A Dying Light In Corduba Part 11

'After my experience of him as a landlord, I'm bound to think that - but I'm prejudiced, Falco.'

'I'll ask you something different then. You're a bachelor, I gather; I don't suppose you have any lithe girlfriends in Hispalis who might just have returned abruptly from a trip to Rome?'

Optatus looked po-faced. 'I know n.o.body from Hispalis.' 'You'd know this one again if you saw her; she's a dancer- just bursting with talent of one kind or another.' 'There must be thousands of girls who dance, but mostof them have gone to Rome -'

'With their fee paid by Attractus? And a habit of leaving their props behind at the scenes of b.l.o.o.d.y crimes?'

I had been going too fast for a countryman. 'Who are you?' Optatus demanded in apparent bewilderment. 'What are these people from Baetica to you? What harm are you bringing them?'

'The harm has been done,' I retorted. 'I saw the corpse, and the dying man too. Now I'm looking for the killers, at the request of t.i.tus Caesar - so if you're honest, Marius Optatus, you will help me with my task.'

The tall, pale figure beside me began to recover his equanimity. Crouching down on one knee he firmed in the disturbed cutting to his own satisfaction. There was nothing wrong with the way I had replanted it, but I stood unmoved while he left his own scent on the d.a.m.ned thing.

He stood up. He had become more serious than ever. Brushing soil from his long hands he stared at me. Enduring the fascinated gaze was routine work for an informer and I remained relaxed. I could stand hostile scrutiny. 'So what do you see?'

'You know what you are, Falco.'

'Do I?'

'You arrive like a naive tourist.' Optatus had a.s.sumed a critical voice to which I was no stranger. He had stoppedregarding me just as a rather raffish Roman in a patched tunic. He had realised he hated what I did. 'You seem inoffensive, a mere joker, a lightweight. Then people notice that you are a watcher. You have a stillness which is dangerous. You carry a sharp knife, hidden in your boot; you cut asparagus like a man who has used that knife for many unpleasant tasks.'

My knife had certainly hacked some bad meats, but he wouldn't want to know about that. 'I'm just a joker.'

'You tell jokes, while unknown to your listener you are measuring the quality of his conscience.'

I smiled at him. 'I am the Emperor's agent.'

'I have no desire to know of this, Falco.'

'Well, that's not the first time a prude told me my presence tainted his air.'

He stiffened, then accepted the rebuke: 'You will say that your work is necessary, I realise that.'

I clapped him gently on the shoulder, to rea.s.sure him if possible. He himself seemed like an innocent abroad. According to my famous worldly experience, that probably meant he was a devious swine, and setting me up.

We began walking towards the house again, along a dry track where even so early in the year the soil smelt hot and dusty. The red Baetican earth had already stained my boot- leather. It was pleasant weather. Just the kind of day when the men who were plotting the olive oil cartel were probably riding out on fine Spanish horses to each other's estates, refining their plans.

'Optatus, I mentioned some names. Tell me about them. I need to know how the men I saw in Rome relate to each other and to their fine friend Attractus.'

I watched him struggle with fastidious dislike of the topic. Some people are eager to gossip, but a few unusual souls do find discussing their neighbours distasteful. These are the ones who are best value to an informer. They are offended by offers of payment, and better still they tell the truth.

'Come on, Marius! You must know the Corduban oil tyc.o.o.ns. The Annaeii are one of the most prominent families in Corduba. Annaeus Maximus ought to carry top weight in Baetica. He's from the family of the Senecas; we're talking about extraordinary wealth.'

'This is true, Falco.'

'Since it's public knowledge, there is no need to be coy. So what about Licinius Rufius?'

'Not so grand a family.'

'Any senators?'

'No, but their time must come. Licinius himself is elderly but he has worked to become important in Corduba and he intends to build a dynasty. He is extremely ambitious for his two grandchildren, whom he brought up when their parents died. The young man should do well -'

'Local priesthoods and magistracies?'

'Rufius Constans is bound for Rome, Falco: it is a distinct and separate career.' I gathered Optatus slightly disapproved.

'Doesn't the one lead to the other?'

'That is not how it works. In the provinces you have to make a choice. Think of the Annaei whom you mentioned: the elder Seneca was a leading citizen and famous author and bibliographer, yet he remained socially obscure. Of his three sons, the first went straight into a senatorial career in Rome and achieved prominence, the next became an equestrian first, also in Rome, and only entered the Senate when he showed the promise that was to make him a major figure. The youngest son remained all his life in Corduba.'

'As the Annaei nowadays all choose to do?'

'There is no disgrace in provincial life, Falco.'

'Rome has its moments too,' I commented. 'So going back to the other man's grandson, Rufius Constans - This young man, a jewel of Baetican high society, is in his early twenties and to promote him his grandfather took him off to Rome recently?'

