Lindsey Davis - The Jupiter Myth

'Lucius Norbanus Murena.' He was trying to place me.

'Your relaxed confidence at a formal dinner implies you are from Italy?' I was determined to place him. He had three names. That means nothing. I had three names myself yet I had spent much of my life scratching for the rent.

He was in his forties, maybe a little older; heavy, but he kept fit. He spoke well, with a lack of accent. There seemed to be enough money to kit him out in decent cloth; I think he had arrived here togate. This was not required in the provinces (where most locals did not even own a toga), but for visiting a residence it was good manners. His neat hair, beardless chin and manicured fingernails all spoke of acquaintance with a decent set of baths. With a strongly angled jawline, dark eyes, combed-back thick straight hair, I suppose he could be called handsome. You would have to ask a woman that.

'I'm from Rome,' he said. 'And you?'

'Rome too.' I smiled. 'Has tonight's set-up been explained? Due to the sudden arrival of an important British king, we are unexpectedly deprived of the governor and procurator. We're in the proc's house, as the gov still needs to build one grand enough; that lady in the embroidered gown is Aelia Camilla, your efficient hostess, wife of Hilaris. They are old British hands. She will ensure you are put on a future invitation list, with a chance to meet the notables.'

'And what is your role?'

'I'm family. Brought my wife to see her aunt.'

'So which is your wife?'

'The elegant Helena Justina.' I indicated her as she chatted pleasantly to the two dreadful Gauls. She loathed this kind of occasion, but had been brought up not to mock the concept of duty. She looked graceful and composed. 'The tall piece in refined white.' I had a suspicion that Norbanus had leered at Helena. I had noticed that she glanced at us, then straightened her stole around her shoulders with an unconsciously defensive air; I recognised unease in her.

Maybe I misread the mood. 'Ah yes; your wife very kindly saw me through the appetisers.' Norbanus spoke with a light inflexion of good humour. He was cultured and urbane. If such men prey on people's wives, they don't do it openly, and not at the first meeting, nor with husbands watching. For intelligent adulterers – and I felt he was intelligent – keeping husbands in the dark is part of the fun.

'Her noble mother trained her up as a helpful table companion.' I joined in the quiet satire. 'Helena Justina will have been responsible for setting you at ease, asking questions about your journey to Britain, and how you find the climate here. Then no doubt she passed you on to the stroppy madam in red, for the main course and polite enquiries about whether you have family and how long you intend your visit to last. My sister,' I added, as he switched his gaze to Maia.

'Delightful.' Maia had always been attractive. Men with an eye instantly fixed on her. As her brother, I had never been sure how she did it. Unlike Helena and her aunt, Maia tonight wore little jewellery. They both moved in fine ripples of gold, even out here at twilight where only small lamps swinging in rose bushes caught the filigrane beads in their bracelets and necklaces. My sister's drama came naturally; it came from her dark curls and the flashy ease with which she wore her trademark crimson. I felt no surprise when Norbanus asked politely, 'And is your sister's husband here?'

'No.' I let a beat of time elapse. 'My sister is widowed.' I was tempted to add: she has four demanding children, a furious temper, and no money. But that would be overprotective. Anyway, she might find out, and that temper of hers scared me.

'So, what line are you in, Falco?'

'Procurator of the Sacred Geese at the Temple of Juno.' My ghastly sinecure did have some uses. It nicely gave the impression that apart from a dubious role cleaning out augurs' hen-coops, I was a feeble man of leisure who lived off his wife's money. 'What about you?'

'You may not like this!' He had an honest charm. Mind you, I was no follower of honest charm. 'I am in property.'

'I have lived in rented apartments!' I returned, mentally scratching out 'honest'.

'I don't do domestic tenancies. Strictly commercial.'

'So what is your field, Norbanus?'

'I buy up or build premises, then develop them into businesses.'

'A big organisation?'

'Expanding.'

'How discreet. Still, no canny businessman reveals details of his balance sheet!' He only smiled politely, nodding in reply. 'What brings you to Britain?' I tried.

'Sniffing the market. Looking for introductions. Maybe you can tell me, Falco. This is the big question: what does Britain want?'

'Every damned thing!' I laughed gently. 'And first you have to explain to them how much they do want it… The natives are still being tempted down from hilltop villages; some have only just come in from their round huts. You start by telling them that buildings should have corners.'

'Gemini! It's more of a backwater than I thought.' We were by now on friendly terms – two suave Romans among the native barbarians.

I remembered that my job as a stand-in was to generate enthusiasm for this potholed byway. 'Optimistically, if the province stays Roman, the potential must be enormous.' Julius Frontinus would have applauded my two-faced bluff. 'Anyone who finds himself the right trading niche could make a killing.'

'You know the province?' Norbanus seemed surprised. 'Army.' Another useful cover; all the better for being true.

'I see.'

A slave brought us warm water and towels so we could rinse our hands after eating. The subtle hint broke up the party. Well, the Gauls might never have noticed that it was time to leave, but they were bored anyway. They bumbled off, discussing drinking-dens for a late night fling, with barely a nod to us. The British oysterman had already vanished. Norbanus bowed over the scented hands of the Three Graces in our goodbye line-up. He did thank Aelia Camilla and Helena perfectly civilly. It was to Maia that he stressed how much he had enjoyed the evening.

'Maia Favonia, good-night!' Interesting. Maia moved in a small circle and rarely used her full two names. I wondered how Norbanus knew them. Had he made a special effort to find out? Had I been jumpy, I might also have asked why.

I saw the guests off the premises. I made it look like a courtesy, rather than a ploy to ensure they stole nothing. Exhausted, I was longing for my bed. It was not to be. As I returned down a corridor of offices, I saw the centurion from last night's watch patrol hanging around.

'Waiting to be seen by someone?'

'There's been a development in the Longus case.' The centurion explained his presence only reluctantly.

'Petronius Longus is not an undesirable and it is not a case, centurion. What's the development?'

I was about to have trouble. I knew this type. His normal manner was a mixture of fake simplicity and arrogance. For me he saved a special sneer on top. 'Oh, are you Falco?'

'Yes.' The bakery fire was only last night; he cannot have forgotten meeting me.

'It was your name on the information sheet?' My description of Petronius had gone out from the governor's office, but Frontinus was not name-proud and he had let it carry my signature.

'Yes,' I said again, patiently. He did not like me, by the sound of it. Well I had some doubts about him. 'And what's your name, centurion?'

'Crixus, sir.' He knew I had him now. If I carried any weight with the governor, Crixus was stuck. But he managed to stay unpleasant: 'I don't quite remember what you said you were doing in the downtown area last night, sir?'

'You don't remember because you didn't ask.' His omission was an error. That evened things up between us. Why was he so bothered? Was it because he now realised I was not just some higher-up's domestic hanger-on, but someone with an official role that he had misinterpreted?