another site meeting in the afternoon?'
Cypnanus looked askance, expecting my support against this feminine intrusion. When I, too, simply sat and waited for his answer, he forced out, 'There was.'
'What happened?' I nudged him myself, so he would get the idea that Helena and I worked in partnership.
'We all went over the same ground again. Magnus lost his temper exactly the way you had, Falco. I managed to hold onto mine, though I was close to dotting Pomponius more than once. Lupus did not want to take the Britons onto his complement, so our plan to reorganise the labour force was soon bogged down.'
'Why is Lupus opposed to it?' Helena asked.
Cyprianus shrugged. 'Lupus likes to do everything his way.'
'So Lupus was angry, Magnus was angry, you were too,' Helena counted off. She spoke quietly and calmly. 'Anybody else?'
'Rectus the drains engineer was sounding off. A new consignment of ceramic pipes has walked. They are very expensive,' the clerk of works explained, assuming Helena would have no concept of equipment pricing. He was not to know that far from having a steward to pay all her bills, she carried out that task for me. Helena checked invoices with a meticulous eye.
'What are these pipes?' I asked.
'We are using them in the garden watering system. The garden goes in last; Rectus was a fool to have called them up so early. Still, who else in Britain would have a use for them? I'll have to check the site. The damn things could just have been unloaded in the wrong area, though Rectus says he's looked…'
Something bothered Cyprianus. He was worrying over this missing-pipes issue as it there was more to it than routine theft.
Helena was on to it: 'Have you lost expensive materials prior to this?'
'Oh… it happens.' Cyprianus clammed up. 'Falco knows the score.' There was at least one problem, with the marble cladding. Milchato had admitted it.
Falco was not taking back the baton yet, however. Falco liked I
seeing his darling investigate on his behalf.
'Was Rectus angry?' she asked next, seeming merely curious. I
'Rectus is a flaming comet. He only knows how to curse and rage '
'What else happened at the meeting?' Helena asked. 'Was anyone else upset?'
'Strephon was agitating about that statue-seller you're friendly with, Falco, the one who wants an interview. Pomponius hates salesmen. Strephon tried him again but he still said no. Strephon can't tell hawkers to march. Strephon is too nice. He hates unhappiness.'
'Would Sextius know yet that Pomponius won't see him?' Helena was wondering if Sextius might have a grudge.
'Only if Strephon has been a big boy and passed the information on. But Strephon was sulking the last I saw.'
'What form did his sulk take?'
'Biting his nails and kicking the stool Plancus was sitting on.'
'Was Plancus irritated by that?' I put in, grinning. I
'Plancus wouldn't notice if his head fell off. Dim as a duck.' '
'How did he get on a prestigious project such as this?' Helena asked.,
Cyprianus eyed Helena nervously and refused to answer.
'It's a good question. Tell us how!' I insisted.
The clerk of works looked at me scathingly. 'Plancus was Pomponius' boyfriend, Falco. I thought you realised.' The thought _
had never crossed my mind.
'So Plancus joined the project only because he was the chief architect's favourite- but he's untalented?'
'Coasting. World of his own.'
'Strephon? Is he a pretty boy too?'
'Doubt it. Strephon has a wife and child. As a designer, he shows potential. But with Pomponius ruling everything, it's never been called upon.'
'What are relations between Plancus and Strephon, then?'
'Not close!'
'And is Strephon jealous of the bond between Pomponius his superior- and the boyfriend Plancus?'
'If he's not he ought to be.'
'It all sounds rather unhappy,' Helena said.
'Normal,' Cypnanus told her gloomily.
There was a thoughtful pause. Helena stretched her feet out, staring at her sandals. 'Did anything else happen that we should know about?'
Cyprianus gave her a long look. He was a traditionalist, unused to women asking questions on professional subjects; that 'we' of hers had raised his hackles. I knew Helena was aware of it. I shot him an inquisitive look myself, and eventually he forced himself to shake his head to Helena's question.
After a moment, he repeated his anxiety when we first sat down here: 'What are we to do now?'
'About the body?' I queried.
'No, about the loss of our project manager, Falco! This is an enormous site. However is the job to continue?'
'As normal, surely?' 'Someone has to steer. Pomponius was a Rome appointment. We'll have to send off for a new man; they must identify someone who's good, persuade him that a remote sojourn in Britain is just the torture he wants, then extract him from whatever he's working on at present… We've no hope they can find a good architect who is free at this moment. Even if they could, the poor sod has to get here. Then he must learn his way around someone else's design plans…' He tailed off in despair.
'Would you say,' I asked slowly, 'Pomponius had been chosen for this project because he was good?'
Cyprianus considered the proposition, but his answer came swiftly. 'He was good, Falco. He was very good if he was held in check. It was just power he couldn't handle.'
'So who can?' I sneered.
Cyprianus and I both laughed. It was a man's joke. Even so, Helena gave a little smile at some amusement of her own.
We heard noises; the King had sent people to lock up the baths as I suggested. I stood up stiffly. 'It was late before; now it's later. Two requests, Cyprianus: keep your mouth shut over this- don't even relate the tale to your friend Magnus, please. And in the morning, can you fix me up another site meeting, with everyone who attended today?'
He said yes to both. I was past caring whether he obeyed the plea for secrecy. This had been a long day and tomorrow was bound to be longer. I wanted my bed.
I don't know what arrangements Cyprianus made for his own security, but I made damn sure that my iamily's suite was well locked up that night.
XXXVII
my bad tooth had reasserted itself when I arrived at the project meeting. I was late. I had had a rough night, due in part to the baby crying. But I absolved Favonia. I can never rest peacefully after an encounter with a corpse.
Everyone else was already present. My hope for surprise was thwarted: they all knew what had happened. I wasted no time holding an inquest. There had never been much chance of keeping things quiet.
We all crowded into the architect's room, this time with me taking the chair. I sensed that it did not entirely put me in charge.
The atmosphere was quiet, tense and sour. They were all aware Pomponius was dead, and they probably