'I heard so.'

'He enjoys the theatre, I'm told!'

'Is that significant?'

'I didn't think so when I heard it - but he went with your new provincial quaestor. If the younger generation are so friendly, their elders may be nuzzling up to each other too.'

'People here tend to keep Roman landowners like Attractus at arm's length. He has hardly ever been here.'

'But they go to Rome at his invitation? Maybe he helps them with the fare. Then they arrive, eager to see the Golden City, flattered by the attention of a man with influence. Clearly he does have influence - he's the type who can get the Senate to vote a particular provincial post to his son.'

'You think his visitors become open to persuasion?'

'He may be offering just what they want: for instance patronage for the Rufius grandson - and did you say there's a girl in that family?'

'Claudia Rufina is expected to marry my ex-landlord's son.' Optatus never mentioned his dispossessor by name if he could avoid it. Nor the quaestorly son. 'I trust Licinius, Falco. For instance, I shall be sending the olives from this estate to his presses next autumn, so we don't get cheated elsewhere. Of the others you mentioned,' he went on crisply, trying to blot out mention of his own troubles, 'Norba.n.u.s is a shipping negotiator, as you said. He buys and sells s.p.a.ce in the ocean-going craft that come upriver as far as Hispalis. I have met him, but I don't know him well. My family used someone else.'

'Any reason for not using him?'

For once Optatus smiled. 'Ours was a remote cousin.'

Norba.n.u.s, however, is the most well known. He is chief of the guild of negotiators at Hispalis. He also has his own office at Ostia, in the port of Rome.'

'He's well-to-do, then. And Cyzacus must be top man among the Baetis bargees?'

'You have heard of Cyzacus?'

'You mean, how do I know he's the tribal chief? I workedit out Attractus appears to go for the most prominent men. So how do they all get on together? Norba.n.u.s and Cyzacus seemed to be deep in gossip. Are the two estate owners close drinking cronies too?'

'Shippers and landowners exist in mutual contempt, Falco. Cyzacus and Norba.n.u.s would have been lucky to get anybody else to speak to them. They and the producers spend most of their lives trying to mislead each other about prices or complaining about late deliveries, or how the oil has been handled ... As for Annaeus and Licinius, they are in the same business as each other, so they are rivals in earnest.' That was good news. Wedges might be inserted here. This is how conspiracies are toppled by agents who know how. We find a cosy clique, which has internal rivalries, and we nimbly cause dissent. 'One difference is, the Annaeii came from Italian stock many years ago, the very first Roman settlers here. The Rufii are of pure Spanish origin and have ground to make up.'

'I see you have plenty of local sn.o.bberies!'

'Yes, people who have vital interests in common do love to despise one another for grand reasons.'

'Tell me, what makes the two olive growers hate each other? Is it purely commercial jostling?'

'Oh, I think so. There is no deadly quarrel,' Optatus told me rather wryly, as if he a.s.sumed I thought provincial towns were hotbeds of family feuds and intriguing s.e.xual jealousy. Well, no doubt they had their fun, but making money took precedence. On the other hand, in my work, when people denied the existence of strong emotions, it was usually a prelude to finding corpses with knives in their backs.

We had reached the villa rustica. I could hear Nux barking, probably in protest because Helena had locked her up. I made my retreat before Optatus could remember his heartache over the torn-up tree.

XXII

Corduba sits on the north bank of the River Baetis, overlooking a fertile agricultural plain. Marmarides drove Helena and me there the next day. Where the navigable water petered out into spongy pools and channels we crossed a bridge, made of stone, which everyone claimed replaced one that Julius Caesar had built. Even in April the river was virtually fordable at this point.

Corduba has an old local history, but had been founded as a Roman city by Marcellus, the first Roman governor of Spain. Then both Caesar and Augustus had made it a colony for veteran soldiers, so Latin was the language everyone now spoke, and from that staged beginning must have come some of the social sn.o.bberies Optatus had described for me. There were people with all sorts of pedigrees.

Even while it was being colonised the district had a turbulent history. The Iberian landma.s.s had been invaded by Rome three hundred years ago - yet it had taken us two hundred and fifty to make it convincingly ours. The numerous conflicting tribes created trouble enough, but Spain had also been the entry route for the Carthaginians. Later it made a fine feuding ground for rivals every time prominent men in Rome plunged us into civil war. Corduba had repeatedly featured in sieges. Still, unlike most large provincial centres I had visited, mainly on the frontiers of the Empire, there was no permanent military fort.

Baetica, which possessed the most natural resources, had yearned for peace - and the chance to exploit its riches - long before the wild interior. At home in the Forum of the Romans was a golden statue of Augustus set up by wealthy Baeticans in grat.i.tude for his bringing them a quiet life at last. How quiet it really was, I would have to test.

