David Wishart - The Lydian Baker

That made sense too. I held out my hand for the wine cup. Bathyllus offered one to Demetriacus, but he shook his head. Yeah. I'd forgotten. Maybe I should've offered the guy some warm milk.

'So,' I said. 'Melanthus got into the habit of dropping in for what he hoped might turn out to be more than a chat after he'd finished upstairs.'

Demetriacus's lips pursed. 'Again I wouldn't put it so crudely, young man. If I have my weaknesses then so do you, and I'm afraid crudity is one of them.' Gods! 'I told you, Hermippe is intelligent. Very intelligent. Melanthus enjoyed talking with her. And when I was on the premises — which I was careful to be if possible when Melanthus visited — then we all talked together. For me it was an education, which is something I feel I have always lacked.'

Sure. And for Melanthus I'd bet it was one almighty pain in the rectum. Still, it takes two to make the third a gooseberry, so maybe I was being too hard on him. 'The staff — I mean the girls — knew about these little get-togethers, right?'

'Naturally. Although we encouraged the assumption that Melanthus was my particular visitor. That was Hermippe's idea, to avoid gossip. And our private quarters are out of bounds, so they wouldn't know whether I was there or not.' He gave a wintry smile. 'Mind you, being unaware of the true relationship between Hermippe and myself I believe the girls thought her already spoken for.'

Right. That added up. A brothel's like any other small closed community: the inmates live on gossip. And even if there was nothing in it Hermippe wouldn't be too keen on the rumour getting around that she was sweet on one of the customers and vice versa. Bad for discipline. It explained why Cotile hadn't made the link, too. Demetriacus wouldn't have objected, either: commercial big wheel or not, the guy obviously preened himself on his relationship with a top-notch philosopher, even if it did have to be kept private.

'Okay.' I took a swallow of wine. 'Let's summarise. Stop me if I go wrong. Melanthus regularly came round for a chat with your sister even when you were away.' Especially when the poor bugger was away; but there was no sense in labouring the point. 'They talked about high-powered stuff like philosophy and art. Then one day when you're bed-bound with your chronic gut ache Melanthus happens to mention to her that he's acting as quality control in negotiations for a certain unique statue. The buyer's a Roman, and Melanthus, being a good Greek, says he thinks it's a shame it should go abroad.'

'I'm sorry, Corvinus, but there I can't help you. If that is how things happened then as you say I wasn't present. And I knew nothing about this affair until after Watch Commander Callippus's visit, because Hermippe never mentioned the Baker.'

'Yeah. I'm coming to that, and it's important. Okay. Knowing that Hermippe is a rich woman in her own right as well as a culture buff Melanthus suggests they cut the Roman out in the interests of Greek solidarity. Maybe he also suggests — tactfully — that it would be good for the family and open a few closed doors, because gifting the Baker to the city would send her brother's street cred sky-high.'

'That is certainly a possibility,' Demetriacus said gravely. 'We'd talked about it often before in different terms. I had thought of building a porch, perhaps, or even a theatre.'

'Uh-huh.' A theatre! Holy Dionysus, the guy must be loaded! 'Only by telling Hermippe he made a bad mistake. As far as she was concerned the city fathers could go hang: she wanted the statue, sure, but she wanted it for herself, either to look at or to sell. And she'd no intention of paying for it if she could avoid it. Right?'

Demetriacus nodded slowly. 'Again, I can't speak from knowledge. But it fits Hermippe's character, certainly. As I told you, she has the ruthless streak in the family. And she has always found it hard to spend money when it isn't necessary.'

'The problem is, she can't afford to let things slide. You're out of the picture but it won't be forever. Sooner or later you'll be back at the Scallop and the first thing Melanthus will talk about when he calls in for his cosy post-coital chat will be the Baker.'

'Indeed. So she had him killed to stop me finding out.'

'She had him killed.' I swallowed the last of the wine in my cup and poured myself another belt. Maybe I should've offered Antaeus some, but I didn't know exactly what footing we were on here yet. 'Speaking of which, who's Prince Charming?'

Demetriacus looked blank. 'I'm sorry?'

'The heavy who did the actual killing. Must've done it. Callippus described him to you the last time we talked.'

'Glycus?' Jupiter! Pure accident, but I'd been close: the name means 'Sweetie'. 'He was the murderer?'

'Three times over, pal. And that's not counting Smaragdus.'

'Who?'

'It doesn't matter.' I waved the question away: I kept forgetting Demetriacus was an innocent after all. 'One of the owners of the statue. So who is this Glycus?'

'I mentioned my sister's appetites.' Demetriacus was frowning. 'Glycus is a freedman of hers, a slave she bought in Paphos before we left and manumitted last year. They have a…relationship.'

'Postdating Melanthus's?'

'Correct. Or so I believe.' The frown deepened. 'Corvinus, would you mind if we didn't go into that aspect of things? I find it very distasteful.'

Yeah, I'd believe it; I'd met the guy. And having your sister jump into bed with one of her slaves, manumitted or not, wasn't likely to go down a bundle with someone who hoped to be one of Athens's top Five Hundred one day either. 'No hassle, pal. There's one in every family. All I want to know is where I can find the bastard.'

'At the Scallop, of course. He has a room next to Hermippe's. But he won't be there at the moment.'

Something cold touched my spine. 'He won't?'

'No. I called round this morning to collect Antaeus: a precaution which I hope you don't resent. Glycus had already gone.'

'So where is he?'

Demetriacus looked up at his bodyguard. The big guy spoke for the first time. 'The Lady Hermippe sent him on an errand at first light, sir. To the Piraeus, I understand.'

I stared at him. Hell’s teeth! 'You happen to know where to in the Piraeus exactly?'

'No, sir.'

Tiny. It had to be Tiny. We'd been shadowed right enough. And first light meant that Glycus had at least a two hour start…

I put down my cup hard and yelled for Bathyllus.

'Yes, sir.' The little guy must've been hanging around outside.

'Tell Lysias I want the coach now.' I was on my feet. 'Make that as of ten minutes ago.'

'Of course, sir.'

'Is something wrong, Corvinus?' Demetriacus's eyes were wide.

The understatement of the century; but then he didn't know the details. 'Yeah. Your Glycus is just about to raise his total to four. Plus maybe one solid gold statue.' The little guy was still hovering. Gods alive! 'Bathyllus, will you get the fucking coach!'

'Take mine. It's waiting outside.' Demetriacus turned to Antaeus. 'Go with him.'

I hesitated, then decided: if I had Prince Charming to face then Antaeus would be useful to have along. 'Okay, sunshine,' I said. 'You're on the team. Give me a minute to get my knife.'

We set off for the Piraeus at a speed that nearly knocked my teeth loose. All the way I was praying to every god I knew that Tiny would still be breathing when we got there; but we were two hours behind, and I wouldn't've risked any bets.

We were too late. The boat shed door was wide open, and there was a crowd outside. I took the last stretch at a run and pushed my way through. Inside, two men were standing over the huddled body of a third. I stopped and stared…

The third was Glycus, and he was dead. Very dead; like he'd tried to stop a charging rhino with his bare hands and hadn't half made it.