See Delphi And Die mdf-17 Page 13

  'He did what he could,' snorted Cleonymus. 'That wasn't much – still, there wasn't much anyone could have done, given that Aquillius was determined to keep us trapped in that tent until he could arrest someone – and that he failed miserably to decide who it should be. Only the fact that Aquillius wanted to come back to Corinth made him say we could all go free. Even then -' Cleonymus gave me a dark look. 'Our reprieve was temporary.'

  'So what, to be precise, did Phineus really do for you?' I asked.

  'Kept the food coming and ensured the wine improved,' Minucia told me, caustically. 'I thought he could have moved us into decent accommodation, though that never happened. But he kept at it, talking to Aquillius. 'Negotiating for us,' he maintained.'

  'Aquillius speaks well of him.'

  'Mind you -' Amaranthus used a heavy mannered delivery which combined making a point with making a joke. 'We have established to general satisfaction, haven't we, that Aquillius Macer is so bright he could lose himself in an empty sack.'

  I smiled at his response. 'So, my friends – any idea where your wonderful escort is right now?'

  Apparently, Phineus was earning himself a few drachmas, trotting off to Cythera with some other visiting Romans, while he waited for this group to be given their release. Cythera, an island at the extreme southern end of the Peloponnese, seemed a damned long way to let a suspect travel.

  'I hope, for their sakes, he doesn't take them to that conniving murex-seller who cheated us last year,' said Cleonyma. Murex is the special shellfish dye used for purple cloth; its cost is phenomenal. Cleonyma and her husband apparently had an intimate knowledge of shopping for luxury goods.

  Since we seemed to have exhausted their knowledge of the murder, Helena started asking Cleonyma about their past travels. Although this was their first trip with Seven Sights, the couple were old hands.

  'We've been on the road for a couple of years. While we can last out, we'll keep going. The money came from our old master. He had a lot – mainly because for decades, he never would spend any. Life with him was bloody hard, especially after he got sick. But in the end, he seemed to change his attitude. He knew he was dying, and he started handing out presents.'

  'Was he frightened that you might stop looking after him?'

  'Bribery? No, Helena; he was scared of the pain, but he knew he could trust us.' Cleonyma was matter-of-fact. I could imagine her as a brisk but efficient nurse. Receiving a bed-bath at her hands might be a worry. Especially if she had been drinking. 'He never said beforehand, but when he went he left us everything.'

  'So you know he valued your loyalty.'

  'And no one else could put up with him! – We two had been together unofficially for years,' Cleonyma reminisced. Slaves are not allowed to marry, even other slaves. 'But as soon as we got our windfall, we made it proper. We had a huge bash, all the works, ceremony, contract, rings, veils, nuts, witnesses, and a very expensive priest to take the auguries.'

  Helena was laughing. 'The auguries were good, I hope?'

  'They certainly were – we paid the priest enough to guarantee that!' Cleonyma too was relishing the story. 'He was a clapped-out old pain in the buttocks – but he managed to see in the sheep's liver that we shall have long life and happiness, so I like to think he had good eyesight. If not, you and me are finished!' she warbled to her husband, who looked on, bleary but amiable. 'Now we just think, let's see the world. We earned it, so why shouldn't we?'

  We all raised our drinks in a friendly toast to that.

  'Somebody else took an interest in Valeria's fate.' Helena asked, trying not to look worried. 'Wasn't there a young man from Rome, called Camillus Aelianus?'

  'Oh him!' The loud foursome all guffawed.

  'He got up a lot of people's noses,' Minucia declared.

  Helena said sadly, 'It means nothing. He doesn't know he's doing it.' She let the truth sink in. 'Aelianus is my brother, I'm afraid.'

  They all stared.

  'He said he was the son of a senator!' Cleonyma exclaimed. Helena nodded. Cleonyma looked her up and down. 'So what about you? You are with an informer, so we assumed…'

  Helena shook her head gently. 'Make no mistake – Marcus is a very good informer. He has talent, connections, and scruples, Cleonyma.'

  'Any good in bed, though?' Cleonyma giggled, giving Helena a poke in the ribs. She knew how to defuse an awkward situation by lowering the tone.

