Venus in copper

Chapter XXXIV

'Novus!' The wild-eyed chef grew still. He was visibly upset.

'Steady! What's your name?'

'People here call me Viridovix,' he informed me stiffly.. 'And if my master has been poisoned-then you want to talk to me!'

'If you're the chef,' I commented, 'most of the people who ate here tonight will want to do that!'

If I needed confirmation that the Hortensius crowd were a clutch of social amateurs, I would have found it in the fact that they had a Gallic cook.

It was a hundred years since Rome decided to civilize the Gauls; since then we had moved on from genocide at Julius Caesar's hand to taming the tribes with commodities which came cheaper for the Treasury: ceramic bowls, Italian wine, and the finer points of democratic local government. Gaul's response was to fill Rome's artists' studios with life models who specialised in posing as Dying Barbarians, then later to inflict on us a rash of heavy-going middle-class bureaucrats in the mode of Agricola. Many prominent Gauls come from Forum Julii, which was graced by what passed for a university-plus a port, so they could easily ship themselves out to Rome.

I am prepared to concede that one day the three cold Gallic provinces will come up with a contribution to the civilised arts-but nobody is going to convince me that it will be mastery of cuisine. Even so, I never imagined that Hortensius Novus died because his cook came from Gaul. His dinner almost certainly killed him-but that was nothing to do with the cook.

Calming Viridovix was my first priority; he might become less agitated without an audience. I winked at Hyacinthus, who obligingly disappeared.

'I'm Didius Falco. I'm investigating this tragedy-and frankly, after finding your master's body I need a drink!

Considering that he was poisoned, I imagine you'd like to join me-let's try and find something we can assume has not been tampered with…'

I sat him down to simmer off boiling point. I found one wine flask, an elegant sky-blue fluted glass affair with a silvery, lustrous finish, which stood with its bung out, breathing, like a special vintage set aside for the after-dinner toasts. The amber wine was brimming well up the neck of the vessel; the diners had plainly overlooked their treat. I took a risk that anything that was meant to be partaken of by the company in common was probably safe. It was a big risk; but Viridovix was obviously badly shaken, and I was desperate.

'This should do us -' The contents were thick as nectar and probably of great age. Although I took my own cup neat Viridovix asked for spices; I found a little bowl in matching blue glass standing handy beside the flask and, thinking a cook would appreciate flavour, I emptied the entire contents-myrrh and cassia, by the sniff of it-into his cup.

One gulp convinced me the person who should be enjoying this was my expert friend Petronius. It was fifteen-year-old Falernian, if I was any judge. I recognised the way it slid down my throat like molten glass, and the warm burn of the aftertaste. I knew it because Petro used to treat me on his birthday; he always said it was a waste pouring this noble grape juice into a cluck like me, but Falemian should not be drunk alone (a philosophy I encouraged).

We quaffed. The rook immediately looked less pale. 'Better? Viridovix, the tact is Novus has died, but no one is likely to blame you-unless you had a grudge against him. I I wanted to remind the cook that when a free citizen died by violent means the first suspects were his slaves, but to offer a hope of my protection if he was innocent. 'The best thing you can do to help clear yourself-'

'I have done nothing wrong.'

'I realise that.'

'Yet others may not agree with you?'

I liked his wry attitude. 'They will if I identify the real killer.' Viridovix looked uncertain. 'I was hired to prevent this,' I grumbled. 'So yours is not the only reputation under threat, my friend.' My glum mood had convinced him. We took another swig, then I persuaded him to go through the dinner menu. Obviously a worrier, he had been carrying it around, written on a scrap of parchment which was still in a pouch at his waist:

DINNER FOR SEVEN; HOSTED BY HORTENSIUS NOVUS

Appetisers:

Salad of Lettuce and Mallow Leaves

Peacocks' Eggs

Sausage in a Ring

Baian Oysters Hortensius

Artichoke Hearts

Olives

Main Dishes:

Hare in Rich Wine Sauce

Lobster in Saffron Pot Roast Pork Crowned with Laurel

Wild Crane Halibut Pancakes Fennel; Potted Peas; Stewed Leeks and Onions: Mushrooms

Dessert:

White Cheeses

Fruits Presented on a Hesperides Tree Purchased Pastries

Wines:

With the Appetiser, Mulsum (first pressing), warmed with Honey and malabathron flavouring With the Main Dishes, a choice of Red or White Chian

Served to Individual Taste For the Toasts after Dinner, Setinum

'And who devised this elegant collation?' I asked.

'I myself,' boasted Viridovix, then added, 'with some suggestions from Severina Zotica…'

I was not ready to think of Zotica. 'Was the evening a success, Viridovix?'

'Certainly.'

'Your creations were well received?'

'Good ingredients,' he shrugged. 'You cannot go wrong. I am free to buy the best.' He was evidently conscientious. I discarded my private joke earlier about shiny meat-and with it any lingering doubt that his master might have been poisoned by accident, simply through eating unsafe food.

