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  The group, or at least their current survivors, had assembled spot on time. We already knew they turned up promptly for any meals they did not have to pay for. If something is free, seasoned travellers form a queue.

  The Sertorius family came first; we could see what was happening there all right. The tall husband looked grim; the once-dowdy wife was wearing a rather tasteful Greek head-dress, a pointed stephane. She gazed around her more openly instead of seeming haunted; the two adolescents kicked their heels more peevishly than ever, as if they had had their noses put out of joint. Amaranthus joined us next, alone and at a loose end. Marinus and Indus arrived together, tall and short, Marinus grey-haired and still limping from his dog bite, Indus hook-shouldered and saturnine, though he had had his lank hair trimmed recently. Indus greeted Sertoria Silene with an almost imperceptible nod; she responded at once, giving him a pleasant smile. Her husband glowered. His downtrodden wife was enjoying herself, and he clearly hated it.

  'Oh wonderful!' murmured Helena, nudging me.

  Cleonyma and Minucia bundled in through the street entrance, hot from a bath-house manicure and pedicure session, which had been carried out by some girl whose ineptitude was sending them both into hoots of laughter (until they remembered how much they had tipped her.) They shrieked hello to everyone, then although they were already more brightly clad than any of us, rushed off to their rooms to get dressed up. The awkward curiosity, Volcasius, sloped in, still wearing his dreadful greasy straw hat and what appeared to be the same tunic we last saw him in. Then came the widow Helvia, neatly dressed in white with her impressive necklace (which we had seen before) and a new bangle; she angled this on her plump arm so that we would all notice it, giving a small smile to Marinus as if it were a gift from him that pleased her. So that little liaison must be going well.

  Attendants finally arrived from Minas. They carried in couches, cushions, flowers, and garlands, with which they began to dress the courtyard. They took their time; no one planned to do in his back lifting furniture. The innkeeper sent out slaves with lamps, which they positioned very sluggishly and forgot to light. A flautist looked in, summed up the lack of preparation, and disappeared again.

  Helena and I had found ourselves a centrally placed table, where we stationed Albia, my nephews, and my dog, all so far on their best behaviour. Young Glaucus had gone to fetch Aulus. We struggled to keep spaces for them. The attendants had no idea that a party was for people, and that people might want to be with their friends. They were designers. To them, placing equipment artistically took precedence over the happiness of mere guests. Gradually they created a theatrical setting – in which our presence seemed a messy inconvenience.

  There was still no sign of any food or drink.

  The travellers became tense about whether and when they would be fed. Helvia had gone fluttery and Sertorius Niger kept striding about in search of somebody to complain to. In his absence from their couch, his wife went over to talk to Indus. She remained there for the rest of the evening.

  Cleonyma and Minucia returned. Wafts of hugely expensive perfume preceded their entrance. Drama was their natural element. In they tottered, in gold sandals with dangerously high cork soles. Both wore floaty purple dinner outfits, so transparent all the men were compelled to look three times. The ladies had piled their hair up in layered ramparts and cascades of ringlets, through which were threaded enormous gemstones. The jewels were real. Cleonyma told us that, mentioning just how much they had cost.

  As soon as she joined the party, Cleonyma chivvied the landlord into bringing drinks all round. Even Sertorius Niger looked grateful. Since she was paying, she helped out the lackadaisical waiters, herself carrying brimful cups to our table, six at a time, and placing them deftly.

  'Not a drop spilled. You've done that before, Cleonyma!'

  'Gods, you could die waiting in some of these places.' She sat down with us. 'How do you like the dinner dress?'

  'Emm… it's certainly an eye-catcher!'

  'That stinker Volcasius told me it was too revealing. Spoilsport. You look lovely, Helena.' Cleonyma seemed unaware of the contrast between her own vibrant gauze costume, and Helena's elegant simplicity. Helena was wearing aqua silk, with discreet silver embroidery; she looked like a nymph, one who knew where the good groves were to be found. I would have followed her through any prickly thickets in the hope of a romp by moonlight.

