Part 18 (1/2)

'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 d.a.m.n arm around a waist, give a surrept.i.tious 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. Statia.n.u.s 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 gla.s.s 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.

x.x.xVIII.

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 Statia.n.u.s!'

'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 b.l.o.o.d.y-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-cla.s.s household staff brought to Greece from the governor's house in Rome. Providing a huge, slick entourage would be part of establis.h.i.+ng his personal status, as well as an essential tool of Roman diplomacy. Even on campaign, Julius Caesar used to impress s.h.a.ggy 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 emba.s.sy, 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 pa.s.sed 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 this 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 s.p.a.ce 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.