Rereading the list, I put some further queries to the cook, not all of them for professional reasons. 'What are Oysters Hortensius?'

'Poached in a light bouillon of white wine, laurel leaves, juniper berries and lovage-'

'Invented by one of the family?'

'Invented by me!' I was corrected. Of course. No one as pretentious as these freedmen would allow visitors to be served up with a recipe named after a Celtic slave. Viridovix provided the creative skill; they took the credit.

'Mushrooms make people think twice nowadays…' I was referring to the infamous murder of the Emperor Claudius by his wife. Viridovix, who was well down his winecup, merely sniffed. 'Did the pastries come from Minnius along the road?'

'As usual. His work is not bad, and he gives us special rates.

'Because one of the freedmen leases him the stall?'

'I don't know why, I am a cook.'

'How did that come about?'

'Prisoner of war. Novus acquired me,' Viridovix murmured rather sweetly, 'because the slavemaster declared I was a tribal leader.'

'Snobbery!'

'He likes having his porridge stirred by a ruined prince.' The cook was not a bitter man. I enjoyed the light way he mocked his master's vulgarity.

'Were you one?' He smiled in silence. 'Still, perhaps you were once something better than a cook…Was it hard, coming here?'

'This is how I have to live,' Viridovix said quietly.

'So you knuckle down?'

'This is my work -I choose to do it well,' he added, with the dignity of the mildly drunk.

'An individual's privilege!' I must have been drunk too. I noticed he wore the same overdone uniform as Hyacinthus, laden with gaudy braid. The cook also sported a twisted silver torque. 'Did that necklet come with you when you were a prisoner?'

'Hardly! I have been supplied with it.'

'Extra colour? Do I gather from the full fancy dress that you supervised the servers personally?'

'Bad carving can ruin my best work.'

'I intended to ask the chamberlain who ate what.'

'He will not know,' said Viridovix dismissively.

'But you noticed?' I hazarded. 'You know what they all took-and what they all left on their plates!'

He glanced at me, pleased by the compliment, then graciously answered my query. 'I should say everyone sampled almost everything. Pollia left every scrap which she could call gristle; Felix looked for fat to peel off; the guest pushed his food around all night -'

'Any reason?'

'A man who does not know how to eat.'

'Or how to live!' I cried, glancing enthusiastically at his menu.

Viridovix accepted the compliment. 'As you say! Novus as usual devoured a large plateful, then called for a further helping. But none of them really noticed what they ate.'

'Disappointing?'

'Normal, Falco. In this house.'

'Does that rankle with you?'

'Not enough,' responded Viridovix shrewdly, 'to make me want to murder them!'

'It's my theory cooks commit their murders when they overheat in the glare of the ovens-then their method is to run amuck with meat cleavers.'

'Poison would be highly unprofessional!' he smiled.

'Tell me-as an observant man-were any of those present nervous?' I carefully avoided naming Severina Zotica.

'All of them,' he replied at once.

'Even Novus?'

'Especially him.' Somehow that was a surprise.

'What accounted for this edginess?' He gave me a wide-mouthed Gallic smile again, full of intelligent charm. I laughed. 'Oh sorry; you will not know details; you are just the cook!'

'Ah, cooks are all ears while people eat their food!'

'Going to tell me?'

'It was because of the business they had gathered to discuss,' I waited. He timed it nicely for effect: 'I think, forming a new partnership.' This time he actually grinned at me.

'In what field?'

'City property.'

'Did you learn any details?'

'No, Falco. When they were ready to talk, all of us serving were dismissed. I expect you want to ask me,' Viridovix suggested quietly, 'if I saw Hortensius Novus eat or drink anything that nobody else touched?'

'I would probably have worked around to it!'

'Nothing,' the cook disappointed me. 'Most of them dipped into most of the dishes and all of the wines. If poison was in the food, they are all dead. The servers were being attentive-but it was also a party where people made much of passing delicacies to their neighbours -'

'Best behaviour night?'

'Much graciousness. Too much.'

'So the general mood was amicable?'

'It seemed so, but the tension was high. I was afraid it would infect the servers; something would be dropped. A harpist had been engaged, but he was paid off without playing. They finished fairly early -'

'Did you see what happened then?'

'Of course; we were waiting to clear… After they came out, Crepito and Felix stood in the portico for some time, with their guest-'

'Still discussing?'

'Low voices-something Novus had done seemed to be causing controversy. Then I overheard all of them going on drinking, but nothing came of it; thee guest said he had something else to do. When he left, Felix and Crepito disappeared, heads together.'

'Happy?'

'No; I would say.'

'Where was Novus?'

'Novus had stomped off somewhere.'

'With Severina Zotica?'

'No,' said the cook. 'I should have told you earlier -Severina Zotica was never there!'

At that point a shoe scratched on marble. Viridovix dropped a warning hand on my arm. I turned on my seat. Standing in the doorway in a wait of garlic and frankincense was a man who could only be another of the Hortensius triumvirate.