Nemesis

'I was hoping, if I could find him, he could describe the men who took him.'

The mother shook her head. 'Scum!'

Such vehemence in the mouth of a civilised woman was ugly. The lasting effect on her was an extra consequence of the killings. This mother had not only lost her only son, too young, but all her own hopes. What happened to Volusius was on her mind daily. Now she lived alone, dwindling arthritically into fear and despair. There was no one left to take care of her. She was going to need looking after soon, and I could see she knew it.

When I said that now we thought we knew who the abductors were, she just waved me away. It was too late to save her son, so it was too late for her.

Angrily, I renewed my vow that this time we would find justice, for both Volusius and his mother.

LI

Peace in the home. What a wonderful thought. If only I had it. The Camilli had already arrived – - anything to get away from Minas of Karystos and their wives. Nux was chasing around the house, barking loudly. Slaves were pursuing her, unaware that this only aggravated the dog's excitement. Albia would normally have waded in to sort this out, but she was shouting at Helena over me having invited Aulus. Julia and Favonia had picked up the idea of complaining and were wailing their heads off. As soon as I turned up, slaves began crying too; I could not see what that was about. Perhaps they were the ones I intended selling. I had not told them yet, but a list existed. They could have bribed Katutis to reveal it. Katutis was keeping out of sight, which clinched it.

Lunch. Very pleasant. Rather tense, but that is what lunch at home exists for.

No Albia. Helena had sent her on an errand to my mother. Ma would be taking me to task about the girl soon.

No dog. Worn out, Nux had fallen asleep in her basket.

No children. I had ordered them out of the room when Favonia threw a foodbowl on the floor and Julia giggled.

No slaves. I was not yet ready to treat a crowd of feckless strangers as extended family, with more domestic privileges than I allowed to my own relatives. I would house them, feed them, express gratitude and affection on a moderate scale – - but no more. Nema, previously Pa's bodyslave, commented that he was very surprised by my attitude.

'We could have met at a bar,' Quintus suggested.

'Are you saying,' demanded his sister in a voice like an ocean breaker as it stripped barnacles off rocks, 'my house is badly run?'

'No, Helena.'

A meeting convened. Katutis appeared with a bunch of note-tablets and a hopeful expression; he was upset when I told him not to take minutes. 'Why else, Marcus Didius, would a man hold a meeting, but to have its conclusions recorded?'

'This is confidential.'

'Then good recording practice is to write "Confidential" at the head of the scroll.'

'So the next time Anacrites raids my house, he sees that and backs away bleating, Oh I am not allowed to look at this! In fact that's a certain way to make him grab it.'

Katutis slunk off, muttering like a malevolent priest.

The big, comforting presence of Petronius Longus soothed those of us who remained. Helena, whose meal had been interrupted by the various ructions, was still chewing flatbread. Dabbing chickpea paste ferociously on to her bread, she had the look of a woman who knew she would soon have heartburn. 'Oh don't wait for me to finish!' she scolded Petronius, in a tremolo of agitated bracelets.

Petro cracked on smartly. 'There is news. It's good – though it will pose questions. Since Fusculus proved the link to Arrius Persicus, I let him call on the carter, and thump him until he squeaked -'

'Can you not do anything without unnecessary violence?' Not a good idea to remind Helena about our treatment of the agent.

Petronius had the grace to look guilty. 'The carter now admits his spendthrift, two-timing client was indeed posting off a secret love token – and not for the first time. It was a routine arrangement. She's a lucky little pullet. This is why the carter panicked when his courier vanished – - he thought the newly-wed had gone bad now he had a wife to support, so he pinched the gem. Later the carter kept quiet about that, in a misguided attempt to protect his customer.'

'Did the carter know what the hidden gift was?' Helena asked.

'A cameo on a chain. Persicus had bragged to him about it.'

'The chain is news,' I said. 'It's not been found. Who has got their sticky hands on that, I wonder?… Need we interview Persicus?'

'Not at this stage. If we want a deposition for the Prefect later, Fusculus can go along and scare him shitless then.'

'Back to basics then. The cameo comes from Antium, Persicus is sending it to his mistress. The gem is in some unconvincing wadding, in a parcel, in a pannier. The young bridegroom sets off on the donkey, no doubt whistling a jaunty measure and thinking about enthusiastic sex. Then what happened at the necropolis?' I ticked off possibilities: 'Better consider it: did the courier steal the gem?'

'No,' said Quintus. 'He wouldn't commit suicide and stuff himself in a shallow grave.'

'So was he robbed by somebody who knew what he was carrying? Did the carter himself set it up, even?'

'If so, he was foolish to report his courier missing.' Quintus again. 'And why would he kill his man?'

'As for someone else knowing,' Petronius said, 'Fusculus heard they were always very discreet when they had valuables to transport.'

'Models of good practice?'

'Fusculus said the carter swears the lad was tried and trusted. Could be relied on to avoid attracting notice.'

Aulus, who had been subdued since Albia had hysterics, recovered enough to add his thoughts: 'So, did the young man just classically happen to be in the wrong place at the wrong moment? Was his murder random – - though then his attackers found our exquisite cameo in his donkey pannier and thought it was their lucky day?'

'That seems right,' I agreed. 'Being chosen by a cruising killer was an accident.'

'Someone who looked harmless, stopped him,' said Petro. 'Excuse me, what's the way to Clusium? – - My pocket lodestone's broken… I don't suppose this time the lurer said, Do you want to look at my brother's lovely spear collection? – - but we'll never know.'

Helena had calmed down. She tidied bowls into piles. 'Now stop tiptoeing around the big question.' We men sat quiet, our backs a little straighter, our faces grave. 'How did someone in Anacrites' house get their hands on the cameo?'

Petronius drained his water cup. 'As far as the Seventh Cohort know, the donkey and its pannier disappeared. Suppose later, while Anacrites and his men were investigating, they found the donkey wandering?'

'Not right,' I said. 'He let the Seventh carry on with routine enquiries. Unlike you and the Fourth, he has no beef with the Seventh. Anyway if, for once, he actually found evidence, he would have boasted about it.'

Helena scoffed too: 'Even if his men had legitimately discovered the parcel, why did the cameo end up hidden in their luggage?'

'Are his agents screwing Anacrites – pinching evidence to sell?' Normally deadpan, Aulus looked cheery at the thought.

'Has been known,' Petro confirmed dourly. I knew the problem was endemic among the vigiles. House fires gave particular scope for pilfering from victims. 'But Anacrites knew about the gem, didn't he, Falco?'

'No, in fact.' I cast my mind back to the scene when the Camilli and I were pulling up the caterers for theft, with Anacrites watching us. 'When he saw the cameo, he first denied knowledge. He took a moment to realise what it must be. Am I right, lads?'

Both Camilli nodded. Aulus said, 'He looked annoyed – but he chose to protect the agents. Thinking fast, he came up with that limp story about a woman.'

'He became very jumpy,' added Quintus.

'Yes -jumpy enough for you to think the cameo was significant, and to palm it!'