  'Oh, I wouldn't have looked at him otherwise!' Helena replied.

  I drank my wine impassively. 'So where is Aelianus – does anybody know?'

  They all shrugged and told us he had simply vanished.

  XXIV

  A lull allowed Volcasius to interrupt. With unabashed lack of social skill, the man nobody wanted to sit with suddenly accosted me. 'I've finished lunch. Better speak to me!' He was on his feet and about to leave the courtyard.

  I gathered my note-tablets and went over to the table he had occupied alone. He sank back on a bench again, with an ungainly sideways motion. His clothes were unkempt and exuded a waft of body odour. Though his manner towards me was abrupt, I would treat him with courtesy. People like that do know how others regard them. He was probably intelligent – perhaps too intelligent; that may have been the problem. He could well provide useful information.

  'You are called Volcasius?'

  He glared. 'So some snitch gave you our biographies!'

  'Just a list of names. Is there anything you can add to what the rest have told me?' He shrugged, so I asked him, 'Do you think Statianus killed his wife?'

  'No idea. The pair were wrapped up in themselves, and frankly did not interest me. I never gained any impression of whether he was jealous or likely to snap.'

  I surveyed the oddball thoughtfully, wondering whether he himself had ever had any tricky exchanges with the bride.

  As I had thought, the man was bright: he read my thoughts. 'You are imagining that I killed her!' The way he put it was very self-centred. He seemed almost pleased to rank as a suspect.

  'So did you?' I challenged.

  'Certainly not.'

  'Any idea who might have done?'

  'No idea at all. Is that the best you can come up with?' His tone was contemptuous. As an investigator, he thought I stank. I knew the kind; he believed he could do my job for me – though of course he lacked experience, persistence, skill, or sensitivity. And if he had had to park in a doorway to watch a suspect, the mark would have spotted him instantly.

  I leaned back, looking relaxed. 'Tell me why you are on this trip, will you?'

  Hooking himself into a crazy position, he peered at me, now deeply suspicious. 'Why do you want to know, Falco?'

  'I want to establish who had a motive. Perhaps I wonder whether you attach yourself to travelling groups in order to prey on women.' He humphed. 'Not married, Volcasius?'

  Volcasius grew hot and bothered. 'That applies to plenty of people!'

  I gave him a conciliatory smile. 'Of course. You see the obvious way of thinking, however. But I never follow obvious lines of enquiry… Are you keen on culture? Is that the lure?'

  'I've nothing at home to keep me. I like to visit foreign places.'

  'Nothing wrong with that!' I soothed him, while also implying that there might be. I could see how it was. He would never fit in, wherever he was, so he kept moving. I guessed that he also had a genuine, even a pedantic interest in the provinces he toured. He was carrying a note-tablet set much like my own. His tablets lay folded open so I could see scrawled lines of madly minute handwriting, lines which made my eyes ache as I tried to decipher them at a distance. There were place-names underlined, then long inches of detail; he was creating an enormous travel guide. I could imagine that when he had been at Olympia he compiled not just descriptions of the temples and sports facilities, but lists of the hundreds of statues, probably each with its inscription copied down. 'You strike me, Volcasius, as the kind of observant man who may have seen something other people missed.'

  I
hated myself for flattering him, and since he was far from grateful, I then hated myself more. 'I've been thinking about that,' he retorted. 'Unfortunately for you, I have not been able to remember anything significant.' I looked rueful; he was triumphant. 'If anything should come to mind, have no fear, I shall report forthwith!'

  'Thank you.'

  Volcasius had a way of leaning too close which, combined with his sour smell, made me desperate to be rid of him. 'So what is your solution for that other girl, Falco? The one who was found on the Hill of Cronus?'

  I kept my voice low, to match his. 'Marcella Caesia?' Some of the group must have known her story, because the apparent connection was why Aulus had written to us back in Rome. 'It now appears that the two cases are not linked.'

  Volcasius let out a short bark of derision, as if with that I had just proved myself incompetent. He said nothing to assist me, needless to say. I never had any patience with idiots who gave me that superior 'Little do you know!' snot.

