Petronius Longus was no use. I changed the subject. It was the only thing to do. I asked him why he had called me, and (once he had finished sniggering over the Anacrites business) he said the shipper, Pisarchus, had turned up and was being held for questioning.
XLI
As I had suspected all along, Pisarchus – the shipper whom we knew had made serious losses while dealing with the Aurelian Bank – was also the man I had seen arguing with Chrysippus at the scriptorium.
He was heavily sunburned, as I had remembered, with that leathery skin and deeply ingrained colour that must have come from years of being lashed by the weather on an open deck. The solid build, once the result of hard work and regular lifting activities, had thickened up a little too much with age and a softer life. A fine-weave tunic and chunky gold finger rings said he had money – or could obtain credit, anyway. Another Greek. Both his features and his accent gave him away immediately, though he spoke that easy commercial Latin that traders use, and probably knew quite a few other languages.
Sergius, the vigiles heavy, had been delaying him until Petro and I arrived. Unsure whether he could beat people up at this stage of the enquiry, the big, handsome whip-man looked relieved to hand over. Subtle interrogation was not his skill in life. But then, it was not meant to be. Sergius was employed to thrash people – and at that he excelled.
We messed about for a while, as if Pisarchus were unimportant. `How was he pulled in?' I heard Petronius mutter to Sergius while I pretended to be fiddling with stationery and a stylus.
`For some reason -' Sergius openly admired the man's courage – 'he volunteered to come!'
`Our punishment officer,' Petro grinned to the shipper. `He seems to think you took a risk in coming here.'
Pisarchus, a man who must be accustomed to having command, merely raised a dark eyebrow. He sat on a stool, both feet planted apart, leaning on his knees with sturdy elbows that matched his muscled calves.
`Of course a member of the public who offers us assistance has nothing to fear from the vigiles,' stated Petronius. He managed to make it sound like a threat. `Over to you, Falco. It's your case. Found yourself a stylus yet?'
I chewed the end of one, like a novice, glancing at a tablet Sergius had already filled in. `Pisarchus? Shipper? Trading out of Piraeus, with a base at Ostia?'
`That's right.'
`I'm Didius Falco, on special operations here. This is Petronius Longus, acting tribune. He'll be sitting in with us for a general overview.
`Are we likely to be long?' asked Pisarchus with horror, as if he had come here to report a stolen duck and found himself in the middle of a major crisis.
`As long as it takes,' I answered, with a slight air of surprise. `You know what we need to talk about?'
`No.'
'Ah!' I glanced at Petro as if I found this answer highly significant.
I decided not to enlighten Pisarchus yet. `So, tell me why you came to the patrol-house, please?'
`I heard in the Forum that there had been a death.'
`Visiting Rome today? You are staying at Praeneste normally?' Pisarchus looked surprised and disconcerted. `How did you know?' `Had you not told the first officer?' I made a pretence of consulting the scrawl Sergius had given me. `No. Well, it seems you're famous around here! What did you come to report?'
He was a shrewd man. As soon as he realised the authorities had his name on a list, he backed off completely. `You ask me what you want to know, Falco.'
I smiled. `All right.' I felt like playing the reasonable fellow today.
`Tell me, please, about your dealings with the Aurelian Bank.'
`My dealings? How are they relevant?'
`We are consulting their customers about loan arrangements. It's a wide-scale exercise.'
That seemed to reassure him. `They have given me credit a few times.'
`Marine loans, to acquire ships and to finance cargoes?'
`Yes. Normal conduct between an importer and his banker.' `You had a couple of unfortunate voyages, I hear?' `Two sunk. Last year.'
`You were unhappy about that?'
Pisarchus shrugged. `Who wouldn't be? Two ships lost. Crews drowned. Cargoes and vessels gone. Customers disappointed, and no profit.'
`Sailing 'out of time' by your contract terms?'
`Unfortunately.,
'So the bank called in your loans?'
`It was their right.'
`Did you quarrel?'
`No point. I didn't like it, but that is what happens.'
`So you suffered financially? The ships sailed in bad weather,
uninsured, so when they sank not only did you lose the profits but also
you now have to repay the Aurelian all the costs? Will it finish you?' `Not quite,' Pisarchus replied gloomily.
`So it's a blow but you will find the cash to start again?' He nodded. `Another loan?' I asked.
`Obviously.'
`From whom this time? Will you go back to the Aurelian?'
A guarded look crossed Pisarchus' face. `I might have done.' So losses did not necessarily ruin a commercial relationship. `But I heard one or two rumours in the Forum today… I may try to put together another arrangement. A syndicate of family and friends. Two of my sons are in the business.'
`Shipping or banking?' queried Petro.
`Shipping!' Pisarchus clarified, slightly indignantly as if he did not regard banking as a trade. `My sons have both done well lately, luckily for us. That's how it goes. We support one another.'
`In which case you won't need recourse to a bank.' I smiled. `What rumours have you heard about the Golden Horse, incidentally?'
`I won't spread tittle-tattle,' Pisarchus said.
`All right. Tell me, did you have a slight altercation – over your loans, presumably – with Aurelius Chrysippus recently?'
`No,' replied the shipper. `It is Lucrio I deal with when I need credit.'
I half-turned towards Petronius and we exchanged frankly sceptical glances. I had told him before we started that Pisarchus might be the man I had seen arguing.
`Wrong identification?' Petro suggested to me. Pisarchus frowned, wondering who had identified whom, and where. `I don't think so!' I said firmly.
`The man sounds definite.'
`Me too. So he's definitely lying!'
I looked slowly back at Pisarchus. `Don't mess us about, sir.' Pisarchus looked anxious, yet he did not panic. He simply sat waiting to be told what was up. Something about him appealed to me.
He was either a clever dodger or quite straight. I found myself hoping he was innocent.
`You were seen,' I said heavily, `at the Chrysippus scriptorium.'
He did not blink. `That's right.'
`Well, why didn't you say so?'
`You asked me about credit. My visit to the scroll-shop was nothing to do with that.'
I took a long breath, scratching my head with the stylus. `I think you had better explain – and make it good, for your own sake.'
