The Bull Slayer

CHAPTER Thirty-four

The 11th day before the Kalends of December

Didymus’ round face beamed with delight. The little man bowed, folding himself nearly in two, as he greeted Pliny at the door. “What a pleasure to see you, Governor! We’re honored by your presence. I felt when we last spoke that I might have interested you in investing with us. You won’t be sorry, sir, you won’t be sorry.” He put out his left hand to touch Pliny’s shoulder confidingly; the stump of his right arm pointed the way within.

The bank occupied the ground floor of an undistinguished brick building on the waterfront. The upper story, Pliny assumed, was the family’s apartment. Nothing about it advertised the fortunes concealed in its vaults, the prominent names recorded in its ledgers.

Inside, half-a-dozen clerks hunched over tables, counting sums with their fingers. A rack of scrolls occupied one wall. It was in every way a smaller version of the counting room in the treasury building.

Pliny was ushered into an inner office, seated in a comfortable chair, and offered a cup of wine by a young slave. Didymus stood, rocking on the balls of his feet, his eyes gleaming, his feathery brows going up and down. Of course there would be no more investments in ships’ cargoes for the next few months, he said, but there were many, oh many, other attractive opportunities in the meantime—luxury goods brought overland from the East; slaves, always a sound investment. Was there something the Governor was particularly interested in? Pliny was noncommittal. For a while they discussed interest rates and the deplorable waste of funds on ill-advised building projects, to which Didymus nodded in vigorous agreement. Pliny wondered if Didymus’ vault was quite secure. Oh, Absolutely! Would the Governor care to inspect it?

The little man led the way back into the counting room, pulled aside a drapery at one end of it, revealing a heavy door, and produced a large key. As the door swung open, a big brown rat raced across Pliny’s foot.

“Forgive me, sir, forgive me!” Didymus exclaimed. “We’re infested with them, I’m afraid. So near the wharves, don’t you see.”

Pliny put his head in and took a quick look around. It was much smaller, of course, than the vault at the treasury, and lined with brick instead of dressed stone, but it had the same metallic smell of stale air. The chests of coin, as far as he could see, were not government issue. He expressed himself satisfied. “And may I ask the names of your principal investors?”

“But, sir,” Didymus’ face registered alarm, “that would be quite against our rules of confidentiality. You know about poor Glaucon already but I’m afraid I simply can’t disclose any other names.”

“I ask,” said Pliny in a mild voice, “because a certain Sophronia has complained to me that you have refused to return a deposit of hers. Perhaps you knew that she was close to the late procurator?”

The Cupid’s bow mouth drew back in a deathly smile. “That woman! I’ve told her to be patient. I’ve every intention of returning her money. Honestly, I’m surprised to hear you defending that infamous creature.”

“But her money, I suppose, smells as sweet as anyone’s?”

Didymus clapped his hand to his forehead. The clerks had stopped working and were staring at them. “The fact is, sir, I’ve had losses this year. Two ships in which I was heavily invested went down this summer. I have several creditors. She will simply have to wait her turn. Reason with her if you can, sir, I beg you.”

“It occurs to me to wonder whether the late procurator, Vibius Balbus, was one of your clients.”

“Balbus? Why, no. You asked me that once before. He did no business with me.”

“Really?” Pliny looked at him in surprise. “Why not? I assume you made him the same offer you did me.”

“Well we simply never had a relationship, that’s all. Perhaps he invested with one of the other bankers.” Didymus’ face was working. “I’m an honest man, Governor. I pay my taxes, I’m straightforward in everything, as fair as I can be to everyone, my hands are clean.”

Pliny went to the door and signaled to the two lictors whom he had told to wait across the street with his chair bearers. They came at a run. He faced a hard choice. If ever a man looked ready to make a run for it, it was Didymus, and Pliny was determined not to lose another suspect the way he had lost Silvanus and Fabia. Still, he must tread carefully. It was one thing to throw a lounger like Argyrus into a dungeon cell, but this banker was a member of the business community whose good will he needed to conciliate. It wouldn’t do to terrorize them. And so far he had no more than a suspicion that Didymus was guilty of anything.

“You will be my guest at the palace today, my friend; and tomorrow, and perhaps the day after. Your family is upstairs, I take it? I’ll see that they’re informed. Send your clerks home. The bank is closed and I will post one of my men at the door to see that no one enters while you’re gone. And you will please gather your books, I intend to go over them with my accountant. I do have the authority to impound them in case you’re thinking of protesting.”

Didymus groped behind him for a bench and sank onto it. His lips moved but no sound came out. Pliny almost felt sorry for him.

***

Pliny handed the banker over to his major domo with instructions to find him a comfortable room and serve him a good meal—and post a guard at the door. He would let him cool his heels for a day. Meanwhile, it was imperative to get the whole truth from Sophronia.