We pa.s.sed a small guardhouse and crossed the bridge. Beyond lay stout town walls, a monumental gate and houses built in the distinctive local style of mud walls topped with wood; I discovered later the town had a prominent fire brigade to cope with the accidents that endanger timber buildings in close-packed urban centres where !amp oil is very cheap. They also boasted an amphitheatre, doing well according to a rash of advertising placards; various bloodthirsty-sounding gladiators were popular. Aqueducts brought water from the hills to the north.

Corduba had a mixed, cosmopolitan population, though as we forced a pa.s.sage through the twisting streets to the civic centre we found the mixture was kept strictly separate - Roman and Hispanic areas were neatly divided by a wall running west to east. Notices carved on wall plaques emphasised the divide. I stood in the forum, labelled as Roman, and thought how odd this strict local schism would seem in Rome itself, where people of every cla.s.s and background are thrust up against each other. The rich may try to keep apart in their mansions, but if they want to go anywhere - and to be anyone in Rome you must be a public man - they have to accept being buffeted by the garlic- eating hordes.

I had a good idea that in Corduba both the elegant Roman administrators and the aloof, inward-looking Baeticans would soon find themselves in a close pact on one subject: disapproval of me.

Like all decent tourists we had made our way first to the forum. It was in the northern sector. As soon as we enquired for directions I learned that the governor's palace was back down by the river; distracted by talking to Helena, I had let myself be driven past it. Helena and Marmarides, who were keen to see the sights, went off to explore. Helena had brought a town plan left behind by her brother. She would show me any decent landmarks later.

I was obliged to register my presence with the proconsul of Baetica. There were four judicial regions in this sun- drenched province - Corduba, Hispalis, Astigi and Gades. I knew therefore that there was only a one in four chance of finding the governor at home. Since the Fates regard showering me with disappointment as a good game of dice, I expected the worst. But when I presented myself at the proconsular palace, he was there. Things were looking up. That didn't mean I could get the mighty man to meet me.

I set myself a pleasant wager: seeing how soon I could w.a.n.gle an official interview. I tried to make my approach subtle, since there was an obvious need for secrecy. A simple request fell flat. Producing a tablet with the dignified seal of Claudius Laeta, Chief of Correspondence to the Emperor, obtained mild interest among the flunkies, who must have written Laeta's name on a few thousand dreary communiques. One neatly cropped fellow said he would see what he could do then ducked out into a corridor to discuss his last night's wine consumption with a friend. I put on the bleak expression auditors wear when tasked to eliminate excessive staff numbers. Two other relaxed lads put their heads together and worked out their order for lunch.

There was only one thing for it. Dirty tactics.

I leaned against a side table and whittled my nails with my knife. 'Don't hurry,' I smiled. 'It's not going to be easy informing the proconsul his great-grandfather has finally died. I wouldn't have minded the job, but I'm supposed to explain about the old blighter changing his will, and I just don't see how I can do that without mentioning a certain little Illyrian manicurist. If I'm not careful we'll be getting into the business of why his honour's wife didn't go to the country as instructed, and then the ding-dong with the charioteer will slip out. Jove knows they should have kept it quiet but of course her doctor talked, and who can blame him when you hear where the proconsul's spare epaulettes were sewn -' Both the flunkey in the corridor and his friend stuck their heads slowly round the door to join the othersstaring at me goggle-eyed. I beamed at them. 'Better not say any more, even though it is all over the Senate. But you heard it from me first! Remember that when the drinks are being got in ...'

I was lying of course. I never socialise with clerks.

The first young person dashed off, zipped back rather breathless, then shunted me into the presence. The proconsul was looking surprised, but he didn't know he had become a celebrity. His loyal scroll-pushers would be cl.u.s.tered outside the door, applying winecups to the lacquered panels in the hope of overhearing more. Since the personage in charge sat on his dais under some purple curtains at the far end of a room which seemed the length of a running stadium, our mundane discussion of trade issues would be out of earshot of the gossips with their ears on fire. There were still a few scribes and cup-bearers attending the mighty man, though; I wondered how to get rid of them.

The proconsul of Baetica was a typical Vespasian appointee: he looked like a pig-farmer. His tanned face and ugly legs would not have counted against him when he was chosen to sit here on an ivory seat between the dusty set of ceremonial rods and axes, below the rather tarnished and tired gold eagle. Instead Vespasian would have noted his ill.u.s.trious career - bound to include commanding a legion and a stint in a consulship - and would also have marked the shrewdness behind the man's intent hooded eyes. Those eyes watched me approach down the lengthy -audience chamber, while a brain as sharp as a Pict's hatchet was summing me up just as fast as I was evaluating him.

