'So what have you come to tell us?' Atilia asked, advancing towards me and taking the brisk role.
'Actually, I thought you would like to know that Appius Priscillus has just left town.' Atilia frowned immediately; Pollia, who was the more drunk, followed her lead. 'It was my suggestion. I informed him,' I said, sounding helpful, 'that Crepito and Felix had found out how Novus was poisoned by the flask of wine Priscillus left here, and that they had realised he also meant to kill them. Priscillus saw that this news might rouse them to some heat! He thinks they are denouncing him.' I sat down on the couch with the lions, threw my head back, and smiled at them. 'May I ask you, ladies, what you did with the flask?'
Pollia giggled. 'We poured the wine as a libation on the pyre-' At the funeral of Novus, this must be; not when we buried the cook. 'And then,' she explained with a mild explosion of silliness, 'we added the flask to the fire too!'
'Destroying the evidence? Never mind; it wasn't relevant.'
'Not relevant?' Atilia queried. For the mother of a future senator, she was unfashionably sharp.
'The Falernian was harmless. Priscillus had poisoned the spices which he left to be mixed with it. It was Viridovix who took the spices, poor fellow. So you see, Priscillus only killed your cook.'
'Then what happened to Novus?' Atilia demanded.
'Hortensius Novus was poisoned by something he ate.' They were at full attention. 'I expect you noticed,' I told them, 'that when the cake platter came to the table, your special item had been removed?' Atilia went rigid; Pollia would have done, but she was too drunk. They must have geared themselves up to do the poisoning, then relaxed when they thought someone had thwarted their efforts. Now I was telling them they were murderers, when they were no longer prepared to deal with it. 'Unfortunately, the cake had been removed by Severina Zotica, who thought Novus would enjoy it as a treat after dinner on his own... I presume you realise,' I said gravely, 'that if this comes to court, the penalty for murder is to be fed to the arena lions?'
Guilt blinded my listeners to any holes in this tale. They came to sit either side of me. 'What are you saying?' Pollia murmured. 'If it comes to court?'
'Well; I've had to deposit details in a place where I keep my records-in case anything ever happens to me, you know... But at present, apart from Zotica, I'm the only one who knows.'
'Are you and she intending to do anything about it?' Atilia asked.
I scratched my chin. 'I've been thinking about that on my way up here.' They were cheering up. 'The redhead won't bother you. Zotica will have to cut her losses; I hold evidence about her past husbands' deaths which she can't risk having exposed.'
'And what about you?' Atilia cooed sweetly.
'This could bring me a good bonus.'
'Who from?' snapped Atilia, changing tone.
'Any prosecuting banister who wants a juicy case; several of them buy my information to provide lustre for their careers. Your story is guaranteed to pack the courts and make lawyers' names overnight. I could earn a lot of money if I turned you in.'
Pollia said bluntly, 'Then you can earn a lot of money if you don't!'
She deserved the Novus empire: a really snappy businesswoman, full of practical ideas! I gazed at each of them in turn. With the evil reputation some informers have, I knew I could convince them of anything. The blacker the better. 'I'm open to offers. There is a scheme which I run with my girlfriend for simplifying movements of large sums of cash.' Deplorable suggestions were what they understood. 'You've met her actually; I sent her up here to get a second opinion when you were hiring me-Helena Justina.'
'The senator's daughter?'
I laughed. 'Is that what she told you? She's with me! That school she pretended to be founding-well, that's how we operate. If you want to, you can donate an endowment for Helena's school.'
'How much?' rapped Atilia. I plucked a huge figure from the air. 'Falco, that's enough for a Greek university!'
'Got to make it right,' I assured her. 'We shall need to build a real school or the cover's no good. Luckily I know where there's a piece of land you can give us - one of your own apartments fell down this lunchtime in the Piscina Publica-My apartment!' I growled, as Pollia started to protest.
There was a small silence. I turned genuinely serious. 'People were killed. Too many people. Questions will be asked in the Senate. Better warn Felix and Crepito that that lackadaisical agent of theirs has already been strung up on a street crucifix, and they are facing intense public interest in their affairs. Face facts, ladies; you need to clean up the business methods Novus used - and you need to do it fast. I suggest a rapid programme of civic works: start paying for public fountains. Erect a few statues. Get yourselves a better name, because at present your standing couldn't be worse. For instance,' I suggested, 'we might name the new school after the Hortensius family. That's a decent and respectable project, to impress the community!'
No one laughed, though one of us was trying to.
Pollia swayed to her feet. She was feeling ill. I raised my winecup as she fled the room. Silence fell, as I drained the cup and made ready to leave.
Atilia had turned her head; she came so close her breath tickled my cheek. I began to sweat. Then there was nothing to do but wait while Hortensia Atilia lifted her beautiful face into position for my kiss.
'Sorry,' I said gruffly. 'The night is too young, I have too much to do-and besides, I'm a good boy!'
Chapter LXIII
On Pincian Hill the scent of the stone pines wafted cleanly to my jaded brain. Rome lay clothed in blackness ahead, its geography distinguished only by faint lights on the Seven Hills; I could make out the Capitol and the twin peaks of the Aventine; in the other direction what must be the Caelimontium. A cake would have been nice, to speed my steps. But I had to do without, as I turned down through the lively early-evening streets, to face my last ordeal.
On the way to tackle Severina, I completed one further piece of outstanding business; I called at the marble yard. It was open, but lit with only a taper or two. The mason approached through the eery lines of rough-cut stone; his unforgettable ears stuck out like roundels either side of his bald dome. He peered at me anxiously as I stood waiting at the end of an alley among the travertine, still shrouded in my shapeless black cloak and shadowed by the wide brim of my hat.
'Scaurus! Has Severina been in about her commission? You told me she had to consult other people.'
'Her other friends backed out. Severina paid for the monument.'
'She can afford the occasional tribute to the dead! Scaurus, I never forget a promise; I told you I would be back when she'd made up her mind ...'
Scaurus grunted. 'The stone's already gone.'
'Where to?'
'Tomb on the Via Appia.'
'Not in the family name of Hortensius?'
'Name of Moscus, I believe.'
The mason was mistaken if he thought that would be good enough; I was in a mood for perfecting things. 'I'm not traipsing out there among the ghosts at this time of night.' I smiled at him. 'Don't try it on, Scaurus. I can always go another day, but I know that I won't need to ... All I want is the wording. Just show me your pocket scribble-board...'
He knew I could see the waxed tablets which he used to take notes, hanging from his belt. So he turned back a couple containing more recent orders, and there it was.
Not what I had assumed the first time I made enquiries. But exactly what I was expecting now: