Costus lied to me, and his comrades impassively watched him do it. They were all in the cover-up. But I had seen that his lunch consisted of a variety of items, which had been folded up for him in a very clean napkin. The package was not bought from a food-seller. Unless Costus was living with his doting old mother, he had other female company. He was a duffer, in my view, but a woman might find him good-looking.
I thumped him on the back in a rueful gesture. Just as I had with the baker, I wrote my name and other details on the back of an old bill from my pocket, which I placed on the wooden table. 'Better be off. We're heading back to Rome tonight. Probably stop over at Satricum to admire the scenery…'
Helena and I thanked everyone for their helpfulness, then we left. We took the road that went across the marshes, stopping at the inn for a night in Satricum as I had mentioned.
We hired a room, and took our time settling in. Easier said than done; the rooms here might be tolerable to men on tough missions where each needed to show the others he was hard. As a husband and wife we would need to hug together very tightly, to keep the bedbugs out. We stuck it in the room as long as possible then went to find a meal.
I hid a smile when Helena told Januaria, 'I hear you made friends with Camillus Justinus!'
'He's a bit of all right!' agreed the waitress admiringly.
'My brother.'
Januaria was taken aback, but briefly. 'Is he married?'
'Oh yes. He has two little boys.'
The girl sniggered. 'I bet his wife curses him!'
How true.
We ate, then sat behind empty bowls regretting it. Night fell. We had almost given up when the gods smiled. Nux growled a warning in the back of her throat. Costus with the straight nose and biceps from the corn-supplies place sidled up out of nowhere. After shy negotiations, promises of confidentiality, and a small inducement in coinage, he wriggled back into the darkness, then reappeared, leading by the hand a woman we knew would be Demetria.
The baker's daughter was bolder than I expected. That probably meant her relationship with Nobilis had been tempestuous. Sometimes it works that way. Demetria had an ugly air of defiance, probably not caused by her past history. She came with it from the egg; her truculence was a symptom of social ineptitude. Had she ever gone to school, which I doubted, she would have been the awkward one on the back bench.
She was in her twenties, plain-faced with a snub nose, loose, flyaway hair and a faint sour smell as if somebody spilled milk on her several days ago. She wore a drab brown dress with one sleeve rolled and one to the cuff. It wasn't a fashion statement. She was too lazy to notice it. Her girdle was a rope that would have doubled as a bullock halter. She wore no jewellery. I guessed she had never worked, so had no money herself, and the men she chose were never generous.
It was all a waste of time, of course. Demetria admitted she still lived with Costus, pretty well in hiding. He had dragged her along tonight to see us hoping there would be money in it. She might have had enough spirit to run away from Nobilis, but on the whole Demetria's instincts were to do as she was told.
She would not talk about her marriage to Nobilis. She did not accuse him of violence against her, nor of battering her lover. Whatever pressures to keep quiet had been embedded in her by Claudius Nobilis, they were still firmly in place.
She had no idea what Nobilis got up to nowadays or where he had gone off to; she had no contact with the family – though when I said I had spoken to the other two women, she asked after Plotia and Byrta. She swore she knew nothing about what happened with Modestus and Primilla and since she hadn't lived with Nobilis then, it seemed reasonable. When I asked if she had ever had reason to suspect visitors were vanishing at the compound, she denied it.
'So why did you come to find me?' I demanded in exasperation.
That was when she came straight out and said Costus wanted her to beg for money. I could hardly complain. As Helena sniggered afterwards, offering facts for a cash reward was what I did as an informer.
I replied that when I made the offer, facts did exist.
There was one outcome. I asked Costus if he had been there when the man from Rome that Thamyris mentioned had turned up. According to Costus, it was a couple of days before. The description he gave of peculiar eyes, greased hair and smooth-talking sounded suspiciously familiar; it could almost be Anacrites himself.
'Did you hear what was said?'
'He took Thamyris out of earshot.'
'So you've no idea what he wanted?'
'Oh yes!' Costus seemed surprised anyone should think his employer would keep a city man's secret. 'He ordered the boss that if anyone came asking about Nobilis or the other Claudii, he was to say nothing.'
'Did he reinforce that order?'
Costus laughed bitterly. 'One or two suggestions. Just in case we forgot. Like – - he'd close down the business, crucify Thamyris, sell his wife into a brothel, send us as slaves to the galleys and cut off our goolies first. Do you think he can do it?'
'Oh yes. It's the regular tactic used by the Praetorian Guards.'
XXIX
On the journey home, Helena and I discussed the situation. Costus' story confirmed all the rumours about the Claudii having protection. Whoever was looking after their interests must be powerful, if they used the intelligence network to do their dirty work. Anacrites had not dared threaten Petro and me; even he was not that stupid. But he had no scruples about intimidating members of the public. He assumed we would never find out. For us, this signalled ulterior motives. He would know that if we once became intrigued, we would latch on to him like rat-dogs.
He had slipped up. I for one would not rest now until I uncovered his real interest – and Petronius was the same. I was all set to tear into the spy's office and threaten him with the same punishments he offered Thamyris – - especially the part about castration. Maia must have the old veterinarian tools her dead husband used when he looked after the Greens' chariot horses; she would happily loan me his equine nut-crusher.
Helena urged me to play clever. 'Don't alert him, Marcus. Let's carry on as normal, pretend his agent wasn't spotted. I suggest when we get home, we see if he has invited us to dinner as he threatened. If he has, we should go along to his house, and sniff the air before you tackle him outright.'
'I would rather sniff a heifer's bum, after a week's diarrhoea.'
'Your rhetoric is so refined!… Listen to your wife's good advice.' Helena shook her finger warningly: 'Find out just whose fixer Anacrites is. Who wants him to protect these marsh-men's interests?'
'You are right, as ever.' It was time to address the point. 'It must all be to do with these Claudii having an imperial background,' I told Helena. 'I sensed that Laeta and Momus know what's going on. Some old influence has carried over… I don't believe it's the Emperor.' Vespasian had a few close cronies; his cabinet of private advisers were men like Helena's own father who had known him for years, long before he counted. He had never been regarded as someone who protected favourites.
'Nor Titus,' Helena decided. She and Titus viewed each other with admiration – more admiration than I liked. Still that just meant Titus Caesar was a fine judge of womanhood. Like his father, he was basically straight.
Helena was still ticking off candidates: 'Domitian's more questionable.' I had a feud with Domitian. He didn't scare me, but if he was in on this it was best to know. 'Of the great and powerful at the Palace,' Helena concluded, 'there would only be Claudius Laeta. He would not have invited you and Petro to investigate Modestus, if his interests lay in a cover-up.'
'Give the man credit – - he knows we're too good!' I grinned at her.
'Laeta does not take stupid risks,' she corrected me coolly. Helena had a wonderful sense of humour, though little tolerance for silly beggars' backchat. 'He doesn't play with knives for a cheap thrill. He sees his role as protecting the administration, so the Empire can run smoothly.'