  I was in ochre, mildewed by frequent bad laundering. I had on the boots I cleaned earlier and a newish belt, the effect topped off by casual curls, a straight Roman nose and a bad Greek shave. I was clean; even my nephews were clean, though their party gear was basic. Albia was in blue, as usual, with a necklace Helena had loaned her. Nux had been combed and defleaed. She had tried to roll in muck straight afterwards, but Cornelius caught her in time. As a party we were presentable, though not modish.

  Helena asked Cleonyma how she was bearing up. 'This is my last night in Greece. I've booked a passage home, leaving tomorrow; Minucia will come with me, to stop me brooding on the ship. Amaranthus has convinced himself she will come back and catch up with the group at Troy afterwards; between ourselves, there's no chance. I'm giving her an excuse to go home. It's what she wants.'

  'Couldn't Amaranthus go with her, if they are a couple?' asked Helena.

  'He could!' agreed Cleonyma. 'Not suggested – not by either of them. Let the man stay alone with his sport. It's all he asks of life. He's attending the Olympic Games next year. I see him dragging endlessly on for ever, from stadium to stadium.'

  'Minucia has children?'

  'They must be grown up now, but yes, she has children. She used to keep animals. She has a useless husband too – I think she even misses him. Funny what you can get used to!'

  Still conscious that I had been Cleonyma's chosen male representative at her husband's funeral, I asked tentatively about arrangements for taking home his ashes. She was not at all offended that I had mentioned it, and burst out laughing. 'Oh that's dealt with, Falco! At first I put him in a valuable urn. Parian marble, with gold fittings – beautiful. But then I thought they'll get me to pay port duty on the dear lad's ashes. They can stuff that! It's twenty-five per cent for luxury goods. He used to get annoyed at that every time we went home and customs homed in on us; for some reason they always used to decide we were people worth stopping and searching… I wasn't prepared to transfer him to a nasty box to smuggle him in – though Juno knows, I've had enough practice. So I scattered him around a bit when we went to Marathon.'

  'He would approve!' we assured her. I hid a grin as I imagined my brother-in-law Gaius Baebius, the tax official, spotting Cleonyma tottering up a quayside among her collection of souvenirs. a gift, who would fill up his duty targets for the next month in one swoop.

  Cleonyma went quiet. 'I shed a little tear when I left him there. He would have enjoyed Marathon; he always liked places with a history.'

  We were quiet too. Remembering Cleonymus' unforced generosity, we honoured him and raised our cups to his memory.

  As she stood up to leave, Cleonyma leaned down to Helena and pointed to Sertoria Silene. 'She's leaving her husband, can you believe it? She's taking on Indus; well, he needs sorting out. She can be quite bossy, if she's given her head, and Indus seems to enjoy it. The best bit is, she's told Sertorius Niger he can keep those two dreadful children; there is no chance of her taking them!'

  Helena smiled, in a way which I knew meant she was suddenly thinking about our children. 'Now, don't hold back, Cleonyma – tell us the truth, please do: who is Indus running away from?'

  Cleonyma smiled. 'Oh surely it's obvious – he's fleeing from his mother!'

  We roared with laughter.

  'I'm going to get really drunk tonight,' confided Cleonyma. She was halfway there already.

  Something must be due to happen soon. A solitary man with a bent taper started going around, lighting up the oil lamps. One table cheered him. He looked embarrassed.

  Cleonyma went off
to order more drinks; she asked for nibbles with them. The nibbles never came, though I had a feeling she paid for them.

  The flautist returned. This time he was accompanied by a lame harpist and an extremely short drummer. They helped themselves to drinks, then stood around. An unhealthy-looking girl in a short tunic brought cut roses to every table, encouraging us to wind them into some wreaths of leaves which had already appeared unnoticed. Gaius and Cornelius both took to her; they set about avid flower arrangement. Close up, she was ten years too old even for Gaius, and probably married to a slobbish matelot who beat her.

  At long last, caterers arrived. As they took over a corner of the yard, we gathered we had a long wait ahead of us. Raw ingredients were being carried in. Shellfish and mullet were still alive, and I swear I heard a chicken cluck. Simply lighting the fire for their cooking-bench took ages.

  'There is Aelianus!' exclaimed Albia, spotting him first.

