David Wishart - Bodies Politic

Yeah, well, that wasn’t surprising: Isidorus – Gift of Isis – is a pretty common Greek name, especially among Alexandrians. And I knew my Isidorus was an African, from Charax.

‘Flaccus threw him out of the city for rabble-rousing two or three years ago.’ Agron glanced at Cass again, but she was concentrating on her soup. ‘Now it seems he’s invited him back.’

I put the wine cup back down. ‘That doesn’t make sense. Unless the guy’s changed his spots and promised to keep his head down in future.’ Standard policy again: like I say, a governor’s first job bar none is to keep the pax romana. Persistent troublemakers are either booted or chopped, and they stay that way.

Agron shook his head. ‘He hasn’t and he isn’t. Not from what Mika says, although she’s delighted. As far as she and the Greeks are concerned the sun shines out of his arse at midnight.’

‘ Agron! ’

‘Sorry, love. But it’s true enough, Marcus. And he and Flaccus are bosom buddies now. Hence the threat of trouble. Oh, you’re Roman, you’d be safe enough personally because this is purely a Greek and Jewish thing, but even so if Perilla’s thinking at all of going over there now’s not the time.’

Well, that was good to know, anyway, and I could always add it to my battery of arguments if the lady did raise the subject again. Still, it was odd about this guy Flaccus. Indulging a known troublemaker, especially one you’d previously sat down hard on, just wasn’t something any competent Roman governor would do, even if there were other issues. And the guy would have to be competent, because the Egyptian governorship was one of the top imperial jobs.

‘When exactly did Flaccus -?’ I began; but Cass interrupted.

‘I think we’ve had quite enough of the subject for one afternoon,’ she said. ‘Especially when the bad language starts to creep in.’ I grinned. ‘Now eat up your soup before it gets cold, Marcus. Then you can tell us more about the wedding. We’re looking forward to it, Agron and I. We’ve never been up to the Alban Hills, and it’ll be our first real holiday in years.’

So we talked about dresses, and catering, and the arrangements for the honeymoon – Mother had offered Clarus and Marilla the use of the villa she’d just bought at Baiae for a couple of months – and I finished the wine off. Then the marauding hordes came back and I thought maybe it was time to be heading home.

It had been a profitable day, all round. And tomorrow, or the next day, as soon as he could round them up and ferry them over, Agron had promised to let me have the kids.

Once they arrived we were in business.

They came after sunset, two days later, six of them, loaded in a cart with Agron driving, plus a big-boned woman I didn’t know but who from the looks of her was another of Cass’s many sisters.

‘There you go, Marcus,’ Agron said, climbing down. ‘You get my message?’

‘Yeah, everything’s ready.’

‘Fine. I’ve brought you the sharpest of the bunch.’

The kids – they were all boys, ten or eleven years old – jumped screaming from the tailgate. Bathyllus, who’d fetched me outside to say they’d arrived, blanched.

‘ Now that’s enough! ’ the woman snapped. ‘You’ve all been told! Behave properly!’

There was instant quiet.

‘And this is Pausimache, one of my sisters-in-law.’ Agron grinned. ‘She’ll be keeping an eye on them while they’re here, if that’s all right.’

I nodded to her. ‘Hi, Pausimache,’ I said. ‘Glad to have you.’ I was: the lads were typical Ostian kids and it would take an experienced Ostian mother to keep them in hand, which meant the female equivalent of a legion’s First Spear. Pausimache clearly fitted the bill. Good name, too: Stay-the-Battle. ‘Okay, boys,’ I raised my voice. ‘Listen a minute. We’ve put you in the east wing. This is Bathyllus. He’ll see that you’re comfortable.’

Six pairs of eyes raked the little guy speculatively from head to toe and I saw him swallow. Me, normally I’d back Bathyllus against your crustiest senior senator or even a top-five-hundred dowager on a good day, but he was outclassed here and he knew it. With no Pausimache to ride shotgun on our guests he wouldn’t last five minutes.

‘ Ground rules,’ I said. ‘The rest of the house is out of bounds. No chasing the chickens. No pissing in the fountain. No Bathyllus-baiting. And no, absolutely no interference with next door. Even if their cat does come over the wall you leave it alone.’ We’d trouble enough with our ongoing feud with the Petillius household without them finding that someone had lynched their Admetus, especially since the hellhound Placida had managed to nail his sister before she was dragged off in ignominy to Castrimoenium. ‘Understood?’

They nodded. So did Pausimache. Grimly.

‘ Right, then.’ I brought out Paullus’s sketches. ‘One each.’ There was a scuffle as they surged forward. ‘Don’t grab, and anyone who tears or loses his goes straight home. This is the guy I want you to find. No flashing it around, no asking people, don’t make it obvious, you keep a low profile and your mouths shut and just look at faces. Okay so far?’ Nods. ‘Fine. We’ll begin with the Palatine. There’re six ways up there, so again that’s one each. I’ll get slaves to show you where these are. First thing in the morning and last thing in the afternoon when work starts and finishes’re your best times, but hang around all day anyway and keep your eyes open. Pay’s a silver piece each a day, plus ten to the one who finds him and tells me where I can find him without him or anyone else knowing that I know. Clear?’ They all nodded again. There had been a lot of elbowing and grins when I mentioned the money, which was a good sign: these kids dealt in coppers, if they were lucky. A silver piece was a rarity, and ten of them was a fortune. ‘Right. Any questions?’ One hand went up. ‘Yeah?’

‘Where’s the latrine?’

The rest sniggered. Pausimache glared at them and they stopped.

‘Bathyllus’ll show you in a minute. Any other questions?’ No one spoke. ‘Get settled in and then first thing in the morning off you go.’

They trooped off, with Bathyllus in the lead and Pausimache following behind.

‘They’ll do you a good job,’ Agron said when they’d gone. ‘What makes you think the guy’s on the Palatine?’

‘It’s a fair bet,’ I said. ‘He’d professional clerk written all over him, and he knew too much about me and Macro for him to be private. So imperial civil service is my best guess, and that’s where the main offices are. He won’t live up there, of course, but that’s all to the good because he’ll be in and out every day. We’ve got all the entrances covered, and the chances are that if he’s there we’ll spot him. If we don’t after two or three days we’ll try the Market Square district. That’s the other likely possibility.’

Agron shrugged. ‘Seems a long shot to me, but you’re the expert. And like I say they’re good boys, they don’t miss much. If he passes one of them then you’ll know.’ He grinned. ‘Mind you, Bathyllus is going to have a hell of a time in the meanwhile, even with Pausimache around. So’s Meton because they eat like horses.’

‘Any special diet?’

‘So long as you feed them plenty and often they’re not particular. Food is food is food. They eat what they can get, when they can get it, and they can’t afford to be picky.’

‘When I knew you were coming I had Meton cook up a big pan of bean stew with meatballs. That do them for tonight?’

The grin widened. ‘Meatballs? Marcus, they will kill for meatballs!’

‘Fine. Okay. So come in yourself and have something to eat. What about Pausimache? She want to eat with us or with the lads?’