Lindsey Davis - Ode to a Banker

'Was that,' he croaked, 'my toga you destroyed?' He hated wearing a toga, like any good Roman. Unfortunately, it was a necessary element of life.

'Afraid so.' I lolled against the outside wall, feeling slightly sick. 'Shredded, I fear. I would give you mine, but Nux whelped her pup on it.'

Petronius sat down on his haunches, unable to stay upright. He held his head between his hands. 'We can buy matching new ones, like best friends.' There was a pause. Not for the first time in our lives, we were best friends who were feeling rather ill. This time we could not even blame it on a night of debauchery. 'Thanks, Falco.'

'Don't thank me.' Petro had taken a lot of damage before I arrived. He was ready to pass out. I was too weak to help him much, but I could hear the vigiles coming up the stairs now. 'My dear Lucius, you haven't heard me confess yet what I did to your amphora.'

'Not the Chalybonium? I really wanted to try that…'

'Imported, isn't it? Must have cost you!'

'You damned menace,' Petronius muttered weakly. Then he keeled over. I had no strength to catch him, but I managed to get my left foot stretched out so his face – no longer that suffocated purple – landed on my foot. At least it was a better pillow than the floor.

I woke late, in my own bed again. My sister Maia was looking in at the bedroom door. 'Want a drink? I've made hot mulsum.'

Moving carefully, I crawled to the living room. I ached, but I had been worse. Nothing was broken or split open this time. I had no internal pain.

Nux and the puppy wagged ecstatic tails. The puppy wagged his little worm perpetually, but Nux meant a real welcome. Julia was striding about in her wheeled walking-frame; she no longer needed it, she just enjoyed the racket. Maia had been left in charge.

There was no sign of Helena. 'Do you know what she's doing?'

'Oh yes!' replied Maia forcefully. 'I know exactly what she thinks she's up to.' Cradling my beaker, I shot her an equiring look. Her tone of voice modified. 'Changing her library book, apparently.' Swapping Greek novels with Passus. Maia was obviously not going to tell me what had caused her to sound so indignant: some girls' stuff that I was not yet old enough to know about.

'How's Petronius?' The vigiles had stretchered him over here last night and laid him on our reading couch.

'Awake.'

'Well enough to keep an eye on you two,' he rasped himself, appearing in the doorway, barefoot, bare-chested and wrapped in a sheet. Julia trundled herself over to him, bumping hard into his knee. He winced. Maia indicated the end of my bench, then unhelpfully watched Petro aim himself across the room to sit. Once he had landed, he gave her a bared-teeth grin, acknowledging that he had nearly toppled over and that she had known it would be a close thing.

Maia looked at us, from one to another. 'You're a right pair.'

'Cute little treasures?' I suggested.

'Stupid chanters,' sneered Maia.

I wondered when Helena would return. I needed to see her. My sister would forget her scorn soon enough. Helena, who never said much after I had been in trouble, would nonetheless remember thisevent far longer and would grieve over its danger more deeply. Every time there were bad street sounds in the night, I would have to pull her into my arms and shield her from the memory of last night's terror.

Petro was reaching to collect the beaker Maia had grudgingly poured for him. The sheet slipped, showing widespread bruising. Scythax, the vigiles doctor, had been summoned last night and had examined him for broken ribs, but thought none was damaged. He had left a painkilling draught, some of which Petro unobtrusively poured into his cup.

'Looks horrible.' Maia was right. Petronius had a good body, but the giant must have wanted to hurt him before choking out his life. It would account for some of the noise Marius had heard. Maia squinted disapprovingly at the marbled black and purple results. Petro breathed in, showing off to her how he always kept in shape; her lip curled. 'You'll have to stop chasing the women. A few well-positioned cuts might have made you look romantic – but that's just ugly.'

'I'll stop chasing when I catch the right one,' said Petronius, gazing into his hot drink. Steam, comfortingly infused with honey and watered wine, wreathed around his battered face. He looked tired and still in shock, but his brown hair stood up boyishly.

'Really?' asked Maia, with a light disbelieving inflexion.

'Really.' Petro looked up suddenly with a faint smile that implied – well, maybe nothing at all.

We were all sitting subdued and silent when we were joined by Fusculus. He gazed around as if the atmosphere made him fear the worst, then weighed up his chiefs wounds with routine expertise. As a courtesy, he pulled a face. 'Nice ornaments!'

'Pretty effect, eh? It was close. Still, we're not booking a funeral. What's new?' Fusculus tossed a glance towards Maia. Suspicion mingled with masculine interest. Petronius said briefly, 'Falco's sister. You can speak.'

Now Fusculus was taking a better look at him, after noticing that Petro's throat was so sore it was limiting his speech. 'It's true? The bastard tried to strangle you…?'

'I'm all right.'

'Well, chief, I do have something to report. We know who he is. The description was easy enough to put around. He was a serious heavy, known as Bos. Built like a fighting bull -'

'We know that,' I commented.

Fusculus grinned. 'Rumour says you two tossed him over a balcony?'

'Very gently.'

'Accomplished with perfect etiquette? Well, Bos had a huge reputation. Nobody but you two crazymen would have dared tackle him. If you go down to the Forum today, you'll be treated like demigods -'

'What was his status?' interrupted Petronius.

'Brute-for-hire. Leaning on people. Squashing those who refused to co-operate. Mostly he just had to arrive on the doorstep and they gave up.'

'You surprise me!'

'Who used to hire him?' I asked Fusculus intently.

'Racketeers, rent-hungry landlords – and you guessed it: defaulted – on moneymen.'

'Particular clients?'

'Often a set of debt-collectors called the Ritusii. Harsh and hardhearted. Known for their tough methods and subtle hints of unacceptable violence.'

'Wrong side of the law?'

'No,' said Fusculus dryly. 'In their field, they make the law. They are never sued for compensation. Nobody lodges complaints.'

Petronius stretched awkwardly. 'I think I might make one.'

'Can we prove Bos was sent here by the Ritusii? Doubtful,' I reminded him. 'Neither they nor Lucrio will admit a connection; banks aren't supposed to use enforcers, for one thing. They made a bad mistake, attacking a vigiles officer – but they are unlikely to admit they sent Bos to hurt you.'

'They do know we suspect it,' Fusculus told us. 'A report had to go to the Prefect.' Petronius choked with annoyance. He had wanted to settle this in his own way. Still, he did not insist on knowing which over-hasty member of the cohort had made the report in his absence. 'The Prefect sent a detachment to pull their place apart.'

'Oh, good thinking! Find anything?' I scoffed sarcastically.

'What do you think?'

Petronius said nothing. Maia removed his empty beaker, which he seemed about to drop.

'Do these Ritusii hardmen openly work for Lucrio and the Aurelian Bank?' I demanded.

'Not openly,' said Fusculus. Then an expectant grin stretched across his face. He had something to tell us and wanted to see us react. 'Anyway, Falco, less business will be coming their way from that direction now – the Aurelian Bank has been inundated with scaredclients wanting to withdraw their funds. Lucrio froze all accounts this morning and called in specialist liquidators. The bank has crashed.'