Lindsey Davis - Graveyard of the Hesperides

This explained why Liberalis always sounded so anxious; he must have feared he could lose a fortune. Possibly even Rufia had wanted a share, in return for running the bar. Then along came the fecund Rhodina. Money explained why a barmaid that everyone else hankered after had cozied up to Thales of all people. Liberalis may have realized he himself looked so hopeless that Thales, under pressure, might easily change his mind about who was left the bar.

Liberalis won out but I reckoned ten years ago he nearly lost it. It was time to take a much harder look at him.

The new information offered me reasons why the long-term waitress Rufia might also harbor bad feelings: Thales used her efficiency, only to prefer a much prettier, younger squeeze. No wonder Rufia loathed the incomer. If she thought bosomy Rhodina was after the money, she would stop her and she may even have courted Liberalis as her ally. Meanwhile, if Rhodina was pregnant with a child she claimed Thales fathered, her assertion, though ludicrous, could still strengthen her position. Perhaps he was one of those idiots, past his prime, who would put up with any unlikely story in return for an heir of his own.

On the other hand, Thales might have resented Rhodina’s attempted manipulation. He had held out as a single man for years. Why suddenly cave in? Rather than welcome the coming child, he too may have decided to be rid of the inconvenience. Did he and Rufia gang up?

Either way, there was Rhodina, pregnant. She had told Gavius she wanted to leave, but he was her only confidant; the rest believed they were stuck with her. Rufia and Julius Liberalis both had strong reasons to remove Rhodina permanently. Even Thales might have been tiring of her. He certainly was not a man to want three toddlers running around in his bar. Rhodina needed to be dealt with, and before she gave birth.

So could the five men who died have been a gambling syndicate? Or did Rhodina possess five hefty brothers who came to the bar to defend her interests? Five would-be protectors with old-fashioned prominent noses, possibly from one of the eastern provinces? Five rather dumb ones, who let themselves be overpowered.

Or were these five men killed for some quite unconnected reason-and murdering them just happened to let Thales and Rufia deal with Rhodina at the same time?

More and more, I felt that both Rufia and Liberalis must have known about, and were closely involved in, the scheme to attack the five men. Rufia vanished the same night, but Julius Liberalis was alive and well, and living around the corner from what was now his bar.

I decided to tackle this at once. There was no time to discuss it with Tiberius; I was fired up and ready. Before he and I met, I would have gone in alone immediately. Why wait?

One reason was the attack on Gavius. Whoever was so keen to silence him might attack me too. I presumed they took part in killing the six victims ten years ago. Although they might not all have survived the intervening decade, any who did were dangerous. If Liberalis might be one of them, I should approach him cautiously.

Once it would have been my father’s voice mentally nagging me to take more care; now my husband took over the imaginary advice. In true Roman style, control of me had passed from one male head of the household to another.

Still, I ought to take somebody with me. I did consider asking Larcius to release one of the workmen. Then I remembered that all the men had gone with Tiberius to Lesser Laurel Street today, where some great push was being made to complete the house in time for the wedding. Ready for my domestic life? Juno Matronalis! The house might be ready but I was not. When I had time to think about it, I was starting to have very cold feet.

I despised Liberalis too much to feel afraid of him. Apparently he had never worked, just sat on his backside waiting for Thales to die. Now I knew his full motivation, I did assess risks. What would he have done if Thales had found someone else to leave his wealth to? Could it be that under his plaintive anxiety, Liberalis was hiding a vicious streak?

Cobnuts. Nothing so positive was in evidence now. He loved ownership and presumably hoped for a large income, but I could not see him ever amounting to much. Yes, he seemed eager to run the bar, but he was entirely wrong for it. Like Thales, he would lord it over his customers, just hoping they would stand him a beaker of something tolerable and call him a rollicking character. But I doubted that his reputation would ever match that of Old Thales.

Would someone stronger take over the daily running of the Hesperides, as Rufia had done? Surely not Nipius and Natalis, or their Dardanian lady friends. If illegal gambling continued to happen, I could see that being annexed by the Rabirii, through Gallo. The whole bar, with its neat water feature installed by my beloved, might become a gangsters’ asset, one more in their black portfolio. Liberalis would be such a patsy I bet the Rabirii would dispense with him altogether. He owned it. So what? That would not stop an organized-crime mob.

These thoughts had made me slow my pace. When I arrived back in the enclave with the bars, on my way to where Liberalis lived around the corner, I was dawdling. I noticed people who had not yet seen me.

There were four, all women. Being female, their gathering point for a gossip was not a bar, but beside the high counter of the bakery. Three I recognized: Gran (Prisca), Lepida from the snack stall and Menendra. Macer must have released Menendra from his horrible holding cell. Here she was the youngest in a mature coven. The fourth woman looked the oldest, a stranger, white-haired, heavily lopsided, struggling on two sticks. Although I had never seen her before she looked at home in this district.

As so often around here, my approach was hindered by beasts of burden. The presence of Menendra implied they were part of her business. As I tried to get around the laden donkeys, the group dispersed as if naturally. The unknown woman managed quite a sprightly step into a carrying chair; she was rushed off before I saw her properly. Lepida galloped away as if she had a busy snack stall to run. Menendra vanished too.

I only managed to block Gran. She tried to sidestep, failed to dodge me, then avoided my questions by introducing the young bread-servers as two of her granddaughters. Lepida was one of her daughters, so Lepidina, the daughter at the snack stall, was another grandchild …

Her attitude had changed. She gave me an accusing look as if she did not want to talk to me. Not surprisingly, this was because of Gavius. Tiberius’ ploy had failed to work; people had found out he was still alive. The very fact that Gavius belonged to such a large family had led to the truth coming out.

His grandmother had, of course, gone visiting; so, she said, had other relatives. She made a loud announcement, as if informing the whole neighborhood. “I thought you was a decent type, Flavia Albia! None of us know how you could do such a terrible thing. The family are going to see him laid out on his bier. When I went, there he was in bed, being fed a spoon of broth.”

I suppose other members of the family thought it was cruel to pretend Gavius was dead. They must have worked on Prisca so she had brooded, then had a rethink-a typical family about-face that ignored all logic. Now Tiberius and I were enemies. She held up a hand and pushed away past me. “Don’t squirm up to me, my girl! You are a nasty, spiteful piece of work and that fellow of yours is as bad.”

I let her go.

The two pigtailed bakery girls were staring at me with open curiosity. I asked for my usual loaf. They served me in silence. Once again it was the last on sale that day, the wonky one with a burned segment.