A dying light in Corduba mdf-8 Read online

  'Don't bother, Falco. When you try to take an interest, I know it's all fake.'

  'You know I'm a fake you can trust.'

  'You're the fake I'm stuck with, anyway…'

  She looked tired. I pried the curved strigil from her hand and took over ridding myself of sweat, oil and filth. Then we both sank on to the wooden bench to endure what else we could of the heat. Helena collected the damp strands of her hair and wound them into a clump, holding the weight off the back of her neck.

  'Marius Optatus could go out in the fields and olive groves, but I've been stuck with our unwanted guest. I had to talk to him. I had to listen too – unendingly. He is a man. He expects to hold the floor. What he has to say is banal, humourless and predictable. He expects admiration in inverse proportion to content, of course.' I was chortling. I loved to hear Helena condemning somebody else.

  'Has he made advances to you?' I demanded suspiciously. I knew how I would react if I had Helena Justina to myself for days.

  'Of course not.'

  'He's an idiot then!'

  'He regards me as a mother-goddess, I believe. He pours out his heart to me. His heart is about as interesting as a burned cinnamon bun.'

  'Has he admitted he's a bad boy?'

  'He doesn't know,' said Helena, summing him up with furious clarity. 'Whatever he does, he never even thinks about whether it's right or wrong.'

  I sucked my lower lip. 'No fascinating hopes and joys? No undetected talents?'

  'He likes hunting, drinking, wrestling – with opponents who are not too professional – and telling people about the future he has planned.'

  'He told me how good he was going to be as quaestor.' 'He told me the same,' she sneered. 'I expect he tells everyone.'

  'I expect some are impressed.'

  'Oh lots would be,' she agreed readily. 'People think mere self-confidence equates to nobility.'

  She fell silent for a moment. I'm confident,' I mentioned, since she was obviously thinking it.

  'You're confident for good reason. And when that's inappropriate you're filled with doubt. What Quinctius Quadratus lacks is judgement.'

  We were again silent. The slave had done his duty with a will, and the room quivered with steam now. Wetness streamed over my forehead from the hair flattened on my head. I scooped water from a basin and threw it over my face and chest. Helena was looking very flushed. 'You've had enough,' I warned her.

  'I don't care. I'm just so pleased to be with you, to be talking to you.'

  It was too hot to touch another person, but I took her hand and we exchanged a slippery embrace.

  'Why do we hate him?' I mused after more reflection. 'What has he really done? Other people think he's wonderful.'

  'Other people always will.' Helena had clearly had plenty of time to evaluate the hero.

  'He's likeable.'

  'That's what makes it so bad; he could be worthwhile, but he's chosen to waste his potential. We hate him because he is bound for success, which he doesn't deserve. He is an empty shell, but that will not prevent him rising.'

  'His underlings will buoy him up.'

  'And his superiors will avoid the effort of reporting his inadequacy.'

  'He'll introduce stupid procedures and make terrible decisions, but by the time the results show he'll have moved on up the ladder and be wreaking havoc somewhere else.'

  'And he will never be called back to answer for his mistakes.'

  'It's the system. The system is rotten.'

  'Then the system must be changed,' said Helena.

  Left to myself I would have sunk into a heavy sleep, but I managed to rouse us both enough to wash in the warm pool. 'So what's the story of poor young Constans?'

  'I told you most of it.'

  'You were with Aelia Annaea?'

  'Tolerating Quadratus was becoming too much. Optatus took to finding excuses to ride into Corduba. Aelia and Claudia came to rescue me; we sneaked off in the Annaeus carriage, and then we spent the day at Aelia's house.'

  'This was today?'

  'Yes. Then this afternoon a desperate message came for Claudia Rufina to rush home because of the tragedy. Her brother had been working on the estate; I think maybe there had been some trouble about the life he had been leading – that party you went to with Aelia's brothers has had its repercussions throughout the neighbourhood. Anyway, Rufius Constans had promised to reform himself. Hard work was his way of showing it.'

  'What caused the accident?'

  'New stones had been delivered for an oil press, and he went to inspect them. Nobody thought he would attempt to move them on his own. When he failed to return for lunch with his grandmother a savant was sent out, and he was found dead.'

