innocent who fell for it.'

'She wasn't local.' Gaius spoke in a doom-laden voice. 'Just an itinerant, passing through Corinth on her way to a new pitch. Uncle Marcus, we did talk to her; we tried to pick her brains like professionals. She goes to different places. She always sets up on hills. People flag, as they struggle with the climb, and are grateful she is there. She works at Olympia sometimes. She sits on the Hill of Cronus. So Cornelius and I think you should go up the acropolis here and talk to her.'

'Well that's it.' I banged my spoon down on the table. 'This is the last time you two are let out on your own. As a consequence of today's ridiculous jaunt, I too am supposed to tire myself out and get heat stroke, in order to have some batty conversation with a gnarled old Greek granny who cheats little boys of their pocket money and calls it a public service.'

Nobody spoke for a few moments.

'You could take a donkey,' Helena suggested sweetly. After a second she added, 'I'll give you some pocket money, darling, so the sorceress can cheat you out of it.'

XXX

I was all set to scale the acropolis like an obedient informer. I would have gone mountaineering first thing next day. I got as far as preparing a portable breakfast, my hiking cloak and a staff to lean on. Then we had a visitor.

It was Aquillius. He had plenty of good manners, though little common sense. 'How are you finding the Elephant?' At last he looked around the courtyard of our lodging, and deigned to notice the building work. 'So sorry, Falco; normally this is a very comfortable billet. Many people have recommended it. I don't know why nobody told me there was renovation going on. I could move you...' It was not a serious offer.

I brushed aside his platitudes. 'I'll move us myself, if the wife wants it.' No chance to ask her. Helena had spotted the quaestor's purple tunic bands as he wandered through the entrance arch; she had fled indoors. 'What can I do for you?'

Aquillius handed me a scroll, another letter from Aulus. 'This came for you!' He seemed impressed that we were receiving correspondence.

'Where from?'

'On a boat from Athens. Somebody knows you are here, Falco?'

'Lucky guess,' I bluffed. 'Wife's brother; nice lad. We'll have to try and get to see him; he's supposed to be studying, bound to be homesick.' Since we had been told yesterday by Volcasius that Aulus had made himself scarce with Statianus, I decided not to link Aulus with my enquiry unless I had to. Statianus might yet turn out to be his wife's killer. If Aulus had allied himself with the bridegroom misguidedly, it could cause problems.

I was eager to read the letter - and to reply to it. Aulus needed to be warned off Statianus.

'Couple of points, Falco. Do you mind if we talk about business?' Aquillius was so used to treating his Greek post as a holiday, he seemed embarrassed to mention work. I waved him to a bench. Unwinding myself from my cloak, which he had apparently not noticed, I dumped my hiking stave and sat down with him.

'I'm glad you're here, Aquillius. Something I need to ask you. One of the tour group.'

'How do you find them?' he interrupted.

'They look like fluff balls, but every one is as sharp as a butcher's hatchet. One is missing.' Plucking at the purple band on his tunic, Aquillius grew nervous that this lost parolee might be his fault. I'll rephrase that,' I said, in a kind voice. 'Make it two.' Now he was even more nervous. Part of his purple braid was done for. 'One is merely missing - Statianus, the dead woman's husband. I'm sure you've done a head count, so I am sure you realised.' Irony is a wonderful tool. 'Another of them is dead. I expect you know that too.' I expected he did not know. Aquillius just looked wide-eyed and eager to please as usual. 'Turcianus Opimus, travelling for his health, died at Epidaurus. That death needs to be checked carefully. Once people start dropping from unnatural causes, you have to scrutinise those who die from so-called natural ones.

'And make sure?'

'My boy, you are getting the hang of this. Now look - I don't have time to go to Epidaurus; it may turn out to be a wasted errand anyway. Why don't you send a runner to the Temple of Aesculapius, and order that whoever attended this man at the sanctuary gives us a formal statement?'

'I could summon them here.' He had big ideas.

'Fine by me. I want to know: what was wrong with Opimus? Was his corpse examined thoroughly? Did the mode of death match his supposed illness? Were there any signs of interference... Well, you know the procedure.' He knew nothing. I thought it unlikely anyone would ever come from Epidaurus. If they did, I would interrogate them myself. 'Aquillius, are you visiting the group today? It would do no harm for you to let fall that I've asked you to arrange this. I'm not saying that anything bad happened to Opimus, but I would like them all to realise I intend to interview the priests.'

'They have asked for me.' Aquillius sounded gloomy. 'I've had a rude summons from that tyrant Sertorius. Falco, they keep complaining.'

'They are having a terrible time,' I pointed out.

'Who told them foreign travel was fun?'

'I think you'll find,' I explained drily, 'it was Seven Sights Travel. Polystratus, their lying dog of a facilitator in Rome, when he took their bookings - and Phineus.'