  In the entrance to the courtyard we saw Aulus, shepherded discreetly by Young Glaucus. They were greeted enthusiastically on all sides. Smart in a tunic with purple stripes of rank, Aulus made a slow progress past the other tables, shaking hands with everyone.'Your brother looks like a candidate courting election votes!'

  'He's playing Alcibiades.'

  'No; he's sober – so far!'

  It was weeks since Camillus Aelianus had seen the travellers at Corinth, when the quaestor first arrested them and he bunked off. He was clearly well regarded and had to repeat for every group details of what he had been doing since. Someone gave him a wreath, though I noticed he resisted being crowned. He was trying to extract himself as speedily as possible.

  When he reached us and dropped the wreath on our table, we found out why. He handed a scroll to Helena, a letter from their mother, then while she was distracted, he murmured, 'Marcus, you need to come with me. By the look of things here, there is time for a quick detour, and you have had a summons.'

  Glaucus had apprehended a messenger at the inn where we were staying. He copied Aulus' low voice. 'Marcus Didius, that woman Philomela sent to tell you she has further information. Can you meet her tonight at the House of Kyrrhestian, by the Roman marketplace?'

  'I've brought transport,' mouthed Aulus.

  'I'm not deaf, you know,' said his sister.

  As I stood up, apologising to Helena and the others, I realised that all of the Seven Sights group were here tonight – with the exception of Phineus and Polystratus.

  LXI

  I felt stricken with apprehension. Other messages in the past, received too late, had sent me chasing to find women, either too young or too naive, who were waiting alone in places of danger. Sometimes I had failed to reach them in time.

  Aulus had brought a fast trap. As a senator's son he had no notion of economising with donkey-carts. This was a light, high-wheeled affair that could have doubled for Athena's war chariot. All we needed was an owl on the footboard.

  Aulus drove. It was a privilege of his rank to seize the reins and cause havoc. He scattered the other traffic as if he was in a race in the circus. I used the journey to bring him up to date. When I said what Helena and I had learned from Marcella Naevia yesterday, he snorted, astounded by her attitude. In the dim light of a torch I saw him biting his lip, wondering what nonsense she was about to impose on us now.

  The Roman agora lay due north of the Acropolis, slightly to the east of the original Greek one. Ours had been instituted by Caesar and Augustus and, as Helena had said of the Roman infiltrations on the Acropolis, 'You have to pretend the new Roman buildings are a sign of Roman esteem for Athens.' She was a mistress of irony.

  She and I had omitted the new agora from our self-devised itinerary, but Aulus found it easily. He parked beside an ostentatious public lavatory, which we both used – marvelling wryly that Roman esteem for Greece was expressed so well by this sixty-eight-seater shit-house with full running water. Now we were ready for anything.

  The House of Kyrrhestian stood just outside the agora. It was an antique octagonal building, an exquisite marble creation, decorated with representations of the winds. This weather station and timepiece had been built by a famous Macedonian astronomer. A water-driven clock occupied the interior, showing the hours on a dial; there were sundials on each outer face; a rotating disk showed the movement of the stars and the course of the sun through the constellations; on top, a bronze Triton wielded a rod to act as a weathervane. You could not ask for more – unless it were for the automata, bells, and singing birds on a clock I had heard of from Marinus, which he said he had seen in Alexandria.

  Aulus and I had a lot of time to view this scientific wonder. Philomela was late.

  'You can tell she's a Roman woman.'

  'If she was Greek, she wouldn't be allowed out of the house.'

  'Maybe the Greeks have got something!'

  'I'll tell Helena you said so.'

  'Not even you would do that, Falco.'

  Eventually the woman turned up, looking surprised that we seemed impatient. I saw Aulus surveying her sceptically; it was the first time he had met her. Always uneasy with female witnesses, Philomela – or Marcella Naevia – with her scarves and scatty expression, made him swallow nervously.

  She plunged straight in. She was keyed up and agitated. 'Falco, I have to tell you about the man.'

  'Yes, you need to name him formally.'

  'Well, you know who I mean!' She grabbed me by the tunic sleeve. 'It is very important that you listen to me. This man may have caused that terrible murder.'

