Lindsey Davis - Nemesis

'Claudius Pius?' If so, he was on the wrong doorstep, growling over his shoulder at the wrong woman. Mind you, it did not surprise me that one of the Claudii should be screwing his brother's wife.

He rounded aggressively. 'No. I am Virtus.'

I believed him. We had muddled them up. I should have known. Anyone who has ever seen a theatrical farce would expect the wrong one to pop out of a doorway. That's what you get with twins.

He could be lying. Impersonating each other to fool people is a lifelong game for twins. When I was at school, the Masti were famous for it; their loving mother helped by always dressing them in identical tunics, with their hair curled in the same ridiculous quiff. They spent their days tormenting our teacher, then later were reputed to swap girlfriends. Causing confusion would have gone on forever, if Lucius Mastus had not been run over by a stonemason's wagon. His brother Gaius was never the same afterwards. All the joy went out of him.

Virtus had the same build, skin, freckles, light eyes and upturned nose as the man Petro and I had captured. I felt uncomfortable with it, though I did not believe the telepathy of twins could have told him what his brother went through. I suppose I had a bad conscience.

After grumbling noises from indoors, Byrta sidled into view next to him. In the act of re-draping her clothes, she hitched a scarf around her neck. Maybe it was to hide love bites, if she called their relationship love. It was some rich red colour, decent material. I supposed Virtus must have brought it for her from Rome as a present.

She vouched for him being Virtus not Pius. I said he had to come with us. He reluctantly complied. His wife did not rush to pack him a travelling bag. We searched his home before we left, but found nothing, not even weapons. If he really was Virtus, he had left his armoury in the Transtiberina apartment, so it was now secured at the Fourth Cohort's station house. The woman stayed behind with their children.

We asked about his brother Probus. Virtus said men had come and arrested him – - Silvius and the Urban Cohorts, presumably. 'Why didn't they get you at the same time?'

'I heard them coming.'

We took him with us to Antium, where we joined up with Silvius. Silvius confirmed he had Probus in custody. Probus seemed to be breaking ranks and denouncing Nobilis, though it was too early to say if he would distance himself enough to give us evidence. When Silvius wanted to question Virtus, I had had enough with the other twin, so I gave him the prisoner without quibbling. Justinus and I sat in. I insisted on that.

In two days of hard questioning, Virtus said little useful. His line now was that he had never had anything to do with any of his brothers' cruel practices – - and, as he knew well, we had nothing to tie him to the murders.

'None of us ever knew what Nobilis was up to.' That tired cliche. 'These things you are saying about him and Pius are terrible. Thank the gods our father will never know about it.'

'Aristocles was no moralist! Look at the disgusting rabble he and Casta produced. Strong family bonds, have you?' asked Silvius, insinuating,

'Oh I see your game! I repudiate my brother. I reject Nobilis. If he and Pius did those things, I dissociate them from our family. They shame us. They are blackening the family name.'

'What family name? Don't make me spew.'

Virtus just stared at Silvius. He was not a clod. None of them were. That was how those of them who committed the crimes had covered up their tracks for so many decades.

'We'll get the truth,' sneered Silvius. 'Probus is here in custody, you know that. Your Probus seems a fellow with a conscience. Probus has begun telling us a lot of helpful things – all about his perverted brothers.'

'Probus is just as bad as them,' scoffed Virtus.

When Silvius needed a break, I was given a go. 'Tell me about your connection with Anacrites, Virtus.'

'Nothing to say.'

'When did you find out about him?'

'Around two years back. We went up to Rome and asked him for work. He thought he could use us, so it was fixed up. I know when it was, because our mother had just died.'

'Casta? Was her death something to do with you going to see Anacrites?'

'Yes and no. When we lost her, we felt cast adrift.'

'Oh you poor little orphans!'

'Have a heart, Falco!' Justinus broke in, grinning. Silvius let out a short laugh too. He had bad teeth, not many left.

I had remembered something someone told us about Casta. Unexpectedly, I strode up, grabbed the prisoner by his hair, then turned his head to demonstrate he had part of an ear missing. 'Did your mother do that to you?' I yelled.

'I deserved it,' said Virtus, immediately and without blinking.

We had to stop then, because news came in about the discovery of more bodies.

Justinus and I went with Silvius to inspect the site. On the way, Silvius owned up that the Urbans had been using Claudius Probus for the past few days to help them identify places where his brother Nobilis might have buried corpses. 'We believe Probus is himself implicated in the abductions, though not as the principal.'

'How did you make him talk?'

'We had to provide immunity. The way it works, Probus suggests places that Nobilis liked – secret lairs he had, on his own or with Pius.'

'Pius was the one who lured the victims; he brought them to Nobilis?'

'Seems so. These spots are difficult to access, so Probus takes us and points out where to look.'

'He knows too much about it to be innocent.'

'He admits that. He says he was young, and coerced by his brothers. He claims he became too horrified and stopped joining in.'

I hated him being given immunity. Sometimes you have to compromise, but if Probus was directly involved in the deaths, immunity was wrong. Silvius just shrugged. 'When you see the terrain, you will understand. There is no other way we could ever find the bodies. My seniors conferred. It's worth it, to clear up the old disappearances.'

Silvius was quite right about the dreadful terrain. The first place we went was a forest, a few miles out of Antium. A thick canopy of slim-trunked scented pines, intermingled with stunted cork oaks, filled this thickly wooded area. At ground level, dense brushwood impeded movement. Nobilis must have used a narrow track. A slightly wider access had been bashed down by the Urbans. Following a guide, we struggled along it to a dell. We went in silence. When we reached the activity, the shocked hush continued, broken only by rustles and chopping spades as work went on slowly at the sordid scene.

Bodies had been excavated and placed on flattened underbrush. There were eight or nine, of different ages; their poor condition prevented an exact tally. Most were now collected in proper array, but the bones of one or two could only be hopelessly jumbled on a sack. The troops had lifted most remains from their resting places and laid them in a row – except one. One body lay apart and they had not touched it. One was new.

The men stood back. Silvius, Justinus and I went to look. While the workers waited, watching us, we surveyed the remains, pretending to be experts.

Most of the recovered bodies had been found in the ritual position, face down and with outstretched arms – the mark of the Modestus killers. There were no more severed hands. Petronius must have been right that this was the letter-writer's particular punishment for making appeals to the Emperor.

We had all seen dead men. Dead women too. We had seen flesh battered and bones treated disrespectfully. Even Justinus, the youngest here, must already know the swift sag of the stomach that comes in the presence of unnatural death. That smell. The mocking way skulls grin. The shock at the way human skeletons can hang together even when entirely stripped of meat and organs. The worse shock, when long-dead bones suddenly fall apart.