Lindsey Davis - Nemesis

'Casta may have tried to hang on to him physically,' Helena agreed. 'I know I would. Imagine the scenes – with the child hysterically weeping, torn from his mother's grasp by brutal overseers. Next, with Casta's screams ringing in his little ears, he was taken many miles away, nobody telling him why or where he was going. Perhaps he felt it was a punishment for some unknown naughtiness. Plenty of punishment went on among the Claudii – - he knew that concept. Dumped at the Palace, he wakes up in a cold dormitory. Other children there were strangers. They may all have been older, may have bullied him.'

'He says his subsequent childhood seemed normal to him,' I said. 'But was it really? He learned to survive – - but trauma and fear moulded him.'

Petronius had been listening with distaste. Now he stretched his long legs and frame, looking too bulky for the couch. 'I'm more intrigued by where he is today. In adulthood, do you think he was aware who his family were?'

'I doubt it,' I said.

Petro grinned. 'We could ask him.'

'You could. I wouldn't. He would only lie. In fact, as long as he can, he has to. He cannot hold a high imperial post as a known relative of murderous criminals.'

'So we're getting to the heart of this, Falco. What happened to reunite them?'

'Two years ago, or thereabouts,' Helena reminded us, 'the mother, Casta, died.'

We were all silent for a while, wondering what that had been like, for the large sprawling family that Casta had ruled with her mixture of cruelty and indifference. Aristocles had gone before her. Casta's death destroyed their equilibrium, Virtus told me.

Aulus leaned forwards. 'I bet there was a mighty big funeral. The full wailing, hypocritical orations. All sorts of sentimental grief. And presumably it was around then that somebody thought of contacting their long-lost brother Felix.'

'Anacrites went to the funeral,' stated Maia. She was looking down at her feet. Maia was sitting sideways, adjacent to Petronius. Her feet were small, pressed together tidily, wearing stylish shoes in ox-blood leather. Maia looked at them as if she was wondering where the decorative footgear came from.

'It begs the question,' mused Helena, 'how did his siblings find him?'

Again Maia unexpectedly had answers. 'He told me once. He had a letter from his mother when she realised she was dying. After all, where he was taken as a child would not have been a secret. Casta must have followed his progress, either from affection or the possessiveness we mentioned. Anacrites answered her summons but when he got there it was too late. I never knew the funeral was in Latium; he kept quiet about his people living in the Pontine Marshes. It was just after I met him he told me, as a conversation gambit.'

'Was he upset?' asked Albia.

'He seemed so.'

'He could have been acting.'

'There was no reason for that.'

'That's him, though. Defying logic'

'His feelings need not concern us,' I said. 'The funeral was his downfall. Once they knew who he was, his brothers latched on like parasites. They saw Anacrites as their crock of gold. It looked innocent to start with. The twins asked for a job. How could he say no? He employed them; he may have welcomed them – agents he felt he could control, agents who would be loyal to him.'

Petronius shook his head. 'The twins arrive in Rome. Anacrites quickly grasps his error: he will never shake them off. They start whining about conditions on the marshes. Their background is a reproach, their presence in Rome an embarrassment. They threaten the spy's ambitions.'

'He wants out?' asked Quintus. 'But they refuse to go.'

'Anacrites' unpredictability increases due to his head wound,' Helena said. 'He becomes vulnerable at work, with his position threatened by Laeta and even by Momus. At some ghastly point he learns the kind of crimes Nobilis and the others have committed. By then he cannot escape.'

'And so we come to the Modestus murder.' I screwed my thumbs into my belt and took charge of the final argument. 'Everything went wrong with the fence dispute. Up to that point, I'd say Nobilis probably carried out all his killings in the area around Antium – the bodies Silvius has found. Nobilis and various brothers abducted people for years, usually travellers, often couples. Those cases were concealed, but he lost it with Modestus. By tailing Modestus to Rome, for once Nobilis left a trail. Nobilis – - presumably with Pius or Virtus – - killed Modestus on the Via Appia. They spent several days at the crime site, desecrating the body, then Nobilis went home. Primilla came looking for her husband, so he killed her too, with her overseer, Macer. That meant her nephew alerted the authorities and a posse arrived to shake down the Claudii. From then on, we can assume pressure was put upon Anacrites to protect them. That may well have been when one of them told him about the murders. It made him more insecure and dangerous. Crucially, he inherited the same manipulative traits as the rest of them – - a situation which they may not have foreseen. He turned on them.'

'He may have been appalled by their crimes,' Helena said, always fair.

'He was certainly furious about how it threatened him personally! Perella was sent after Nobilis, but Nobilis got away. Anacrites tried to remove Nobilis from the scene, taking him to Istria. Whose idea that was we can never know. Perhaps they really found their grandmother. One way or another, Nobilis refused to play; he would not stay in exile. Idiotically, he sailed back with Anacrites – - who then must have been as close to hysteria as he ever gets.'

'Not him!' Albia scoffed. 'He thinks himself invincible. In his eyes, everything that happens is manipulated by him. He believes he is a genius. When I was in his house he said, "Falco can't touch me; I run rings around him". He had been drinking, but he meant it.'

With a glance at Petronius, I said slowly, 'He may in fact have been more clever than we think. What Anacrites achieved may not have been entirely crude. The way he grabbed the Modestus case and warned off Petronius and me seems plain stupid. Some of his actions – - house searches, annoying the Vestals – seem worse.'

'Well, they were!'

'Perhaps not, Petro.'

'Oh Titan's turds!' Suddenly, Petronius saw where I was heading. He was tired after last night's shift with the vigiles. Realisation drowned him in self-disgust and frustration. 'He cannot be this clever!'

'Lucius, my old friend, I'm afraid he is.'

'He played us?'

'Tickled us like dim trouts in a mountain stream.'

While Petro cursed and tried to pretend this had not happened, Helena Justina took over from me, to explain the unpleasant truth. 'Anacrites had a dilemma. The Claudii were threatening to expose his background unless he protected them. He had to make them think he was looking after them – - while all the time that busy brain of his, the intelligence even Laeta compliments, was desperately finding ways to eliminate them instead. He had to deal with each in turn – and without the others noticing. He found the perfect solution. Marcus and Lucius, he used you two.'

With a deep sigh I acknowledged it. 'He took away our case -knowing we would refuse to give up. A pattern existed. We had continued on cases secretly before. We hated him. He used our own doggedness against us.'

Petro shared the confession: 'He organised either the twins or Nobilis to kill that courier, so they would think he was cleverly diverting attention from them in the Modestus case – '

'When I asked, he even admitted the diversion idea stank,' I said. 'He made sure we had seen through it. He wanted us to stick to the Claudii.'

Petronius groaned. 'Then he began picking them off- – using us. We did his dirty work; he looked innocent to his brothers. He sent Pius to us deliberately. He'd dispatched Virtus to the marshes, so he could not help his twin. We helpfully took Pius – '