  'An accident,' I repeated.

  'Nobody else had been there. As for Quinctius Quadratus, he was here; we all know it. Without question he is unable to ride. He could never have got to the Rufius estate. Besides, why would he harm his young friend?'

  I shook my head, unable to suggest an answer. Then I did say, 'I saw Rufius Constans before I left. He and his grandfather were at the proconsul's palace, trying to gain an interview.'

  Helena looked at me. 'Intriguing! But you cannot ask Licinius Rufius what they were doing there. He and his wife will be heartbroken over their loss. So much was invested in Constans.'

  'And so much wasted,' I agreed, in my most republican mood.

  'They had probably gone to ask the proconsul for support in advancing the young man's career!'

  That was not how it had looked to me. The old man had been too urgent in his mauner, and the boy too sullen- faced.

  Because of the cramped layout of the bath-house, we had to return through the warm room to reach what passed for a cold plunge. It was in a kind of cupboard to one side, built off the cold room with the cloak-hooks. Even before we pulled back the curtain which concealed the pool, I had an inkling of something suspicious. Then Helena Justina exploded. 'Oh really! I don't believe this thoughtlessness!'

  I did. Somebody had bathed in the small pool so vigorously they had swooshed almost all of the water out on to the floor. Before I squashed down on the sitting ledge and splashed myself as best I could to cool down in the remnants, I glanced back into the outer room. There were wet footprints everywhere, and the blue tunic I threw on the bench had now disappeared. Whoever had used the cold water must have been lurking in the pool when Helena and I first entered. Whoever it was could have overheard all we said. Luckily the thick doors to the warm rooms would prevent sound emerging once we had passed through them.

  Frankly, if it had been Quadratus eavesdropping, I found it hard to care.

  I was pretty well incapable of movement now. When I struggled from the pool, dripping sporadically, Helena had to find a towel and dry me down herself.

  'So are you going to tell me your own adventures, Marcus?'

  'Oh, mine are just horses, wine, men's talk, and women in their boudoirs getting undressed.' Helena raised her eyebrows and I thought it best to produce a rapid, lightly censored version of my time in Hispalis. She was not best pleased with the part about Selia, I could tell. Being an informer had taught me to recognise growling and grinding of teeth.

  'Bad news, Falco.'

  'I won't have that! I protest I'm innocent.'

  'I think you made up the whole story.' She had guessed that I had pruned it. 'What a puzzle your dancer is! Is she the killer? Is she seeking the killer for Laeta? Will her ravishing figure distract you from your family loyalties? Will she beat you up again? Or will she just beat you at your own game?'

  I tried not to wince as Helena moved to buff up certain lower regions that preferred softer treatment. 'Spare me the exotic massage

  … A procurator called Placidus has a dagger gash that proves what she wanted. Selia was not after my body, unless it was dead. I beat up her guards and captured them; they will stand trial before the proconsul on the basis of a report I've left with the vigiles about that night in Rome. I was supposed to s
tay – material witness – but I waved my pass from Laeta and pleaded urgent secret work.'

  'Dry your own feet please,' said Helena. 'I'm too large to reach -'

  'You're adorable. Better than a Syrian bodyslave -' 'When have you been cosseted by a bodyslave?'

  'They fling themselves on me all the time. Beautiful girls with terrific hands, and slinky boys with very long eyelashes…'

  Helena's chin came up. 'There's one more thing I haven't told you yet. The cook told me that while I was resting one day a woman came here looking for you.'

  'Selia?' Was she pursuing me?

  'It can't be,' Helena informed me coolly, drying her own hair. 'This one was here three days ago, Falco – when according to you, you were pinning the unclad Selia to a cosmetics table in Hispalis. I had not realised you were so sought-after.'

  'Oh gods! You know what this means: I'm not just being beaten up by one female agent – Anacrites' special charmer wants her turn as well!'

  I was so depressed that Helena relented. She kissed me, fairly gently. Then she took me by the hand again, and led me away on stumbling feet to bed.

  LIV

  Grief-stricken women seem to make beelines for informers. It must be our comforting manner.