  'Valeria Ventidia?'

  'Of course. I should have realised before. I was at Olympia.'

  'I thought you didn't go because you disliked the place? That was what you told me.' I was determined to test everything she said. To me, Marcella Naevia was an unreliable witness, too ethereal to be trusted. If she knew, she would say I was prejudiced.

  Did I doubt her simply because her standards were not mine? Yes. Well, was I wrong?

  'I had a reason.'

  'I need to know it.'

  'You just have to believe me.'

  'No. It is time to stop messing. Marcella Naevia, I want to know precisely: why did you go to Olympia this summer? For all I know, you are the killer.'

  'That's a mad thing to say!' I heard Aulus cough with laughter at her angry retort. 'I went,' Marcella Naevia informed us stiffly, 'because I always watch what happens when they bring people to Greece.'

  'You hang around the Seven Sights Travel groups?'

  'Somebody has to observe what goes on. There may be something I can do to help someone.'

  I understood why we kept finding her everywhere we went. 'Were you at Delphi when I travelled there? Were you at Lebadeia?'

  Now Marcella Naevia frowned and looked confused. 'Should I have been?'

  'Statianus, Valeria's husband, was there. He had a misadventure.'

  'I only look after the women,' she said. 'Only the women are at risk, you see.'

  'Not true any longer,' I informed her curtly.

  'I don't know about this.' She looked troubled. 'I have heard things about other tours… people die too often. Nobody seems to know or to do anything about it.'

  With growing impatience, Aulus interrupted. 'We are doing something about it. You are holding us up here, Marcella Naevia. Tell us why you asked us to come tonight.'

  'Well, Falco -' She ignored Aulus. Middle-aged women generally did. 'I do not know if you realise this: they were both there.'

  'Both? You mean Phineus and Polystratus?'

  'At Olympia.'

  'Which time?'

  'Both times!'

  Now that was new.

  Marcella Naevia kept maundering; her manner was officious, though her subject matter was still muddled. 'The problem is, I was never certain which man was such a bother to my niece. Caesia just muttered how much she hated 'that man.' I always assumed she meant Phineus. It could have been either, I see that now.'

  I had hoped Marcella Naevia would clari
fy the issue. A typical witness, she was making it worse. While I tried to think, she burbled on. 'Phineus was in charge. He was the most in evidence, whenever we moved on. He fixed up events, dinners, shopping excursions. Of course, whoever it was, it made no difference. Caesia and I went up the Hill of Cronus on our own account. He drove us to it, but you cannot bring him to justice for that.'

  'Let's get it clear.' I addressed her firmly. 'Both men accompanied your tour? Nobody has told me that before. In fact, Caesia's father gave me a list of travellers which did not name Polystratus.'

  'He came out after we started. It was supposed to be just for the Olympic Games. That was an excuse, we all thought, so he could watch the sports events at our expense.'

  'Oh wonderful! Now – when Phineus fled back to Rome after your niece died, what did Polystratus do?'

  'He had already left.'

  I glanced at Aulus. That could mean it was Polystratus who had the guilty conscience. Maybe Phineus went after him, thinking that Polystratus really had killed Marcella Caesia. Maybe Phineus had a reason to think Polystratus attacked women. Maybe he knew Polystratus had done it on previous trips.

  'And what about this year? You saw both men with the group again?'

  'I suppose nobody told you that either?' demanded Caesia's aunt.

  'When I first met the group at Olympus, ' Aulus interrupted,' only Phineus was there.'

  'Polystratus was in Rome by then,' I said. 'I saw him there myself. Unless he got back to Italy on winged horses.'

  Aulus shook his head. 'If he really shifted, there was time.'

  'True. He could have been on the same boat as your letter! If he had brutally killed Valeria, he would really shift.'

  Marcella Naevia looked relieved. 'Well, you must be glad I told you this.'

  In my terms, she had told us nothing.

  'Valeria died very brutally. Polystratus does not look strong enough to have carried out that killing,' I mused fretfully. Then Marcella Naevia at last told me something useful.

  'Of course he is strong, Falco. He is a past pankration fighter, surely you know that? They both are!'