Lindsey Davis - A dying light in Corduba

'No. Maximus came to warn me that his lads had seen fit to allow in a dancer.'

'Warn you, sir?'

'The dancer had been asking questions – it is presumably the same woman who had already accosted me. She is taking an interest in what happened when we went to Rome. Well, you must know who I mean! She's asking much the same as you, Falco; Annaeus and I presume you are working with her. She has been hanging around Corduba for weeks.'

'I can see how that would have alarmed you all!' I avoided comment on the suggestion that I was part of some joint enquiry team. 'And how did this frighten Rufius Constans?'

'What upset him, and made me persuade him to appeal to the proconsul, was that the dancer who performed for the Annaei had also been asking questions about the other girl. One of the Annaeus boys had then told her that it was Constans who paid for Selia's trip to Rome. On learning that, for some reason, my grandson became hysterical.'

I could have told him the reason. Perhaps it was better to leave Licinius merely puzzled than to say that Selia's performance in Rome had included murder. Rufius Constans had been her paymaster. I could not believe he had known what he was doing. It seemed much more likely the poor boy was someone's dupe. But it looked bad – and had probably seemed worse to him. It would be easy to suggest that it had been Rufius Constans who panicked and paid Selia to start crashing inconvenient enquirers into Roman walls. My own view was that he was too immature to do that. However, his precise role called for examination, as the boy must have realised.

I could imagine his thoughts when he heard his grandfather and Annaeus Maximus – two men who were normally barely on speaking terms – anxiously discussing government enquiry agents, then revealing that one official had been told how Selia and Constans were linked. He probably thought he was about to be arrested – and so he should have been, both to protect him as a witness and to allow time to question him. Frankly, if he were still alive, I would be arresting him myself.

We made a slow and thoughtful journey back to the Camillus estate. I travelled in the carriage this time, and told Helena of my talk with the grandfather. Helena was feeling very tired but still had strength to worry about the bereaved family. 'Something needs to be done for poor Claudia.'

'What's her problem? I think she's seen through Quadratus.'

'Quadratus may think much more of her though, now she's the sole heiress!'

I grinned. 'I wouldn't worry. Claudia may have become a fortune-hunter's dream – though I'm sure her grandpapa is up to the situation. Anyway, as you said yourself once, the Quinctii will be looking for a bride with seven consuls in her pedigree and an ancestry she can trace on copper tablets all the way to the Seven Kings of Rome.'

'Meanwhile Claudia,' said Helena, 'harbours serious ideas of using her inheritance to make endowments in the local community. She wishes to make her life as a female benefactress to Corduba – and now that she'll inherit the entire family fortune, she'll be even more determined.'

'Commendable! Still, she's not averse to men.'

'No,' Helena agreed. 'She is a good young woman with a fine character. She has been well brought up. She is honest, direct, serious, and loyal to those she loves. She ought to be head of her own household; she will make a chaste, intelligent partner and an admirable mother.'

I knew my girl. 'That's a set speech! What exactly are you planning, fruit?'

'She could be married with a clause in her dowry that says large sums are supplied for the comfort of her husband and any children – but that Claudia Rufina is to have a fixed annual amount to devote to the community.' 'Married to whom, my darling?'

'How about someone from a rising senatorial family who are not snobbish about background, but who would be happy to offer their position and refinement -'

'In return for her glittering collateral?'

'Oh, don't be crude, Marcus!'

'It was your idea,' I pointed out.

'She already knows Aelianus,' mused Helena.

'Of course she does,' I answered, thinking how much pleasure it would give me to shackle that young man to a serious girl with a rather large nose whose funds he was forced to respect.

Helena looked pleased with herself. 'She's a nice girl. Marius Optatus may not be too pleased with me, but I think I'm going to invite Claudia to Rome. Obviously she cannot stay with us -' No; our cramped, ill-decorated apartment was not the place to entertain a fabulous olive oil heiress. 'So I shall have to ask Mother to take her instead!'

'Well, I'm sure she'll conquer Rome with ease, my love – and her fortune should conquer your brother! Just give me a chance to clear up the residue of events from her own brother's disastrous visit to the Golden City first.'

Our house was quiet and subdued that evening. Nobody took much enjoyment in dinner, and we dispersed quickly afterwards. I was sitting alone in the garden, trying to shape my thoughts into some sort of order, when Marmarides coughed.

'Something is not right with the carriage, Falco.'

'That seems fairly typical of Baetica! Do you need a part fixed?' My heart sank. As I remembered his employer, the ex-legionary Stertius, his invention and prowess with machinery had far excelled mine.

'There is a difficulty with the hodometer,' Marmarides confessed.

Well, that was no more than I expected. Over-elaborate gadgets always go wrong. In fact if I come anywhere near them, even simple ones, their rivets snap. 'Do you want me to have a look at it?'

'Later, perhaps.'

To my surprise Marmarides deposited his slight figure on my bench then produced a bundle of note-tablets from a pouch at his belt. He opened one or two; they were covered with slanting figures in a big, careful hand. Every line began with the name of a place. Some were dates.

'What's this, your travel diary?'

'No; it's yours, Falco.'

'Are you writing my memoirs for me, or auditing my expense claims?'

Marmarides laughed his jovial laugh. Apparently I was a crack wit. Then he laid his tablets open on his knee and showed me how every time we took a trip in the carriage he listed it, with the date and the new mileage. When we came to make a final reckoning of how much I owed Stertius, the driver would be able to demonstrate our usage of the vehicle exactly, should I venture to disagree with his reckoning. Plainly his master Stertius thought of everything. Stertius must have dealt with argumentative types before.

'So what's up?'

'Today you went over to the Rufius house, stopped on the way where we all talked about the young man being killed, then I drove you home. Now it is evening. I feed the mules, clean the carriage, and sit down with my little stylus to make up the record.'

'And?'

'The miles don't fit, Falco.'

My first reaction was bored incomprehension. 'Well, if you're slightly out I won't have a seizure. I can trust you on one or two discrepancies – Mind you, Helena Justina keeps my accounts and she's more precise.'

'Falco, how far do you think it is to the Rufius house?' 'Four or five miles?'

'So don't you see, Falco?'

'I'm very tired still from my trip to Hispalis…'

'This line here,' Marmarides explained stubbornly, pointing to his last written note, 'is my count for your last trip that I know about – when Helena and you went into Corduba and you interviewed Cyzacus and Gorax. The day we all had a fight on the riverbank.'

'I'll never forget. You fell in. I thought I would have to compensate Stertius for drowning his freedman… So now you have to add a new line about today?'

'I go to the hodometer and count the pebbles that remain.'

'And you notate this column?' I indicated the final row, where the figures diminished with each entry.