Poseidon s Gold

'You were right, Apollonius. The waiter's topped himself. It's all right; don't be afraid to look. He's decent now.'

The old teacher came into the caupona, showing no excitement. He looked at the covered body with compassion. He shook his head. 'Saw it coming. Only a matter of time.'

'I must talk to you,' Petronius said. 'But first we all need a drink-'

We looked around, but then gave up. It seemed tactless to raid Flora's. We all went over to the Valerian. Petronius told the other customers to make themselves scarce, so they wandered across to Flora's and stood outside in huddles. Rumours had spread. A crowd collected, though there was nothing to see. We had locked up after us. Petronius, who had his soft side, even brought away the distressed cat.

The Valerian had a quiet atmosphere and quite good wine. The waiter allowed Petro to feed Stringy, which was sensible because Petronius was looking for an excuse to start a fight over nothing just to ease his feelings. He always hated unnatural death.

'This is a tragedy. What can you tell me?' Petro asked the teacher wearily. He was stroking the cat and sounded as if he was still looking for trouble. Apollonius blanched.

'I know a little about him. I'm at the caupona frequently:' Apollonius left a small, tactful pause. 'His name was Epimandos; he had been a waiter there for five or six years. Your brother,' he said, turning to me, 'arranged the job for him.'

I shrugged. 'I never knew that.'

'There was some secrecy surrounding it.'

'What secrecy?' demanded Petronius. Apollonius looked shy. 'You can speak freely. Was he a runaway?'

'Yes, he had been a slave, I believe,' agreed my old geometrist.

'Where did he come from?'

'Egypt, I think.'

'Egypt?'

Apollonius sighed. 'This was told to me in confidence, but I suppose now the man is dead:'

Tell me what you know!' Petro commanded bluntly. 'That's an order. This is a murder enquiry.'

'What? I thought the waiter had committed suicide?'

'I don't mean the waiter.'

Petro's angry manner was making Apollonius clam up. It was Helena who reassured him, asking gently, 'Please tell us. How did a slave from Egypt end his days serving in a caupona here?'

For once my terrible teacher managed to be concise. 'He had had a bad master. I understand the person was notorious for his cruelty. When Epimandos ran away, Didius Festus found him. He helped him come to Italy, and to obtain work. That was why Epimandos had a special regard, Marcus, for members of your family, and for you.'

I asked, 'And do you know why Epimandos killed himself today?'

'I think so,' Apollonius responded slowly. 'His cruel master was the medical officer in your brother's legion.'

'This all happened when Festus and the Fifteenth Legion were stationed at Alexandria?'

'Yes. Epimandos worked in the infirmary, so everybody knew him. After he escaped and came to Rome he was terrified that one day somebody would walk into Flora's, recognise him, and send him back to that life of torment. I know there was an occasion recently when he thought he had been noticed-he told me so one evening. He was in great distress and had got himself extremely drunk.'

'Was that Censorinus?'

'This he did not actually say,' Apollonius replied carefully.

Petronius had been listening in his fatalistic way. 'Why have you never mentioned this before?'

'Nobody asked.'

Well he was only the beggar.

Petro stared at him, then muttered to me, 'Censorinus was not the only one who noticed the waiter. Epimandos probably killed himself because he guessed he had also been recognised by Laurentius. It happened when we ourselves invited the centurion to Flora's earlier today.'

Remembering how the waiter had shot out of sight when Laurentius looked at him, I believed it and was appalled. 'Do you know this for certain?'

'Afraid so. After we all left the place, Laurentius was puzzling over why the waiter had seemed familiar. He finally remembered where he had seen Epimandos before, then realised its implication regarding the death of Censorinus. He came straight to see me. That was one reason why I was delayed when Apollonius sent his message.'

I had been feeling grey before this news, which was deeply depressing. It did solve some of my problems. For one thing, it showed my brother Festus in a better light (if you approve of helping slaves escape). It also meant I could stop panicking over Geminus. This reprieve for my father had hardly sunk in; I must still have looked dreadful. I was coming to terms with just how relieved I felt.

I suddenly realised that Helena Justina was gripping my hand fiercely. Saving me mattered to her so desperately she could no longer hold back: 'Petronius, are you saying that the waiter must have been the soldier's murderer?'

Petronius nodded. 'I reckon so. You're cleared, Falco. I shall tell Marponius I am no longer looking for a suspect in the Censorinus case.'

Nobody gloated.

Helena had to be certain about all this. 'So what happened the night he died? Censorinus must have recognised the waiter, possibly while he was in the midst of quarrelling with Marcus. Later perhaps he had a confrontation with the waiter. When Epimandos realised the trouble he was in, the poor soul must have been in despair. If Censorinus was spiteful, maybe he threatened Epimandos with returning him to his master, and then-'

She was so unhappy Petro finished it for her. 'Epimandos took him up a drink. Censorinus obviously failed to realise the danger he was in. We can never know if he really did threaten the waiter-and if so, whether the threats were serious. But Epimandos was clearly terrified, with fatal results. Desperate, and more than likely drunk, he stabbed the soldier with a kitchen knife which he snatched on his way upstairs. His terror of being returned to the medical orderly explains the ferocity of the attack.'

'Why did he not run away afterwards?' Apollonius asked thoughtfully.

'Nowhere to run,' I answered. 'No one to help him this time. He tried to discuss it with me.' Remembering Epimandos's pathetic attempts to get my attention I was furious with myself. 'I dismissed him as just curious-the usual sensation-seeker who hangs around after a murder. All I did was brush him aside and threaten vengeance on whoever had committed the crime.'

'You were in a difficult position personally,' Apollonius consoled me.

'Not as bad as his. I should have noticed his hysteria. After he killed the soldier he must have frozen. I've seen it before. He just acted as if it had never happened, trying to blot the event right out of his mind. But he was almost begging to be discovered. I should have recognised that he was appealing for my help.'

'There was nothing to be done!' Petro pointed out harshly. 'He was a runaway slave, and he had murdered a legionary: nobody could have saved him, Marcus. If he hadn't taken this action today, he would have been crucified or sent to the arena. No judge could have done otherwise.'

'It was very nearly me who ended up in the dock!' I answered hollowly.

'Never! He would have stopped it,' Apollonius broke in. 'His loyalty to your family was too strong to let you suffer. What your brother had done for him meant everything. He was desperate when he heard they had arrested you. He must have been in anguish, hoping you would clear yourself and yet not discover his own guilt. But from the start his position was hopeless.'

'He seems a very sad character,' Helena sighed.

'After what he had suffered in Alexandria, his quiet life here was a revelation. That was why he exploded at the thought of losing it.'

'Yet to kill someone!' protested Helena.

Again it was Apollonius who answered her: 'The caupona looks dreadful to you, maybe. But nobody beat or whipped him, or subjected him to worse abuse. He had food and drink. The work was easy and people talked to him like a human being. He had a cat to fondle-even me at the door to look down on. Within this small world at the crossroads, Epimandos had status, dignity and peace.' From a man in beggar's rags himself the speech was heartbreaking.