Lindsey Davis - Graveyard of the Hesperides

“She had no family, you said. Was that because she got rid of her own too?”

“Oh no, I don’t think so. Well, you get a feel for these things-I always thought she was one of those women who just couldn’t conceive. She had plenty of chances. Being a barmaid-you can imagine!”

“Did she want children?”

“I suspect so. She always spoke really nicely to my little ones if she met us in the street.”

“So, Gran, she looked after the good-time girls instead?”

“That’s right. That brought out her caring nature. She was a hard woman in many ways. I expect if she’d had her own, she might have been quite different.” The granny laughed, reminiscing. “Well, you have to stay calm then, don’t you? I say she was hard, but that was just her attitude. She talked hard. She stood no nonsense. But you knew where you were with her, and she was never unfair. People liked her for it.”

I put aside my food bowl. “Somebody failed to appreciate her. She was killed at the Hesperides.”

“Was she?” The granny assumed a vague, watery-eyed look. It was the kind of disassociation my own would have used. I am just a poor old body who can’t answer anything difficult … “Well, I don’t know about that, dear.”

“So you know nothing about the five men either, whose bodies we have dug up?” She shook her head with determination. I tried pressing her, though I knew it was hopeless. “They could have been salesmen-it’s been suggested. I don’t know what they were trying to sell.”

To my surprise, the old one suddenly perked up. “Oh, that would have been the cladding-sellers,” she cried. “Gavius and his crew. They were always coming round in them days. They used to love a night out drinking at the Hesperides.”

“Oh! But that was in the past?”

“Fell out with Thales. He was like that. Took against people for no reason, never mind if they was good customers. Stupid kind of man.”

“Or they stopped coming because they are all dead, Gran.” She looked at me quizzically. “If they fell out, would Thales have gone so far as to have them murdered?”

She now stared as if I were barmy. “No,” she explained, with a pitying manner. “Old Thales was a coward. But none of those men are dead. Whatever gave you that idea, Albia? They are as alive as you or me, same as always. Alive and decent-enough boys, for salesmen. They live in Mucky Mule Mews. As I recall, Rufia used to lodge in a cheap room above Gavius and his parents, when he lived with them.”

I drew in a deep breath. Then, since she seemed to have no more to tell me, I took the warm hot pot off the brazier and carried it across the road to give my man his lunch.

“Albia! You took your time.” Ravenous, my bridegroom sounded as sharp as if we were married already. Could our bliss be over-so soon?

It seemed worth reviving; I kissed him. “I apologize, darling. But I bring holy broth made from bootleg beef, if you don’t mind stealing from the gods-”

“Sorry, divine ones…” Tiberius grasped the bowl of hot pot, already pulling his folding utensil set one-handed from a pouch. He kissed me back-so there was hope for us-then leaned himself against a pile of full sacks, falling to. Although he was a pious man, he seemed unfazed by benefiting from a bull that had escaped sacrifice. Nor did he take any notice of Dromo, who had been drawn into the courtyard by the stew’s enticing scent, looking hopeful.

Dromo was pushed aside by Julius Liberalis, the Hesperides landlord, arriving in a bate. I took over, so Tiberius could eat without harassment.

“Liberalis! Your contractor is busy. Come and talk to me instead.” Tiberius was listening in, so I pitched my voice so he could hear and catch up on my latest discoveries. “I have been learning some dirty things about your precious bar-not least that it once was a center for local abortions.”

“Rubbish!” Liberalis blustered, unconvincingly. “These premises are wholly above board.”

“Possibly now. It will be up to you how you choose to run your hostelry, won’t it, genial proprietor?” Playing fair, I allowed he might alter the bar’s character for the better. “You need to buck up though. Since Old Thales passed on, the Garden of the Hesperides has already come under vigiles scrutiny-and you haven’t even started yet.”

“Is it my fault you dug up a load of old bodies?”

I felt my chin lift. “Bodies that are assuming a more mysterious role than ever. I now know about the salesmen who were in the bar on the night of the tragic events. They were locals, a group of men who are still well- known in the Ten Traders. They simply stopped coming because Thales quarreled with and then barred them. My sources reckon the falling-out was most likely unprovoked.”

Liberalis had the grace to nod. “Yes, he was rather like that.”

“Don’t model yourself on him then! Ever heard of Gavius?”

“I know him. He sells marble as a fascia for bar counters. Acting as a middleman for all the big quarries. He reclad both of our worktops recently.”

In that case, it was indefensible that Liberalis had previously claimed to know nothing about the salesmen and their evening drinks. I wanted to know why he had lied, then more about the salesmen, possible witnesses, and their connection with the bar. “Was this work done after you took over, or was Thales still living?”

“No, he’d gone. It was my first improvement, straight after the bar came to me. What of it?”

“Well, to start with, you were present the night Rufia vanished. So when I asked who was here then, you strung me along deliberately.”

“All right, I thought it might have been them.”

“No, you knew! Now if the Gavius crew are not our five buried skeletons, I ask you yet again. What other group came to the bar that night? Who are those dead men?”

The new landlord applied an innocent expression, still pretending he was quite different from his more raffish predecessor. “Sorry, I can’t help.”

“Maybe Gavius will tell us,” Tiberius mumbled through a mouthful of stew, trying to scare Liberalis for me.

“Good thinking, love.” I played along. “I’ll call on him next. The marble crew won’t remember drinking or shagging a barmaid ten years ago; they probably do that every night. But having a big row with Thales should have stuck; they can tell us who was here then. They may even say what Julius Liberalis was doing that evening, since his own memory is so vague.” Liberalis shuffled anxiously.

Had Thales quarreled with the marble-suppliers deliberately, to make them go home before the real trouble started? Was he clearing the bar, to leave no potential witnesses to what he already had planned?

“So tell me,” I broached Liberalis, changing my tone, “what brings you here today, looking so anxious?”

I hoped he had had a serious rethink. No chance of that, unfortunately. “I came to see the damage to my bar,” he grouched instead.

I refused to sympathize. “Well, you came too late, man. You’re using a good contractor; it is already cleaned up and reinstated.”

“Yes, I can see. But Manlius Faustus sent a message about what it was like this morning.”

Manlius Faustus stayed on his sacks, methodically spooning up stew.

“I saw it myself, a total mess. Liberalis, all you cared about from the start is whether this will hold up the work.” Exasperated, I went fully onto the attack. “Of course the real problem is that we have uncovered a serious crime, the culprits are clearly still out there, yet nobody-especially you-has the sense to tell us who they are. There would have been no damage to your place if we had had these people in custody. It’s time for you to cooperate, I’d say!”