Ode to a Banker

LIV

Shuffling in together, the shipper and his youngest boy were physically dissimilar. Both nervous at entering a room full ofpeople, all of whom looked strained, they edged through the gap when the door was held open briefly. Aelianus seated them on the furthermost row of benches. They perched there, the broad, active, sunburned father and his city-pallid skinny and ascetic son. Their faces possessed the same type of bone structure, however. They sat close together, as if they were on friendly terms.

I explained quietly that we had been talking about the death of the historian Avienus, and the possibility that he was blackmailing Chrysippus.

Pisarchus and his son glanced at one another, then tried to pretend they had not. Interesting. I reckoned the blackmail was not news.

'Pisarchus, can I ask you something, please? The other day, when you came to the vigiles' patrol-house voluntarily, we – that is, the enquiry chief and I' – I nodded towards Petronius – 'assumed you wanted to give evidence in the Aurelius Chrysippus death. In fact, it transpired you had been away in Praeneste and had not even known that Chrysippus was dead.'

Pisarchus inclined his head. He was becoming more relaxed. I hoped this was due to my calm handling of the situation and reassurance. On the other hand, he had always seemed to be a self-possessed man. He was careful, yet I felt he had nothing much to hide.

'So whose death had you come to talk about?' When he did not reply, I pressed him. 'It was Avienus, wasn't it?'

Pisarchus reluctantly agreed.

'What were you going to tell us?'

Pisarchus glanced sideways at his son again. 'I can't say.'

'Then maybe you can,' I said, turning to Philomelus. 'Waiters do not have to swear a vow of confidentiality. Only doctors have a Hippocratic oath – though of course bankers' – I winked at Lucrio – 'are protected by law from giving details of clients' accounts! Priests,'I mused, 'might make moral claims – or just as likely they might lie to protect temple benefactors.' I flicked a glance at Diomedes. 'Now, Philomelus, you are under no obligation. Avienus is dead – and let me help you here. I already know that Avienus had confided to another party that he had discovered some scandal. He was very drunk, so I assume this conversation took place over a beaker – well, several – at the popina where you work. I guess you overheard?'

Young Philomelus swallowed, neither confirming nor denying it.

'The confidant was Turius – he told us that himself.' Philomelus looked relieved. 'So, Philomelus, you heard Avienus say that Chrysippus was paying him to keep quiet?'

Philomelus had nodded before he thought about it.

'You agree? Thanks.' Looking thoughtful, I walked back slowly to the row of authors. 'Tiberius Turius! It would have saved us a lot of effort if you had told us this before.' I strode right up to him and hauled him to his feet, dragging him out into the centre of the room. 'That's a nice tunic! And I do admire your belt. Lovely tooling on the leather. Striking buckle – is that enamel northern work, or did you buy it here in Rome? Turius, let's be frank – one thing that strikes me is that you don't look as an impoverished author should. Especially one who suffers from health problems so he never produces any work.'

Turius shook off my grip from his shoulder, and straightened the sleeve of his tunic. 'Leave me alone, Falco.'

'Wasn't it more "leave me alone, Turius" – or so Avienus found? Didn't you decide to cash in too? Didn't you force Avienus to demand more from Chrysippus, so you could take a share?'

'Don't be ridiculous,' Turius muttered.

'Oh? Did you go directly to Chrysippus yourself?'

'No!'

'Really? Let's see; what do I know about you? You complained to me about Chrysippus treating his authors like slaves. And you had been flagrantly indiscreet: you openly refused to flatter him, and you ridiculed his critical powers.'

'He had no judgement!' snarled Turius. He turned to his colleagues. 'Well, you know all about that, Pacuvius!' It was Pacuvius, Scrutator, who had told Helena about Turius; I made a mental note to find out why Turius thought Scrutator had a special literary grievance.

But it was Turius I wanted to harry. The utopian was under extreme pressure now. He was sweating, even though the library remained pleasantly cool, and his agitation had become visible. Whatever the cause, his breaking point looked close.

'Chrysippus had at least enough judgement to keep Avienus quiet for several years! Avienus even achieved the startling coup of making Chrysippus pay off his own loan to deflect demands from his agent Lucrio. Then you rocked the boat, didn't you?' Turius looked hounded, but would not reply. 'You hated Chrysippus for his poor treatment of his authors; you thought he should be pressed as hard as possible. Is that right?' Turius was unable to look at me, desperately unhappy now. 'What happened then? You knew the secret too – or at least you knew a secret existed. Did Avienus fear he had lost everything because you interfered? Is that what made the poor beggar kill himself?'

'All right!' Turius cracked, even more easily than I expected. 'Don't keep on. I can't bear any more – I am responsible. I killed him!'

Around us a hum of thrilled conversation rose, then died again. I marched Turius back to his former place and sat him down again.

I shook my head sadly, 'I hope you feel better for telling us that. Now, in your own interests, say nothing else. This is a rather disturbing development – so, listen everyone ' Raising my voice to command their attention, I nodded to Aelianus to open the doors. 'We could all benefit from a short pause. Let's have some refreshments, and then start again.'

The dividing door to the Latin library was then pulled right aside and a flock of slaves marched in, carrying my prepared buffet trays.