Poseidon_s Gold

LVI

We came up from Ostia by river. It was a cold, slow trip. We made a silent party, all lost in contemplating the mystery that Gaius Baebius had handed us.

It had stopped raining, but when we reached Rome the sky was full of unshed showers. The roads were glistening. Pools of water lapped over the pavements where careless stall-holders and frontagers had let cabbage leaves and old brick-ends block gullies. Roofs dripped occasionally. The air was damp with Tiber fog, through which our breath wreathed extra moisture trails.

As we disembarked, one of Petro's men who had been keeping an eye on the river barges came up. 'Falco!' he coughed. 'Petronius has us all looking for you.'

'I haven't skipped bail. I was with my surety-' My laughter died. 'Problem?'

'He wants a word. Says it's urgent.'

'Mars Ultor! What's up?'

'That other centurion who's connected with the stabbed legionary made himself known. The boss interviewed him once, but he deferred a final judgement while we checked the man's story.'

'Am I cleared, or did he come up with an alibi?'

'Don't they always? Better hear it from Petro. I'll run up to the guardhouse and say you're back.'

'Thanks. I'll be at Fountain Court. Any time Petronius wants me, I'll make myself available.'

'You sound like one of his women!' remarked the trooper mysteriously.

We met at Flora's. I found Petronius Longus sitting over his lunch while he talked to the waiter and one of his own men, Martinus. Martinus stepped outside when I turned up. Another meal, previously ordered by my courteous friend, appeared at once in front of me. Epimandos served us with great diffidence, a mark of respect for Petronius, presumably.

I noticed that alongside Petro his thick brown cloak lay folded neatly on a pile of gear that I recognised as the dead soldier's kit. I ignored it politely for the time being. Epimandos, who may also have recognised the stuff, walked around that part of our bench as if the watch captain had brought a witch's cauldron into the bar.

Petronius was as placid and unperturbed as usual. 'You look depressed, Falco. Do I blame the caupona broth?'

'Blame Festus,' I confessed. He laughed briefly.

I had known Petronius long enough to tell him the worst. He listened with his usual impassivity. He had a low opinion of people with artistic interests, so the Carus deceit came as no surprise. He had a low opinion of heroics too; hearing that my brother's demise might not have been so glorious as we had all been pretending left Petro equally unmoved.

'So when were the civic crowns ever awarded to the right men? I'd sooner your Festus snapped one up than some bugger who happened to know the faces in a war council.'

'I suppose you have a poor opinion of the Didius family anyway?'

'Oh, some of you can be all right!' he replied with a faint smile.

'Thanks for the recommendation!' We had covered enough formalities. I could broach business now. 'So what's with the centurion?'

Petronius stretched his long legs. 'Laurentius? Seems a straight sucker who happened to have palled up with an unlucky one. He came to the guardhouse, saying he had only just heard the news, what could I tell him about it, and could he take charge of Censorinus's effects?' Petro patted the kitbag in acknowledgement.

'You've arranged to meet him here? What's the idea?'

'Well, probably nothing. A vague hope of unnerving him with the scene of the crime,' Petro grinned. 'It might work if he did it-if not, you and I are poisoning ourselves with Epimandos's broth for nothing, as usual!'

'You don't think he did do it.' I had deduced this from his tone. 'What's his story?'

'They both had leave. Censorinus was supposed to be staying with a "friend's family". I haven't let on so far that I know you all. Laurentius is Roman-born, so he was at his own sister's house.'

'You checked that?'

'Of course. It matched.'

'And where was Laurentius when the murder occurred?'

'Laurentius, plus sister, plus sister's four children, were all staying with an aunt at Lavinium. They went for a month.'

'And you've now been to Lavinium?' I asked him gloomily.

'Would I fail you? I did my best, Falco! But everyone at Lavinium from the town magistrate downwards confirms the tale. The actual night in question was somebody's wedding, and I can't even make out that the centurion could have slipped away unnoticed and come back to Rome secretly. He was much in evidence at the festivities, and until halfway through the next morning he was lying in a kitchen, nicely drunk. The whole wedding party can vouch for him-except the bridegroom, whose mind was on other things. Laurentius didn't do it,' Petro confirmed in his steady voice. He picked his teeth with a fingernail. 'Actually, having met him, he is just not the type.'

'Who is?'

'Well…' Petronius graciously accepted that hard and fast theories, like instinctive judgements, only exist to be disproved. But I knew what he was saying. He had liked the centurion. That meant I would probably like him too-though his easily proven innocence unfortunately left me the much harder task of proving my own. I was starting to feel gloomy again-once more a suspect under threat.

I leaned my chin in my hands, staring at the filthy table. Stringy the cat jumped up onto it, but walked around my patch as if its greasy condition was too disgusting for an animal to tolerate. Petronius stroked him absently, while signalling Epimandos to bring more wine.