His was a post that needed a strong grip. It was only three years since two Hispanic provinces played their part in the legendary Year of the Four Emperors: Tarraconensis in backing Galba, then Lusitania in supporting Otto. Galba had actually stood for emperor while still a provincial governor, using the legions of his official command to uphold his claim. This caught on, as bad ideas do: Vespasian eventually used the same ploy from Judaea.

Afterwards he had to take firm action in Hispania. He reduced the Spanish legions from four to one - a fresh one - and even before I met this man I was sure the proconsul had been chosen for his allegiance to Vespasian and all that the new Flavian emperors stood for. (Those of you in the provinces may have heard that your new Roman governors are selected by a lottery. Well, that just shows how magically lotteries work. They always seem to pick out the men the Emperor wants.) Hispania had lost its chance of glory when Galba slipped off the throne after only seven months and Otto barely lasted three; they were past history in Rome. But the rich estate- and mine-owners of Corduba had been among Galba's allies. Here there could still be dangerous tingles of resentment. Needless to say, outside the ma.s.sive walls of the administrative palace, the town had appeared to be going about its business on this bright southern morning, as if setting up emperors carried no more world importance than a small scandal to do with amphitheatre ticket sales. Yet maybe among the olive groves ambitions still seethed.

'What's the news on the Palatine?' The proconsul was blunt. He had been working in informal dress - a bonus of life in the provinces - but seeing me in my toga he slid into his surrept.i.tiously.

'I bring you cordial greetings from the Emperor, t.i.tus Caesar, and the Chief of Correspondence.' I handed over a scroll from Laeta, introducing me.

He didn't bother to unseal it. He was not a man for etiquette. 'You work for Laeta?' He managed to restrain a humph. Secretariat employees would be rare visitors - and unwelcome ones.

'I was sent here by Laeta - well, he signed a docket for my fare. There's an interesting situation at home, sir. The Chief Spy has been nastily knocked on the head, and Laeta has a.s.sumed some of his responsibilities. I was chosen to come out because I have what we'll call diplomatic experience.' Calling myself an informer tended to explodeex-generals and ex-consuls into unsavoury bouts of flatulence.

The proconsul absorbed my story and sat up slightly. 'Why send you?'

'Expediency.'

'Good word, Falco. Covers a wealth of donkey dung.' I started to like the man.

'More like pulped olive manure,' I said.

He got rid of his staff.

Achieving an interview was one thing. In the l.u.s.trous halls of power I often ended up dissatisfied. Like eating a meal in a bad mansio in Gaul.

We quickly established that I had an official mission, for which the proconsul did not wish to be responsible. He had an official mission too. Since he represented the Senate and I represented the Emperor, our interests did not necessarily collide. It was his province; his role took precedence. That was preserving good relations with the local community.

I described the attacks on Anacrites and Valentinus. The proconsul looked politely regretful about the Chief Spy and merely dismissive of the fate of an unknown underling. He denied knowing any dancers from Hispalis too, and looked annoyed that I had asked. However, he did suggest that the local aediles in her home town might have the murderous Diana on their lists of licensed entertainers; to find out I would have to go to Hispalis.

He told me I could count on him for full support - although due to the Emperor's wish to reduce provincial expenditure, no resources could be allocated to a.s.sist me. That was not unexpected. Luckily I pay for my own boot- leather, and I could charge Laeta for necessary bribes.

I requested comments on the local personnel. The proconsul said I was the expert: he would leave judgements to me. I deduced that he was a frequent dinner guest in at least the more upper-cla.s.s suspects' homes.

'Obviously the export of olive oil is a major trade which Rome intends to safeguard.' And obviously it was theproconsul's place to sum up. I was only the expert; I bit my tongue. 'If there were to be an attempt to influence prices unfavourably, Falco, we would have to stamp on it severely. The consequences for the home market, the army, and the provincial outlets would be appalling. However, I don't want to upset sensitivities here. You must do what you have to, but any complaints and you'll be b.u.mped out of my province faster than you can breathe.'

'Thank you, sir.'

'Is that all?'

'Just a minor point, sir.' I usually manage to call them 'sir' a few times. The shrewd ones are never fooled. 'You had some correspondence with Anacrites recently, but it's lost in his coded filing library. I'd like permission to see the doc.u.ments at your end.'

'Financial subject. My quaestor was the official point of contact.'

'That would be Cornelius? I gather it was time for him to move on - had he discussed the issue with you?'

'In general terms.' I gained the subtle impression this was only one of a myriad of topics on meeting agendas, and that the proconsul could not bring to mind the salient facts. But then he seemed to change his mind. 'Are you the agent Anacrites warned us he was sending?' That was a development I had not known about.

'No; Laeta took me on, after Anacrites was put out of action. Valentinus, the man who was killed in Rome, looks the likeliest person to have been sent by the Chief Spy. I a.s.sume no one else has turned up?'

'No one has made contact.'

'Then we can a.s.sume I'm doing the job now.'