'Five years!'
'You think I strike a hard bargain? I saw the corpse, sir. Pomponius' death was premeditated and there was mutilation afterwards. He was a Roman official. Wars have been started for less.'
We sat in silence.
The King moved to practical suggestion: 'It can be given out that Pomponius was killed by a chance intruder, who had entered the bath house hoping for sex or robbery…' He was displeased, but he was working with me. 'What of the other death? Who killed Marcellinus?' he challenged.
I told him a hired dancer, her credentials insufficiently checked. The motive, I said with a slight smile, must be robbery or sex.
'My people will search for her,' the King stated. It was not an offer but a warning. He might not know Perella worked for Anacrites specifically, but he had realised she had significance. And if the King found Perella, he would expect some kind of trade.
Since I was sure she would have left the area by now, I did not care.
I was uneasy. Aelianus and Justinus purred happily, thinking our mission accomplished. I had a dark sense of unfinished business waiting to disrupt my life.
The site was too quiet. Never trust a workplace where absolutely nobody is standing around aimlessly.
It was now the second half of the afternoon.
Even this early, many of the labourers went tramping off the site, heading towards town. Soon it seemed as if they had all gone to the canabae. None of the project team were visible, so while no one wanted me to officiate, I retired to my suite to invest in the project manager's privilege: thinking time, paid for by the client. Not long afterwards there was a clatter of horses and most of the King's male retainers mounted up then swept off at a canter in the direction of Noviomagus too. Verovolcus was leading them. I assumed they had instructions from the King to search for Perella.
They had not found her the last time they scoured the countryside. But Verovolcus might have more incentive, if he had spoken to the King since my meeting. He looked grim anyway.
Helena's brothers and my nephew Larius still believed the queen of dance would appear that night at the Rainbow Trout. To prepare for the entertainment, they all spent time at the bath house, throwing aside tools and other equipment left in the changing room by the contractors; the workmen, of course, had made a mess, then fled the scene. Nobody completes a bath-house contract overnight. Where would be the fun in that?
Helena complained our suite was like a home with a wedding in the morning. A loner myself, I was appalled by the spectacle of modern youth getting ready for a big night out. Petronius and I never primped ourselves like these three. Aelianus stubbornly shaved himself, with a meticulous vanity that seemed typical. I reckon he skimned over his legs and arms too. The sight of Larius and Justinus simultaneously rasping at each other's prickly chins while Aelianus kept possession of one dim hand mirror was unnerving. Then Larius cut himself while pruning his horny toenails and improvised a styptic paste with Justinus' tooth powder. Soon extra lotions were being splashed into remote anatomical crannies for luck.
Our rooms filled up with conflicting masculine unguents; cardamom, narcissus and cypress seemed to be this season's favourites. Then Camilla Hyspale also started tickling noses as she tricked herself out in another room. Ringlets had been well scorched and her face was positively frescoed with a thick layer of white plaster and artistic paintwork. When her dabbing brought a reek of fiery female balsam, Maia ground her teeth then muttered to me, 'That's my Sesame Stink! It used to keep Famia off when he'd had a few… Have you actually agreed that Hyspale can go out with her paramour?'
'Curiously, I am still waiting to be asked permission…'
Determined not to volunteer, but to force Hyspale to seek me out with her request, I sauntered back to the lads' room. The sight of their three glistening torsos, now stripped naked while they began fervently trying to choose tunics, convulsed me. Any woman who agreed to grope one of these beauties would find he slipped from her grip like a wet mullet. They were resolutely serious. Even selecting the right undergarments required a symposium. Length, fullness, colour, sleeve style and neck opening all had to satisfy stringent criteria and to look right with their favourite top layer. I could not bear to watch the belt stage. I went out for some air.
Thus, by chance, I came upon a small figure who had been knocking at our door unheard.
'Iggidunus!' I was still grinning over the scenes indoors. 'What do you want?'
'Message for you, Falco.' The mulsum boy was as unprepossessing as ever. Mud-stained, surly and dripping unhealthily from every orifice. At least he had not brought me a drink.
'Who wants me?'
'Your man Gaius.' I crooked up an eyebrow. Surrounded by idiotic youth, I was feeling wise, tolerant and mellow. Iggidunus viewed my kindliness with suspicion. Drawing in a huge sniff, he mumbled, 'He's found something at the secure depot. He asked me to come and get you quick.'
I had thought we had discovered all the frauds on this site, but if any were still undetected, Gaius was the man to weed them out.
Iggidunus was pressing me to hurry, but after all the times I had gone feet-out in a muddy slide, I nipped back inside to change my boots. Nobody was paying attention. I called out, Tin wanted at the depot; won't be long!'
Waste of time.
When I went out to the veranda, the boy looked surprised that I was wearing a cloak, slung over my right side and corded informally under my left arm. I confessed we Romans felt the cold. He sneered.
Iggidunus and I walked around the site by road. Thin sunlight bathed the huge expanse in light. We skirted the great open area that was to become the formal garden, then went around the corner. The perimeter road brought us to a gate in the high fence of the locked compound.
I stopped. 'Where are the guard dogs?'
'In kennels or gone walkies.'
'Right.' There was no sound of the ferocious hounds. Normally they bayed themselves hoarse if anyone passed by on the road. 'How do we get in?'
Iggidunus pointed at the gate. Quite rightly, it was locked. Cyprianus kept the keys and he had not returned from helping Magnus with the materials at the Marcellinus villa.
'So, Iggy, where is Gaius?'
'He was going to climb in.'
'I didn't know he was that dumb!' He was not the only one. I applied a toe to a crack in the fence and shinned up it. Once perched on the top rail, I could see Gaius inside, lying on the ground. 'Something's happened. Gaius is over there. He must be hurt. Iggidunus, run and find Alexas. I'll go in-'
I swung over and dropped down. It was stupid. I would be lucky to see Iggidunus again. Nobody else knew I was here.
For a moment I froze and surveyed the scene. The depot was a medium-sized enclosure, arranged extremely neatly with stores placed in rows, each wide enough apart to permit a small cart to pass between them. Wooden racks held large slabs of marble. Whole blocks of stone were supported on low pallets. Fine timber was arrayed in large quantities under a roofed area. Near the depot entrance, a stoutly built locked shack must be occupied by the special store man in working hours. Rare luxuries such as the jewel bases for fine paint pigments and even gold leaf might be kept there in safe custody for the finishing trades. Nails and ironware hinges, locks, catches and other fitments would be locked up in the dry too. A row of rough low hutments next to the shack was probably the dog kennels.
Gaius was lying still, alongside the shack. I had recognised him by his clothing and hair. I cowered in the shadow, keeping in cover, watching. Nothing moved. After a moment, I ran lightly across to the prone figure. This area must have been used as a working marble yard at one time; white dust kicked up all over my boots.
'Gaius!' He was so still because he had been tied up and gagged. He seemed unconscious too. I crouched over him, quickly scanning the nearby area. Nothing. I stripped off my cloak and draped it over him. With the knife from my boot, I began to cut away his bonds. 'Gaius, wake up; stay with me!'
He groaned.
Talking in a low voice, I checked him over. He must have been thumped a few times. I had seen worse. The experience was probably new to him.
'What happened?'
