***
Once a semblance of order had been restored in the city, Pliny made inquiries as to where he might find Glaucon’s brother and learned that he was still at the family’s house, overseeing the rituals for purifying it from the pollution of death. He sent Galeo after him.
Theron was a handsome man in his early fifties, some five years older than his brother. He looked older than that now. Grief had aged him. His skin was grey, his eyes pouched and exhausted. And he plainly wanted nothing to do with Pliny.
“I apologize for invading your home, Theron. It was necessary to question your mother without delay.”
“My mother died early this morning.”
“Then all the more so. I am truly sorry. I want you to help me find their killer.”
“It was the Persians, of course. Why are you protecting them?”
“Did your brother have any dealings with the Persians or a particular Persian?”
“Not to my knowledge.”
“Did your brother have enemies that you know of?”
“None. Everyone who knew him liked him.”
“Tell me about him. What sort of man was he?”
Theron looked at a loss for words. “Well he-I mean, a good husband, good father. Loved food. Loved sport. Horses and dogs. Lots of friends-even some Romans, though I don’t know why.”
“I’m told he was a tough competitor in the wrestling ring. Injured his opponents. Perhaps he killed someone? Could there be a grudge?”
“But that was years ago,” Theron protested.
“Would you call him an intelligent man? I know this is painful but please be frank.”
“You mean books and so forth? No, he wasn’t much for that. When we were boys he would escape from our tutor every chance he got.”
“Well then it’s curious that I found this among his effects.” Pliny produced the astrological handbook. “A bit abstruse, I would think, for the non-mathematical mind. I’ve spent a little time with it and I can’t make much out of it myself.”
Theron leaned over and peered at the scroll. “I’ve never seen this before. You say it was Glaucon’s? He never said anything to me about stargazing.”
“Well, we have a small mystery then.” Pliny set the scroll aside. “Did your brother by any chance have dealings with Vibius Balbus?”
“What, the procurator? No. Why should he?”
“Did he interest himself in provincial affairs? Taxation, for instance?”
“I told you, he liked hunting and living well. He left politics and business to me.”
Pliny was silent for a moment, considering how he would phrase his next question. “Would you say your brother was a man who could be easily led? I mean into doing something that he might have regretted later? Might even want to confess?”
“Confess? Confess what? I don’t know what you’re talking about. Look, my brother is a victim, not a culprit. I warn you-”
“Calm yourself, please. I know this is difficult for you.”
“Do you?” Theron shot back. “Those children”-he swallowed hard-“were as dear to me as my own. His wife and mine were like sisters.”
“Then help me avenge them. Somewhere there is a door waiting to be unlocked and a key that fits it.”
Theron answered him with a bleak look. “I’ve no key.”
“But we haven’t begun to look. You say Glaucon left politics and business to you. What sort of business do you engage in?”
Theron shrugged, “We sell a part of our crop. We export dried fruits from our orchards. When we have spare cash we invest in construction, sometimes in trading ventures, or our banker does for us. We do well enough.”
“Your banker. And who might he be? I only ask because in going through your brother’s papers I noticed a receipt for the deposit of three minas of silver with a certain Didymus.”
“That’s him. A good man, reliable. Done business with him for years. But this deposit? It’s news to me.”
“Interesting.”
“And what has this to do with my brother’s death?”
“Probably nothing,” Pliny sighed.
Chapter Twenty-three
Didymus was a small man of about forty with a round face and a round, protruding belly. His mouth was a red Cupid’s bow, his eyes bright under springing brows, with something of the child in them. His clothes were good but not ostentatious. His most striking feature was his right arm, or, rather, the absence of it below the elbow. “Mauled by a dog when I was a tyke,” he explained almost as soon as he had entered Pliny’s office. “Mustn’t complain, though. I do well enough with the one.” He offered a shy smile. “And what did you want with me, sir? I must say I was flummoxed when your man came for me.” Didymus sat upright in his chair, leaning slightly forward, an expectant look on his face.
Pliny let him talk. The man was nervous, anxious to please. But that was to be expected.
“Terrible, wasn’t it, sir,” Didymus rattled on. “I mean the riot. Bad for my business, I can tell you. When there’s civil strife money goes into the ground-literally, I mean. People bury it.”
“And do you do business with the Persians?” Pliny made a temple of his fingers and rested his chin on them.
“Me, sir. No. I mean they keep to themselves, don’t they? I say, did they really poison Glaucon and his poor family like everyone says? Well, they are barbarians, aren’t they?”
“I’m hoping you might shed some light on that. You knew Glaucon, I understand.”
Consternation filled the banker’s eyes. “I did, sir. But as to murder, well, I don’t-”
“Tell me something about your business.”
“Well, it’s the usual. There are six banking houses in the city. I’m not the biggest of them, but I do all right. People deposit money with me, which I lend at interest, or invest, or transfer to a third party, however they instruct me. I charge a modest fee, of course.”
“And where do you keep these deposits?”
“In my vault, sir. It’s quite safe. You must come down and visit us some time, we’re at the harbor.”
“And Glaucon, I believe, had deposited a sum with you. When was that?”
“Yes, sir, three minas as I recall, to invest as I saw fit. He did that now and again. And that would have been, let me see, a month or so ago.”
“And did you invest it?”
“No, sir, not yet. Waiting for something good to come along. Of course, now I’m going to return it to his brother.”
“You’re an honest banker, then.” Pliny smiled.
“I am, sir.” He smiled modestly.
“What about Vibius Balbus, were you acquainted with him?”
Didymus bowed his head. “That’s a sad turn of events, isn’t it, sir? Riding accident they say. And leaving behind a widow and a son, an unfortunate young fellow so I’ve heard.”
Pliny was suddenly alert. “What have you heard?”
“Just the gossip of the marketplace. Not quite right in his head. Sees things that aren’t there. Full of crazy notions.”
“I had no idea he was such a subject of conversation. But I asked you if you knew Balbus. Did he ever transact business through you?”
“No, sir, he didn’t.”
Pliny was silent for a moment, considering how much he should give away. “I have some information that before his death Glaucon consulted the oracle of Pancrates as to whether he would be punished for killing a lion. Does that mean anything to you?”
The Cupid’s bow formed itself into a tiny frown. “Pancrates, you say? I wouldn’t put great stock in what he says if I were you. To tell you the truth, I once consulted him, well, my wife badgered me into it. She suffers something awful in her legs, poor woman. So I submitted a request for a cure, paid my drachma. We got back some nonsense about an ointment to rub in our dog’s eyes. And we don’t even have a dog! Well, I ask you.”