We lived as man and wife; by definition our disagreements were never sophisticated.
Helena probably resented a near stranger commenting on our relationship. “Marcus and I both agree that an accusation of cruelly is the worst insult you can offer anyone. Cruel emperors are damned in the public memory and removed from the record. And of course 'humanity' is a Latin word-a Roman invention.” For an unsnobbish woman she could lay on a superior air like honey on a cinnamon plait.
“And how do Romans define their wonderful humanity?” asked Euphrasia satirically.
“Kindness,” I supplied. ‘Restraint. Education. A civilized attitude towards all people.”
“Even slaves?”
“Even lanistae,” I said drily.
“Oh even them!” Euphrasia glanced sideways at her husband wickedly.
“I want vicious criminals punished,” I said. “Watching it gives me no personal pleasure, but it does seem right to be a witness. I don't feel I lack humanity-though I do concede, I am glad to live with a girl who has a fuller share of it.”
Euphrasia was still harping: “And so you are eager to see Thurius fed to a lion?”
“Certainly.” I half turned on my elbow to look squarely at her husband. “Which brings us rather neatly to the particular lion who had been booked to do the job.”
For a brief instant our host let his guard slip and his displeasure show. It was evident that Saturninus did not wish to discuss what had happened to Leonidas.
29
EUPHRASIA KNEW SHE had said the wrong thing: Leonidas was a closed subject, though she may not have been told why. Without turning a hair, she waved the servants to clear away the desert course. Four or five discreet waiting staff moved in on silently padding feet to lift out the tables, complete with their litter and used bowls; these slaves conveniently passed in front of our couches, causing a break in the conversation. It gave Saturninus time to recover his composure. The dark furrow on his brow cleared.
He was never going to be easy when cornered, however. “What,” he asked me directly, “does Calliopus say happened?”
He was too clever to be finessed. “Some of his bestiarii released Leonidas during a prank at the barracks, allegedly. The lion played up and ended the night with a spear in him. The ringleader is supposed to be a certain Iddibal.” “Iddibal?” Saturninus' curiosity sounded genuine.
“A young bestiarius in the Calliopus troupe. He looks like nothing special-though he may be running wild. He has some woman openly chasing after him.”
Saturninus was silent for a second. Was that because he knew Iddibal had had nothing to do with the Leonidas incident? Then he spoke, as if closing the matter, or trying to: “Calliopus ought to know what happens in his own yard, Falco.”
“Oh I reckon he knows all right!”
“That sounds as if you suspect something else happened, Falco,” Euphrasia interjected. Her husband shot her another irritated look. She had a mercurial way of being all tact one minute, then turning willful on him.
I cleared my throat. I was starting to feel weary, and would have preferred to shelve this. Helena reached over and squeezed my hand. “Marcus Didius is an informer; of course he believes all he is told!”
Euphrasia laughed, perhaps more than the irony demanded.
“Is it true,” Helena then asked Saturninus, “That you and Calliopus are serious rivals?”
“Best of friends,” he lied valiantly.
“Somebody said you had quarrelled when in partnership?”
“Oh we have had a few skirmishes. He's a typical Oean-a devious buffoon. Mind you, he would probably say, trust a Lepcis man to insult him!”
“Is he married?” Helena asked Euphrasia.
“To Artemisia.”
“I see her as somewhat downtrodden.” I revived and joined in again. “My partner and I unearthed signs that Calliopus has a mistress-and as a result he's currently supposed to be involved in a huge quarrel with his wife about his after-hours activities.”
“Artemisia is a nice woman,” Euphrasia declared firmly.
Helena scowled. “Poor thing then! Do you know her well, Euphrasia?”
“Not well.” Euphrasia grinned. “She is from Oea, after all, and I am a good Lepcis citizen. I see her at the baths sometimes. She wasn't there today; somebody said she has gone to their villa at Surrentum.”
“For Saturnalia?” Helena arched her fine eyebrows in astonishment. Surrentum has the best views in Italy and in summer is delightful. December can be bleak up on any seaside cliff, however. I did hope that the work of Falco Partner had not caused the poor woman's exile.
“Her husband thinks Artemisia is in need of sea air,” Euphrasia jeered; Helena tutted angrily at the unfairness of men'
Saturninus and I exchanged self-righteous male glances. “So your skirmishes with your old partner,” I asked him bluntly, “include the escapade with your leopardess at the Saepta yesterday? I heard that Calliopus' men were at the scene.”
“Oh he was behind it,” Saturninus agreed. Well, there was no point in his denying it'
“Any firm evidence?”
“Of course not.”
“And what can you tell me about a sack of grain that found its way off the Arx today and turned out to be poisonous?”
“I know nothing and can tell you nothing, Falco.” Well, I expected that.
“I'm glad you aren't taking the credit. If the Sacred Geese of Juno had guzzled any of the poison, Rome would face a national crisis.”
“Shocking,” he said impassively.
“Calliopus seems to be the regular recipient of sacks that have ‘fallen off the back of a cart'.”
Saturninus was not in the least put out. “Roadside thieves nip things off when carts slow down at crossroads, Falco.”
“Yes, it's an old dodge. And a better sounding explanation than that the supplier allowed a regular fiddle to owners of menagerie animals.”
“Oh not us. We buy our feed at cost, through proper channel.”
“Well, I certainly recommend that for the next few months! Do your 'proper channels' include the Granary of the Galbae?”
“I believe we get better terms from the Granary of the Lollii.”
“Very astute. Incidentally, Calliopus lost a fine male ostrich who ate some of the bad corn.”
“I'm desolate for him.”
Helena had noticed that I was flagging again: “Calliopus does seem to have rather bad luck with his menagerie. Or perhaps not. Think about when he first lost his lion: the story of a prank on the yard is clearly untrue. Evidence shows that Leonidas had been taken from his cage and transported elsewhere. Calliopus is either very stupid indeed to believe what he alleges Iddibal did-or he knows the real truth and is foolishly trying to delude Marcus Didius.”
“Why would Calliopus do that?” asked Euphrasia, wide eyed and giggling.
“The easy solution, the one we are supposed to believe, is that Calliopus has decided to exact his own revenge for his lion's death and he doesn't want interference.”
“And is there a complicated solution, Helena?”
I was secretly watching Saturninus, but he managed to look merely polite.
“One explanation,” Helena decided, “would be that Calliopus was fully aware of what was planned that night.”
For all the interest he showed, Saturninus could have been listening to her describing a new Greek novel.