  He stood up again. 'As for that young man you enquired about, Falco – the Aelianus fellow – nobody else seems to have spotted it, but when we were all put under house arrest here, he took ofTsomewhere with the dead girl's husband.'

  Volcasius strode away with the air of a man who had just given himself a big thrill by annoying me. I failed to point out that he had left his hat behind, lying on the table. It was the kind of greasy straw affair that looks as if it harbours wildlife. If there had been an oil lamp lit, I would have taken a spill and deliberately set fire to the hat in the cause of hygiene.

  XXV

  I rejoined Helena Justina, who had stayed with her new friends, the colourful foursome. I pulled a face, to express my feelings about Volcasius, but they were too polite to comment. I guessed that in private they said how dreadful he was; in public, since they had to endure him as a companion, these expert tourists appeared forbearing.

  Helena looked amused by my plain loathing of the loner. She had more urgent things on her mind, though. 'Marcus, listen! Cleonyma and Minucia have been telling me about the day when Valeria went on the Pelops tour.'

  The two women shuffled closer together like schoolgirls and looked reluctant. But eventually Minucia confessed in a near-whisper. 'It's nothing – but when we were going around the site, that big brute, Milo of Dodona, spoke to her.'

  I leaned my chin on my hands. 'Milo? What did he say to Valeria, any idea?'

  'She was embarrassed. There was a lot of whispering; she tried to get rid of him.'

  'So what was his game?'

  'Oh, he wants sponsors for a statue of himself.' Minucia did not yet know Milo was in the past tense. 'He had been around asking all of us. Valeria was a kind-hearted girl and he picked up on that. She had no idea how to get rid of him. She and Statianus had no real money. Milo was wasting his time there.'

  'Was there anything sexual in his interest?' I asked frankly. 'Or in her interest in him?

  Cleonyma shook her head. 'No, no; he's an ugly bastard.'

  'Marcus has seen him,' Helena interposed.

  'Worse,' I said. 'I've been thrown on my head by him.' Cleonymus and Amaranthus winced at my heroics. 'Some women like the idea of being crushed in the strong arms of a well-developed lover,' I suggested. The women to whom I propounded this coy theory heard it in silence, implying they were all admirers of intellect and sensitivity.

  Cleonyma inspected her fingernails; even Helena straightened her bangle with a very refined motion. 'We suspect Milo invited Valeria to meet him. Was that in your hearing?'

  Cleonyma and Minucia glanced at each other, neither wanting to tell me.

  'Come on, ladies; this is important. I can't interrogate Milo, by the way, because he's died on me.'

  Looking shocked, Cleonyma pressed a hand against her lips then muttered through her fingers, 'He was trying to lure Valeria to the palaestra to hear some poet reading his work.'

  The palaestra would be used as an auditorium by authors of celebratory odes. During the Games, philosophers and panegyrists would hang around there like midges. We had even dodged a few during our own visit. 'Valeria was a literary type?'

  'Valeria was just bloody bored!' Minucia muttered hoarsely. 'We all were, Falco. There is nothing for women at Olympia – well, not unless you're a girl in the leisure industry; they make as much in the five nights of the Games as they can in a year!' I did wonder briefly if Minucia had special knowledge of this service industry.

  'Had you been to Olympia before, Minucia?'

  'Amaranthus gave me that awful pleasure once. He's athletics mad.' He looked proud of it. Minucia carried on bitterly. 'The Games were on – well, never again! The tent city was full of fire-eaters and floozies, drunks, acrobats, puppeteers doing lewd shows – and the bloody poets were the worst. You couldn't go out without stepping on some seedy hack, spewing hexameters!' We all looked sympathetic, to allow Minucia to settle down. She was still remembering. 'There was even a bloody man trying to sell off a goat with two heads.'

  I sat up. 'I know that goat! I nearly bought him once.'

  'No, you didn't.' Helena smiled dreamily. 'You wanted to buy one whose head was on backwards.'

  'He was called Alexander, because he was great.'

  'At Palmyra. But, darling, he only had one head.'

  A silence fell. Nobody could decide whether we were being serious. I brooded to myself about the goat, and my lost chance to become a travelling sideshow at festivals.