Pliny had never been to the Elysium. It was late afternoon when he and Suetonius arrived, too early for customers. They were met by Byzus, Sophronia’s accountant, who informed them that his mistress was out but invited them to wait in her private office and take refreshments. Pliny was impressed by the sumptuous décor. He also couldn’t help noticing how at home his friend was in this place: greeting the servants by name, exchanging a wink with one of the girls.

“She’s out inspecting a property for sale,” Byzus explained. “A tenement burned down and the lot’s going cheap. It’s near a fullery and she might buy that too. Good money to be made in the laundry business.” He tapped the side of his nose and looked wise.

Pliny and Suetonius exchanged glances. Barzanes?

Half an hour later, she bustled through the door. Seeing Suetonius first, her lips parted in a smile. Then her eye fell on Pliny and the smile faded.

Pliny wasted no time getting down to business. “I’ve spoken to Didymus about your deposit. He made excuses, legitimate or not I don’t know yet. At the moment he is my guest in the palace and will remain there until I’ve gotten everything he knows out of him. I’ve had a quick look at his books and it appears that Balbus never invested with him, which I find odd since he advised you to do so. My question, madam, is this: was any of that two talents you invested actually Balbus’ money?”

Her expression betraying nothing. “Forgive me for troubling you with my affairs, Governor. I should never have mentioned it. We’ll let the matter drop.”

“I’m afraid it’s too late for that. More is at stake here than your money. A letter found among Balbus’ papers indicates that he had a dispute with someone known to us only as a ‘Persian,’ who owed him money. He was making trouble for this individual—the details needn’t concern you—and soon afterwards he was murdered.”

She started to protest but he cut her off. “Yes, I know you favor your half-brother Argyrus as the culprit, and you may yet prove right, but I need to know whether there is a connection between your deposit with Didymus and the sum referred to in that letter. Are they one and the same?”

“Ask Didymus.”

“I’m asking you!” Pliny was on his feet, leaning over her and staring hard. Despite herself, she shrank back. She looked to Suetonius for help. He studied his wine glass.

“All right.” She drew a deep breath. “Some of it was his.”

“How much?”

“I don’t remember.”

“How much!”

“Half maybe.”

“Half ! A full talent. Where did he get so much?”

“He wasn’t a poor man.”

“Why didn’t he invest it in his own name?”

“I don’t know. It was a personal loan to me. What difference does it make?”

“There are half a dozen bankers in town. Why did he suggest Didymus?”

“I’ve no idea. He said he was a friend.”

“And that was good enough for you? You have a reputation as a shrewd businesswoman. Balbus tells you to invest a small fortune with a banker you’ve never done business with before and you do it.”

“I loved him.” She was angry now.

“Love,” Pliny sniffed. “Indeed it makes us do strange things.”

“Is there anything else you want to know about my personal life, Governor?”

He looked at her sourly. “Not at the moment.”

“Well,” Suetonius sighed as they mounted their litters, “there’s an end to a beautiful friendship.”

“Consider yourself lucky.”

***

Galeo returned to the tavern. His red lictor’s tunic was soaked through, his hair was plastered against his head. He had lost the man in the dark—fortunately, perhaps; he wouldn’t like to tangle with that brute. He sat himself down at a table, motioned to the tavern keeper to join him, and carefully placed a silver drachma on the scarred table top between them. The man couldn’t take his eyes off it.

“Who is that fellow who ran out? How long has he been in the village?

“Calls ’imself Lurco, sir. Been ’ere five, six days, I reckon.”

“Did he arrive alone or with a woman and a boy?”

“You know that, do you?”

“Where are they now?”

“Well, sir, I really couldn’t say as to that.”

Galeo placed another drachma on the table.

“Ah. Well it might be they hired a boat, take ’em to sea, in spite of it bein’ filthy weather. You’d best talk to ’er captain.”

“Send someone to fetch him. I’m not going out in this again.”

“Happens that’s ’im over there.” He glanced at one of the men at the bar. “Cleitus!”

Cleitus eyed Galeo warily. “’Aven’t done nothin’ wrong.”

“No one says you have.” Galeo placed another drachma on the table. Cleitus’ eye—he had only one—narrowed. “Tell me about the woman and boy.”

“They paid me ’andsomely to sail across Propontis to the Thracian side. Me and the lads agreed though we didn’t like the weather. Well, we wasn’t far out when the wind picks up and the boy comes all over queer, like maybe he has a demon in him. That’s what we thought anyway. I was for pitching ’im over the side but the woman begs me to leave ’em on an island that’s out there—just a little speck of rock really, nothin’ on it but a few goats. Well, we went in as close as we dared on the leeward side and made ’em jump.”

“And?”

“And that’s all I know. We sailed back with the big fella, Lurco. He didn’t want to jump and we couldn’t make ’im.” Cleitus’ hand shot out and plucked one of the coins off the table. He touched two fingers to his forehead and moved off.

At first light, Galeo was on his horse galloping back to Nicomedia.