A dying light in Corduba mdf-8 Page 32

'The miles don't fit, Falco.'

  My first reaction was bored incomprehension. 'Well, if you're slightly out I won't have a seizure. I can trust you on one or two discrepancies – Mind you, Helena Justina keeps my accounts and she's more precise.'

  'Falco, how far do you think it is to the Rufius house?' 'Four or five miles?'

  'So don't you see, Falco?'

  'I'm very tired still from my trip to Hispalis…'

  'This line here,' Marmarides explained stubbornly, pointing to his last written note, 'is my count for your last trip that I know about – when Helena and you went into Corduba and you interviewed Cyzacus and Gorax. The day we all had a fight on the riverbank.'

  'I'll never forget. You fell in. I thought I would have to compensate Stertius for drowning his freedman… So now you have to add a new line about today?'

  'I go to the hodometer and count the pebbles that remain.'

  'And you notate this column?' I indicated the final row, where the figures diminished with each entry.

  'That's what doesn't fit. From the day you went to Corduba to now, there are twice as many miles as I expect.' 'You allowed for the return journey?'

  'Oh yes. The miles the carriage has travelled since Corduba,' Marmarides told me with a beaming smile, 'are enough for a journey to the Rufius house, there and back – then there and back a second time!'

  I was impressed. It was immediately apparent what Marmarides meant. 'This is your big chance to solve something for me,' I said.

  He beamed. 'You talked about how the man with the bad back could have gone to help the young one fix the grinding-wheel. He could have gone in your carriage, Falco.'

  I was keeping calm. 'In agenting you have to work out everything, and make sure there can be no mistake. I thought Helena was out in the carriage that day? I thought she went with Aelia Annaea to her house?'

  'No,' he said. 'Aelia Annaea came to visit in her own carriage, and Helena Justina left with her.' Marmarides had really thought this through. 'Marius Optatus went into Corduba, but he used an ox-wagon.'

  'So our carriage was in the stable?' He nodded. The slaves were all in the fields and wouldn't see much, Marmarides. The farm is near the road, so anyone could drive off without drawing attention… Did you happen to notice whether the mules had been out? Were they sweating at all?'

  Marmarides looked sheepish. 'Inever looked, Falco.'

  Then he cheered up, able to exonerate himself. 'Iwas not here. After Helena Justina left, I hitched a ride with Optatus to Corduba.'

  'What did you want in Corduba?'

  He just grinned. There was a woman in this somewhere, and I decided not to explore it. Since neither Helena nor I had been here there could be no objection. It also gave Optatus an alibi. 'All right. You observed Quinctius Quadratus with his bad back during the time that he was here. If he couldn't ride, do you think he would have been able to drive a two-mule carriage a short way?'

  'Probably. He would not have been much use as a partner in a heavy lifting job though, Falco.'

  'Whoever was partnering Constans was certainly no good, we know that.'

  If it was Quadratus, maybe he did not let the stone fall deliberately. Maybe his back just gave out. Maybe the boy's death was a genuine accident – one that should never have happened, caused by bungling incompetence. It was cowardly of Quadratus not to own up to his part in the stupidity, but it was not a criminal act.

  So perhaps the worst that had happened that day was that Quadratus got bored – or maybe Constans, panicking about Selia, had appealed for his advice. For one reason or another Quadratus went to see his dear friend Constans. Then two young men who should have known better got together and decided to do a job for which they were poorly qualified. The work was too hard for them. Quadratus was unfit; the grinding-stone fell on poor Constans. Quadratus was the elder and should have behaved more responsibly. That would make him the more reluctant to admit he had been there. Besides, he must have been badly shocked by what happened.

  'We have to be sure,' Marmarides decided firmly. He had picked up a few phrases from me, apparently. 'You must come with me to the stables and we will re-count the pebbles that are left in the hodometer. Then you will have firm evidence.'