  'Valeria should have learned her lesson. She had been to one recital with us,' Cleonyma told me. For all her flamboyant outward style, she took a grave interest in the girl's fate. 'We all went, to fill in an hour, the afternoon before. Phineus laid it on; he told us the orator would be really good. We soon learned better! The horrible fellow called himself the New Pindar, but his odes were old tripe.'

  'If Valeria went to the palaestra to hear Milo's poet, why has nothing ever been made of that?'

  Again there was an awkward silence. This time it was Cleonymus who filled me in. 'What the girls don't want to tell you, is that this Milo of Dodona came to the tent the next morning. He appeared not to know that Valeria had died – and we thought that was genuine. He was complaining that he had waited outside the palaestra for her, but she never came.'

  'You believed his story?'

  Helena leaned forwards. 'If Milo killed Valeria, why draw attention to himself, Marcus?'

  'We thought he was a big stupid mutt who just wanted a statue of himself as a champion,' Cleonyma said. 'We sent him packing. There was no reason Valeria's husband had to be upset any more than he already was.'

  Cleonymus agreed. 'Statianus was in serious trouble, and we wanted to protect him. Bad enough him being accused by the quaestor, when we thought he was innocent. The locals were all prattling about Valeria's low morals – which again was unjust. She was a silly girl, and she should have sent the wrestler packing. But we did not think she'd slept with him, or ever intended to. So, why bring Milo into it?'

  Helena asked them, 'Was the quarrel she had with Statianus on the last evening over Milo?'

  'We think it may have been,' murmured Cleonyma. 'She told him she was going to listen to the poet, and at Milo's invitation. Statianus – understandably – refused her permission.'

  'He should have tied her to a bloody tent pole to make sure!' Amaranthus scolded.

  I said I disapproved of subjugating wives in most circumstances – but I agreed that this would have saved Valeria's life. To myself I was wondering whether, if Valeria had stayed at the tent that night, the killer would have found himself another woman to prey upon. Was it purely coincidence that he had killed one who was travelling with Seven Sights? 'Were there any other groups visiting Olympia off season, by the way?'

  'You are joking!' scoffed Amaranthus. 'Anyone with sense is going next year.' His voice expressed longing and Minucia glared at him balefully.

  'So people in this party were unhappy with your itinerary, at that point?'

  ''Unhappy
as muck, Falco,' Cleonymus told me. 'Most of us had expected the Games, on Seven Sights' say-so – and we were livid.'

  Amaranthus joined in. 'Phineus keeps muttering promises for next year, but he's a cheapskate. He took us to Olympia now, when it was quiet, to save on costs.'

  'Exactly!' snapped Cleonymus. 'He could have put us up at the main guesthouse, or got us into that villa of Nero's – very nice! But dear Phineus chose to cramp us in tents, because he got them for nothing. All along, it's been the same. Our food has been appalling, the donkeys have been mangy, the drivers are shite – when he provides any – and now we've ended up stuck here, only one grade down from being thrown into jail on trumped-up charges.'

  'And still some people think that Phineus is wonderful?' I asked drily.

  'We're captives,' Amaranthus groaned. 'People are scared they will never get back to Italy if they complain.'

  Both couples seemed to feel that they had said too much now. After a few more neutral comments, they became restless so I let them go. They departed, the men seeking out a good souvenir-seller Phineus had told them about; they joked that they hoped he was better than the awful orator their tour guide had recommended at Olympia. The women scuttled on a quest for a public convenience that would not flood.

  This left Helena and me, with the trio who were patiently waiting. Helvia, and her two male companions. We went across to them, pulled up seats, and although we all laughed because by now it was unnecessary, we introduced ourselves.

  XXVI

  As we settled into our new positions, I noticed that the Sertorius boy was lurking about, hiding behind a pillar as if pretending to stalk us. Then I spotted the girl too, making a better job of being unobtrusive. On her own, she would have got away with it. Helvia took it upon herself to shoo them off. Indus, the shorter male, said the brats had been a menace from day one. He once caught the boy going through his things. Indus' expression as he recalled this incident seemed to confirm he was a fugitive, scared of discovery.