'Something will turn up, Falco.'

I refused to be consoled.

We were drinking in silence when Laurentius arrived.

As soon as he leaned on the outdoor counter I could see what Petro meant. He may well have killed in his professional capacity, but this was no casual murderer. He was about fifty, a calm, wry, sensible type with a small-featured, intelligent face and neat strong hands that were used to practical work. His uniform was well cared-for, though the bronze studs were not ostentatiously buffed. His manner was rational and quiet.

He looked for us then ordered a drink, in that order. He came over without fuss, politely bringing his flagon with him.

Then he gave me a second look, so I would notice it, and said, 'You must be related to Didius Festus?' People who had known my brother always spotted the likeness.

I acknowledged the relationship. Petronius introduced us both, without commenting on why I was there.

'I checked your story,' Petronius told the centurion. 'Regarding your whereabouts when the murder was committed, you're in the clear.' The man moved his head, accepting that Petronius had a job to do, and that it had been done fairly. 'I've brought you your crony's kit; there's nothing we need as evidence. You gave us an affidavit. If you want to leave Rome to return to your unit, I have no objections. But I do have a few other questions,' Petro said, throwing it in unexpectedly as the centurion prepared to leave us. Laurentius sat down again.

His eyes went to me and I said, 'Censorinus had been staying with my mother.' Again he acknowledged the situation with a small turn of the head. I added quietly, 'Before he moved out to here.'

Laurentius glanced around the bar swiftly. If there was alarm in his eyes, it seemed the right sort of shock. 'Is this where…?'

Petronius nodded, staring at him steadily. Realising what was going on, the centurion returned his gaze with a cool, almost angry expression. 'I have never been here before.'

We believed him.

Released from the test, he looked around again. He was simply a man whose friend had died there, showing the natural sad interest. 'What a place to go…' His eyes fell on Epimandos, who jumped and darted away somewhere into the back room. 'Did that waiter find him?'

'The owner discovered him,' said Petro. 'A woman called Flora. She went in to ask for his rent.'

'Flora?' It was the first I had heard of this detail. 'I thought "Flora" was a myth!'

Petronius said nothing, though he seemed to give me an odd look.

Laurentius was now becoming more upset. 'This trip of ours has all turned into a horror-I'm regretting we ever bothered.'

'Long leave?' asked Petro politely.

'I'm taking a break. I've asked for a new posting. The Fifteenth has been reassigned to Pannonia-I can't stand a tour in that tedious backwater.'

'Will you get a new legion?'

'Should do. I'm looking for action. I've asked for Britain.'

Petro and I, who had served there, exchanged a wry look. 'You seem confident.'

'Oh yes. The chance of a move is a bonus for those of us who held the fort in Judaea while the rest came home with Titus for his official Triumph.' Laurentius glanced at me with a slight smile. 'The Festus principle, you know-never volunteer for anything, unless you're volunteering to be left out!'

'I can see you knew my brother!' I grinned.

The military chat had relaxed the tense atmosphere. Laurentius turned back to Petro, asking confidentially, 'Have you no idea what happened to Censorinus?'

'None,' Petro said slowly. 'I'm beginning to think it must have been just one of those casual encounters that go wrong sometimes. We may solve it one day. If so, it's most likely to be solved by accident.'

'Pity. He seemed a good man.'

'Had you known him long?'

'On and off. He wasn't from my own century.'

'But you were in the same investment club?' There was no change in Petro's tone as he asked, and he appeared to be looking at his wine. But once again, Laurentius knew what was happening.

'This is about that?' He glanced from Petronius to me.

Petronius Longus adopted the frank approach: 'I asked Falco to be here because he needs the same answers as I do. Your pal had a fine old row with him, and we would like to know why. Falco needs to know, because the quarrel implicates him in the death.'

'Wrongly?' the centurion asked me in a light, easy tone.

'Wrongly,' I said.

'Nice to be sure of these things!' Laurentius folded his hands calmly on the table. 'Anything you want to know, Watch Captain,' he said. 'If it will help find the killer.'

'Right.' Then Petronius raised a hand so his trooper Martinus, who had been hanging about at the counter, came back into the caupona and sat down with us. Laurentius and I exchanged half a smile. Petronius Longus was doing things properly. Not only was he making sure he had a witness to his own procedure when he interviewed two suspects (one of them known to him), but Martinus brought out a waxed tablet and openly took notes. 'This is Martinus, my second in command. He'll be keeping a record, if the two of you don't mind. If what we talk about is shown to be a private matter which has no bearing on the murder, then the notes will be destroyed.'

Petro skewed round to ask the waiter to step out and give us some privacy, but for once Epimandos had discreetly disappeared.