The Bull Slayer

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.”

Pliny suppressed a smile. “That’s as may be. But the lion—does it mean anything to you?”

“No—no, I’m sure it doesn’t. Was there anything else, then, sir? I’m afraid I’ve told you everything I know.”

“And I’m grateful for your cooperation.”

“Oh, not at all, sir. And may I say, sir, you’re welcome to visit us anytime. Perhaps I can put you in the way of a good investment.”

“Thank you. I will keep it in mind.”

Winking and smiling, Didymus bowed himself out.