  He was in charge. So we walked over to the stables, crouched down at the back of the carriage and inspected the Archimedes hodometer. Marmarides counted the pebbles that remained on the upper gear wheel. Sure enough, there were several less than there should have been according to his notes: a rough count of the missing mileage confirmed that it would equal two trips to the Rufius estate: there and back for Quinctius Quadratus, plus our own drive out and back today.

  Solemnly we made a note on the tablet, explained our deductions, and both signed as witnesses.

  LIX

  The funeral took place next day. There were no distant relatives to summon, and Baetica is a hot locality.

  The necropolis which the wealthy Cordubans used lay nearest to us on the south of the city, this side of the bridge. Naturally it presented the best aspect. The wealthy did not inter their smart relations among the middle class or paupers, least of all with the gladiators in their multiple columbarium outside the western gate. Across the river from the noise of the town each family possessed a gracious mausoleum, lining the important road that passed through to the fertile plain and the sun-drenched slopes of their rolling olive groves.

  I did wonder why they didn't build their tombs in complete privacy on their own land instead of crowding into a necropolis which was passed daily by carriages and carts. Maybe people who socialise madly in life know their dead will still want friends to mingle with in the afterlife.

  The Rufii had not yet become so extravagant as the family who had constructed a miniature temple complete with Ionic columns around a little portico. Grandeur would come, no doubt. For the moment theirs was a simple brick-built, tile-roofed edifice with a low doorway. Within the small chamber was a series of niches containing ceramic urns. Wall plaques already commemorated the parents, son and daughter-in-law of Licinius Rufius. These were sombre enough, though nothing to the new panel planned for the grandson. We were shown a maquette, though the real thing would provide half a year's work for the stonemason. The text began, 'O woe! O lamentation! Whither shall we turn?' and ran on for about six grim lines: longer than I could force myself to read. Sloths like me were soon provided with assistance, for Licinius gave an oration on a similar basis which lasted so long my feet went numb.

  Everyone was there. Well, everyone who owned half a million upwards, plus Marius Optatus and myself. For the rich, it was just an extra social occasion. They were arranging dinner-party dates in undertones.

  Only one notable person was missing: the new quaestor Quinctius Quadratus. His sprained back must be still inconveniencing him. Absenting himself looked amiss, however, since he had been the dead young man's close friend.

  The proconsul had deigned to be brought over in a litter from his praetorium. As we all stumped around trying to fill in time while the corpse heated up in the cemetery oven, his honour found time for a muttered word with me. I had been looking for someone to share a joke about whether they used the embers in the oven to warm hot pies for the mourners afterwards – but with him I confined myself to a reverent salute.

  'What do you make of this, Falco?'

  'Officially – a young lad who foolishly attempted a job for which he was unqualified while trying to please his grandfather.'

  'And between ourselves?'

  What was the point of condemning Constans now? 'Oh… just a regrettable accident.'

  The proconsul surveyed me. 'I believe he tried to see me, when I had gone out to Astigi…' This was not an invitation to speculate on the reason. 'A statue is to be erected in the civic forum, I understand.'

  'It's all work for the stonemasons, sir.'

  We did not discuss my mission; well, I never expected to.

  The women had clustered in a huddle. I was in a mood for avoiding them.
I expressed my formal sympathy to Licinius in the routine handshake line. Optatus made himself more agreeable; I saw him among the Annaei at one point. Then he came back and whispered, 'Atha Annaea asked me to tell you that Claudia wishes to speak to you privately. Licinius must not know.'

  'Maybe her friend can arrange something -'

  I might have given more precise instructions but just at that moment a hurried messenger came from Helena, asking me to return to her at once.

  LX

  It was a false alarm.

  I sat with Helena, holding her hand, and we both said nothing. The pains which had frightened her seemed to be coming to nothing, but the next occasion could well be different. We were safe today, but seriously alarmed. We had run out of time.

  A couple of hours passed. As we began to relax again, we pretended we were both sitting silent in the garden purely in order to enjoy each other's company.

  'Marcus, nothing is happening. You can leave me if you want.'