That was when the quaestor remembered to tell me his most important news. 'Phineus is back in Corinth. I have told him to contact you.'

Now he had ruined my day.

I knew the agent would delay his appearance until it suited him. No point sticking around at the Elephant until Phineus bothered to call. I made Aquillius rack his brain for places where the man might hang out; then to make sure, when I set off to scour the drinking houses and markets, I dragged Aquillius with me. I like to provide training for government officials. Someone has to do it.

It was the first time Aquillius had ever worn out boot leather on a long seek-and-find. At first he thought it fun. Corinth was a mighty city, full of commercial crannies. By the time we two bloodhounds came upon Phineus, the quaestor had gained more respect for my tradecraft. He was moaning about lung failure. I too was blistered and bad-tempered, but after years at this game, I knew how to contain it. Anyway, I had to conserve energy. Finding Phineus was just the start for me.

Phineus was too Greek to be pure Roman and too Roman to be truly Greek. This wide-bodied heavy character wore a medium-length red tunic with sleeves; a glossy belt with a fat money purse on it; and battered boots showing huge calves and ugly toes. He had grizzled hair (once dark) and a short curly beard. Some things were as I expected. he was leaning on a bar counter among people who obviously knew him. He made his living as a man with contacts; it showed. He treated Aquillius Macer as one of his contacts, which disgusted me; I dispatched the quaestor to other tasks, just in case their relationship had moved from one of basic diplomacy to one with too much give and take.

'Nice boy!' Phineus spoke Latin, but in a deep Eastern voice.

'Very helpful,' I agreed. If he had been bought by Phineus, Aquillius was an idiot. Phineus would be an idiot too, if he let me find out. He was too canny; that would never happen. But I reckoned that Aquillius was not bright enough to sell out. He would not even recognise a dirty offer. At least rogues like Phineus would not know what to make of him.

While I was eyeing up Phineus, he returned the favour openly. I refused to be put off and kept on looking. He was physically strong, a man who had put in hard effort of some sort. Impressive legs, and his right arm stronger than the other. Prosperity showed. He was better groomed and more smartly turned out than many who arrange mules and ships. Even so, there was a well-worn air about him. He had three missing front teeth, though that applied to many people.

His survey of me would be equally two-sided. I was a Roman, but unlike most men who journeyed abroad, looked neither wealthy nor a slave. I had arrived with Aquillius, yet there was distance between him and me; I had given the order that sent Aquillius ambling off, which he had accepted as from an equal, or near equal. It would be clear I felt differently. When the amiable quaestor waved goodbye, I did not return his gesture.

I was wearing a loose brown tunic, good Italian boots, a belt with a Celtic buckle, a slightly fancy dagger in a Spanish leather scabbard. These were surface adornments; I came with more subtle trappings. skills which no slippery businessman should take for granted. I looked my age, thirty-five that year, and as tough as I would ever be. I had been around; I hoped it showed. I sported an Aventine haircut and an Aventine stare. I was ready for anything and would take no nonsense.

'So you are the special investigator!' Phineus said, keeping it light, keeping it well-mannered. 'You are very welcome. I cannot tell you how glad I shall be when you solve what has happened and free us from its shadow.'

He had to be a conniving rogue, yet he lied to me with sonorous, deep-voiced sincerity.

XXXI

'I heard you had gone to Cythera.'

'Oh - some other man took that group!' Phineus spoke dismissively; I could not decide whether he was looking down on the man, the group, or both. Maybe the other escort had pinched the Cythera commission from under Phineus' nose - and with it, the tips.

We were walking. The bar had been too intimate; neither of us wanted this conversation to be overheard by its nosy keeper and residents. Corinth had plenty of squares and colonnades to stroll in. We made our way to the main forum. It was so grandiose I for one felt anonymous there. But those multiple shops, arranged in neat sets of six or so, bunched along every facade of the frieze-bedecked piazza, could be full of ears. Corinth must have its version of Roman informers - if nothing else there would be street spies put in place to report to the governor on the activities of cults like the Christians.

'I need you to give me some background,' I said.

'Background on my clients?' Phineus enquired meekly.

'On your operation first, please. How long have you been running these escorted trips?'

'Since Nero's Grand Tour. That was the first big year for visitors; I could see things could only get better.'

So he had been on the road with tourists for the past ten years. I put him at close to forty. 'What did you do before that, Phineus?'

'This and that. I come from the south.'

'Of Greece?'

'Of Italy!'

'I've been there.' I had been to Croton, home of the original wrestling champion Milo. I found the south hostile to Romans, its towns full of staring eyes and resentful faces. Helena's first husband came from Tarentum and he was bad news. My tone automatically went sour. 'What part?'

