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The River God's Vengeance(58)

By:John Maddox Roberts


When the wharfmaster Ogulnius had spoken of Folius’s barges transporting building materials from sources down-river, it had never occurred to me that my family could be involved because we owned no land in that direction. I had forgotten that the Scipios held extensive lands between Rome and Ostia.

There was nothing to be gained by lamenting this unwelcome turn. What I needed, as usual, was information.

Julia and Fausta were still admiring the statue. They had the crate and padding completely cleared away, and the slaves were levering it about so that the two women could examine how the light fell upon it from different directions.

“Do either of you know of a senator named Aulus Lucilius? He was plebeian aedile a couple of years ago, while I was still in Gaul.”

“The name seems familiar,” Julia said. Then, to Fausta, “Wasn’t there some sort of scandal?”

“Isn’t there always? Yes, the man’s dead. He was murdered in a lupanar down by the wharves, one of the really low dives that the bargemen frequent. You know, I’ve always wanted to see the inside of one of those places. Decius, could you arrange it? You aediles are in charge of the whorehouses, I understand.”

“Was he still aedile when he was killed?” I asked, ignoring the rest.

“Let’s see,” she pondered, “it was after the first of the year, I recall, so he must have just stepped down from office. There’s usually a much bigger fuss when an officeholder is killed. Gossip had it that he was discovered in a crib with his throat cut, and the girl fied.” She put a finger to her chin. “At least I’d assumed it was a girl. Now that I think of it, it might have been a boy. That sort of thing is becoming more and more popular even in fashionable circles.”

“Did he leave a family behind?” I asked.

“Why do you need to know about him?” Julia demanded.

“It might mean something with regard to an investigation I am working on,” I said stiffiy. I didn’t want Fausta thinking too hard about this. She might talk about it later among Milo’s friends, and then it would be all over the City before I was ready.

“His wife was a sister of Curio’s,” Fausta said. “The house they lived in was hers, and last I heard she still lived there and hasn’t remarried. It’s not far from here, up on the Esquiline across from that old Temple of Hercules—the one with the statue of the infant Hercules strangling the serpents, by Myron.”

I knew the one she meant. “I’ll be back later,” I said to Julia.

“Wait!” she called, catching up with me in the atrium. “Where are you going? You said yourself the streets are very dangerous for you now.”

“They are, but I must question someone.” I started to walk around her, but her outstretched arm stopped me.

“Not so fast. You are an official, not some low-level fiunky! Send one of your clients; that is what they’re for. You have dozens of capable men who yearn to earn your gratitude, so use them!”

“Some things I must do myself, dear. Have no fear, I’m perfectly safe. I’ll take Hermes along with me.” I went into my study and tucked my weapons away out of sight.

“Perfectly safe?” she said. “Is that why you’re wearing that ratty old toga?”

“It will be dark before long. It’s easy to ruin a good toga stumbling around in filthy alleys in the dark.” I kissed her and then pushed past, bellowing for Hermes.

“At least take some of Fausta’s thugs with you!” she called, but I was already out the door, with Hermes close on my heels.

“Where to now?” he asked. He carried a two-foot stick of olive wood, capped at both ends with bronze and banded with that metal at intervals along its length. It was perfectly legal, and he could perform fearful damage with it.

“We’re going to pay a visit to a widow,” I informed him.

The streets were still chaotic and got no less so as we trudged up the slope of the Esquiline. There were many fine houses on its upper slopes, and people seeking escape from the coming fiood were milling about everywhere, trying to find wealthy patrons to take them in or good spots in the occasional public gardens.

As it happened, I knew the widow’s brother, Curio. He was one of the more scandalous members of the young nobility, a great friend of Antony’s and renowned throughout society for his loose living, his extravagant debts, and his many love affairs. Needless to say, he was great company, and I had always found him a most congenial carousing companion. His father had disowned him, and he spent much of his time cadging meals and accommodations from friends and had put the arm on me more than once. Curious to say, he was also an energetic and effective senator and had recently become an adherent of Caesar. Rumor had it that Caesar had cleared all of Curio’s debts.