needed to approach the joint with care. If Florius and Norbanus were both there, this operation really needed more than two of us. Even Norbanus must be far more dangerous than he had always seemed.
We had already made plans to cover the worst contingency. Helena Justina was to ask the governor to send troops. But would they ever come? I had requested support earlier, when I first left to join Chloris at the amphitheater: the riot was all over before a few desultory soldiers turned up. Petro and I could be sitting here all day waiting for reinforcements.
We chose to investigate by ourselves. We would certainly do that without thinking if we were back home on the Aventine.
We did wait for some time. It gave us a feel for the place. We stood against the wall of the next-door house and dutifully watched the Norbanus residence. Nobody went in or out. Most houses are like that except at certain times of day. This was not one of the busy times. There was no activity.
In the end, I was sent in. Petronius lay in wait outside, watching to see if anybody legged it out the back way. He told me reassuringly that if anyone jumped me he would see who did it. I made a rather short reply.
The door was answered, fairly swiftly, by a perfectly innocuous household slave.
'Greetings. I am Didius Falco. Is my sister here?'
Why did I still feel like a schoolboy? Perhaps because I had asked that question numerous times in the distant past, when my mother sent me out on vain errands to round up my horrid siblings. At least now the rest of my story had changed: 'My sister is Maia Favonia. She and your master are on friendly terms.' I really did feel quite anxious that Maia might be with the crook.
'She is not here.'
'You know her?'
'Never seen her.'
'Is Norbanus at home?'
'He's out.'
'When are you expecting him back?'
'Later.'
'Well look-I don't know if you would like to do this, but he very kindly promised to show me around his house. I am thinking of renting a similar place and I wanted to see what they are like. To save me a wasted journey, is there any chance…'
Of course there was. The slave, a Briton who came with the rented property, I guessed, was perfectly willing to show me everything. But then his master would not object, would he? Everyone said Norbanus Murena was such a pleasant man.
'Can I ask my friend to come in too?' Petronius Longus was just as welcome as me. I winked at him triumphantly. He kicked my ankle.
We searched the whole place. We even looked in the outbuildings. Well, you need to know what stabling and workshop facilities are available when you take on a lease. We were feeling pretty proud of ourselves. The slave had no idea we were fishy specimens.
The house was small by Mediterranean standards, set around a tiny courtyard that could never see much sun. Wattle-and-daub in some parts; elsewhere brick-built, with a decent pantiled roof. The best rooms actually had sheets of translucent talc on the windows and were frescoed in a basic way. Painted panels were divided by finely traced candelabra and urns; long-beaked birds of only slightly uncertain parentage bowed to each other in pairs on mottled ocher friezework. The furnishings were spare but adequate, less masculine and more fussy in style than I expected. Everywhere was clean and well-kept.
As a gangster's palace this lacked ostentation. That was wise. Londinium had not grown much since its days as a traders' camp among the marshes. To install grandiose marble and exquisite artwork, when even the governor so far had only a few building-trenches in place for his headquarters, would be indiscreet.
'Norbanus has a villa downstream too, hasn't he? Do you know if he rents or owns?'
'The villa is being built just for him.' So that was where some of his profits were invested.
'Is it across on the south bank?' asked Petro.
'Yes, sir. Close to the religious sanctuary on a hill just outside town.'
Petronius knew it; his expression was sardonic. 'That's the new complex for the temples of the Imperial Cult, Falco. Our friend Norbanus has pitched his tent to be all cozy with the Emperor!'
'No, he's down by the river,' the slave corrected him snootily. 'The imperial estate owns all the high ground.'
Instead, Norbanus would have access to the water and its amenities. I bet that suited him. He could make a quick getaway, in case of trouble.
'So where is he today?' I asked innocently. 'His villa?'
'I'm afraid I cannot say, but we keep the house in readiness; he sleeps here most nights.'
By now we had been led back to the exit and were poised to leave. 'What about his friend?' asked Petronius. I saw he intended to take a chance. 'Do you see much of Florius?'
The slave did pause, though it was imperceptible. Perhaps his gaze sharpened, but he replied smoothly. 'Yes, he has been known to visit, but I've not seen him for some days.'
Well, that confirmed the gangsters' partnership. But it would also tell them we were onto both of them. The slave was bound to report back what we had said.
Petronius was keen for results now. He had taken a bloody-minded risk; this was his field of expertise, but I felt uneasy. Abandoning secrecy might get him more than he bargained for.
The door was open. We were being shunted out.
As we walked outside, we both stepped wide to allow entry to newcomers. This pair was familiar: the blind harpist and his boy. The boy scowled at me, then gave Petronius an even filthier look.
Petro and I walked around them, nodded coolly, then strode on. After a few steps I looked back and saw that the boy with the unpleasant stare was now watching us; Petronius in particular seemed to excite his interest. That did bother me. 'Our presence will be reported. Norbanus may feel we have encroached too closely.'
'Good!' snarled Petro.
I did not admit that Id seen the harpist spying on Maia last night as she went to his room. My own role in that incident would be difficult to explain. But I did say, 'I'm worried about Maia. Need to warn her about Norbanus.'
'Good thinking.'
After a while I asked him straight out: 'Is something going on between my sister and you?'
Petronius looked at me sideways. Then he shrugged. His voice was hard. 'You had better ask her. And if she does happen to tell you her intentions, you could pass on her answer to me!'
'Oh, so she's being herself,' I remarked bluntly. Then I risked it: 'Are you in love with Maia?'
Petronius Longus slapped me on the shoulder. 'Don't you worry about it,' was his strained response. 'Whatever I feel has been there for a long time. It never mattered to anyone before. There seems no reason why it has to matter now.'
But I found that on behalf of both of them, it did matter to me.
???
We walked on in silence through the rain-sodden streets of this unformed, unfilled, vulnerable town. Evening had fallen. More rain was lowering in the dark skies. The immigrant wild people, entrepreneurs and crazy freaks who wanted to make their fortunes, were cowering at home. The pudding-faced Britons who originated here were sitting at their smoky firesides, trying to work out how to buckle a sandal strap. I hoped the judicial legate had taught these new citizens that very wet leather needs to be dried slowly, while stuffed with rags to preserve its shape…
When Petronius and I were almost at the procurator's house, we finally heard marching boots. Legionaries were coming toward us. They had failed to help us when we needed them. We glanced at each other, then with one accord stepped under an awning outside an olive oil shop, where we remained unseen until the soldiers passed.
