Lindsey Davis - Last Act In Palmyra

Despite my fears, the meal was impressive: huge salvers of Eastern delicacies decorated with olives and dates; warmed bread; grains, pulses and spiced meats; small bowls of sharp pastes for dipping; plenty of salt and pickled fish from Lake

Tiberias. Phrygia served with an offhand manner, as if she was surprised by her own success in concocting the feast. Both hosts implied that food was incidental to their lives, though I noticed that all they ate was of the best.

Their travelling dinnerset was one of bold ceramics, with heavy metal drinking cups and elegant bronze servingware. It was like dining with a family of sculptors, people who knew shape and quality; people who could afford style.

The domestic quarrel had gone into abeyance; probably not abandoned, but deferred.

'The girl knew what she was doing,' Phrygia commented on Ione, neither bitter nor condemning.

I disgreed. 'She can't have known she would be killed for it.' Minding my manners, for the mood seemed more formal than I was used to, I scooped up as many tastings as I could fit in my feeding bowl without looking greedy. 'She enjoyed life too much to give it up. But she didn't fight back. She wasn't expecting what happened at the pool.'

'She was a fool to go there!' Chremes exclaimed. 'I can't understand it. She thought the man she was meeting had killed Heliodorus, so why risk it?'

Phrygia tried to be helpful: 'She was just a girl. She thought no one who loathed him could have the same reason for loathing her. She didn't understand that a killer is illogical and unpredictable. Marcus – ' we were on first-name terms apparently ' – enjoy yourself. Have plenty.'

'So do you think', I asked, manipulating a honey dip on my flat bread, 'that she wanted to let him know she had identified him?'

'I'm sure she did,' Phrygia answered. I could tell she had been thinking this through for herself; perhaps she had wanted to feel certain her own husband could not be involved. 'She was attracted by the danger. But the little idiot had no real idea this man would see her as a threat. She was not the type to blackmail him, though he would probably suspect it. Knowing Ione, she thought it was a good giggle.'

'So the killer would have felt she was laughing at him. The worst thing she could have done,' I groaned. 'What about the playwright? Did she have no sense of regret that Heliodorus had been removed from society?'

'She didn't like him.'

'Why? I heard he once made a play for her?'

'He made a play for anything that moved,' said Chremes. According to what I had heard, this was rich coming from him. 'We were always having to rescue the girls from his clutches.'

'Oh? Was it you who rescued Byrria?'

'No. I would have said she could take care of herself.'

'Oh would you!' Phrygia exclaimed, with a scornful note. Chremes set his jaw.

'Did you know about Heliodorus trying to rape Byrria?' I asked Phrygia.

'I may have heard something.'

'There's no need to be secretive. She told me herself.' I noticed that Chremes was stuffing his bowl with seconds, so I leaned forward too and gathered up more.

'Well, if Byrria told you… I knew about it because she came to me in great distress afterwards, wanting to leave the company. I persuaded her to stay on. She's a good little actress. Why should she let a bully destroy a promising career?'

'Did you say anything to him?'

'Naturally!' muttered Chremes through another mouthful of bread. 'Trust Phrygia!'

Phrygia rounded on him. 'I knew you would never do it!' He looked shifty. I felt shifty myself, without any reason. 'He was impossible. He had to be dealt with. You should have kicked him out then and there.'

'So you warned him?' I prompted, licking sauce off my fingers.

'It was more of a threat than a warning!' I could believe that. Phrygia was some force. But in view of what Ribes had told me, I wondered if she really would have kicked out the playwright while she thought he might know something about her missing child. She seemed definite, however. 'I told him, one more wrong move and he could no longer rely on Chremes to be soft; he would march. He knew I meant it too.'

I glanced at Chremes. 'I was growing extremely dissatisfied with the man,' he declared, as if it was all his idea. I hid a smile as he made the best of a losing situation. 'I was certainly ready to take my wife's advice.'

'But when you reached Petra he was still with the company?'

'On probation!' said Chremes.

'On notice!' snapped Phrygia.

I decided I could risk a more delicate subject. 'Davos hinted you had good reason to take against him anyway, Phrygia?'

'Oh, Davos told you that story, did he?' Phrygia's tone was hard. I thought Chremes sat up fractionally. 'Good old Davos!' she raved.

'He didn't pass on details. As a friend, he was angry about Heliodorus tormenting you. He only spoke to illustrate what a bastard the man had been,' I muttered, trying to soften the atmosphere.

Phrygia was still in a huff. 'He was a bastard all right.'

'I'm sorry. Don't upset yourself- '

'I'm not upset. I saw exactly what he was. All talk – like most men.'

I glanced at Chremes, as if appealing for help to understand what she was saying. He lowered his voice in a useless attempt at sensitivity. 'According to him, he had some information about a relative Phrygia has been trying to trace. It was a trick, in my opinion -'

'Well, we'll never know now, will we?' Phrygia blazed angrily.

I knew when to retreat. I let the subject drop.

I savoured some nuggets of meat in a hot marinade. Evidently the tattered appearance of the troupe as a whole belied how well its leading players lived. Phrygia must have invested lavishly in peppers while she travelled around, and even in Nabataea and Syria, where there were no middlemen to pay if you bought direct from the caravans, such spices were expensive. Now I could understand more fully the mutters of rebellion amongst the stagehands and musicians. Frankly, given the meagre cut I was awarded as playwright, I could have gone on strike myself. I was developing a fascinating picture of my predecessor's situation during those last days of his life. At Petra he had been a marked man. Davos had told me previously that he had given Chremes an ultimatum to dismiss the scribe. Now Phrygia said she had done the same, despite the hold Heliodorus had tried to apply using the whereabouts of her missing child.

Having taken over his job and gained some insight into his feelings, I almost felt sorry for Heliodorus. Not only was he badly paid and his work hated, but his career with the company was firmly under threat.

The atmosphere had relaxed enough for me to speak again. 'So really, by the time you hit Petra, Heliodorus was on his way out?'

Phrygia confirmed it. Chremes was silent, but that meant nothing.

'Did everyone know that he was being given the heave-ho?'

Phrygia laughed. 'What do you think?'

Everyone knew.

I found it interesting. If Heliodorus had been so visibly under threat, it was highly unusual that somebody had snapped. Normally, once a troublemaking colleague is known to have attracted attention from management, everyone else relaxes. When the thieving cook is about to be sent back to the slave market, or the dozy apprentice is to be packed off home to mother at last, the rest just like to sit back and watch. Yet even with Heliodorus on the hop, somebody still could not wait.

Who could hate him so much they wanted to risk all by killing him when he was leaving anyway? Or was it a case where his very leaving caused the problem? Did he possess something, or know something, that he was starting to use as a lever? If I go, I take the money!…If I go, I tell all… Or even, If I go, I don't tell, and you'll never find your child? The issue of the child was too sensitive to probe.