See Delphi And Die mdf-17 Page 19

  Tiberia had mousy fair hair, pulled back tightly in a ribbon, which she continually untied and tied up again. Her skinny body and long legs had been dressed in a rather mean white tunic. One of her sandals had a broken strap. It made her look neglected by her mother, though perhaps she enjoyed rejecting improvements. (I was a father; I found myself increasingly prone to assume that parents meant well but their children were difficult.) Like many girls her age, she bit her nails. Her fingers were small and childish, her features younger than her age. I put her at thirteen. I bet she stared at boys and dreamed of them, but if anything male looked back at her, she had no idea how to react.

  Albia had taken against her and was showing it. Helena pushed Tiberia forward, nudging her. 'Go on. Tell Marcus Didius what you came about.'

  Tiberia had other ideas. She hung back, leaning against Helena, head down awkwardly. I heard Albia growl in her throat. I took a firm line. 'We are all feeling a bit sad here. Come on please, don't be girly. Let's hear it, Tiberia.'

  Given another unsympathetic shove by Helena, the girl spoke her piece. Her voice was almost too confident, though its tone was languid. 'It's just that, well, after you told us about Cleonymus, I heard you say you were going to see Phineus.'

  'So?' It was probably too curt, but I had had enough that day.

  'Why did you want to see him?'

  'Never mind – what's the interest for you, Tiberia?'

  'Oh… nothing.'

  'That's soon dealt with then.' I showed I had lost interest in her. It worked.

  'I don't like him,' she whispered.

  'He's not my type either.' I tried softening my tone. 'What's he done to you?'

  Tiberia squirmed. I gave her the sceptical gaze I reserve for when I am too tired to bother. Deep questioning was out. She could tell me if she wanted to, or go to Hades. 'I don't like the way he always helps you on to the donkey.'

  Helena finally helped me out. 'Hands everywhere?' Tiberia nodded gratefully. 'Is that all he does?' Again a nod. It could have been much worse, though to a girl this young, the man's behaviour could assume monstrous significance. 'I suppose,' suggested Helena, 'you don't like what happens, but you feel there is nothing specific to complain about?'

  Again Tiberia nodded hard. Phineus would deny there was any wrongdoing; he would suggest the girl had made it up, for all the wrong reasons – or that she was over-sensitive to perfectly normal behaviour.

  Helena loathed gropers. She encouraged Tiberia to open up more. 'It happens, but I always hate it too. If you say anything, men like that have a habit of suggesting you are a prude. Nobody ever takes it seriously – but we do, Tiberia.'

  'No sense of fun, he'll say,' I contributed, myself now sounding more friendly. 'Sarcastic references to the Vestal Virgins…' There was a risk the women present would suppose I shared the Phineus view. Maybe once I would have done.

  Tiberia went pink. 'My father said I had imagined it.' Bastard. If she had been one of my daughters, Phineus would be for it. But Sertorius was more gauche than he would admit, and people in general conspire to ignore such a situation.

  'I expect your mother knows the truth,' said Helena gently.

  'Mother hates him too. All the women do.'

  'Did Valeria Ventidia hate him?' I asked. 'Had he bothered Valeria?'

  Tiberia nodded. That was an excuse to fiddle with her hair again. By now I was ready to strangle her with the damned ribbon.

  'And is he just over-familiar? As far as you know, he never takes it any further?' checked Helena. When the girl looked puzzled, she specified, 'For instance, does he ever try to get you to meet him secretly?' Tiberia looked really alarmed. 'Just a suggestion. Don't worry about it. He won't ask and even if he did, you wouldn't go, would you?… Well, thank you for telling us this.'

  'What will you do?' demanded Tiberia. Her voice still had that languorous note, but she was pleading with me, wanting rescue.

  'That's for me to decide, when the moment is right,' I said. 'As for you, if any man annoys you in that way, try shouting loudly, 'Don't do that!' – especially when other people are present. He won't like to be shown up in public. And the other people may be shamed into taking your part.'

  Tiberia went off, looking as if she had wanted more reaction. I did not expect her to be grateful for my good advice, but I hoped she would follow it.