  I stayed where I was. 'This could be my last chance for the next twenty years to enjoy an afternoon in the sun completely alone with you. Savour it, my love. Children make it their sole ambition to interrupt.'

  Helena sighed gently. The earlier excitement had left her subdued and shocked.

  After a while she murmured, 'Don't pretend to be dozing under the fig tree. You're planning things in your head.'

  I was in fact mentally packing bags, consulting maps, debating the virtues of sea against land travel – and trying to reconcile myself to absconding from Baetica with my task only half done. 'You know what I think. There's no time to waste. I want to go home now.'

  'You think it's too late already! It's my fault,' she shrugged. 'It was my idea to come to Baetica.' 'Everything will be all right.'

  'You know how to lie!'

  'And you know how to joke – It's time to leave. Good time, I hope. Anyway, I'm coming with you.'

  'You're wonderful!' Helena said. Sometimes she almost sounded as though she trusted me. 'I love you, Didius Falco. One of the reasons is that you pursue a cause relentlessly.'

  'Well! And I thought it was because I had momentous brown eyes and a body you want to grab… So you really think I'm looking for a chance to bunk off after some villain and let you down.'

  Lindsey Davis

  A Dying Light in Corduba

  'No,' she retorted, with her old spirit. 'I think you're lusting after a set-to with some half-naked female spy!'

  'Oh discovery! No; let's be honest. You're bound to be annoyed to find I've ended up tangling with devious female agents – but you can count the peas in a pod. You know it's not my fault there seem to be women everywhere – but you think I'm spinning out the job in Hispania purely because I want an excuse to avoid being with you when you start producing the child. I'm famous for breaking promises. I know that.'

  'No,' said Helena patiently. 'You're famous for finishing what you start.'

  'Thanks! Now I've started on fatherhood – So we are going home?'

  The fight seemed to go out of her. 'I'll do what you decide, Marcus.'

  That settled it. If Helena Justina was being meek, the poor girl must be terrified. I took a manly decision: I was not up to reassuring a woman in the last stage of her pregnancy. I needed my mother; I needed Helena's mother too. We were going home.

  Marius Optatus came riding back shortly, and I told him of my decision. He had the grace to look sad at losing us. Immediately afterwards a carriage appeared, bearing Aelia Annaea and young Claudia. There were some sturdy outriders who made themselves at home in our kitchen; Licinius Rufius must have heeded my advice about protecting the girl.

  'Marius told us Helena might be having the baby. We said we were coming to help -'

  'Just a twinge,' said Helena. 'I'm sorry to be such trouble…'

  They looked disappointed. My feelings were more mixed. I wished it was all over, though I was dreading the event. Helena's eyes met mine, full of tolerance. The requirement to be sociable with our visitors would be good for both of us. But our afternoon together had brought us very close. Those moments of deep, private affection stayed with us as powerfully as if we had spent the time making love in bed. In fact our mood may have communicated itself, for both Marius and Aelia Annaea looked at us rather quizzically.

  Since the others had just come from a funeral they needed space to settle their own emotions. They had the customary mixture of anticlimax and revival. The dead young man had been sent to his ancestors; the living could pursue daily routines again. They were tired after the ceremony, but the immediate pressure of grief had been eased, even for Claudia.

  Helena ordered mint tea. That's always good for covering any awkwardness. No one has time for anything but finding space to put the strainer and making sure they don't slurp from their beaker or drop crumbs from their almond cake.

  I was still sitting close to Helena; Claudia was placed at my other hand so she could tell me whatever she had come about. Marius Optatus seated himself with Aelia, all set to pretend to admire the lily tubs if anything too scandalous was being discussed.

  We progressed through the necessary ritual. I apologised for rushing off. Fuss was made of Helena. There was a swift review of the funeral, including the size of the turnout, the quantity of the garlands, the affecting style of the eulogy, and the comfort of knowing that the departed was in peace. I thought Constans had left behind a little too much unfmished business for that, but in the hope that his sister might be intending to right some of it, I was prepared to extend some charity to the lad.

