SHADOWS IN BRONZE

inflicted some on Helena without consulting her.

'This is not the woman you came with!' he commented satirically to me.

'No, sir. This is a kind-hearted lady who volunteered to help me find you. She's good at blind man's buff.'

Helena Justina, who had not previously spoken, put down the wine cup untasted. 'The lady Didius Falco came with is my friend. I shall never mention this conversation to Fausta but I do feel concern about what you intend for her.'

Crispus looked astounded by this female initiative, but soon managed to answer with the same frankness he had shown me: 'It might be tempting to reconsider my position there!'

'I can see that! Hypothetically, of course,' Helena challenged.

'Of course!' he interrupted in a laughingly suave tone.

'A man with his sights on the Palatine might reflect that Aemilia Fausta comes from a good family with one consul among her ancestors and a brother who promises to duplicate the honour. Her face would look dignified on the back of a silver denarius; she is young enough to bear a dynasty, sufficiently devoted to prevent any scandal-'

'Too devoted!' he exclaimed.

'Is that your problem?' I chipped in.

'It was. Indeed it is.'

'Why did you let her dine with you?' Helena hectored him.

'Because I see no reason to humiliate the lady. If you are her friend, try to explain to her that I could marry for policy-but not with such intensity on her side and such lack of it on mine.' He prevented himself from shuddering, but only just. 'Our marriage would be a disaster. For her own sake Aemilia Fausta's brother ought to give her to somebody else-'

'That would be extremely unfair to some other poor man.' Helena plainly thought him selfish. Perhaps he was; perhaps he should have tried to make a go of it-and plunged them both into domestic misery, like everybody else. 'What will you do?' she asked in a low voice.

'At the end of the evening take her home to Herculaneum on my ship. Tell her decently, in privacy, that I cannot oblige her. Don't worry. She won't be upset; she won't believe me; she never did before.'

His briskness closed the subject, though none of us objected to letting it rest. Aemilia Fausta's predicament embarrassed us all.

•

I got to my feet, and removed from my tunic the letter I had been carrying for so many weeks. He smiled, looking relaxed. 'Vespasian's billet-doux?'

'It is.' I gave it to him. 'Will you read it, sir?'

'Probably.'

'He wants me to take your reply.'

'Fair enough.'

'You may need time to think about it-'

'Either there is no answer at all, or I'll tell you tonight.'

'Thank you, sir. Then if I may, I'll wait in the colonnade outside.'

'Surely.'

He was businesslike about it. The man had talent. He had shown over the problem of Fausta that he possessed some compassion, which is rare. He also had good sense, a cheerful humour, the ability to organize, and an approachable style. He was quite right; he matched the Flavians. Vespasian's family had years of public service behind them, yet they continued to seem small-minded and provincial in a way this urbane, likeable character never would.

I did like him. Mainly because at bottom he refused to take himself seriously.

'There is one thing I wish to ask you, Falco.'

'Ask away.'

'No,' said Aufidius Crispus, glancing coldly at Helena. 'I want to ask you when this lady has withdrawn.'

LIII

Helena Justina shot us both a disparaging look, then slipped out of the room-like the dancing girl, but more aggressive and without a rose.

'Hates secrets,' I excused.

'You after her?' His eyes narrowed with that semiserious glint he used when he was amusing himself manipulating people. 'I can probably arrange it…'

'Nice present, but the lady won't look at me!'

He grinned. 'Falco, you're an odd sort for a Palace messenger! If Flavius Vespasianus has written to me personally, why send you as well?'

'Hiring in professionals! What did you wish to ask me? And why not in front of the lady?'

'It touches on her husband-'

'Ex-husband,' I stated.

'Pertinax Marcellus; divorced from her, as you say… What do you know about Pertinax?'

'Over-ambitious and under-intelligent.'

'Not your type? I saw his death announced recently,' he murmured, giving me a speculative look.

'True.'

'Is it?'

'Well, you saw it announced!'

He stared at me as if I had said something that might not be genuine. 'Pertinax was involved in a project I know something about, Falco.' Crispus' own role as a plotter had never been proved and I could hardly foresee him admitting it. 'Certain people had collected substantial funding-I wonder who has it now?'

'State secret, sir.'

'Does that mean you don't know, or you won't tell?'

'One or the other. You say first,' I offered bluntly, 'why you need to know?'

He laughed. 'Oh come!'

'Excuse me, sir, I've better things to do than sit on a stool in the sun watching grapes ripen. Let's be frank! The cash was being hoarded in a pepper warehouse by a man who has apparently disappeared-Helena Justina's uncle.'

'Wrong!' Crispus shot back. 'He's dead, Falco.'

'Really?' My voice rasped as once again I smelt the decaying flesh of that body I had flushed down the Great Sewer.

'Don't play games. I know he is. The man wore a ring; a monstrous great emerald, rather low taste.' Even for his banquet Crispus himself had not troubled with jewellery, apart from one flat onyx signet ring, good quality but discreet. 'He never took it off. But I've seen the thing, Falco, I was shown it here, earlier tonight.'

I did not doubt it. He was talking about one of the rings which Julius Frontinus the Praetorian captain had wrenched from the swollen fingers of the warehouse corpse. The cameo which I had lost.

So while we were in Rome Barnabas had found it. And Barnabas must have been in Oplontis tonight.

Thinking quickly, I worked out that Crispus was hoping he could still get his hands on the sticky ton of bullion which the conspirators had assembled, and that he intended using it to further plans of his own. Half Latium and a fancy yacht might not be enough to secure the goodwill of all the provinces, the Senate, the Praetorian Guard, and the lively Forum mob…

In the hope of convincing him to abandon his plans, I declared what I had guessed: 'Curtius Gordianus wrote to warn you that the Pertinax freedman Barnabas has turned himself into a freelance killer? He was here tonight, wasn't he?'