'Brundisium.' A port. Always liable to produce men with low morals. A major embarking point for Greece, however, so a good home for a man who had ended up arranging travel.

I gave up on his past. 'Who decided to set up an overseas consultancy? Is the business yours, or do I need to know about higher management?'

'It's mine.' He sounded proud. Judging by the current tour, customer satisfaction was not his goal. That saved him feeling depressed when he reviewed his lack of praise from clients; it was enough for him to count up his bank balance.

'You call it Seven Sights. So I guess you go to all of them?' I tried showing off. 'The Statue of Zeus at Olympia, the Temple of Artemis at Ephesus, the Colossus of Rhodes, the Hanging Gardens of Babylon - you go to Babylon?' Phineus laughed contemptuously. 'So you offer to go, and hope nobody asks for it... the Mausoleum at Halicarnassus, the Pharos and Library at Alexandria, the Pyramids and Sphinx at Giza.'

'I try to avoid Halicarnassus too,' Phineus told me, confidentially. 'That's halfway to Hades.' When it came to remote exploration, he liked a soft life, it seemed.

'Still, you've had clients scribbling Tiberius was here on some of the best cultural hotspots.'

'And they do it! Latninus saw this monument and was amazed... Septimus had a good shit at this inn, and enjoyed the barmaid. All right for them, Falco, but I have to return to those places. Last thing I want is furious temple priests who know that my previous customers defaced five-hundred-year-old pillars. Come to that, last thing I want is bitter barmaids who remember my old customers as lousy tippers!'

'You hand out hints on etiquette, surely? 'Be discreet; pay what the bill demands; don't brag about the Circus Maximus or the new Flavian amphitheatre...'

''Pee when you can; don't steal votive offerings; souvenir-sellers want you to barter; money-changers don't. Never forget, Athens was a world-wide power when Romulus was sucking milk from the wolfie. - Oh yes. Doesn't stop the bastards standing before the monument at Thermopylae, when their hearts ought to be broken, and sneering, 'But Leonidas and the Spartans lost. '

'Doesn't stop them continuously moaning?' I threw in.

Phineus favoured me with a caustic glance. 'Now what have you heard, Falco?'

'No Games at Olympia?'

He sucked air through the hole between his front teeth. 'They have no idea!' he shook his head mournfully. 'Great gods, Falco! Don't these fools know about the old story? - one man used to threaten his slaves that if they misbehaved, their punishment was to be sent to the Olympic Games.'

'That bad?'

'Worse! Oh I have taken tours there during the contests. Then you get some moaning! It's a nightmare. Even if they think they know how it will be, they reel when they come up against the actual experience. They can't move, they don't see anything, they get bitten by flies and are laid low, they sweat like pigs in the heat, they collapse from dehydration, they are robbed by incense-sellers and street entertainers and prostitutes.' All this was now familiar. I was unimpressed by the blather. Phineus glanced at me to see how I was taking it, then carried on insistently. 'They are packed so tight, people faint away. Once I get the men into the stadium we are stuck there until closing time. The Games are violent events, long days of being squashed together under a baking sun, tumult all around.'

'And you cannot take women?'

'I wouldn't take women even if I could!'

We had stopped in front of the southern stoa, a long colonnade cut from the rock on two levels. Above us reared the Temple of Apollo, hundreds of years old, on its spectacular bluff. It had a long and serenely confident array of the wide, slightly squat Greek columns with which I had become familiar at Olympia; to me, not so refined as our taller Roman temple pillars. Helena always said Apollo was handsome enough, but she wouldn't invite him home to dinner. He would be bound to bring his lyre with him and would want to start a music contest. Like Nero, Apollo was known to sulk and turn nasty if he was not allowed to win.

'So, Phineus,' I said quietly. 'Does your prohibition against women date from the year you took Marcella Naevia and her missing niece?'

Phineus breathed out, puffing his cheeks. 'That again!'

''Again, nothing. It never went away.'

'Look, Falco. I do not know what happened to that girl. I really do not know.' The way he said it almost implied there were other things he claimed not to know, where some different measure of truth applied. I wondered what they were.

'And Valeria Ventidia, the bludgeoned bride?'

'How could I know anything about her either?'

He and I cooled off below a statue of a prowling lion, taking shelter from the sun's glare in the shade of its enormous plinth. A tattered stall was selling drinks. Without comment on Phineus' last remark, I bought two cups of honeyed wine. Well, it passed for wine. We stood to sip them, so we could return the beakers afterwards.

'I was with the men,' Phineus reminded me. 'I had taken the men to a mock-feast of victory. When the bride died,' he insisted.

I sampled my drink again, longing for more familiar street fare. 'And when the girl went up the Hill of Cronus, where were you then, Phineus?'

