Three Hands in The Fountain

LXI

It was perfectly clear that Aurelia Maesia was not expected home for days. The slaves were all out on a terrace, sunning themselves. Garden tools leant neatly against a statue. No work was being done. They had borrowed the best lounging chairs and were sprawled in them, so lethargic they could not bring themselves to scramble to their feet even when I appeared. Anyway, if they moved too fast they might have knocked their drinks over.

'Where's Damon?'

'Enjoying himself in Rome.'

'The bastard!' snarled the cook (his official ladyfriend). 'When he goes up to Rome, does he ever drive back in the carriage on his own?'

'Is it likely?' cackled the cook, adding routinely, 'That bastard.'

I was perfectly happy to abuse Damon, but I needed fast answers. Spotting the lad, Titus, I signalled that I would like a word with him and we two moved off.

'Aren't you Gaius the fountain-mender?'

I winked. 'I was working under cover; I expect you realised.' He said nothing. If he felt too betrayed by the deception he would refuse to co-operate. I gave him no time to start feeling annoyed: 'Now's your chance to help in a desperate situation. Listen, Titus: bad things have been going on and I'm trying to catch the villain.'

His eyes were wide. 'Are you talking about Damon?'

'I thought I might be. But I'm starting to get a new idea – tell me: Aurelia Maesia visits her sister. Her name is Aurelia Grata, yes?' Titus nodded. Aurelia Grata… Somewhere in the murk of the Falco consciousness a memory had stirred. 'And at the sister's house their old father joins them?'

'Yes.'

A bell was now ringing loudly in my tired brain. Echoes then sounded from several directions: 'His name wouldn't be Rosius Gratus?'

'That's right.'

'Lives up on the road to Sublaqueum?'

'Yes.'

I breathed gently. No point rushing this. 'And he travels to Rome too, when his daughter from Tibur is going up for festivals – so does your mistress take him with her?'

'No. The old girl can't stand being penned up with him in the carriage. They get on, but it's best if they don't see too much of each other. That's why he continues to live on his own estate. He likes his drive to Rome in any case. He's a bit of a racer, actually.'

'What's his conveyance?'

'A cisium.'

'What – an old man in a topless two-wheeler, out in all weathers?'

'It's what he's always used.' I could hear Marina saying Oh, he clings on manfully.

'Does he go to the Circus with the women?'

'No, he sleeps all day and only wakes up for his dinner.'

'But is Rosius Gratus still a man of the world in other ways?'

Titus blushed. 'Afraid so.'

I raised my eyebrows and grinned. 'He sees a woman?'

'Always has done. It's supposed to be his big secret but we all have a laugh over it. How did you know?'

'Somebody who lives in the same street mentioned it. Well, that's another reason for not travelling with his daughter. Old Rosius surely doesn't drive himself?'

'Someone takes him.'

'And this someone brings home the cisium while the old fellow stays with his daughters, then drives back to fetch the old fellow at the end of the festival?'

'Probably. The old fellow wouldn't need the cisium; I told you, he just nods off on a couch all day. Am I helping?' asked the boy earnestly.

'Very much, Titus. You've told me what I should have worked out for myself days ago. The problem was, I listened to someone I shouldn't have.'

'What do you mean?'

'Somebody told me Rosins Gratus never goes to Rome.'

'That's ridiculous.'

'People tell lies, Titus.' As I turned to find my horse I gazed at him gently. 'You'll learn to look out for it. Take my advice: be especially careful of men who are standing around doing nothing, by the side of a track in a wood.' I swung into the saddle. It was an effort. 'This driver of the cisium – would his name be Thurius?'

'That's him.'

I should have known.

Titus wanted to give me directions, but there was no need: I had to ride up the Via Valeria to the point where the aqueducts were taken from the River Anio, then turn off along the road to Sublaqueum. I had to do it, moreover, not in the whole day it would normally take for such a journey but in the few hours before dark.

I left a message with young Titus in case helpers ever followed me. I had no hope of support now. There was no time for them to get here. I was in this alone.

The Imperial post couriers can ride fifty miles in a day if they change horses, and so could I. Being already in possession of a cursus publicus mount helped me bluff. I managed to swap the grey for a stocky chestnut with a blaze at a relay station just before the road to Horace's Farm. Another lost opportunity to visit the Bandusian Spring. I didn't care now. I had gone right off water.

The light was growing murky. I passed the aqueduct sources at the thirty-fifth and thirty-eighth milestones. On I galloped down the Sublaqueum road for four more miles until I came to the large mud reservoir. I stopped, looking for Bolanus. One of his public slaves soon appeared.

'Bolanus saw a cart drive by earlier. He went after it on a donkey.'

'Alone?'

'We've finished cleaning the basin. There was only him and me and a dragnet. He told me to wait here and warn you if you came.'

'I know where he's gone. Stay here in case help follows me; give them directions to the Rosins Gratus estate, will you?'

Upstream of the sluice that directed water into the basin, I could see the dragnet they had roped up across the river. Chilled, I prayed they had not caught anything today. I rode on, spurred by desperation. Now Bolanus had put himself in danger too. With his stiff back and his dim eye he would be no match for a vicious killer.

At the Rosius Gratus estate I slowed my mare to a canter. On the track to the house I saw nobody. The villa buildings lay silent; no slaves making their own entertainment here. My previous visit had given me the impression there was only a small staff. The housekeeper was here, anyway, because she had heard the horse and came out to investigate.

'Name's Falco. I was here the other day. I need a word with Thurius – is he back from Rome?' She nodded. 'What's he doing?'

'No idea. I don't keep track of that one.' She sounded disapproving. It all fitted.

'Where shall I look for him?'

'He should be in the stable, but if not you'll be hard put to find him. He goes off into the woods somewhere.' She looked curious, but was preoccupied with her work and let me go by myself.

'Thanks. If you see him first, don't mention me; I want to give him a surprise.'

'All right.' Obviously they left Thurius to his own devices. That was probably because they found him awkward to deal with. It was all as I expected: a loner; odd habits; unpopular. 'You look all in, Falco.'

'Long day.' And I knew it was not finished yet.

I tried the stable first.

I failed to find the driver, or Bolanus, but I did come across the cisium. Its two horses, still steaming, had been watered and fed. I stabled my own alongside them.

I walked around the elderly vehicle. As everyone had said, it was a high-based simple spin-along. Two big iron-bound wheels and a seat with space for two passengers. Under the seat was built a box, fastened by a strong padlock so that if the cisium was parked its luggage could be safely left. It was locked now.

I banged gently on the box. Nothing. With relief I noticed that what looked like crude air holes had been driven through the planks. I looked around for the key. No luck. Naturally. I had not expected this to be easy.

This was a stable; there had to be tools. I wasted a few seconds doing one of the pointless things you do; trying to pick the lock with a nail. Ridiculous. I was too tired to think straight. A lock that could be undone that way would be useless. I needed something stronger. Keeping an eye out for Thurius, I went and searched the outbuildings until I found a store. As at most remote villas, it was well-equipped. A crowbar partially bent the hooks of the lock, weakening the metal, then I struck it off with one furious blow of a hammer. Sweat poured off me: not from exertion but from sheer anxiety.

I stood still, listening. Nothing moved here or at the house. I braced myself and flung open the box.

There were several filthy smells, human in origin. But apart from some sacking, the source of these odours, there was nothing inside.