I ought to have gone to see this angry old Calabrian bat myself, to sort out the real story. But life's too short; you can't do everything.
•
I showed Laesus the notebook we found in the Temple of Hera.
'Look at this list: Nones of April,
Laesus looked at me with those bright black robin's eyes of his. 'Nothing I recognize.'
'You said you used to sail to Alexandria yourself!'
'This doesn't mention Alexandria!' Laesus argued, with a pinched appearance at being caught out in his own professional sphere. 'It was a long time ago,' he admitted, understandably shamefaced.
I grinned at him remorselessly. 'A long time, and a lot of wine jugs if you ask me! Alexandria was a hunch.'
'Well, leave me the list and I'll ask around-' I shook my head, tucking the notebook away in my tunic.
'Thanks; I'll keep it. It may be nothing important anyway.'
It says much for his lopsided charm that although I feel queasy just peering into rock-pools I almost agreed to travel in his ship with Laesus round to Rhegium. But you can die of being seasick; I preferred to stick on land.
I made Laesus a present of my goat. I guessed she might end up barbecued on the shore. I felt bad about it afterwards. But there are two things a private informer is better not lumbered with: women and pets.
I never mentioned she was sacred. Killing a sacred beast brings horrible misfortune but only, in my experience, if you know what you have done. When you don't know you don't worry, so you stand more chance.
The goat went with Laesus quietly: a fair-weather creature-like most of my friends. I told her if she had to be eaten by a sailor, I could not entrust her to a nicer man.
XXI
So; back to tell the Emperor how well I had done in Bruttium.
That week I spent in Rome was disastrous. My mother despised me for failing to fetch her liquorice. Lenia bullied me out of three weeks' rent. Helena Justina had left no messages. At the Camillus house I learned that she had left Rome to spend high summer in some country retreat; I was too proud to ask the door porter where. Her father, who was a pleasant man, must have heard I had come calling; he sent a house slave after me inviting me to dine, but I was too miserable to go.
Against this depressing background it was with some trepidation that I entered the Palace to report. Before I encountered Vespasian I tracked down Anacrites to compare notes.
I found him in a poky office, studying invoices. I managed to extract a confession that he failed in his mission to find Aufidius Crispus, the conspirator who had fled to Neapolis. It also emerged that he had done nothing about Barnabas either; even my news that the freedman had made another attack on a senator failed to rouse him. Anacrites was now auditing the contractors who had organized the Emperor's Judaean Triumph, so his mind was on tenders and daywork rates; he seemed to have lost all interest in plots.
Cursing him for a short-tempered, introverted scarab, I slouched off to see the Emperor, feeling very much alone.
After I finished my story Vespasian pondered for some time.
'Caesar, I hope I have not overstepped the mark?'
'No,' he answered eventually. 'No, that's all right.'
'Will you install Gordianus at Paestum?'
'Oh, yes! Decent of him to be satisfied with that…'
Opposing the Emperor was a highly productive racket! Gordianus had enjoyed all the excitement of plotting with his cronies, then afterwards he had just settled back munching pan-fried sweetbreads off the altar at Colonna while he waited for his reward. I said nothing, though what I thought may have shown in my face.
We had a short, inconclusive discussion about money, then Vespasian continued to stare at me in a way I found odd. The feeling of being excluded from secret court protocol started to grate again but just when my indignation made me want to run off to herd sheep on Mount Etna for six months, he mentioned wryly, 'I should have sent you after the yachtsman too!'
I took a moment to realize this could be an offer of work.
'Oh?' I asked (casually).
'Hmm!' he said (with a grim smile). 'Anacrites did his best, he tells me, but had to bring back my letter to Crispus marked 'address unknown'.'
'Oh what bad luck!' I exclaimed.
The feeling I was getting now was one which I much preferred. The Emperor may have been aware of that.
'I imagine,' suggested Vespasian cheerily, 'you will not be too keen on leaving Rome so soon after your return?'
I shook my head, looking grave. 'I have an elderly mother, sir, who likes to keep me here! Besides,' I added, lowering my voice because this point was serious, 'I hate jobs where some other mucker has already swanned in and spoiled all the trails.'
'I appreciate that. But Aufidius Crispus owns half Latium,' Vespasian told me, not without a tinge of jealousy. 'So I feel obliged to worry when he fails to communicate.'
Latium was long-established farming country, rich in olive oil and wine. A new Emperor who was jostling his opponents into order would pay careful attention to anyone who was big in Latian wine.
I grinned at the Emperor. Neither of us mentioned the sacred word 'diplomacy'.
'Well, sir, lots of people would dart away if they were saluted by a Palace spy!'
'He may find himself saluted by someone worse than that. As a gesture from me, I want you to warn Crispus. Find him, Falco; and find him before Barnabas does!'
'Oh I'll find him. I expect what it needs,' I offered, helpfully, 'is a new face, someone who looks completely unlike a public official-'
'Exactly!' said Vespasian. 'The letter's with my secretary. It's first-quality papyrus, so when you do encounter Crispus, try not to drop it in the drink.'
I pointed out that prices on the Bay of Neapolis were notoriously expensive, yet I failed to persuade him to upgrade my daily fee.
'But you can travel at public expense,' was the best he would come up with. 'There is a ship called the
I reckoned I would arrange transport overland for myself. Yet having access to a merchant vessel did offer possibilities; I remembered a certain abandoned commodity which might enhance my livelihood while providing a
