Now I was nervous. ‘He is an idiot sometimes . . . Cough up -what has Aulus Camillus done?’
‘He has gone to see the woman,’ said Pastous.
‘Oh no! He has taken Hermias to her?’
‘He is not that much of an idiot, Falco.’
This was far worse. ‘He has gone on his own?’
Pastous looked demure. ‘I do not visit such a person. Besides, I am on duty now. I cannot leave the Library’
XLIV
Finding Roxana’s house again took a long while. The anonymity of her street and her building had me running around in circles. I kept asking directions from bemused locals, who were either deliberately awkward or failed to understand either my imperial Latin or my polite Greek. Everyone here spoke Alexandrian Greek, a bastard version that was heavily accented with Egyptian vowels and peppered with dialect vocabulary; they pretended not to understand the standard pronunciation that is beloved of Roman teachers. I was wary of using Latin; people could be hostile.
Everywhere looked the same: narrow streets with occasional little shops or artisan premises, street stalls, blank-walled houses. There seemed to be no distinguishing street furniture, no fountains, no statues. I rushed into two wrong apartments, frightening several groups of women, before I found the right place. It took so long, that by the time I was standing outside Roxana’s place, wondering just what to say, Aulus walked out.
When he saw me he reddened. Bad news. I tried to pretend I had not noticed. I felt a deep need to discuss this situation with my best friend Petronius Longus, back home, safe in Rome. I would once have said, discuss it over a large drink, but the behaviour of my supposedly mature associates last night put me off that.
‘Greetings, Aulus Camillus!’ Delaying tactics.
‘Greetings, Marcus Didius.’ He seemed calm.
‘If you have been to see Roxana, we shall need a heart-to-heart.’
‘Why not? - A bar?’
‘No thanks.’ I might never drink again. ’I am suffering from a monumental hangover, in triplicate - not mine. I’ll tell you later about that.’
Aulus raised his eyebrows gently. We chose a tiny caupona and ordered bread and goat’s cheese. He asked for a beaker of fruit juice. I said I would manage with water. Even the waiter seemed surprised. He wiped the desert dust off a bench for us and brought us a complimentary dish of gherkins.
‘So - tell me about Roxana, Aulus.’
‘Don’t look like that. There is nothing you need report to my mother.’
‘It’s your sister I’m scared of.’ I bit in half one of the gherkins. They were so wizened I knew why the waiter was giving them away. I wondered how much Aulus knew about the time I was held responsible for their younger brother, Justinus falling in love ill-advisedly when we were out in Germany.
‘Nothing to tell my sister either.’
The bread came.
‘That’s good. So the amorous Roxana did not try to seduce you -’
A slow grin crept across Aulus’ face. It was rather unlike him. ‘She tried.’
My heart sank. ‘Titan’s turds! - as my horrible father -would say. I do hope you rebuffed her boldly?’
‘Would I not?’ The cheese came.
‘Wonderful! You are a good boy!’
Then Aulus Camillus Aelianus gave me a look that I found distinctly unreliable.
If we had any more conversation on this subject after the juice and water came, obviously it was in absolute confidence. So you will not hear it from me.
XLV
No, sorry, legate; I meant that. Absolutely sub rosa.
XLVI
Of course, although Aulus swore me to-secrecy, other people were not in on our bargain.
He and I ate our lunch. The anguish of Heras’ father had deeply upset him; after he unburdened himself about that, I took him home with me to my uncle’s house. There, matters had progressed - far enough for Cassius to have innocently owned up to Fulvius that he had admitted that Fulvius and Pa knew Diogenes. Helena informed me that immediate ructions blew up. Flouncing had occurred, together with angry words, horrible insults and loud door-slamming. Fulvius quarrelled with Cassius, then Pa woke up and quarrelled with Fulvius. All three had now gone to sulk in separate rooms.
‘That should keep them under control temporarily. And what did you do, sweetheart?’
‘I told you this morning; I am a Roman matron. I had purchased cabbages to cure their hangovers. So I made broth.’
‘Did they have it?’
‘No. They are all being stand-offish.’
Well, that suited Aulus and me. We took a couple of trays up on the roof together and tucked into the excellent cabbage broth. Albia joined us. Still upset, Aulus described to Albia how he had had to face Hermias, the father of Heras. Amazingly, he then let slip how he upped and visited Roxana. If visiting her had been stupid, it was nothing to the folly of mentioning it to Albia.
More flouncing and door-slamming occurred.
In the midst of this hurricane, we had a visitor. Nicanor, the lawyer, had come for a legal confrontation with Aulus. This was when we discovered that details of our lad’s interview with Roxana were no longer as secret as he wished.
When he went to her apartment, Aulus took it upon himself to inform Roxana just how distressed the father of the late Heras was. He had dwelt upon Hermias’ grief, his desperate yearning for answers and his wish for compensation - all fully understandable, Aulus had maintained. Money could never replace Heras, a good, clever, hardworking son who had been loved by all - but recognition in a court of law that Heras died unlawfully would help assuage the parents’ misery. Screwing the bolts as tight as he could, Aulus had announced that the bereaved father intended suing Roxana for luring Heras to his doom. The only possible deterrent, Aulus claimed, might be if she speedily co-operated with my enquiry and admitted everything about the night in question.
When Aulus and I had discussed it over our goat’s cheese, we agreed this was first-class informing. The bluff was justified. (It was a bluff; Aulus had in fact persuaded Heras’ father to go back sadly to Naukratis.) When dealing with unhelpful witnesses, small untruths that help to break them are acceptable, if not compulsory. Roxana had it coming. Putting the frighteners on her had results too: she did admit to Aulus that she had seen someone in the zoo that night, someone who must have been the murderer. Sadly, in the dark, she failed to recognise him - or so she maintained. According to her, her eyesight was poor.
Aulus and I had discussed whether we believed her. We put a marker to perhaps interrogate her again later. I reckoned she was holding out; for the right inducement, Roxana would suddenly find herself able to name the culprit after all. As a witness, her safety gave me some qualms. Still, Aulus had had the sense to warn her to tell no one that she saw the man. If the killer thought he had been identified, it could be dangerous.
I had congratulated Aulus on his diligent pursuance of our fine profession. What neither of us had expected was that once Aulus left (after whatever further formalities) (according to him, he never touched her), while brooding alone on her plump silken cushions, Roxana reconsidered her legal position. The ridiculous woman then bustled out and consulted Nicanor about the presumed compensation claim.
‘She is not as intelligent as she thinks herself,’ scoffed Helena. ‘And she is far dimmer than all her lovers believe.’
Helena burst out with this denunciation in front of Nicanor.
As he turned puce, I said to him pleasantly, ‘Don’t be insulted. Technically, according to your own witness statement, you are not Roxana’s lover - though I concede you may count as such, since so many other people have sworn that you wanted to be.’
The once-suave scholar threatened to burst a blood vessel. Emotions ran so high, he must have forgotten that I was supposed to have influence with the Prefect over the appointment he also coveted. ‘You bastard, Falco! What are you implying?’