  Helena joined me. I tweaked her nose. 'It's not like you to make me handle that confrontation, fruit.'

  'I could tell that she would slouch and pose and play with her hair,' Helena admitted, unabashed.

  'Hmm. What were you like when you were thirteen?' I grinned, though I wished I had known her then.

  'More direct! She irritates me so much, I knew I was going to bungle it.' After a moment Helena asked, 'Do you believe her?' I acknowledged that. 'So is it significant?'

  'Probably,' I said.

  XXXVII

  The worst part of my job has always been attending funerals. If it's a victim, I feel angry and sour.

  To my great surprise, Cleonyma asked me to officiate. I had been expecting her to involve Amaranthus. Still, we knew she and Cleonymus had only met him that season, and although we had seen them so much together, apparently she viewed the relationship as temporary.

  Helena reckoned that I represented authority. She said it without irony, but I was not fooled. I suggested to Cleonyma that we ask Aquillius Macer to assist me. She agreed. Aquillius looked horrified but could hardly refuse. So Cleonymus, who had once been a slave, was dispatched to his ancestors by an imperial informer and a patrician diplomat.

  Marinus and Indus organised a whip-round to cover a feast. The collection was fixed up with great efficiency; well, they had already done it twice before. Cleonyma provided her dead husband with a good send-off and a magnificent memorial stone; that would eventually be placed on a public building which she planned to donate to the city, thus recording and celebrating Cleonymus for all time.

  The ceremony was held in the grounds of the governor's residence. The governor himself was still away on his milestone jaunt, but all the group turned out, together with Phineus. He had come up with an undertaker and musicians, though I know Cleonyma paid for them. Aquillius and I performed our duties without a hitch. He cut the throat of the sacrificial sheep; he did it with dispatch, looking perfectly cool. Afterwards he told me that a down-to-earth uncle had given him lessons in ritual when he first stood for the Senate. Knowing that he would be called upon to officiate at public sacrifices, a professional priest had been brought to the family's Campanian villa; Aquillius spent a whole day learning, until half a flock had been slaughtered and Aquillius could butcher anything with four legs.

  He was, however, terrified of public speaking, so it seemed fair that I should compose and deliver the eulogy. I found enough words of praise, and I meant them. The widow wept gently. She thanked me for what I had said; although I still felt like a fraud to be taking the lead role, it was better than most of the alternatives. I still had not told her I suspected that Cleonymus had been murdered, though I wondered if she had guessed it for herself.

  Cleonyma went through the day calmly. She supervised the start of the feast, though I noticed she ate and drank nothing. Once the meal was under way, she slipped outside. Feeling no joy in feasting, I followed her. The residence had the usual elaborate but slightly sterile garden, everything doubled, everything surrounded by miniature hedges, long pools lit by tiny lights to prevent people splashing into them, a subtle scent of jasmine wafting everywhere from unseen climbing plants.

  'Well, I got through it, Falco!' To my amazement I could now tell Cleonyma was pretty drunk. All day, I had never seen her take a drop. 'Now you're going to tell me, aren't you?'

  'Tell you what?'

  'What really happened to my husband.'

  So then I told her what I knew for sure and what I suspected. For a while she stood considering. 'Yes, I thought it must have been like that.'

  'Any ideas about this 'well-dressed'
man, Cleonyma?'

  'You think it's Phineus.'

  'I can't prove that. He denies it – Of course, he would do,' I said quickly.

  'He fits,' she replied, with an air of resignation.

  'Well, if it's possible to show he did it, or that he caused any of the previous deaths, I'll do my best for you.'

  'I know you will. You're all right, Falco. Cleonymus and I both thought that from the start.'

  'Thank you.' I waited a beat, then tackled her. 'Look, I don't want to distress you, especially today, but I think you're tough and you want real answers. Can I ask you some questions?' She made a gesture of acquiescence. 'When Cleonymus and I were walking up the crag, he started to talk to me, but our conversation was never finished.'

  Cleonyma shrugged, as if she were expecting this.

