"Believe so."
"Right. You know what these potty little neighborhoods are like in the provinces, Falco. Any excuse for an annual punch-up, if possible with one or two killed. That gives them all a reason to keep the fight going. If they can tie it to a festival, they can drag religion into it and blame the gods-"
"Is this real?"
"The principle's right."
I asked her if she had heard about the time when, according to the records that I'd seen, Calliopus and Saturninus briefly went into partnership. "Yes, they were trying to gang up and squeeze out anyone else from Tripolitania. Not that it worked-the other main player's Hannobalus; he's far too big to take on." She was of my opinion that when two men shared a business it was doomed to end in a squabble. "Well, you should know, Falco-I heard you've been playing a disastrous game of soldiers with that mate of yours."
I tried to make light of it. "Lucius Petronius was merely going through a bad patch in his personal life-"
"So you two old pals were struck by the thought you would love to work together. I suppose that turned out to be a nasty surprise when it failed?"
"Close."
Thalia roared with raucous laughter. "Grow up, Falco. More friendships have died that way than I've had fools in bed. You're lucky Petronius didn't seduce your best clients and embezzle all your funds. You'd stand more chance working with a sworn enemy!"
I smiled bravely. "I'm trying that now."
She calmed down. "You never know when to give up."
"Doggedness is part of my charm."
" Helena may think that."
" Helena just thinks I'm wonderful."
" Olympus! How'd you swing that? She can't be after your money. You must be a nippy performer-at something, eh, Jason?"
I drew myself up sternly and decided it was time to leave. It meant stepping over the python, unfortunately. Jason liked to curl up right in the exit to the tent where he could look up people's tunic skirts. He wasn't even pretending to be asleep. He was staring right at me, daring me to approach. "Helena Justina is a fine judge. I'm a sensitive poet, a dedicated father, and I cook a mean chicken wing."
"Oh that explains it," simpered Thalia.
I took a big step, nervously. Astride Jason, I remembered something. "This feud between Saturninus and Calliopus-it's already well warmed-up. Calliopus had a lion-"
"Big new Libyan called Draco," Thalia reported unperturbedly. "I was after him myself; Calliopus beat me by going to Puteoli and nabbing him straight off the boat. And I heard he also owns a trained executioner."
"He did. Leonidas. Saturninus had sold it to him under false colors."
"Cheeky sod."
"Worse than that. Leonidas has just been found dead, in very suspicious circumstances."
"Jupiter!" The lion's murder aroused her fiercest feelings. Other wild beasts were brought to Rome purely to be hunted in the arena, but Leonidas had had work to do in the Circus. He ranked with her own animals and reptiles: a professional. "That's terrible. Who would do that? And why, Falco?"
"I presume he had enemies-though everyone claims he was the sweetest lion you could meet. A benefactor even to the convicts he tore to pieces and ate, apparently. I'm working on the usual theories for a murder case: that the corpse probably slept around, amassed huge debts, caused fights when drunk, owned a slave with a grudge, was rude to his mother, and had been heard insulting the Emperor. One of those always turns out right-" I finally plucked up the nerve to finish stepping over the python.
"Anyway," said Thalia, "Calliopus and bloody Saturninus may make all the noise, but they aren't the only people chasing after the beast contracts."
"You mentioned one other big supplier? Also from Tripolitania?"
"Hannobalus. He thinks he'll clean up."
"Any other names?"
"Oh go on, Falco! Don't tell me you haven't got a list on a nice official scroll."
"I can make my own list. What about this other Tripolitanian gilthead, Hannobalus?"
"You don't miss much, Falco."
"We've got one from Oea, one from Lepcis-I suppose there had to be a Third Man, from the Third Town."
"Neat," Thalia agreed noncommittally, like a woman who thought nothing involving the male sex was ever tidy.
"Sabratha, isn't it? Very Punic, so I'm told."
"They can keep that then."
Thalia's opinion suited me too. I was a Roman. As the poet said, my mission was bringing civilized pursuits to the known world. In the face of tenacious opposition, I believed you whacked them, taxed them, absorbed them, patronized them, then proscribed human sacrifice, dressed them in togas, and discouraged them from openly insulting Rome. That done, you put in a strong governor, and left them to get on with it.
We beat Hannibal, didn't we? We razed the city and sowed the fields with salt. We had nothing to prove. That would explain why my hackles rose at the mention of anything Carthaginian.
"Is the man from Sabratha Punic, Thalia?"
"Don't ask me. Who are you going to hammer over that poor lion?"
"A certain Rumex did it, according to my sources."
Thalia shook her head sadly. "He's an idiot. Calliopus will fix him good."
"Calliopus is trying to cover it up."
"Keeping it in the family."
"He denies even knowing Rumex."
"Pizzle."
"Oh?"
Thalia must finally have realized I had no trace on the fingered Rumex and that I was hoping she could give me a lead. She eyed me askance. I looked shamefaced; she roared with mocking laughter, but then while I wriggled with embarrassment she explained who the great Rumex was.
I must have been the only man in Rome who had never heard of him.
Well, me and Anacrites. That only made it worse.
Twenty
ONCE YOU KNOW, the evidence leaps out at you from every walclass="underline"
OUR MONEY'S ON RUMEX:
THE TANNERS OF DOGSTAR STREET
WE LOVE RUMEX-GALLA AND HERMIONE
RUMEX CAN HAVE APPOLLONIA ANYTIME HE WANTS
HE HAD HER LAST WEEK!
HE'S DEAD IF I CATCH HIM-APPOLLONIA'S MOTHER
RUMEX IS HERCULES
RUMEX IS STRONGER THAN HERCULES
AND HIS [DOODLE] IS BIGGER TOO
I even spotted in rather shy, small letters on a temple column an impassioned mutter of: Rumex stinks!!!
I knew who he was now all right. The man who had been named as the slayer of Leonidas was this year's most idolized gladiator from the Games. His fighting role was as a Samnite, not normally a popular category. But Rumex was a real favorite. He must have been around for years, and was probably lousy, but he had now achieved the fame that only comes to a few. Even if he was only half as good as his reputation, he was not a man to tangle with.
There were graffiti on bakeries and bathhouses, and a poem nailed to a wooden herm at a crossroads. Outside the Saturninus Gladiators' School stood a small but obviously permanent group of young female admirers waiting for a chance to scream adulation if ever Rumex appeared; a slave walked out with a shopping basket so to keep in good voice they screamed at him. Apparently used to it, he went over and cashed in by chatting them up. They were so hot for Rumex that in his absence they were fair game for anyone.
Inside the barracks gate lurked a porter who was assembling his pension fund from bribes for taking in letters, bouquets, seal rings, Greek sweetmeats, addresses, and intimate items of women's wear for Rumex. This was bad. To a civilized male it was positively embarrassing. Lest I should doubt that women who ought to know better were throwing themselves at this overdeveloped mongrel, two fine and fancy ladies were approaching the gate just as I arrived. They had jumped out of a hired chair together, brazenly showing flashes of leg through slit side seams in their modest gowns. Their hair was curled. They flaunted shameless stacks of jewelry, advertising the fact that they came from well-off, supposedly respectable homes. But there was no doubt why they were here today; they had already proffered the door porter a tip to admit them. Cursing, I recognized them both.