'Gods, I can't remember!' His voice was low and full of irritation. I lifted my mouth from the sticky cup, and gazed at him. He must have had an answer at the time - and I wanted to hear it. 'It was the last day,' he remarked, in his dismissive way.

Young Glaucus had told me the programme. As Phineus and I moved on, towards the Forum's massive triple entrance arch, beside the huge complex of the Peirene Fountain, I counted off the events. Day One: swearing in competitors, contests for heralds, sacrifices, orations. Day Two: Equestrian events (chariots and horse races, the pentathlon. Day Three: sacrifice of the hundred oxen to Zeus, foot races. Day Four: the contact sports - wrestling, boxing, pankration.'

'And race-in-armour,' Phineus added. Pedantic bastard.

'Day Four would be particularly trying for any women present, I imagine. Penned up, with nothing much to do, waiting for their male companions to come home, knowing the men would talk obsessively about blood and battery.'

'The way I see it,' Phineus said, pompously and without much sympathy, 'if these rich women agree to accompany their men on an athletics tour, they must know what they are letting themselves in for.'

'I think my wife might say, all women underestimate what men will impose on them!'

We were at the fountain now. We stood on the busy flight of steps, buffeted by people coming and going from the pools. It had six dramatic arches above gloomy cisterns, which lay some way below the level of the modern Forum. I wondered if that represented the old foundation level, before the brutal destruction wreaked in Rome's name by Corinth-conquering Mummius. 'Marcella Naevia is well travelled, I am told, but she and her young niece may have known little about the world of sport. Perhaps they were not prepared, Phineus. Was the aunt single, married, or widowed?'

'She was trouble,' said Phineus. 'Always raising protests. Always having a go.' A typical Seven Sights client, then.

'She took against you?' It was a guess, but accurate.

'She did.'

'Why?'

'Absolutely no idea.' I could have provided suggestions. Once more he closed off. Once more I waited. 'The woman was unreasonable.'

'The woman lost her niece, Phineus.'

'Nobody knew the girl was dead. She could have run off with a one-legged sprinter, for all anybody knew.'

'Do virgins run off with athletes or otherwise frequently on your tours?'

Phineus laughed coarsely. 'No, they usually just end up pregnant. My job is to spot the bulge in time to ship them back to Rome before they actually have the child - then my company washes its hands of them!'

'That must save you a lot of trouble,' I said. He took it as a compliment.

After a while, we moved down the wide fountain stair ourselves, into its water-cooled open courtyard. The pools were still below our level, reached by a few further steps. We could hear the water cascading from six lion-headed spouts. Overshadowed by the enclosing walls, we trod carefully on the wet slabs. I glanced up to admire the elegantly painted architecture, then reminded Phineus of where we left off. So - Day Four, three years ago; what happened, Phineus?'

'The men had a really good day at the contact sports, then I had arranged to take them to a feast.'

'You can't get them in to the official winners' banquet, presumably? The Prytaneion is reserved for competitors. So you fixed up an alternative - like the one you arranged this year for the current group?' That would be a dreary night with execrable refreshments, according to the angry group member Sertorius. 'Any good?' I could not resist the chance to be satirical.

'Of course. Then next morning, the bloody girl went missing, her damned aunt raised an outcry, and just when we were due to leave, we spent a day fruitlessly searching for darling Caesia. I'll never forget. It was bloody pouring with rain.

'She had vanished overnight?'

'The aunt reported it when we were ready to go. I think she waited until morning.' Phineus saw me looking sideways. 'In case darling Caesia had just found herself a boyfriend and wanted to stay with him.'

'Did you have any reason to think that she had?'

'Found a boyfriend? I wouldn't think so. She was a prim little mouse. Jumped, if anybody so much as looked at her. Didn't seem to like men.'

That was new. Inaccurate too. Her father had said there was an episode with a man at home in Rome. 'You thought she had no experience?'

'She hid behind the skirts of older women on the trip.' Hid from what, I wondered.

'Who was making advances?'

'Nobody.' Phineus looked annoyed. 'Don't twist my words. I never said that.'

I changed tack. 'Did you meet her father - afterwards?'

Now it was Phineus who jumped. 'Why? What's her father said, Falco?'

'Touchy! It was a straight question.'

'I met him,' stated Phineus. 'I was polite to him. He had lost his child and I sympathised. There simply wasn't anything that I could do to help the man. I know nothing about what happened to Marcella Caesia.' He paused then. I could not tell what he was thinking - but once again I felt there were things Phineus kept hidden. 'Except this, Falco - if Caesia really disappeared the night before we left, this is a certainty: none of the male clients on that tour harmed her. It would have been impossible. All of them were with me all Day Four, from when we left the women in the morning - with Caesia among them, perfectly all right.'