Lindsey Davis - Graveyard of the Hesperides

Since I was still trying to identify the five dead men at the Hesperides, I was interested in this competition. Appius agreed it could have been about ten years before. But there had only been two Numidians. Anyway, Appius had seen them a couple of times since, at the Emporium.

Not them then.

Another more minor issue, as Gavius told it, concerned attempts by a certain Arcadinus to undercut the trade in real stone in favor of cheaper painted mock marble, which he created. Arcadinus had made determined efforts to convince bar owners that painting was more fashionable, like putting fake garden designs on interior walls, or even outside in gardens. We had seen imitation marble at the Brown Toad, so at least one proprietor had fallen for it.

“Gavius saw him off. Arcadinus packed up his little fancy paint pots and has never been back.”

“But he was a one-man band?” I asked.

“He sometimes had a little lad to mix his colors.”

The bodies we found at the Garden of the Hesperides were certainly not a man and a boy. This was a red herring.

“How exactly did Gavius deal with such rivals?”

“Warned them off or froze them out.”

“No violence?”

“We are peaceable men. Besides, Gavius could sell a good deal to the clients, and he knew how to get in first. Newcomers could never push past us.”

So was there any more recent trouble not yet mentioned? No, Appius said; there had been no competition for years. Gavius had it all sewn tight.

“That won’t be what got him attacked then,” said Tiberius in a somber voice. His suddenly speaking made me jump.

“He wanted to see me today,” I remembered. “Trypho told me.” I noticed Appius listening closely. I explained that our watchman had had an odd encounter. “Something upset Gavius. Trypho had talked to him about Old Thales’ dog being accidentally despatched by a barmaid called Rhodina. Does any of that resonate with you, Appius? When you saw him last night, did Gavius mention the guard dog dying?”

Appius now spoke slowly, as if he was thinking. “He said Pudgy had been dug up again.”

“Just a few bones. And possibly the barmaid too-in her case, most of her.” I decided not to mention her severed head.

Even so, Appius blenched. He was pretty squeamish.

I apologized. “I am sorry, that was too gruesome.”

For a moment I thought we were getting nowhere, then Appius suddenly admitted that he did know why Gavius had been upset. “He told me in confidence.”

“He’s dead, Appius,” I urged him gently. “And it may help find his killer.”

Appius capitulated. Last night, Gavius had admitted something. Though unknown to him, his crew had known it all along: Gavius had had a soft spot for the beautiful Rhodina. They had palled up, even though she was officially the landlord’s girlfriend. Gavius thought Rhodina regarded him as a special friend in whom she could confide behind Old Thales’ back.

When I was talking to him about Rufia, I remembered Gavius saying, “They had others there”; in retrospect, now I knew he had a fancy for one of the other staff, he had had a look in his eye. “Did he sleep with her?”

“Everyone slept with her.”

That was business. For obvious reasons, while she was bedding Thales, any real friendship with another man had to be kept a secret.

“Did the rest of you reckon she saw Gavius as special?”

“We thought it was one-sided.”

“It would end in tears?”

“The poor fellow was fooling himself.”

Even so, Rhodina had confided in him. Gavius had known she was increasingly unhappy with Old Thales, Appius said. She talked about getting away. When Rhodina stopped serving at the Hesperides, Gavius assumed she had finally broken with the landlord. Then for ten years, Gavius meekly supposed she had upped and fled, without letting him know. He was hurt that she said nothing to him. Since nobody was supposed to know they were friends, there was nobody else he could talk to at the time about how upset he was. He simply accepted that she had not really liked him. He had been another part of her problems at the Ten Traders, someone else she must shake off. So he was conveniently dumped at the same time as Thales.

Men and women do delude themselves in relationships. When one party cannot take any more pretense, the one clinging on has a shock.

“Do you think Old Thales was aware Rhodina was close to someone?” I asked. Could her friendship with Gavius have caused what happened to her? “Was Thales jealous? He owned the bar; I expect he felt he owned the staff too. Could that be the real reason he quarreled with Gavius and threw your crew out of the Hesperides?”

“We all believed it was,” said Appius. “We never said anything to Gavius. He was private. He would have hated to talk about it, especially since he thought Rhodina dumped him too. We looked after him, pretending not to notice, until he felt better. Until last night nobody ever mentioned her again. I was flummoxed when her name came up yesterday.”

“And why did Gavius say he wanted to talk now? Because Rhodina was blamed by Thales for killing the dog?”

“Oh no, he always knew that. It wasn’t the dog; it was your man telling him Rhodina was buried in the garden. You see, until then we all thought Thales was so keen, he had no reason to do anything to her. Even despite his dog dying. Of course,” said Appius, “Gavius being Gavius, he was upset that Pudgy choked. He didn’t blame Rhodina though. It made no difference to how he felt about her, though he could understand why Thales made a fuss. But last night your man told him Rhodina was dead and that got Gavius thinking.”

“Ah!”

“She was very good-looking.” Appius made this statement, then whistled and outlined with his hands a voluptuous figure. “Not a young girl, mind. She’d lived with other men. She even had family. And that was why Gavius became curious yesterday.”

“Tell me.”

One reason Gavius had believed Rhodina left the Ten Traders of her own accord was that she had two infant children. She was bringing them up by herself; they probably had different fathers. It had never been a secret; Thales knew, Gavius knew, everyone did. For convenience, she kept them in a more suitable room elsewhere, not at the bar. A minder looked after them while she was working. When Gavius went there looking for her, this woman at the lodging said the children were gone. They had been suddenly collected and taken away; the minder was as surprised as anyone. Nor did she know where they went.

Until now, Gavius had always assumed the little ones were picked up by Rhodina herself, as she secretly escaped. But when Trypho had said her body was buried at the bar, he realized that could not be.

So who took those children? And where were they now?

We let Appius go off to the marble-suppliers’ guild.

As Tiberius and I walked, I was thinking about who killed Rhodina, and why. And who attacked Gavius? Was it the same person? If so, it couldn’t be Old Thales. If Thales killed Rhodina, why would anybody else need to stop Gavius talking to me about it?

I had no doubts the attack was meant to silence him. That meant whoever visited him knew about his plan to talk to me. How did the killer or killers find out? Appius had said nobody else joined them for supper. I would ask at the Brown Toad, where Trypho had seen Gavius go for a drink. Otherwise, he had a discussion with whoever came to his room, and that led to them killing him.

That would mean they habitually carried a knife. In Rome arms were illegal-although, as elsewhere, many in the High Footpath region ignored that. I had a “fruit knife” myself. In case I needed to slice up an apple, of course, your honor.