A Dying Light In Corduba Part 12

The proconsul decided to be frank with me. 'Well, to clear your pa.s.sage: Anacrites wrote to query whether the olive oil market was stable. I've been in the business long enough to a.s.sume that meant he suspected it was not; he would not have expressed an interest otherwise. I had Cornelius review the situation urgently.'

'He could be trusted?'

'Cornelius was reliable.' He seemed about to add something on that topic, but instead went on, 'There did appear to be restiveness, the kind of mood in the business community that is hard to define and harder still to tackle. I was unhappy, certainly. We sent a report. The response was that an agent would be coming out at once.' I wondered if the reason Anacrites had left the Palace after the dinner I attended was to meet Valentinus and order him to make a trip to Corduba.

'Thank you; that's clear, sir. From all I've heard, you'll be missing Cornelius. He sounds a useful deputy. And now you've had an unknown quant.i.ty wished on you, I hear - Will the new quaestor now be taking over the oil cartel issue, sir?'

I had kept my expression neutral, but I let the proconsul see me watching him. Since the new lad in charge of financial matters was the son of a man who appeared to be piping the tune for the oil producers, this could become delicate.

'My new officer is unfamiliar with the subject,' stated the proconsul. It sounded as if he was warning me not to alert young Quinctius. I felt rea.s.sured.

'I believe he's in Corduba already?'

'He came in and had a look around the office.' Something sounded peculiar. The proconsul looked me straight in the eye. 'He's not here at the moment. I gave him some hunting leave. Best to let them get it out of their system,' he told me drily, like a man who had had to train a long procession of administrative illiterates.

I thought his real meaning was different. The proconsul would have had little choice about his new officer. The appointment of Quinctius Quadratus would have been lobbied by his influential father and fixed up by the Senate. The Emperor had the right of veto but to use it would be a mark of disfavour, one which the Quinctius family had not openly deserved. 'I met his father in Rome,' I said.

'Then you will know Quinctius Quadratus comes to uswith fine recommendations.' There was not a flicker of irony.

'Certainly his father carries weight, sir.'

I was hardly expecting a proconsul to d.a.m.n a fellow senator. It didn't happen either. 'Tipped for a consulship,' he commented gravely. 'Would probably have got it by now if there hadn't been a long queue for rewards.' After coming to power Vespasian had been obliged to offer honours to his own friends who had supported him; he had also two sons to be ritually made magistrates every few years. That meant men who had thought they were certainties for honours were now having to wait.

If Attractus does get his consulship he'll be in line for a province afterwards,' I griimed. 'He could yet take over from you, sir!' The great man did not find it a joke. 'Meanwhile the son is expected to go far?'

'At least as far as hunting leave,' the proconsul agreed more jovially. I felt he quite enjoyed having kicked out the young Quinctius, even though it could only be temporary. 'Luckily, the office runs itself.'

I had seen offices that allegedly ran themselves. Usually that meant they were kept steady by one wizened Thracian slave who knew everything that had happened for the past fifty years. Fine - until the day he had his fatal heart attack.

Hunting leave is an ambiguous concept. Young officers in the provinces expect a certain amount of free time for slaying wild animals. This is normally granted as a reward for hard work. But it is also a well-known method for a pernickety governor to rid himself of a dud until such time as Rome sends out some other dewy-eyed hopeful - or until he himself is recalled.

'Where can we contact you?' asked the great man. He was already shedding his toga again.

'I'm staying on the Camillus Verus estate. I expect you remember his son Aelia.n.u.s?' The proconsul signalled a.s.sent, while avoiding comment. 'The senator's daughter is here at present too.'

'With her husband?'

'Helena Justina is divorced - widowed too.' I could see him noting that he would have to meet her socially, so to avoid the agony I added, 'The n.o.ble Helena is expecting a child shortly.'

He gave me a sharp look; I made no response. Sometimes I tell them the situation and stare them out. Sometimes I say nothing and let someone else gossip.

I knew, since I had picked it open and read it, that my letter of introduction from Laeta - as yet unopened on the proconsul's side table - gave a succinct description of our relationship. He described the senator's daughter as a quiet, una.s.suming girl (a lie which diplomatically acknowledged that her papa was a friend of the Emperor). I won't say what he called me, but had I not been an informer it would have been libellous.

XXIII

The flock of scribes scattered like sparrows as I emerged. I winked. They blushed. I screwed out of them directions to the quaestor's office, noting that my request seemed to cause a slight atmosphere.

