Lindsey Davis - Saturnalia

This was a true family occasion. We walked back indoors for another drink-Pa and I both extremely keen to open up the amphora he had hospitably brought, rather than Gaius' vinegar. Junia's hired ghost had arrived.

'Whoo-hoo?!' he went, spookily gliding around in a white garment with his face hidden. Silent children cowered against their mothers, thrilled. Helena and Junia were equally thrilled, now the children had calmed down. We men stood and applauded, pretending to be brave. Only Gaius Baebius was quaking, since I had just muttered to him to keep a check in case the spook stole something. Pa couldn't care less so long as it was over quickly; he was too busy shifting from foot to foot as the red hot pain flared up in his damaged posterior. I was stunned: I knew this ghost, though he did not remember me. It was Zoilus.

He might be crazy, but as Saturnalia entertainment that could only help. I had thought when I met him on the Via Appia that he must have had theatrical training. Actors are often paid too little to lead decent lives, and Zoilus had the air of being too unreliable to obtain steady work. Even so, he was on some good contacts list. Junia had obtained him from the Theatre of Marcellus, a snooty monument built and named for a nephew of Augustus, but not above providing acts for private homes. Intellectual aesthetes employed small teams to give them masterpiece-theatre all to themselves, on rickety stages in their chilly villas. Children's parties in fine mansions had little entertainments where the spoiled brats threw food at the performers. Stage donkeys were popular. And there was always a demand for sexy charades at degenerate banquets. The stage donkeys, and sometimes stage cows, featured in those too-usually having a really good time with some stage virgin.

'They offered me a stage donkey,' saidJunia, unaware of the effect she caused in some of us. 'But I didn't think we had the room.'

'Very wise!' intoned Pa seditiously.

When Zoilus had finished his turn, I cornered him. 'That was a good haunting-though not as frightening as when you jumped me on the Via Appia!' I backed him up against Gaius and Junia's petite but decorative Greek urn display stand. Their four alabastra and their kylix (which had one broken handle, but Pa thought it was reproduction anyway) wobbled disconcertingly. 'Now before you get paid, you will answer me some questions.'

'Marcus, mind my precious red figures!'

'Just shut up, Junia. This is men's talk. Talk, being the big word, Zoilus.'

'I am just a restless spirit-'

'I know, I know; drifting about eternity like a dried leaf… Why did you call Zosime a bringer of death?-Don't go all vague on me. My sister's going to give you a big bowl of her deep-fried sesame balls as thanks for this evening, so there's no need to be ethereal. You'll need a strong stomach. Why did you say it, Zoilus?'

'I don't know-ow-Owl' He might be a spirit but he knew when his privates were kneed. This was my first time putting the persuaders on a ghost. His ectoplasm had more substance than he pretended. After a couple of wine cups, I was not gentle; my sudden jerk produced a satisfactory shriek.

'Stop messing about, or you'll really be dead and I won't bother to bury you.' I had no time for finesse. 'Look here-Members of my family, some of whom are young and sensitive, are gathering to see what's going on. I'll have to beat you up fast and very hard…' Zoilus understood. He had roamed among vagrants long enough to know about impatient men and the pain they could inflict.

He caved in and answered me sensibly. He knew about the runaways who died in the night even though they were fit, or halfway fit. I asked if he had seen any being killed. He moaned a bit, which I took for an affirmative. I asked if the killer was a woman or a man; to my surprise, he said a man. It was one of the few statements I had ever heard him make with firmness.

'Are you sure? So what had Zosime to do with it?'

'Woo-oo…' This tremor was barely audible.

'Oh stop it, Zoilus. Brace up, you ghoul! If I brought him in front of you, could you identify this man?'

But Zoilus collapsed. Hiding his head in his spectral robe, he just writhed about and moaned more. Eventually I foolishly loosened my hold on him as Junia interrupted again, bringing a tray of dubious looking bites. Zoilus made a sudden run for it, through a set of double doors and away across the home-built sun terrace that was the pride and joy of Gaius Baebius. My hands were too greasy to stop him; my will was flagging too. As he fled, he snatched the purse with his agreed fee from Junia, but ignored her snacks. Maybe he could tell that my sister's famous over-salted, under-spiced deep-fried sesame balls were as hard as Pluto's heart in Hades.

Eleven days before the Kalends of January (22 December)

The sixth day of Saturn alia often sees revellers reviving. Those who had been out of their heads for the past five days either die of drink and debauchery or learn to live with their condition. I felt I was enduring the worst aspects, with no chance to enjoy myself I missed the good events because of my work, and was sober for the grim ones.

Junia's layered cheesecake was repeating on me acidically when I climbed out of bed. Helena rubbed my hunched shoulders and crooned sympathetically.

'I'm depressed about that flautist.'

'I know you are, love. Maybe today Mother will manage to get into the Vestals' House. She knows we are going to them tonight-' 'Are we?'

'I'm sure I told you, Marcus.'

'I'm sure you thought you did!'

'Oh please be good about it. Mother is trying to create a normal festival for Claudia. She will do her best for you; she realises you're bound to ask has she talked to Ganna.'

Being 'normal for Claudia' might be Julia Justa's aim, but her eccentric daughter threatened to jeopardise that: Helena had a bad conscience about leaving the priestess on her own for the past two evenings, so she proposed taking Veleda with us this time.

'That's risking trouble! Ulterior motive?-You think ifClaudia hits her hard enough, Veleda will be done for and my problem will be over?'

'Desperation! Somehow, Marcus, we have to resolve issues.'

I said I wanted to resolve what I would have for breakfast first. It ended up being honey on a brown roll, but I ate it on the hoof Petronius Longus sent me a message to come to the doctor Mastarna's house. It wasn't to help Petro face up to a medical consultation: Scaeva's physician had killed himself

I walked to the place by the Library of Pollio, musing on how many times I had been called out at first light by the vigiles. Suspicious deaths often occurred at night. Either that, or nosy neighbours informed at the patrol house last thing, so they could go to bed with a clear conscience. Sometimes the watch simply found the corpses while they did their rounds.

When I reached the house, processing was virtually complete. 'Your name came up,' Petro informed me dourly. Whenever he found me involved in a case, he disapproved.

What had happened looked obvious. Mastarna had been found by his housekeeper, the lop-sided midget I had seen before busying herself around his smart apartment. She was now pretty shocked. Sometimes if she had backache Mastarna would give her a 'tonic' so she slept well and the pain eased. She must have known that he had a habit of dosing himself with mandrake too, but she had not expected the jug of poison.

We know he did himself in,' Petronius confirmed. 'It's classic. He left a note.'

'Don't say that's where my name cropped up?'

'Bright boy. "There is no wayout. Falco knows everything. I apologise."

So what's that about?'

I sat down to think. His despair could be because I had announced yesterday that I was on the verge of identifying Scaeva's killer. Petro and I gazed at the Etruscan lying on his reading couch. The toga he had worn so fastidiously when Helena and I visited now lay in a crumpled heap on the floor, one of the signs that he had roamed about the room in anguish before he stretched out on his couch, with a jug of dark liquid. There was a clean cup on the tray, untouched. He had swigged straight from the jug. Then he tossed the valuable article across the room. Drips followed its progress. One of the vigiles rubbed at a spot on the floorboards; Petro kicked him just in time as he went to lick his finger and taste the stuff.