David Wishart - Food for the Fishes

‘But you’ve never really involved yourself in the business?’

Tattius smiled. ‘To be frank, that suited both of us. I’m no businessman and never have been; Lucius was, very much so, as were — are — his sons. I don’t interfere. I leave things to them and let them get on with it.’

‘What about this hotel idea? I understand it’s a new venture.’

‘Yes.’ Tattius looked down briefly and plucked a stray thread from his tunic. ‘Yes, it is.’

‘You didn’t approve?’

He hesitated. ‘As I said, Corvinus, I’m no businessman. I leave — left — decisions like that to my partner. However, again — to be frank — I did think that it was a little…misguided.’

‘In what way?’

‘I’m not criticising Lucius — how could I? — but the capital outlay was considerable and the returns doubtful at best, certainly in all but the very long term. The farm is doing reasonably well and always has done, although the profits aren’t as large as you might think after the costs have been deducted. Also, there was…a certain amount of local opposition to contend with which Lucius, being Lucius, refused to take into account.’

‘His freedman Philippus?’

Tattius shot me a sharp look and took his time answering. ‘Yes indeed,’ he said finally. ‘Forgive me, but you really are remarkably well-informed, especially in so short a time. How on earth did you find out about Philippus?’

‘Murena gave him his freedom when he was quite young, didn’t he?’

Another hesitation. ‘He did.’

‘You know why?’

‘No. Lucius may have been my partner, but his private life was none of my concern. No doubt he had his reasons.’

‘Or where he got the money from originally to start him up in business?’

‘I don’t follow.’

Odd. There was something definitely defensive about the guy now, and that was interesting. ‘I’ve been told that Philippus is one of the richest locals in Baiae. Granted he may be a good businessman, but he must’ve got his original stake from somewhere. On the other hand — by all accounts — there wasn’t much love lost between him and his ex-master. So I was just wondering — ’

‘I’m afraid I can’t help you over Philippus.’ Tattius’s face was closed now. ‘You’d have to ask the man himself.’

‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘Yeah, I’ll do that.’

‘Not that I suspect you’ll get a civil answer. Philippus is not what you’d call a civil person. Once a slave, always a slave.’

I shifted on my chair. ‘Uh…to change the subject. Murena’s family. What can you tell me about them?’

It might’ve been my imagination, but I thought Tattius looked relieved. ‘In the business sense?’ he said. ‘His elder son Titus is the lawyer of the family. Also he oversees the company’s accounts. Aulus is more like his father, the practical businessman and decision-taker. Although’ — he smiled — ‘he’s rather more adventurous than Lucius ever was, which can be both good and bad. He’s a natural gambler, and although Lucius did have a gambling streak it wasn’t particularly developed.’

‘They, uh, didn’t get on very well. Or so I understand.’

The cautious look was back. ‘There was a certain amount of friction, yes. But no more so than in most families.’

Yeah, right. And I was a baboon. Still, I couldn’t expect too much from that direction. After all, he was a relation by marriage. ‘What about Gellia?’ I said.

‘Again I have to ask you what you mean. Gellia isn’t involved on the business side of things.’

‘They were a happy couple?’

‘As far as I know. They were as close as couples from the upper bracket usually are, particularly in Baiae.’

Which wasn’t saying much, but then again of course I couldn’t expect more. ‘She have money of her own?’

I thought he wasn’t going to answer, which considering the question he’d be within his rights not to do, but finally he did. ‘Her father was an oil-shipper in a small way, in Puteoli. She’s not rich, but she has a competence.’

‘When did they get married?’

‘About five or six years ago.’

‘Murena was a widower, wasn’t he? I mean, his first wife died, he didn’t divorce her.’

‘That’s right.’

‘She been dead for long?’

‘Almost thirty years now.’

Strange: I could swear he’d tightened up again for some reason. ‘She couldn’t’ve been very old.’

‘No. She was a long-term invalid, never strong.’

‘What about your wife? Penelope? From the way she spoke the last time I saw her she didn’t get on all that well with her father. Or with the rest of the family, for that matter.’

He stood up suddenly. ‘Corvinus, I’m sorry. I know you have a job to do, and I’m happy to help you all I can, but your questions are becoming a little personal. Could we stop now, please?’

Yeah, well; I’d been wondering myself how far I could push it, and I wasn’t really surprised he’d choked me off. I stood up too. ‘Sure,’ I said. ‘My apologies. And thanks for your time.’

He smiled — with his mouth, at least — and held out a hand. ‘You’re very welcome. I wish you luck. Although, it has to be said, personally I think Lucius’s death was either a tragic accident or the man responsible is in custody already. I’ll see you out.’

There was no sign of Penelope. I collected the mare — the sweeper-slave had tied her to a hitching-post further along the portico — and rode back to Baiae. Thoughtfully.

I took my time riding back.

So what had we got out of that little conversation? Several things, and all of them puzzling.

First of all — and this was the biggie — the simple fact of the partnership itself. Friendship’s one thing, but business is another, and especially considering what I knew of Murena’s character he’d been no softie. Even in the most easy-going of partnerships there has to be a certain quid pro quo, and in the Murena/Tattius menage I couldn’t see what that’d been. Scratch expertise: Tattius had admitted he wasn’t a businessman and that he’d no knowledge of or interest in fish farming, and that side of things seemed to have been Murena’s province completely. The same went for money. I might be missing my bet, but unless he was a real eccentric I doubted if Tattius was exactly rolling; not judging by the state of his villa, anyway. Of course, the cash might’ve gone into the business right at the beginning and drained away, but then he hadn’t given that impression either. Me, if that’d been the case I’d have expected more complaints and a lot more bitterness. He’d seemed, if anything, satisfied with arrangements. No, all things considered I’d reckon Murena had paid the lion’s share of the bills as well. Plus the fact that the farm had been his to begin with. So if neither expertise nor money was the basis for their partnership then what was left?

The marriage tie between Tattius and Penelope was a third possibility, and on the face of it the most likely. I didn’t know exactly when Tattius and Murena had gone into business together — barring Diodotus’s mention of the fact that Murena had moved down from Rome some twenty-odd years back, so presumably it’d been about then — but if the wedding had come first then taking your son-in-law into the family business is a good old-fashioned Roman custom. Only that scenario posed serious problems of its own, didn’t it? From what he’d said Tattius had never been a junior in any way: he and Murena had been equals from the start. So as far as the partnership per se went any existing marriage was an irrelevance and we were back again to the simple question of Tattius’s contribution to the original arrangement. Friendship — even if the guy was already his son-in-law — wouldn’t’ve been enough, not for a full partnership, not for a businessman like Murena. That idea was out.