I was greeted by the inevitable ancient slave who organised doc.u.ments in the quaestor's den. He was a black scribe from Hadrumetum. His will to subvert was as determined as that of the smoothest oriental secretary in Rome. He looked hostile when I asked to see the report Cornelius sent to Anacrites.

'You'll remember inscribing it.' I made it clear I understood how delicate the subject matter had been. 'There will have been a lot of fuss and redrafting; it was going to Rome, and also the material was sensitive locally.'

The inscrutable look on the African's face faded slightly. 'I can't release doc.u.ments without asking the quaestor.'

'Well, I know Cornelius was the authority on this. I expect the new fellow has had a handover, but the governor told me he hasn't been granted his full authority yet.' The scribe said nothing. 'He came in to meet the proconsul, didn't he? How do you find him?' I risked.

'Very pleasant.'

'You're lucky then! A baby-faced brand-new senator, working abroad, and virtually unsupervised? You could easily get one who was arrogant and boorish -'

The slave still did not take the bait. 'You must ask the quaestor.'

'But he's not available, is he? The proconsul explained about your new policy in Baetica of s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g poll tax out of wild boars! His honour said if you had taken a copy of the letter you should show me that.'

'Oh, I took a copy! I always do.'

Relieved of responsibility by the proconsul's authority (invented by me, as he may well have guessed), the quaestor's scribe at once started to hunt for the right scroll.

'Tell me, what's the word locally on why Anacrites first took an interest?' The scribe paused in his search. 'He's the Chief Spy,' I acknowledged frankly. 'I work with him from time to time.' I did not reveal that he was now lying insensible in the Praetorian Camp. Or already ashes in a cinerary urn.

My dour companion accepted that he was talking to a fellow professional. 'Anacrites had had a tip from somebody in the province. He did not tell us who. It could have been malicious.'

'It was anonymous?' He inclined his head slightly. 'While you're finding the report Cornelius wrote I'd be grateful for sight of the original enquiry from Anacrites too.'

'I was getting it. They should be linked together ...' Now the scribe was sounding abstracted. He was already looking worried, and I felt apprehensive. I watched him once more search the round containers of scrolls. I believed he knew his way around the doc.u.ments. And when he found that the correspondence was missing, his distress seemed genuine.

I was starting to worry. When doc.u.ments go missing there can be three causes: simple inefficiency; security measures taken without a secretariat's knowledge; or theft. Inefficiency is rife, but rarer when the doc.u.ment is highly confidential. Security measures are never as good as anyone pretends; any secretary worth his position will tell you where the scroll is really stowed. Theft meant that somebody with access to officialdom knew that I was coming out here, knew why, and was removing evidence.

I could not believe it was the new quaestor. That seemed too obvious. 'When Quinctius Quadratus was here, did you leave him alone in the office?'

'He just looked around from the doorway then rushed off to be introduced to the governor.'

'Does anyone else have access?'

'There's a guard. When I go out I lock the door.' A determined thief could find a way in. It might not even take a professional; palaces are always rife with people who look as if they have the right of entry, whether they do or not.

When I calmed the scribe down I said quietly, 'The answers I want are known by your previous quaestor, Cornelius. Can I contact him? Has he left Baetica?'

'His term ended; he's going back to Rome - but first he's travelling. He's gone east on a tour. A benefactor offered him a chance to see the world before he settles down.'

'That could take some time! Well, if the junketer's unavailable, what can you remember from the scrolls that are lost?'

'The enquiry from Anacrites said hardly anything. The messenger who brought it probably talked to the proconsul and the quaestor.' He was a scribe. He disapproved. He liked things safely written down.

'Tell me about Cornelius.'

The scribe looked prim. 'The proconsul had every confidence in him.'

'Lots of hunting leave, eh?'

Now he looked puzzled. 'He was a hardworking young man.'

'Cornelius was very worried,' the scribe continued doggedly. 'He discussed things with the proconsul, though not with me.'

'Was that usual?'

'It was all so sensitive.'

'He dictated the report to you though. What did it say?' 'Cornelius had concluded that people might want to inflate the price of olive oil.'

'More than general overcharging?'

'Much more.'

'Systematic fixing?'

'Yes.'

Did he name names?'

'No.'

'Still, he thought that if action was taken quickly the cartel could be nipped in the bud?'

'Did he?' asked the scribe.