  First I asked about Marinus and Helvia. She confirmed that Marinus was a confidence trickster, preying on rich women. There was nothing more to say about that, except on this tour he had not yet found a mark. The richest single woman in the group was now Cleonyma herself, and she was wise to him. He would make a play, she thought – and she would tell him what she knew about his past, threatening to turn him over to Aquillius. She joked that maybe she could blackmail Marinus. At least, I thought it was a joke.

  When I asked about Helvia, she gave a low chuckle. Although Helvia appeared a befuddled innocent, Cleonyma reckoned she was doing exactly the same as Marinus. The wobbly widow was an accomplished manipulator; men always underestimated her. Helvia moved from province to province, relieving unwise male protectors of thousands. The woman friend she had mentioned, who no longer travelled with her, had in fact been so taken with Helvia's success, she went into that line for herself, when a dimwit from Crete fell for her, while she was acting as Helvia's chaperon.

  'How do you discover all these nuggets, Cleonyma?'

  'They think I'm too boozy to notice what they're telling me.'

  'Do you do anything with the information?' It seemed best to check up.

  'I just enjoy it.' Cleonyma paused, with a sad little smile. 'I shall miss that.'

  'Oh don't deprive yourself! Will you give up on travel?'

  'Won't be the same without him. No, Falco; I'll go home – when you and Aquillius let me. I'll settle down and be a menace. Miserable and sober.'

  'Try not to be miserable. He would not want that for you.'

  Cleonyma looked rueful. 'Being a party girl is hard on your own. And there will never be another for me.'

  'Never say never.'

  'Don't be foolish, Falco. You would be the same, if you lost Helena.'

  'Right.'

  We gazed at the stars for a time. The sky was very black. We avoided looking over our shoulders to where the acropolis towered. We walked around slowly, avoiding the ornamental fish ponds. Then I asked about the rest of the group.

  Cleonyma agreed that the Sertorii were an unhappy family, though she knew of no particular reason, other than the husband's unpleasantness. Things between Minucia and Amaranthus seemed rocky, but she thought they might stick it out.

  'Volcasius?'

  'Beyond help!'

  'Think he's malicious?'

  'Just peculiar. He won't change. He'll live for years, travelling until old age and arthritis get the better of him, then he'll go home and skulk.'

  'What about Indus? Is he another Marinus? A predator?'

  'No!' An almost kindly note came into Cleonyma's voice.

  'Your man told me you know his story.'

  'It's very simple.'

  'And reprehensible? He's running away from something – Or do I mean somebody?'

  'Yes.'

  'Anyone special?'

  'Ought to be!'

  'I'm no good at riddles.'

  'Leave him alone, poor man.'

  I changed the subject obediently. When a witness is such good value, no informer causes upsets. So we moved on to the last member of the group. Phineus.

  'I can't say he has ever upset me, but the young girl is right about his habits. He crawls around the women. Any chance to stand too close, put his damn arm around a waist, give a surreptitious squeeze. All the time, he speaks very respectfully. For me, that's the most annoying part! He backs off if anyone stands up to him – though the inexperienced girls don't understand that.'

  'Valeria?'

  'She was nineteen; she was a bride; she was fair game. Statianus was jealous, but useless, of course…'

  Cleonyma paused. I listened too. She had heard Helena calling us.

  Cleonyma and I turned back. I put out an arm to shepherd her – then in view of the strictures against Phineus, I thought better of it. Bright woman that she was, Cleonyma noticed and gave a short laugh.

  Just before we reached the house, she took a small glass flask from a bag she was carrying, and discreetly supped liquor. Then, straightening up, she walked firmly indoors. Beneath the thick layer of face powder and the gold jewellery, she was showing her age but as we re-entered the house she looked serene, collected and, to a casual observer, quite sober.

  XXXVIII

  Helena was talking to Aquillius. I saw her frown slightly. There would be a good reason why she had interrupted my tete-a-tete. She knew that Cleonyma and I were not discussing tombstone design.

  The widow tottered over to Minucia, leaving me free to investigate.

  'Marcus, Phineus has asked Aquillius for leave to travel to Delphi; he says he ought to go and look for Statianus!'

