The River God's Vengeance(45)

“How may I be of service, Aedile?” The man’s eyes were bright and direct; he did not seem in the least nervous or guilty, although he was speaking to a man who could have him severely punished for infractions of the civic codes.

“I am tracking several cartloads of condemned timber. They were salvaged yesterday and the day before from an insula that collapsed in the night. The contractor who hauled away the wreckage was one Marcus Caninus.”

“Oh, yes sir. That was all delivered here.” He looked around. “In fact, it looks as if most of it is still here.”

“That lumber was condemned,” I told him. “It was my impression that all such rubble was to be carried out to the landfills.”

“That’s true for brick and mortar and tile, but decent wood is always salvaged for other purposes. So is good cut stone, if the building it was part of didn’t burn.”

“Is that how the building codes read?” I asked him.

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I never read them. But the custom has always been that as long as a building wasn’t destroyed by fire, and didn’t fall because it was built of inferior materials, we can salvage the stone for reuse. A good earthquake will keep us stocked with cut stone for years. When a really big project comes along, like Pompey’s Theater, you can bet that salvaged stone was used everywhere the builder could get away with it. Just the outer facing was cut especially for the project.”

For a man like this, ancient custom carried far more weight than any law written down in a book he’d never seen.

“But this building collapsed because it was not built to code,” I said, “and I condemned its materials myself, so how does it come to pass that some of that very material is in use this morning, by the contractor Manius Florus, shoring up the river side of the theater of Aemilius Scaurus?”

“Oh, that. Well, you see, that wood’s not being used in a permanent structure. For temporary structures, bracing and so forth, it’s all right to use such wood. It was perfectly good timber anyway, if a bit green.”

I rubbed my forehead, which was beginning to ache. Here was yet another free interpretation of the law. I decided that I was going to have to drag all those laws and building codes out of the Tabularium, have them carved in stone, and set them up in a public place. Another expense I could ill afford.

Justus scratched his own curly head, causing a minor snowfall of sawdust. “How did you know that it was timber from that insula, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“I take my duties as aedile seriously,” I told him. “I put secret markings on the wood to thwart those who would fiout the laws of the Republic.”

He nodded admiringly. “Smart move.”

“Here’s more of it!” Hermes shouted. He had been wandering among the piles of timber, and now he was kicking at some heavy beams. I walked over to join him, and Justus hurried along beside me.

“These are those joists we saw in the basement,” Hermes said. “See, here’s one of those woodpecker holes.” He nudged at the heavy beam with a toe.

“Yes, this was taken from the insula,“ Justus said, frowning. “Caninus brought it by and dumped it here, then said he needed some weak, rotten old timbers, the same size. Usually, those are sold off for funeral pyres. Why pay for good wood if you’re just going to burn it? Anyway, nobody important had died recently, so I had what he needed. I asked him what he wanted it for, and he said that men who don’t ask stupid questions don’t get their tongues cut out. I can take a hint as well as the next man.”

“I know where that wood ended up,” I said, thinking of the courtyard of the Temple of Ceres.

Justus squatted and looked at the hole Hermes had kicked. He stuck a finger into it, then withdrew the finger and studied its tip. “This isn’t any woodpecker hole,” he announced.

“Squirrel, then?” Hermes asked.

Justus laughed. “Don’t know much about wood, do you?”

“Enlighten us,” I said.

“Well, sir, somebody bored this hole with an auger, the way you do when you’re going to fasten two timbers together with a heavy spike.”

Hermes and I looked at each other. “Remember those tools we saw in the basement?” the boy asked.

“Justus, I want a close look at all these timbers,” I ordered.

He stuck two fingers in his mouth and whistled. The slaves came running, and he barked orders. Within minutes, all the timbers were laid out in good light in an orderly fashion, so we could walk around them. The slaves stood by to turn them over at my instruction.

“More holes,” Hermes said, pointing at two no more than an inch apart.