'It is a customary phrase. I was told that was his verdict.'

'People are always repeating wrong statements that are supposed to be in reports,' said the scribe, as if the very untidiness of the habit upset him. Something else was annoying me: Camillus Aelia.n.u.s had apparently lied to me about this point.

'So Cornelius felt the situation was serious? Who was supposed to act on it?'

'Rome. Or Rome would order action by us - but they preferred to send their own investigator. Isn't that why you are here?'

I smiled - though the fact was, with Anacrites out of it and Laeta so untrustworthy, I had no idea.

XXIV

There was no hope of further help: today was a public holiday. Informers work loose hours and try to ignore such things, but everyone else in the Empire realised that this was eleven days before the Kalends of May - the big spring festival. The governor's palace had been working for a couple of hours, following the fine tradition of pretending that state business is too important to stop. But uow even the palace was closing down, and I had to leave.

After walking uphill again, I found Marmarides in a tavern; I left him there. Helena was moping in the basilica entrance in the forum, looking at plans for a spanking new Temple of the Imperial Cult; she was clearly bored and it was time to remove her before she tried chalking faces on the Corinthian columns in the elegant design elevations. Ceremonies were about to start in any case.

I slipped my hand around hers and we walked slowly down the flight of steps among increasing crowds, Helena being careful to keep her balance. Reaching street level we dodged acolytes with incense-sprinklers as they gathered for a sacrifice.

'That looked a zippy new hexastyle portico they're going to build for the Imperial Cult!'

'When you start spouting architecture, I know you're in trouble,' she said.

'I'm not in trouble - but somebody soon will be.'

She gave me a sceptical look, then made some dry comment about the crisp modelling of the proposed temple's capitals. I said I wondered who would pay for this fine community monument. The citizens of Rome, perhaps, through exorbitantly priced olive oil.

I told Helena today's events as we found a s.p.a.ce in the piazza, to view whatever was about to happen. Corduba isset on rising ground, the older part with a maze of narrow streets which come up from the river, its houses close set to keep out the hot sun. These byways lead uphill to the public buildings where we now were. Helena must have surveyed the small forum pretty well while she was waiting for me, but the festival pageantry revived her. 'So the proconsul has given you permission to operate in his territory. You're looking, without much hope, for a dancing girl who kills people -'

'Yes, but I imagine somebody hired her to do it.'

Tor which your group of suspects are the Baeticans you saw at the dinner: Aimaeus, Licinius, Cyzacus and Norba.n.u.s. Optatus told us Quinctius Attractus has been making overtures to other people too-'

'He would have to. Price-rigging only works if all the producers band together.'

'But the ones who were in Rome when Valentinus was killed have made themselves suspects you have to concentrate on.'

'It could be just their hard luck that they got themselves tangled up in a killing. But yes; it's those I'm after.'

Helena always considered every possibility: 'I suppose you don't think the dancing girl and her accomplices could be ordinary thieves whose method is to size up guests at parties then rob the rich ones as they stagger home drunk?'

'They didn't pick the rich ones, sweetheart; they jumped the Chief Spy and his agent.'

'So you definitely think the attacks are linked to what's going on in Baetica?'

'Yes, and showing that the Baetican visitors were involved in the attacks will not only do right by Valentinus, but ought to discredit the whole conspiracy.'

Helena grinned. 'It's a pity you can't talk to the much- admired Cornelius. Who do you think has paid for his "chance to see the world before he settles down"?'

'A gold-laden grandpa I expect. Types in those posts always have them.'

'The proconsul sounds very suspicious of the newinc.u.mbent. Surely that's unusual? The lad hasn't even started yet.'

'It confirms that his father is regarded as a bad influence in Baetica.'

'The proconsul would be too tactful to libel Attractus of course ...'

'He was! I could tell he dislikes the man, though - or at least he dislikes the kind of pushiness Attractus represents.'

'Marcus, since Attractus himself isn't here you may be forced to have a look at his son. Have you brought your hunting spears?'

'Jupiter, no!' I had brought a sword for protection, though. 'Given the chance to pursue wolves around a wild peninsula with my old friend Petronius I'd jump - but the quaestor will have gone on a rich idiots' trip. If there's one thing I can't stand it's a week of camping in a forest with a group of braying b.a.s.t.a.r.ds whose idea of fun is sticking javelins into beasts that thirty slaves and a pack of vicious hounds have conveniently driven into nets.'