  'He has given me his parole.' Aquillius already knew I disapproved.

  'So you are letting him go?' I was horrified.

  'Actually no. I just want you to know that, Falco. I refused him permission.'

  'Well, that's a start – How will you ensure he stays in Corinth?'

  'He won't disobey my orders,' Aquillius claimed stiffly. I gazed at him, letting him read my doubts. He gazed back, visibly wavering. 'Oh dear… Well, he told me he would send one of his men.'

  'One of the drivers he uses?' That pulled me up. This was an aspect I had been neglecting. 'Tell me, quaestor – does Phineus have workers who routinely accompany clients on these tours?'

  To my surprise, Aquillius did know the answer. 'No. He hires local people at every site, as and when he needs them.'

  That was a relief. He probably hired different ones each time, depending on who was available, so it was unlikely these temporary workers were suspects. 'Should have guessed! Piecework.'

  Aquillius was puzzled, so Helena explained. 'Paid by the job and then dismissed. Phineus doesn't keep a regular workforce because he is probably too mean. This will be cheaper.' At least it saved me having to spend days wearing myself out in aimless interviews with hostile muleteers and bloody-minded factotums.

  I gazed around the banqueting room. We had been granted the full service of the governor's chamberlain, chefs, and table slaves. Most of them would be top-class household staff brought to Greece from the governor's house in Rome. Providing a huge, slick entourage would be part of establishing his personal status, as well as an essential tool of Roman diplomacy. Even on campaign, Julius Caesar used to impress shaggy Gallic princes with an enormous marquee which contained not just flunkeys and folding thrones, but a portable floor mosaic. Now that tragedy had brought the Tracks and Temples group at least temporarily within the embrace of their embassy, they were dining off gold plate for once. I would never have risked my best dinner service with this lot, but the governor was not here to object, and Aquillius must see it as his duty to supply the best tureens and salvers.

  That did not stop Sertorius grumbling as he passed us that he would have thought Cleonyma would have bought in better wine.

  As part of my funeral duties, I had chosen the wine. It was perfectly acceptable. The food had been good too, even though my annoying nephews had played their now-customary game of pointing to cauldrons of aromatic cooked meats, loudly screaming 'Pelops!', then giggling hysterically. At most dinners it would not have mattered, but people on t
his tour had had myth laminated on to their fraught brains. The tasteless reference to cannibalism among the deities was lost on very few of them.

  I looked around for the boys. With Albia and Young Glaucus, they were now amusing themselves fairly politely. Cornelius had brought his soldiers board game and Albia was teaching Glaucus to play, while the boys sprawled on the serving table as spectators. So long as she stopped with the black and white counters and did not start initiating my trainer's son into other moves, I could leave them to it.

  Helena, Aquillius, and I surveyed the wake. People had been badly in need of a release; with plenty of nourishment and drink inside them, they were now letting go. The noise level had risen. Soon this would be like a celebration, with little reference to the dead.

  First to go was the seating plan. Amaranthus had stayed put, staring into space alone. He looked saturnine and brooding. I wondered if he was considering who would next be picked off by the killer. If so, it definitely bothered him. If he was the killer himself, he should have tried to look more nonchalant.

  His partner Minucia had turned her back on him. I could not tell if the couple had had a tiff today, but she was totally ignoring Amaranthus as she ministered to Cleonyma. Cleonyma was standing beside her; she now wore a little wavering smile, not saying much but looking blissful and swaying very, very slightly. It would not last; any minute now she would crumple and weep uncontrollably.

  Sertoria Silene had left her family's table and was intently conversing with Indus. Their voices were low, as a sign of respect for the occasion. Still, they looked as if they had been chatting for some time; it was unforced and agreeable. Her children were not bothering them, for one thing. She was talking with an assurance she never dared show with her husband, while Indus responded happily. Tiberia and Tiberius were slinking around in a colonnade, stalking a kitten they had chosen to torment. A slave they had not noticed was standing in the shadows, keeping an eye on them. She was grasping a large metal ladle. Good.