Lindsey Davis - Ode to a Banker

'Marcus Didius Falco.' His manner was quaintly formal. He knew how to make a debtor feel like a man of substance just long enough to feel safe accepting yet another loan.

I had spent years trying to avoid this character when my funds were low. We had held many conversations about whether it was even worth my while to pay the hire-fee for the bankbox that contained nothing. On these difficult occasions, Nothokleptes had impressed me with both his common sense and his ferociously unyielding attitude. Fate had always saved me with some income at the last moment. For those who were less lucky, loans might be called in with cruel detachment. Like many men who wield power over unfortunates, he looked like a soft slob who would never find the energy to come down on them. How wrong that was.

'How are you this fine day, Marcus Didius?'

'Cut the niceties!' It was my usual rebuttal. I pretended he had a secret admiration for my roguishly uncouth manner. He simply gazed at me with that air of constant wonder. 'Listen, you evil scourge -' He bravely ignored the fake affection. 'I need inside information.'

'Fiscal advice? Or investment tips?'

'Neither. I'm not here to be pillaged.'

Nothokleptes shook his head sadly 'Marcus Didius, I long for the day you will tell me you have become a quaestuosus.'

'What – an upcoming new man, looking to get rich quick? I'm rich now!'

He harumphed loudly. 'Not by the world's standards.'

'You mean I should let you play dangerous games with my cash for your own profit?'

'Typical!' he groaned. 'This is Rome, of course. You are cautious men. The good Roman guards his patrimony, looking only for security, never profits.'

I squatted on the stool next to him, while his barber continued to ministrate fanatically to the oiled Pharaonic curls. 'That's about it; in Rome, the higher a man progresses up the social scale, the more commitments are thrust upon him and the less free he really is to spend his money… I'm promising nothing, but I do have a case with probable fees at the end of it. Have you heard of Aurelius Chrysippus?'

'I have heard that he's dead.' Nothokleptes had glanced at me sharply. He knew the kind of work I did.

'Everyone here in the Porticus is no doubt avid for details?' My banker inclined his head elegantly. At the same time, he pursed his fleshy lips as if chastising my crude insinuation. 'What can you tell me about him and his business?'

'Me, Falco? Assist you? In one of your enquiries?' When he was excited, his voice rose and he tended to speak in an affected manner that drove me mad.

'Yes. He died in a rather sensational manner. You may have heard that I am investigating?'

He waved his hand. 'This is the Forum! The very stones breathe rumour. I probably knew before you did.'

'You make me wonder if you knew Chrysippus was doomed before the man was even dead.'

'Tasteless, my friend!'

'Sorry. So what's the score?'

Nothokleptes was torn. Professional wariness warned him to clam up. But he was thrilled to be so close to a celebrated case. 'Is it true -' he began.

I cut him off: 'He had a scroll rod poked up his nose. But I never told you that.'

He hissed with dread. 'Dreadful! Was there a lot of blood?' I gazed at him, not saying.

'Ooh, Falco! Well…' He lowered his voice. We had a bargain, apparently. Honor was just another banking commodity; he was prepared to trade. 'What do you want to know?' I glanced at the barber. The man was impassively snipping at a long ear lock. 'Don't worry; he does not speak Latin.'

Unlikely, but Nothokleptes would secure his silence. 'I need anything you can give me, Nothokleptes. Especially if it's scandalous.'

Nothokleptes appeared to find a new respect for my trade if it could be so much fun. 'I have never heard much that's juicy. He has been here for years. There is a fearsome wife, who has a hand in everything.'

'Divorced.'

His eyebrows shot up. 'You really do surprise me!'

'Another woman – half his age. Now the other is the second wife. Why are you surprised by that?'

'There were always other women. Stagey blondes who looked like night-moths, mostly. Lysa would find out, then sweep in and chop off the affair. Chrysippus would sob and be a chaste husband for a while. Lysa would relent and loosen the shackles. Pretty soon, he would find himself some new working girl who giggled and flattered him at how clever he was with his abacus. After they were spotted in one theatre row too many, Lysa would descend on him again with a face like Jove's thunderbolt and a similar effect.'

'Did she never threaten to leave him?'

'She was the wife. It didn't work like that.' Nothokleptes tipped his head to one side, nearly sacrificing a ringlet to curiosity. Impassive, the barber waited until he straightened up again. 'So how did the new one finally shift Lysa out?'

'Vibia Merulla is not a working hag.'

'Oh clever!'

'She is not his usual blonde either, incidentally,' I said, half-hiding a smile.

'Fascinating!'

'Well, I can untwine the tangle with the women.'

'Your favourite occupation, Falco.'

'I've had enough practice, maybe. Tell me about the bank.'

'It's Greek.'

'A trapeza. So they take deposits -'

'And they offer credit. What we call an argentarius.'

'Same as you?'

'Subtle differences,' Nothokleptes prevaricated cagily. I was not surprised. The financial world is complex, with the services offered often varying according to the status and needs of the customer. 'I mean, the big fish get most out of it. To my mind, Greek changing and lending began with temples helping out travellers at religious festivals,' Nothokleptes said. 'In Rome we were always more geared to commerce. Quayside auctions -'

'Auctions! You mean art and antiques?' I asked in surprise, thinking of Pa.

He looked disgusted. 'Commodity auctions at markets and ports.'

'Oh!' Light dawned. I had seen this in operation at Ostia and here in the Emporium. 'You mean, you hang about when cargoes are landed, to offer loans for purchasing the goods? Wholesalers obtain credit, then pay you back when they sell on at a profit? But are you saying the Aurelian Bank does not do that?'

'Oh, I expect they cover the range.' He seemed to be holding back.

'So who uses them?' I asked.

'The Aurelian is a family affair. Small fry may approach them, but for big deals you have to be someone they know. Otherwise, they will never explicitly refuse you, but nothing will ever happen. They work in a small circle.'

'Matter of trust?'

Nothokleptes let out a sardonic laugh. 'That's the word! It means that here, we check out strangers' solvency by posting their names on the Columnia Maena and seeing if any of our colleagues can tell us their financial state. The Greeks want to know your grandfather and fifteen uncles sailing out of Piraeus. They want to believe you are one of them. Then your credit will be good. You could run off and default and they would still see you as one of them – though of course, you would not dare come back, which might be inconvenient.'

'What about their own credit?' I asked dryly. 'Banks can fail'

'Doh!'

'Hush; don't use such filthy language!'

'Any hint of problems with the Aurelian?'

'Not a whisper that I know of. I can listen out for you.' His eyes sharpened keenly, scenting an insider tip. Initiating doubt was not what I wanted to accomplish, but questions always carry a risk.

'Please do.' I looked at him. 'Chrysippus was very successful?' I felt Nothokleptes was ready to be more open now. 'So if he's not prowling the wharves doing commercial stuff, what is his speciality?'

'Loans with interest,' Nothokleptes told me. His tone of voice would have been more suitable for saying the man had had intercourse with a pet mule.