  'You have to help me!' wailed Claudia Rufina.

  I was very tired. Normally I could mop tears, straighten a mourning veil, and stop hiccups by giving a sudden shock by way of loud noises, cold keys down the cleavage, or an unexpected pinch on the backside. Today I just sighed.

  'Of course he will!' Helena soothed the distressed young lady. 'Marcus Didius is deeply sorry about what happened to Constans; he will help you if he can.'

  I had been left to sleep in, but still felt like a half-stuffed cushion. After days in the saddle my spine, and all the parts attached to it, were on fire. I needed to be placed in the tender care of my trainer Glaucus and his fiendish masseur from Tarsus, but they were many hundreds of miles away in Rome, and a great deal of the distance between us was sea.

  Worse, when I had crawled into the kitchen this morning the breakfast which the aged cook had lovingly prepared for me had been devoured by Quadratus. Of course the old dear rushed to bring me another plateful, but it was not the same. So let's be literal about this: my mood was absolutely foul.

  I held up a hand like a masterful orator. Claudia Rufina fell silent, though Helena sniffed; she hated sham.

  'Helena Justina is correct about the deep sympathy I feel towards you and your family. Nothing can mitigate the untimely death of a promising youth with the Empire at his feet.' And so much money, I thought. I was extremely tired. My mood was truly low.

  'Thank you,' said Claudia, catching me out by responding with dignity.

  'You are a sensible young woman and I believe you will respect frankness.' I was not normally this rough. I noticed Helena's eyebrows shoot up. Guilt increased my bad temper. 'Excuse me if this sounds harsh: I came to Hispania on a difficult mission. I received no assistance – no assistance at all – from the dignitaries of Corduba, including your own family. I have still to solve a murder in Rome, and write a long report on certain commercial matters here. I have to condense my efforts into far too little time, in order to be able to return to Italy before Helena Justina gives birth.' We all glanced at Helena; by now she looked so large it seemed likely we were expecting twins. 'Claudia Rufina, this is no moment for me to take on a private commission, especially when it's fairly clear we're discussing a very sad accident.'

  'Besides which,' muttered Helena, 'Marcus has had his breakfast eaten by that young man of whom everyone thinks so highly.'

  'Tiberius?' Claudia was looking down that unfortunate nose of hers. She still seemed drawn to the handsome and eligible quaestor – yet her expression had a closed look, as if her attitude might be changing.

  'Yes, Tiberius!' Helena's smile was like the benign glance of a sibyl just before she prophesied universal war.

  'Oh,' said Claudia. Then she added in her serious way, 'I came in Grandfather's carriage. Would you like me to take Tiberius away?'

  'That would be extremely kind,' Helena answered. 'You see, I am being frank too today.'

  'It's no trouble,' replied Claudia quietly. 'I would like a chance to talk to him anyway.' That was when I started worrying about Claudia.

  I was surveying our visitor more gently. She wore a dark veil, though she had it thrown around her casually as if a maid had persuaded her at the last minute. She had left the maid at home, travelling to see us set-faced and quite alone. Her gown was the blue one I had seen before, less neatly cinched in. Her hair was dressed as normal in a tight, plain style that emphasised the large shape of her nose. As a wealthy heiress she ought to be enjoying herself in elaborate funeral drapes pinned together with onyx jewellery. Instead she could be genuinely abstracted by grief.

  'I think we'll send Tiberius home in our own carriage,' I disagreed.

  Helena looked annoyed. She was dying to be rid of him. 'Marcus, Claudia Rufina said she wishes to speak to him.' 'What about, Claudia?' I asked crisply.

  Claudia looked me straight in the eye. 'I want to ask him where he was when my brother died.'

  I looked straight back. 'He was here. He is too badly hurt to ride. When he first took his fall, Helena Justina insisted that a doctor look at him. We know his injury is disabling.'

  Claudia's eyes dropped. She looked miserable and confused. She did not think of asking us why anyone should doubt that Quadratus had been hurt, or why we had already taken trouble to work out for ourselves that he had an alibi. She might have an inkling of our own doubts about him, but she still shrank from the full implications.

  Helena linked her hands on her stomach. 'Tell us why you came to see Marcus Didius.'