  Claudia reached the point where she felt she could talk to me. She squirmed. She blushed. I tried to look encouraging. 'Marcus Didius, I have something to tell you,' she finally blurted out. 'I have to confess that I have not been telling the truth!'

  I was leaning forwards, trying to look happy drinking from a dainty terracotta bowl. I stirred my mint tea with a tiny bronze spoon, flipping out a leaf on to the ground.

  'Claudia Rufina, since I became an informer I have talked to many people who have told me one thing – only to realise they should have been saying something else.' Sometimes, in wild moments, I longed for a wiess who would break the pattern and surprise me by croaking – under pressure of conscience or perhaps my own fingers squeezing their neck a little too tightly – that they were sorry to cause me extra work but they had mistakenly given me accurate answers. No doubt adding that it was quite unlike them, a moment of sheer madness, and they didn't know what came over them…

  'You are not the first person who ever changed their mind,' said Helena softly.

  The girl was still hesitating. 'It is better to have the truth in the end,' I stated pontifically, 'than never to learn it at all.'

  'Thank you, Marcus Didius.'

  There was no point being cruel to her. I could have said, sometimes truth that emerges so late in the day is too late to help. But I'm not that kind of dog.

  'This is very difficult.'

  'Don't worry. Take your time.'

  'My grandfather has forbidden me to talk about it.' 'Then we won't mention this conversation to him.' 'Constans told me something – though he made me promise never to reveal it to anyone.'

  'You must believe it's important, or you wouldn't be here now.'

  'It's horrible.'

  'I thought it might be. Let me help you: has it to do with some violent events in Rome?'

  'You know!' I needed her to tell me. Finally she forced herself to come out with it: 'When my brother was in Rome he was involved in killing somebody.'

  That was more than I expected. All the others were keeping silent and still. I too handled the situation as calmly as possible. 'My dear, you cannot change what Constans did. It's best to tell me exactly what you know. What I most need to hear is who else was involved? And what exactly happened?'

  'It was to do with the plan to regulate olive oil.' Regulate was a nice new word.

  'Did your brother give you details of the plan?'

&nb
sp; 'Tiberius and his father were in charge. My grandfather and some other people had gone to Rome to discuss it, though they all decided not to become involved.'

  'Yes, I know that. So be assured your grandfather is safe; he retains his position as an honourable citizen. Now I want to talk about what happened in Rome, Claudia. Your brother was there; he was of course a very close friend of the younger Quinctius? Quadratus was older; they were like patron and client. I already know that your brother, at the request of Quadratus, had arranged a special dancer to appear at a dinner where the olive oil plan was being discussed.'

  'Yes.'

  'Your brother and Quadratus did not attend that dinner. Is this what you want to tell me? Did Constans tell you where they were instead?'

  'They stayed away from the dinner – because of what was going to happen.' Claudia's voice was now barely a whisper. 'There had been a discussion in the Quinctius house about certain officials who were aware of the plan and taking too close an interest. The father…'

  'Quinctius Attractus.'

  'He said those people had to be stopped. I think he meant just pay them some money to go away, but Tiberius thought it wouldn't work. His plan was to hire someone to attack them instead.'

  'Just to frighten them, perhaps?' I suggested.

  Claudia, who had been staring into her lap, now looked up at me. She was a straightforward girl. 'Marcus Didius, I don't believe we should pretend. They were meant to be killed.'

  'Who carried out the attacks?'

  'The dancer, and some men who helped her.' 'Were your brother and his friend there?'

  'How did you know?' I just raised a rueful eyebrow; Claudia steeled herself and finished her story: 'Quadratus persuaded my brother to be present – first when he hired the people to do it. Then – this is the gruesome part – they both hid in the shadows that night and watched as the first man was killed. My brother was horrified and ran away. Quadratus went with him. They got drunk somewhere, and later went home and pretended they had been to the theatre.'

  I replaced my cup on the table in front of us. The tray wobbled; Helena reached out quietly and adjusted it.