  'He investigates,' Claudia declared with a proud tone. 'I wished to hire him to discover how Constans was killed.'

  'Don't you believe what you have been told about it?' I asked.

  Once again Claudia defied me with her stare. 'No, I don't.'

  I ignored the drama. 'Does your grandfather know that you have come to me?'

  'I can afford to pay you!'

  'Then be businesslike and answer the question I asked.'

  Claudia was growing up almost before our eyes. 'My grandfather would be furious. He forbids any discussion of what happened. So I didn't tell him I was coming here, or why.'

  I quite liked her in this mood. She was young and spoiled, but she was taking the initiative. Helena had noticed my change of expression, and she was looking less critical. As gently as I could, I explained to the girl, 'Look – people come to me all the time claiming that their relatives have died in suspicious circumstances. They are usually wrong about it. Most people who die unnaturally have been killed by close members of their family, so I don't get asked for help because they're hiding the truth. When I am asked to investigate I almost always discover that the person died because their time was up, or in an honest accident.'

  Claudia Rufina took a deep, slow breath. 'I understand.'

  'It will be hard to face losing Constans, but you may just have to accept that he is tragically gone.'

  She was struggling to seem reasonable. 'You won't help me.'

  'I didn't say that.' She looked up eagerly. 'Something brought you here today when you ought to have been grieving, and comforting your grandmother. Something troubled you sufficiently to drive you from home on your own; I take that seriously, Claudia. Tell me why you feel suspicious.'

  'I don't know.' She blushed. At least she was honest. That was a rare treat in a client.

  I had spent large amounts of time dealing with women who were holding back in one situation or another. I waited. I could tell Helena Justina thought I was being over-stern. I was just far too tired to be messed about.

  Claudia Rufina glanced at Helena for encouragement then said firmly: 'I believe my brother was murdered. There is a reason, Marcus Didius. I think Constans knew something about what you are investigating. I believe he i
ntended to reveal what he knew, so he was killed to stop him talking to the authorities.'

  There were a number of questions I might have gone on to ask her, but just as she had finished speaking Tiberius Quinctius Quadratus (in a fetching blue tunic that I last saw in the bath-house) tapped on the door politely – in case we were discussing anything private – then as we all fell abruptly silent he strolled into the room.

  LV

  He went straight to the girl. Considering he had admitted to me that the public were wrongly convinced he would marry her, it might have been kinder to keep his distance. But he was murmuring shock and regret. Then as Claudia collapsed in tears, he stooped over her chair, holding one of her hands and with his other arm gently around her hunched shoulders.

  Young men are not normally so good with the bereaved. Maybe Helena and I were wrong about him. It is possible to take against someone, then continue to loathe them out of pure prejudice. Maybe Quadratus was a perfectly well- meaning lad, with a kind heart…

  On the other hand, Claudia had not been crying until he spoke to her.

  Claudia struggled to calm herself. She brushed away the tears and leaned forwards to free herself from the young man's solicitous embrace. 'Tiberius, I want to ask you something -'

  I interrupted her. 'If and when Quinctius Quadratus is required to answer questions, I'll deal with it.' The girl caught my eye and fell silent. I wondered whether he noticed she might now have doubts about his probity.

  Quadratus straightened up, remembering to put a hand to his sprained back. He was rather pale. His good looks were strong enough to take it. His physique was too sturdy for him to took anything other than bouncingly fit. 'Falco, it's perfectly obvious you believe I have done wrong somewhere. I would like to answer your questions and clear things up!' Very good. Spoken like an innocent man, in fact.

  'I have nothing to ask you, quaestor.'

  'You always use my title as if it were an insult… I wish to have these suspicions removed!'

  'You are not under suspicion.'

  'That is clearly untrue.' He sounded so pained a court would free him on the spot. Juries love a man who goes to the trouble of bad acting. 'This is all so unjust, Falco. It seems I cannot move in Baetica without incurring censure. Even the proconsul seems disinclined to work with me – I suppose he thinks I was appointed through influence, not on merit. But is it my fault if my family has strong connections with Baetica? I was as qualified for this quaestorship as any man in Rome!'